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#first person to guess which 2 matches they are get a prize
piratewithvigor · 2 years
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I call this collection: the BCC at age 25
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grayingwithgrace · 1 year
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Top 10 Halloween Games and Activities for Older Adults
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People of all ages can enjoy Halloween games. The games and festivities of the Halloween season are a great way to celebrate, even for older adults.
When planning a fun Halloween for seniors, consider the safety, convenience, and appropriateness of the games. Here are some recommendations for games that your senior loved ones will definitely enjoy as part of their Halloween celebrations.
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Enjoyable Halloween Games for Seniors
Here is our list of the top games to play with older adults during Halloween.
1. Halloween A to Z
This game is also safe and convenient for older adults because they don't need to move or stand when playing. Even seniors in wheelchairs or with mobility difficulties can easily participate.
The game's object is to create the most "Halloween" words for a certain category.
To play Halloween A to Z:
Give each participant a pencil and a piece of paper. (If writing is a problem, have a caregiver write the words for them as they call them out.)
When the game leader says "go," each player will be asked to write as many Halloween-related words as possible for each letter of the alphabet within 10 minutes.
The game stops after the timer, and the player with the most Halloween-related words written will be determined as the winner.
Play multiple rounds using categories of Halloween costumes, treats, or even Halloween decorations.
2. Halloween-Themed Charades
Charades is a classic game in which one player acts out a word or phrase, and the other players guess what it is. To add a festive twist, use Halloween-themed prompts such as "Dracula," "zombies," and other spooky words. You can write the prompts on pieces of paper, fold or roll them up, and put them in a bag or bowl where the players can pull them out.
This game is perfect for extroverted older adults and seniors who enjoy being active. Those in less-than-ideal health can also play by guessing the words.
You won't need many materials for this game, making it a great option for your next Halloween party.
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3. Candy Count
To play, put Halloween candies in a jar and let the players guess how many candies are in the jar or pot. The person with the closest guess to the actual count wins a prize!
4. Halloween Bingo
It's a favorite party game among seniors and a great icebreaker that will help get them into the festive spirit. Printable bingo cards or making your own with famous Halloween objects like jack-o-lanterns, pumpkins, witches' hats, or black cats are available as options.
Many seniors enjoy playing bingo, especially when there are prizes to be won. It is also a great way to entertain small and large groups.
Designated a caller for the game. The caller will select and announce the images the players will find on their cards.
When a player has a matching image on their game board, they will mark the space with that image.
Since it is Halloween, use candy corn, pumpkin Mellowcremes, or other small candies as markers instead of the usual black markers.
The first player that marks five squares in a row, either horizontally, vertically, or diagonally will be the winner.
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5. Mystery Box
Mystery Box is a game that can be played by those who have a hearing or visual impairment. All that is required to play this game is a sense of touch, imagination, and wonder.
To play the game:
Create a series of mystery boxes using medium-sized boxes, like a tissue, cereal, or shoebox.
Then, cut a hole in each box — big enough for a hand to enter but small enough to hide the contents inside it. Make sure the hole edge is smooth or cover it with some tape to protect the player's hands.
Decorate each box with a Halloween-themed design (this could be its own activity!).
Fill the box with items to identify using the sense of touch (see our suggested list below).
Label each box's "creepy" contents and have players guess what the items really are. For example, label one box as "Fingernails", fill it with slivered almonds, and see how many people figure out that it's really almonds!
Choose items that can simulate spooky Halloween objects. Below are some suggestions you can try:
Fingers – cheese sticks
Fingernails – slivered almonds
Hair – cornsilk
Ears – dried apricots
Eyeballs – grapes
Bones – uncooked penne pasta
Rat tails – licorice laces
Spider legs – pipe cleaners
Warts – raisins
Teeth – popcorn kernels
Toes – baby carrots
Players should keep a running tally of the items they place in the mystery box. The player who correctly identifies the most items wins.
6. Halloween Costume Contest
Halloween is a great time for everyone to get dressed up in their favorite costume. You can ask your guests to come to the party in their most scary or cute costumes. They can also dress up as a famous person or someone they admire. This will allow the seniors to be who they want to be, even if it's just for one evening. They can also show their creativity by making their own DIY Halloween costumes.
If someone arrives without a costume, offer them the opportunity to join in the fun. Set up a station with art and craft materials where they can create their outfits on the spot.
Prepare some ballots and a box so guests can vote for their favorite Halloween costume. At the end of the evening, give a special gift to the winner. You can also give a "booby prize" to the loser.
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7. Pumpkin Decorating Contest
You can take advantage of this by inviting seniors to help you decorate pumpkins for your Halloween party. This activity would liven up your party and give the seniors a chance to show off their creativity. Ensure they have all the necessary art materials to enjoy the activity fully.
The guests can vote for the most beautiful pumpkin or the scariest pumpkin at the end of the party.
8. Halloween Board Games
Halloween-themed board games are a great way to keep your guests engaged at your party. Games like Mystery Mansion, Clue, and Orient Express are perfect for seniors who want to have some fun with other seniors.
If you are looking for a more casual atmosphere, you can set up board games like a Halloween-themed Monopoly. This will be a hit for those who want a lighter mood. Many other Halloween-like board games are available, so keep an eye out for them!
9. Pumpkin Bocce
Pumpkin Bocce is a game that can be played either indoors or outdoors. This game is one that encourages upper body exercise and range of motion. The game can be played by people of all abilities, making it a perfect activity for family and friends to engage in.
To play Pumpkin Bocce,
Gather a large pumpkin and lots of miniature gourds.
Position the giant pumpkin about six feet away from the designated starting line.
Each player will roll their tiny gourds toward the giant pumpkin.
The player whose small gourd rolls closest to the big pumpkin wins the game. To extend the game, have a tournament with a winner and loser bracket to determine the ultimate winner!
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10. Pumpkin Bowling
Another similar game to Pumpkin Bocce is Pumpkin bowling. This game is designed to be easier for older adults to play, as the heavy bowling ball can pose a risk of harm to seniors.
Pumpkin Bowling as an alternative is easy to set up.
Buy plastic bowling pins or use small butternut squash as your "pins."
Use miniature pumpkins or gourds as your "ball."
Keep score like regular bowling, or just count the number of "pins" knocked down to keep it simple.
For people with mobility challenges, a chair can be set up at the starting line, or they can bowl right from their wheelchair. This less demanding version of bowling can still be exciting when a player scores a strike!
See all 15 of our recommended Halloween games for older adults here.
Wrapping Up
It's important to find appropriate games for seniors and the elderly to enjoy on Halloween because they deserve to participate in all the spooky fun of this time of year.
Don't forget to plan activities that everyone can join. Consider older adults who may be physically unhealthy, ill, or who use medical equipment when choosing Halloween games for seniors and the elderly to play.
Have fun playing and Happy Halloween!
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switchwedge2 · 2 years
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How Slot Machines Work
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Fortunes
It could be the proper event to be taught a card game among the most beloved on the planet. A very good and colorful game, during which the protagonist is a dwarf along with his lucky clover that can make you win spectacular awards. Finally, there's a French roulette, which has the advantage of the bottom house of all – 1.35%.
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mellohii · 3 years
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Minecraft Championship: A Guide
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(pictured: MCC celebrates Pride)
MCC IS RETURNING ON MAY 29th. “what is MCC?” says the new mcytblrite. Do you like Dream SMP? Or Hermitcraft? Or CaptainSparklez? Or Minecraft?? Here is your new baby.
Minecraft Championship is a monthly event where ten teams of four compete in a set of minigames. But I feel like that’s still underselling it. MCC is an EXPERIENCE. Unlike most Minecraft tournaments, MCC is known for its insane production value, wholesomeness, and good organization. The whole event, including the game concepts, is unique and handcrafted by the Noxcrew (experienced map developers). Also, the cast cycles in and out, but it features a huge number of popular MCYTers and the occasional internet celebrity.
Anyways if that doesn’t sell you, just check if your favorite MCYTer has played in it and watch their perspective. You’ll love it.
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(pictured: Winners of MCC 6 celebrate their victory)
Here’s your guide below if you’d like to understand the basic structure going into the new season! 
(This guide is based on Season 1 so hopefully nothing too drastic is changed for Season 2 LUL.)
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(pictured: Dream watches MCC 9 Yellow Yaks take a team photo in matching yellow outfits)
Ten teams of four: every team is unique for each event and put together by Scott/Smajor (an organizer/player/CC). They are all balanced by adding up the coins earned by each player in their last MCC. (Predicting the teams based on hints and numbers is a very popular MCC fan pastime.) Because of this system, MCC is actually competitive, which is fun. (Looking at you, Minecraft "Techno stomps random internet celebs" Monday.) Players can generally request one team member (up to discretion) so even though you get teams where everyone is from the same side of MCYT, oftentimes you’ll get teams where nobody has ever met before. And that’s part of the fun! A large number of Dream SMP CCs, for example, met on MCC. All the teams are named after colored creatures, with variants depending on the event (e.g. Red Rabbits -> Red Ravens for Halloween). It’s encouraged (and sometimes enforced) to wear special skins with your team, and teams often do practice streams ahead of time. Everyone is friends in MCC!
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(pictured: the decision dome)
Picking games: MCC consists of eight games followed by a final shootout (Dodgebolt) between the top two highest scoring teams. These eight games are selected in the Decision Dome, a huge wheel where teams throw eggs into wheel segments to vote for the game they want. As you can guess this voting method results in a lot of chaos, so it’s never a sure thing which game gets picked. There’s also an audience vote for the fifth game. Every game is worth more coins as the event goes on, so people like to leave their best games for last. Not every game gets played every event.
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(pictured: TGTTOSAWAF, aka To Get To The Other Side and Whack a Fan)
The games: The games can be broadly split between PvP games, movement games, and miscellaneous games. The most common PvP games include Battle Box (every team fights every other team once while trying to fill in a hole in the center of the map) and Sky Battle (like three rounds of SkyWars but the world border closes in on you and there's a big hole in the middle). Movement games that almost always get played are TGTTOSAWAF (a diverse series of maps where you have to get to the other side and whack a fan), Rocket Spleef (spleef, but with rocket jumpers and elytra), Ace Race (long race track involving tridents and elytra), and Parkour Tag (Tag, but on a parkour map). Misc games usually test other MC skills, and the most frequent one is Sands of Time (teams each explore their own dungeon for coins and sand and try to escape before their sand timer runs out. If you run out of sand, your team is trapped and you get zero coins).
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(pictured: Dodgebolt)
Dodgebolt: The climax of the whole event! Everyone watches as two teams face each other in a one-shot arena. Only the top two highest scoring teams get to Dodgebolt, but once they’re there it doesn’t matter who was first. The only thing that matters is who wins Dodgebolt. There are only two arrows in the whole arena, so the teams have to shoot back and forth until one team wins thrice. It’s VERY TENSE. 
The best players: The community loosely divides the players into S/A/B/C tiers. The only status quo is that there are 5 S tier players (PeteZahHutt, Dream, Technoblade, Quig, Fruitberries) with incredible skill plus a special H tier (neither above nor below S) for HBomb, who makes up for what he lacks in mechanics with insane teamwork, research, and leadership skills. (No, seriously, that’s what makes him on par with parkour and PvP gods. You have to see it to believe it.) (Illumina is making a huge run for S tier, though: we’ll see as he plays more.) There are also many players who are very good (A tier)/are best in individual games/have other special skills.  For example, FalseSymmetry and GeorgeNotFound are both incredible archers and thus OP in Dodgebolt... if you can get their teams there. Fundy, Philza, and Grian are known as the Rocket Spleef gods. Shubble defined the Big Sales at Build Mart meta. And Eret is the quintessential support player, whose scores fluctuate but who excels at the “support roles” in games with a team composition meta (like Battle Box and Sands of Time).
The prizes: MCC is special in that there is no cash prize. Instead, first time winners receive an IRL coin (and the right to wear the MCC crown in MC until the next event.) This is part of MCC’s wholesomeness factor. Entertainment is just as important in MCC as competitiveness, and salt is very much discouraged.
WTF is Season 2: Since December, MCC has been going through a major rework, hence the name Season 2. Season 1 of MCC ran from 2019 through December 2020 and consisted of 13 events. We are now at the beginning of Season 2.
That’s all! Again, I strongly recommend that you pick a MCYTer who has played in MCC (seriously, just pick one. knowing mcytblr they’re probably in there) and watch their perspectives. (That said, I would lean towards the newer MCCs, and probably not MCC 7.) If you really don’t know, here are my personal recommendations:
[HIGHLY RECCOMENDED] Blue Bats MCC 9 (HBomb94, Fruitberries, FalseSymmetry, Rendog): Wholesome underdogs become friends and exemplify the best of MCC. Pink Parrots MCC 8 (Technoblade, Dream, King Burren, Michael McChill): Two rivals get together. Can anyone stop them? Blue Black Cats MCC 11 (Hbomb, Smajor, Shubble, FWhip): PvP? No, your honor. Misc games and a really dumb name? YEEEEA BAYBEEEEE Orange Ocelots MCC 12 (Fundy, HBomb94, Nihachu, King Burren): Harassing Fundy with catmaids or bolstering Niki’s self esteem? Why not both? Green Guardians MCC 12 (WilburSoot, GeorgeNotFound, TapL, Philza): Good Vibes TM Teams for popular parts of MCYTblr:
L’Manberg teams: MCC 11 Violet Vampires and MCC 13 Cyan Candy Canes SBI fans: They met in MCC 4 Purple Pandas and played together without Tommy in 5, 6, and 7. Fair warning to Tommy fans that they don't like him much in MCC 4, but if you want to see their first meeting... Hermitcraft: MCC 9 Blue Bats, MCC 10 Orange Ocelots, MCC 13 Purple Penguins. That said, Hermits almost always play in Hermit teams so I would just pick your favorite hermit out of these and find a perspective: False, Ren, Grian, Cub. (also Pearl as honorary hermit.) (For Grian fans, I specifically recommend MCC 9 Pink Parrots as well.) Dream Team: MCC 11 Fuschia Frankensteins (with Karl) and MCC 7 Orange Ocelots (with Sylvee) (I really would not recommend either of these for a first watch due to various issues but if you just reeeally like them go ahead. MCC 11 is a better watch than MCC 7.) Dream and George have also played together in various combos.
Welcome to MCC!
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willel · 2 years
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Ok, last random post for the night. This whole Vecna thing, one of the episode titles.
TLDR: This Vecna situation. "Vecna", I believe, WAS a person from an alternate Hawkins...? In an alternate Hawkins, maybe they were the prized experiment in a lab somewhere (001, who goes unmentioned in all alternate media). A psychic so unnaturally powerful (and abused/hurt like El and Kali were) they destroyed their own world?
Something once human that probably can no longer speak words, destroyed their version of the world long ago and is looking for a new place to call home?
Ok so, you can read the rest now if you want. It's sloppy, long, and probably wrong. Lol. I'm just trying to think through this. If you read all this, you're a champ. I'm totally up to discussion afterwards as well. So here it goes below!
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I hadn't heard of it till now, but I'm happy to see it's yet another dnd monster. Last season there was hardly any ties to dnd or the Montauk Project unlike previous two seasons.
I think they may be going back to their roots. So what is Vecna?
Vecna (pronounced: /ˈvɛknɑː/ VEK-nah[1]) was a once-human lich from Oerth who ascended to godhood.
As a deity, Vecna did not claim a domain, but instead wandered the entire multiverse.[15] He maintained the Citadel of Cavitius, originally on the Quasi-Elemental Plane of Ash near the border to the Negative Energy plane, which he had wrested away from the Doomguard long before.[16] The Citadel was used by Vecna as his fortress, which he visited regularly, to gloat on the despair of his defeated enemies.[12] Later, it became his prison as it was drawn into the Domains of Dread by the Dark Powers.
So, I don't believe this has anything to do with the Mind Flayer/Demogorgon/Demodogs, at least, not in dnd canon. But neither does the Demogorgon and Mind Flayer, or the Mind Flayer and an army of doggos. So it's fine and not new.
If I had to guess where they're going with this, Vecna IS the Mind Flayer, but the Mind Flayer and all it smoky glory is more like a projection. A tool which Vecna uses to do whatever. Whether it's controlling its weirdo beasts, possessing people, moving flesh, etc.
I'm assuming the theory that the Upside Down is an alternate universe of sorts is true. The Hawkins we see in the Upside Down is just another Hawkins on a different plane of existence, one that whoever Vecna is originates from or they just dominated it? One that ended earlier?
The part about "later became his prison" is also interesting. It kind of lines up with past seasons. The Mind Flayer does act like it's stuck there and is trying to get out in any way possible doesn't it?
We've been wondering all this time what the Mind Flayer wanted. If something is trapped there, like Vecna, then they'd want to well. Escape. Like a "Crap. I really messed up this world. But at the same time I don't really care to fix it. Onto the next!"
It says he's well versed in multiverses. He can hop to whatever dimension he wants if circumstances are right. Maybe he HAS done that plenty of times, but this time was the first time he was met with his match? (El slamming the door in his smokey face, his chosen vessel Will being rescued)
When I first got into this fandom right after season 2's release, people were still speculating about the other numbers. The comics didn't exist yet, but as time went on, there was something mysterious about the numbers. #1 was never mentioned I think. Not even in the comics. (granted, I stopped reading most of them a while ago so I could be wrong).
If we're toying with multiverses here, the idea that the smallest decisions can have a butterfly affect and change the future, well, who is to say every other possible timeline of Hawkins happened the same way?
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Let me slow down here. I did mention it seems to be going back to their roots. The original Montauk Project Conspiracy theory.
I haven't read the Montauk Project, most of my knowledge comes from articles and summaries by smarter people than I. So let's go over it a little bit huh? (I'll link the article in a reblog, if I link it here, tumblr will hide this post from the tags)
The Montauk Project is a huge government conspiracy crafted by a few old strange guys.
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Sound familiar? Stranger Things (and many Hollywood movies) have taken bits of pieces of this conspiracy and crafted them into their sci-fi/horror stories. Stranger Things shares so many similarities to the original conspiracy theory that some guy claimed the Duffers Brothers stole the idea from him (even though when you read the script the only similarities they have are from the Montauk Project, just like every other Hollywood movie that borrows from it)
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Every theory I've made for Stranger Things, mostly involving Will's potential powers, is based on this conspiracy. There's still some information I was told by someone else second hand that I can't find in these articles so I guess someday I'll have to read it and get the reference myself. Urg.
Let's go over the similarities and why I think the Vecna plot is taken from the Montauk Project conspiracy.
Abducted children: Unsurprising, a key part of the conspiracy is about how kids were abducted. The conspiracy focused on how boys were the desired subjects but that's boring so I'm glad ST ditched that (also, weird Nazi "aryan race genes" bullshit)
Portals: Another similarity are portals to alternate dimensions and timelines. There's some time travel shenanigans that I THINK ST dropped. But with the 1950's era of the 003 trailer, who can say.
A device to enhance powers: This was kind of dropped after season 1, but found its way into the story in other ways. In the Montauk Project conspiracy, they have a device to enhance the powers of their psychic children. A chair. They strap em into the chair and can do various things. Their prized subject, "Duncan" was the one powerful enough to open portals and all that using the chair. The ST equivalent is "The Bath", the silence/static El uses to hone her powers.
Remote Viewing: This is another power El has that is referenced in the conspiracy. Specifically that, “...‘The Seeing Eye.’ With a lock of a person’s hair or other appropriate object in his hand, Duncan could concentrate on the person and be able to see as if he was seeing through their eyes, hearing through their ears, and feeling through their body. He could actually see through other people anywhere on the planet.” This, imo, is more similar to Will's true sight, but I think it's meant to be El's powers.
Summoning a monster: In the Montauk Project conspiracy, they use their prized subject, "Duncan", to summon some kind of beast. The concept is similar to what happened in ST, but El summoned the Demogorgon by accident (as did her captors). In the Montauk Project, it seems as though they summoned the monster on purpose to have an excuse to shut down the experiments.
NOW WITH THAT ALL SAID AND DONE, I'd like to get to a few things that aren't in ST that I think is related to Vecna.
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References to leaving people in other dimensions:
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Quick note, I am NOT going to touch the certain abuse allegations mentioned above.
Here you can see a reference to the idea of leaving people (in this case, defenseless children) in the portals and some of them never returning.
The power to manifest things out of thin air:
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This is not what El does in season 1. She accidentally opens a portal and a monster happened to be on the other side.
Psychic Powers can be jammed:
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This is taken right from the Montauk book. Weren't there references to Will and El hearing things in season 4? It may just be related to this.
Aliens:
Yeah. There's talk about "grey aliens" and how they were the ones that originally kidnapped the children and delivered them to the government I guess??? (the reason I haven't read these books is because overall they make no goddamn sense. lol). I mean, I guess the demogorgon resembles a gray alien right??
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Sigh. Alright alright. So. It's time for me to try and tie all this together. Bare with me. Are you still along for the ride? Let's try to craft a stupid theory together!
First, let me say this. I love the small town feel in horror movies and sci-fi movies. I don't think this theory breaks that mold, not entirely.
Think of some "horror" movie classics. You got the supernatural horror from Poltergeist. Or the sci-fi horror of The Thing.
In both these stories there's a bigger world, a bigger plot affecting our main characters that they don't totally understand (or don't live long enough to see it through)
In Poltergeist, it was essentially the realm of the spirits who pulled Carol-Anne into their dimension and her mother had to go in and save her. (among the other crazy stuff that happened in that movie). It's very similar to season 1. We don't even see the spirit realm in the movie unlike the Upside Down.
Then you've got The Thing. It's literally an alien story. A horrifying intelligent alien trying to get to a large population of people to spread and spread and spread and when it's done it wants to go to other planets and spread some more. But, this story is only taking place on a base in Antarctica.
What I'm saying is, I think conceptually, this is how the Upside Down should be viewed, as well as the future villain.
I think the future villain is an inhabitant of the Upside Down. I think the Upside Down is an alternate universe of right-side-up Hawkins. But how?
Think of it this way. The Montauk Project/Hawkins Lab... US vs Russia. It's all Cold War crap. And what was the Cold War? It was a period of time where everyone was convinced the world would be destroyed via nuclear wipeout. A world ending calamity.
So think of it this way. What if that did happen in the alternate Hawkins, but it wasn't nuclear death... but a subject/experiment gone awry?
The Montauk Project conspiracy does not shy away from the abuse the abducted children suffered and how mentally broken and damaged they were even after their minds were "wiped".
Imagine a child so abused and angry that they.... with all their might and power... destroyed the world? A vengeful experiment with the power to end the world?
Yes, that is my theory I guess. (ahhhh this sounds so silly I'm sorry). A subject in the alternate Hawkins was so strong he ended that world, and transcended beyond his mortal means. I think this subject could be 001, the one they never mention anywhere else.
But what about the one in the right-side-up in Hawkins? Well, it is al alternate dimension. Every little twitch of the finger can produce a different future. In the right-side-up, this experiment, 001, did not become powerful enough to destroy the world.
But El, 011, sorta did? Or at least, she is the most powerful psychic to come out of the experiments in HER timeline.
001 is the equivalent of the spirit in the Poltergeist movie that kidnaps Carol-Anne.
001 is the equivalent of the alien from The Thing that wants to spread and destroy.
001 is Vecna? Vecna is 001 from an alternate dimension that already destroyed his own world and wants to spread.
You know how we say Kali is the El that let hatred consume her? Well. 001 is the Kali who not only let hatred consume them, but had the power to do something crazy about it.
Hm, I don't believe this contradicts anything that has happened in the previous seasons thus far. Honestly, Vecna+Mind Flayer lore kind of fit together in a way. Powerful entity that has conquered worlds?
So now you ask, "What is 001's power to do that?"
I believe 001's power is the power to manifest objects or anything really. This was the power of the Montauk's Projects main subject, something that El doesn't do.
So a child with the power to manifest anything they want whenever they want. You thought the Demogorgon was bad? Oof.
001 could've done that. Destroyed their world. Became metaphysical. All that jazz.
El could've encountered one of their many creations (the demogorgon) not only by accident, but because of their similar circumstances. Like finding crumbs left behind by someone else.
As for the identity of 001, I don't know. It'd have to be someone older than all the kids. Probably someone closer to Steve or Jonathan/Nancy's age. After all, El is 011. I dunno if they gave Kali an age, but she is still at least 4 to 5 years older than El and she's only 008.
This also leads me to Will. For years, I've questioned why the Demogorgon kinda singled him out. Why why was he chased when he wasn't bleeding. Why when he was caught wasn't he killed like literally everyone else. Why the Mind Flayer was so desperate to have him. All that?
It has lead me to this answer. All these psychic people/things share some similarities and so does Will. Something specific with 001.
Manifesting objects?
You see, in season 2, the Mind Flayer goes into Will in the middle of Will's uncontrollable "True Sight" episodes. But the Mind Flayer comes OUT of Will in the real world.
Will is possessed during a psychic episode, but when the Mind Flayer is yeeted from his physical body, it too is made real.
I dunno, what if the stars aligned for the Mind Flayer/Vecna and he's like "At last. Someone with this specific power that I need to go to this other realm."
Don't get me wrong, Will isn't gonna be closing his eyes and wishing for a bajillion dollars and suddenly it's gonna be made real. It, like True Sight, is probably something he can't control on his own. Maybe if he were an experiment like the others, but he's not.
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SO THERE YOU HAVE IT. MY WHOLE RAMBLING THOUGHT PROCESS.
To summarize again because I think even the tldr kinda sucks:
Vecna is 001 from the Upside Down that destroyed their own world once upon of time and is no longer a thinking feeling human but more like an intelligent force of nature (like a tornado of doom).
Vecna == Mind Flayer, Mind Flayer is just their smokey projection or something.
El is the first time Vecna has encountered someone even close to their power.
Will is a useful tool for spreading/traveling.
The "Vecna" in their world, 001, is probably unlike his alternate self and maybe insane because of the hardships? I dunno.
How do they fix all this crap? I dunno. I guess make sure the government (whether it's the US or Russia) isn't giving him another way in.
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dottielovegood · 3 years
Text
ASMR - Chapter 6
Elriel fanfiction
About this fic:
Azriel can’t sleep Elain has an ASMR channel Match made in heaven (or you know, on youtube..)
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You can find chapter 1 here, chapter 2 here, chapter 3 here, chapter 4 here and chapter 5 here.
Read this fic on AO3
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When Friday was just around the corner, Azriel was a nervous mess.
He had cleaned his apartment twice, which he understood was a weird thing to do since she wasn’t even coming to his house. He had tried on every item of clothing in his wardrobe. He had googled ‘conversation topics first date’ and written a few down on his phone. He had even gotten a haircut.
He hadn’t been able to sleep at all that week. It felt weird to look at her videos when he had met her and talked to her. It felt like an invasion of privacy, even though it wasn’t. The videos were on the internet for everyone to see, yet Azriel couldn’t bring himself to watch her videos. So he didn’t sleep.
The day before the date, Azriel had decided to get her flowers. But when he stood in a flower shop and the person behind the register asked what kind of flowers he wanted, he just walked out of there. He had no idea what kind of flowers to give to a florist. He knew that certain flowers had certain meanings, and even though he had no idea what any flower meant, a florist probably knew. What if he bought flowers that said ‘I hate you’ or ‘happy funeral’?
Azriel couldn’t risk it, so he bought some chocolate instead. All women like chocolate, right?
But when he came home, his mind did that thing it always did when he was sleep-deprived: it questioned his every decision. What if Elain is lactose intolerant? What if she’s vegan? What if she is the only person on planet earth who hates chocolate? What if the different flavors of chocolate have meaning, just like flowers? Maybe you bought some sort of ‘happy funeral-chocolate’?
In an attempt to get these intrusive thoughts out of his mind, he went to the gym. He worked out for two hours, which was a bit excessive. The gym played shitty gym-music and every single person made weird sounds. It was the perfect distraction. For now.
Azriel hoped that his workout would help with his insomnia, too. He hoped that if he lifted enough weights and ran a few more miles than usual, perhaps he would be able to sleep. It had never worked before, but, as his mother used to say; “hope is the last thing that leaves you.”
However, after tossing and turning for three hours, he could safely say that the workout had done nothing to help him sleep. He couldn’t understand how a person could be so fucking tired, but still unable to sleep. He was almost going a bit crazy at this point. For the past weeks, Azriel had gotten used to falling asleep to Flower Girl ASMR’s videos. He had gotten used to her sweet voice rocking him to sleep. The insomnia was almost worse now that he knew how good it felt to have a decent night’s sleep.
Azriel looked at his phone. It was almost 02.30 in the morning. Fuck, he muttered to himself. He really didn’t want to be a tired mess on the date tomorrow. He had to put his best foot forward, and he knew he couldn’t do that if he hadn’t slept well for almost a week.
Maybe he should just watch one of her videos? She would obviously never know.
After debating with himself for a few minutes, he decided that Elain deserved to meet a well-rested Azriel, so he opened the YouTube app and found her latest video.
Azriel held his breath as her face filled his screen. God, she was lovely. Her smile could light up the darkest of nights, and her sweet voice was like a calming balm for his soul.
He put the phone in his chest and just listened. Slowly and gently, her whispers lulled him to sleep.
Azriel woke up relaxed, but nervous. He only had a half-day at work because Rhys had decided to send everyone home early today to celebrate that Feyre was pregnant. He was taking her on a spa weekend. She was only a few weeks pregnant, but Azriel knew that she would be the most pampered woman in the world during this pregnancy. This weekend was just the beginning. If she suddenly got a craving for pickle smoothies with whipped cream and sprinkles, Rhys would 100% make her one every day. And that is saying something since this man almost threw up every time someone opened a pickle jar in his vicinity.
“Any cool plans tonight, Az?” Cassian asked as he started to pack up his belongings.
Azriel wanted to tell him about the date. He wanted to share the nervousness with someone - anyone. But he couldn’t. Cass knew who she was. Nesta had known her since college. If this didn’t go well, Azriel would never hear the end of it. So he lied.
“No, nothing special. You?”
“I was going to take Nesta out for a date to celebrate that it has been four years since she agreed to go on a date with me…”
Azriel laughed. “After you had panted after her for like two years you mean?”
“Exactly!” He smiled. Cassian sure seemed like a big brute the first time you met him, but he was actually a soft teddy bear. He was never ashamed when people mentioned that he had been trying to win Nesta over for years before she agreed to date him. He just felt like he had won a prize. It was very sweet.
“However,” he continued. “She has to work late. Apparently, one of her authors had plagiarized fanfiction, which Nesta found out about like a week before the book went to print. So obviously, Nesta is livid and I do not want to be close to her until this is resolved.”
Nesta owned a publishing company that focused on publishing romance novels, which didn’t surprise anyone. Nesta had always loved romance books. In her words; the smuttier, the better. Azriel always found them a bit cringy. It was like reading porn. But truth be told, he had read a few books that Nesta had recommended, and they had taught him a thing or two.
“What the hell is fanfiction?” he asked Cassian.
Cassian shrugged. “I’m not completely sure, but apparently this author had just copied something from the internet and changed the names of the characters and sent it in as a manuscript.”
“Weird. I understand that Nesta is pissed.”
“Yeah. So, you wanna do something? Take out and a game?”
“No, I can’t,” Azriel lied.
“You just said that you didn’t have any plans.”
Fuck.
“Yeah, well. I said that I didn’t have any special plans, not that I didn’t have any plans.”
Implying that his date with Elain was “not special” made him feel like shit.
Cassian eyed him suspiciously. “You’re going on a date.”
“What? no.”
Cassian laughed and slapped Azriel’s back. “Yes, you are. You have that date-look all over your face.”
“What the hell is a date-look?” he asked, but Cassian didn’t answer.
“Who are you going out with? Do I know her? Is she hot?”
Azriel held up a hand to stop the onslaught of questions. “You don’t know her,” he lied.
Cassian grinned. “So, you are going on a date?”
“You just said that I had a date-face?”
“Yeah, that was a lucky guess. So, what’s her name?”
“None of your business, Cass.”
“Wow, what a beautiful name,” Cassian teased. “But I get it. You like being secretive. Can you at least tell me how you met?”
“The internet.”
Cassian let out a fake gasp. “Stop the presses and hold your horses. Azriel downloaded a dating app? Can pigs fly now, too?” He made a point of looking out the window.
“Ha-ha, very funny.” Azriel slung his bag over his shoulder and started walking towards the elevator. Cassian was just behind him.
“So, can I see a photo?”
“No.”
“What if you’re getting catfished?”
“I’m not.”
“Well, you can never be sure. One time, this girl, or actually, it was an old man…”
“Cass, please. Just let it go,” Azriel interrupted. “There’s a reason why I never tell you guys when I go on dates.”
“Dates? You’ve been going on multiple dates without telling me? I’m wounded, Azriel.”
Azriel rolled his eyes and stepped into the elevator. When the elevator reached the ground floor, Azriel got out. Cassian had his car in the underground parking garage. Just before the doors closed, Cassian called out for Azriel. “You might need this.” He threw something at Azriel, and Azriel didn’t see what it was until he caught it.
It was a condom.
With a grin, Cassian disappeared behind the big, metal elevator doors.
Azriel shook his head and looked down at the small foil packet in his hand. Cassian really was the worst.
A few hours later, Azriel was almost ready to leave for the date. He was wearing black trousers and a dark grey knitted sweater. And blue socks. Cobalt blue, to be exact. Azriel had a thing about colorful socks. He mostly dressed in black, but he didn’t own a single pair of black socks. These blue socks were his favorites, though. He loved cobalt blue.
Azriel was checking the route to the bar when an incoming phone call made his phone vibrate (he had put his phone on mute and deleted Barbie Girl from his phone, thank god!).
It was Elain calling.
Azriel felt his heart drop. Nobody called just before a date unless they wanted to cancel.
With a sigh, he answered the phone. He tried to sound cheery. “Hello, Elain.”
“Azriel! I’m so happy you picked up.” She sounded out of breath.
“Anything wrong?” Azriel asked.
“Well. Kind of… have you left your apartment yet?”
“No, not yet. Why?”
There was a short pause, and Azriel could have sworn that he heard her swear under her breath.
“Well, I won’t be able to make it. I’m so sorry. And I’m so sorry for calling this late. I was really looking forward to our date, I promise.” She really did sound apologetic.
“Has anything happened?” Azriel asked, suddenly a bit worried.
“No… Or actually, yes. I fell when I got out of the shower earlier. I thought that I just needed to rest, but I can’t walk,” she let out a pained laugh. “I’m such a clutz.”
Azriel hated that she was trying to make light of the situation. He hated that she was hurt. “Elain. If you can’t walk, you should probably go to the ER,” Azriel said.
“Oh, no. I called my neighbor. Madja. She’s a doctor. She said that I had just sprained my ankle.”
“Okay…” Azriel didn’t know what else to say.
“Can we reschedule?” Elain asked. “I really wanted to see you tonight.”
Azriel was used to being rejected. He was used to not trusting new people. But somehow, he trusted Elain when she said that she wanted to see him.
“Of course we can reschedule. I was really looking forward to meeting you too.”
“Really?” He could hear the smile in her voice. It made him smile.
“Yes. I’m av…”
Azriel was interrupted by a hiss from Elain.
“Are you okay?” he asked, ready to steal a car, drive over her to her place, and get her to the hospital. Maybe it was a good thing that he didn’t know her address.
“Mhm, I’m fine. I just.. moved.”
“Elain. Do you have a friend or family member coming over to help you?”
There was a stretch of silence. “No, I’m fine. I don’t need help.” Her tone was too positive and cheery. Azriel didn’t believe her one bit.
“Have you had dinner?”
“I was planning on making some instant ramen.”
Azriel frowned. “And how are you going to do that when you can barely move? Also, that’s not good enough for dinner.”
She didn’t answer for a while. “I’m fine. I promise.” He could hear her voice break on the last syllable. She was not fine.
“Elain. Please, will you let me get you some food? I don’t have to come in if you don’t want me to. Just, let me get you something to eat.”
“You don’t have to…”
“I want to. If you’re willing to give me your address, I’ll be there in just a bit.”
She hesitated. “You probably have something better to do.”
“I don’t. Now please, let me get you some food.”
He didn’t just want to get her some food. He wanted to make sure that she was alright. He didn’t want her to sit all alone in her apartment when she couldn’t walk.
He wanted to take care of her.
After a small eternity, he could hear her whisper “Okay.”
45 minutes later, he was outside her building with sushi (she had said that she liked it) and a bag full of snacks. He didn’t know what she liked, so he had bought a little bit of everything.
A short, old lady walked out the door, and Azriel caught it with one hand. He didn’t want to call her and make her come to the door right now, so he snuck in.
Elain had told him that she lived on the sixth floor, so he quickly made his way up the stairs. He couldn’t risk being caught in an elevator right now.
He found the door with her name on it and raised his hand to knock. And then he froze.
What am I doing? he thought to himself. He had basically asked her for her address and then invited himself to bring her food. He knew that she had a bad history when it came to men. What if she just didn’t want to say no because she thought that it would hurt his feelings?
Azriel contemplated leaving the food outside the door and text her when he was a safe distance away.
“Azriel, is that you?” someone called from the apartment. Elain.
Azriel had to swallow the lump in his throat. “Yes,” he called back. “Do you want me to leave the food outside the door?”
“No, come in. The door is open.”
With a deep breath, Azriel gathered his courage and reached for the doorknob.
He walked into a small hallway that opened up to a quaint kitchen. Elain was nowhere in sight. The kitchen was bright and welcoming. The walls were painted light green and the cabinets were white. Azriel could see a few cookbooks on her windowsill, which made him smile. Most people didn’t own cookbooks nowadays - they just found recipes online.
“In here,” Elain called. Azriel made his way through the kitchen and into the living room. His first thought was that the room really seemed to fit Elain. The dark wooden floor was a nice contrast to the white walls. Not that you saw much of the walls since they were covered by a built-in bookshelf and a gallery wall full of botanical prints. And there were plants in every nook and cranny. There was a dark green velvet couch in the middle of the room, and on it sat Elain. Or actually, she was half-seated, half laying down. Her foot was propped up with a few pillows. There was a coffee mug on the table in front of her, and beside the couch, he could see a worn leather chair.
Elain was smiling at him as he entered the room. When he smiled back, she put the back of her hand against her forehead, which made her look like a damsel in distress from one of those old Hollywood movies. “You came for me,” she exclaimed in an awful fake southern accent. “My hero!”
Azriel couldn’t help but laugh. Elain was wearing black leggings and an oversized shirt. Her hair was gathered into a ponytail. She was beautiful, Azriel thought to himself as he sat down in the leather chair, giving her all the space she needed on the couch.
“How are you feeling?”
“Oh, I’m fine. Madja said that it seems to be a mild ankle sprain, and I should be up and running in like one to two weeks. Honestly, I feel more stupid than anything else.”
“Why?” Azriel asked.
“Well, I didn’t want to cancel our date. And who falls out of the shower? I really am the clumsiest person in Velaris,” she joked. “Yesterday, I dropped a full cup of coffee over my new, white shirt. And the day before that, I poked my friend Nuala in the eye with a flower.”
“You… poked her in the eye with a flower?”
Elain laughed. “Yes. Her eye was red for hours.”
Their eyes met for a brief moment, and Azriel thought that he could drown in those eyes. He wanted her to look at him forever.
But he didn’t want to intrude. “Do you want me to leave? I could just leave the food here with you.”
Elain bit her inner cheek, suddenly looking very nervous. “Would you...Didn’t you buy food for yourself?”
“I did. But I don’t have to eat with you if you want to be alone.”
“I…” she took a deep breath. “I don’t want to be alone.” It was barely a whisper.
“So, you want me to stay?”
Elain nodded, a lovely pink color spreading across her cheeks.
“Okay.” Azriel unpacked the sushi from the bag and offered her a choice of drinks. “We have lemon, elderflower, and regular coke. I didn’t know what you preferred.”
“Elderflower, please.”
She was still blushing. Azriel couldn’t tell if she was uncomfortable or just nervous.
Azriel handed her the drink and opened the coke for himself.
Elain sat up slowly and reached for her chopsticks. Since she had to sit with her leg raised, she couldn’t exactly lean over the coffee table, so Azriel placed the sushi on a pillow in her lap.
“Thank you,” she said and put a few pillows behind her back. From where he sat, he could only see the back of Elain’s head now. He wanted to move the chair so he could look at her, but he didn’t want to come off as creepy.
And he was actually quite happy that they couldn’t see each other when she took a bite of her food and let out a sigh. It was just a sigh, but somehow it was the most erotic sound Azriel had ever heard. He blushed and made a point of looking at his food.
“God, this is so good, Azriel. Thank you. I was really hungry.”
“When was the last time you ate?”
“Lunch,” she said under her breath and took another bite of sushi. Azriel looked at his watch. She hadn’t eaten in more than seven hours. And she was going to make instant ramen if he hadn’t shown up. Suddenly, he felt a bit better about the situation.
When Azriel looked up from his food, Elain was looking at him over her shoulder.
“Is this weird?” she asked. “Is it weird that I asked you to stay? I know it isn’t fun…”
“I kind of remember that I was the one who asked for your address, and then showed up at your doorstep with food. I promise that I wouldn't have done that if I didn’t want to. If anything, I’m weird for showing up like this.”
She laughed, but it was a sad laugh. “No, you’re not weird. You’re kind. I’m just not used to this.”
Azriel frowned. “Not used to what? Kindness?”
Elain looked away, but Azriel didn’t miss the slight nod. “My ex never came over when I was sick. He said that I was boring and that he had better things to do…”
Azriel felt his hands curl into fists. “Is this the same ex that cheated on you and now leaves hate on your videos?” he gritted out.
Another nod. “Yes. But there has been almost no hate since you helped me block those words.” She smiled at him, and he could tell that she wanted to change the subject.
“That’s good to hear.”
Azriel wanted nothing more than to ask where this asshole lived so he could go and kick his ass, but he tried to act civil for Elain’s sake.
“I’m sorry for talking about him,” she said. “You should never talk about exes on dates and…” Her eyes grew wide when she realized what she said. “Not that this is a date or anything,” she corrected herself. “I mean, it would be a pretty shitty date.”
She was flustered, and Azriel couldn’t hide the big grin on his face. She was so cute.
“Elain. Do you want this to be a date?”
“Do you?”
He knew that she needed to hear him say it. “Yes.”
A shy smile played on her face. “Me too.”
“Then it’s settled. This is our first date,” Azriel declared.
Elain’s smile grew. “So there’s a chance for more dates?”
“Don’t be greedy,” Azriel teased. Elain stuck out her tongue and turned around again, facing her food.
I want to taste that tongue, Azriel thought.
Damn those intrusive thoughts.
“I can’t believe that I’m wearing leggings on our first date.”
Azriel didn’t say anything to that. He could complain about anything that tight.
God, what was wrong with his brain tonight?
“You look so good, and I look like this,” she pointed at her hair. “I had even bought a new dress for tonight.”
This piqued Azriel’s interest. “Really? Tell me what it looks like and I can imagine you in it.”
Or out of it.
Stupid fucking brain.
Elain pointed somewhere behind Azriel. “Well, it’s right there.”
On a door that Azriel assumed led to her bedroom, hung a blue dress.
Cobalt blue.
His favorite color.
He grinned and pulled up one pant leg and showed her his sock “We would have matched.”
Elain let out a heartfelt laugh, which made Azriel all warm inside. He loved seeing her happy. He liked knowing that he was the reason for said happiness.
“I didn’t take you for a man that wears colorful socks,” she said, still laughing. “First Barbie Girl, and now colorful socks. I’m starting to think that there’s more to you than meets the eye.”
“Oh, I’m full of surprises.”
There was a stretch of silence again. It wasn’t uncomfortable though. Even though they didn’t know each other well yet, Azriel could already tell that Elain was one of those people that he just instantly could relax around.
“Elain, this might be a weird request. But can I move this chair so I’m not staring at the back of your head?”
Elain turned around, cheeks pink again. “Yes,” she answered quickly, almost as if she had thought about the same thing.
He picked up the chair and quickly moved it to the other side of the couch. When he met Elain’s gaze, she was staring at him, mouth agape.
“What?”
“You’re strong.”
Azriel scratched his neck and laughed nervously, feeling a bit self-conscious. “Yeah, I work out.”
Wow, what a stupid fucking answer.
But Elain didn’t seem to mind. No, she was looking at him more intently now, and her eyes were not focusing on his face anymore. No, they were most definitely looking at his chest. “I can tell,” she said playfully. This felt very much like flirting,
Azriel wondered what she would think of the tattoos covering his skin underneath the shirt.
Azriel tried to remember the conversation topics he had written down on his phone, and after a few minutes, they were talking as if they had known each other for years. Azriel was surprised that she was so easy to talk to. Most of the time, he struggled with social situations. But with Elain, he felt comfortable. At ease.
“You’re very easy to talk to,” he told Elain. She rewarded him with a smile.
“So are you. It feels like we have known each other forever. I never thought that someone that slid into my DM’s would ever be this nice.”
At those words, Nesta’s face popped into Azriel’s mind. He should tell Elain that he knows Nesta. If it wasn’t for her, he would never have known that Elain lived in Velaris. If it wasn’t for Nesta, he wouldn’t have happened to run past her store that morning.
“I have a confession to make,” he said before he could change his mind.
Elain raised her eyebrows. “Oh? Please don’t tell me you’re trying to get me to join a cult.”
“Has that happened before?”
Elain shrugged. “More often than you think.”
“I’m not trying to get you to join a cult. I just… I wanted to tell you that I think that we have some mutual friends.”
She didn’t look surprised, but she didn’t say anything either, so Azriel continued.
“You know Nesta, right? I think you went to college together…”
Elain nodded.
“Well, she’s getting married to my best friend Cassian. I didn’t know that you knew them when I wrote to you, I promise. But it felt weird pretending like we don’t have people in common when we do. I’m sorry for not telling you earlier. I found out last week when Nesta saw one of your videos on my phone and asked me if I was a stalker.”
Azriel was blushing now. He was expecting silence, or maybe questions. But instead, he was met with laughter.
“She thought you were a stalker?”
Azriel shrugged, unable to find any good words.
“Well, I might also have a confession to make,” Elain announced. “I actually knew that you were friends with Nesta. That’s why I even answered your DM in the first place.”
“What?” Azriel couldn’t find better words than that.
“Yeah, when I scrolled through your Instagram I saw a photo from Rhysand’s and Feyre’s wedding, so I kind of figured out who you were then. Nesta had mentioned you once or twice before, so I knew you weren’t a creep. And then I saw that selfie when you were carrying a lasagna, and you looked so good, so I answered your DM.” Her blush had almost turned a deep red.
Azriel couldn’t help but grin. “You answered because I looked hot? You said that the lasagna looked tasty…”
She bit her lip to keep from laughing. “Want to hear another confession?”
Azriel nodded.
“Well, I kind of understood how to block words from the link you sent me, but I really wanted to talk to you more.”
Azriel’s mouth fell open in pretend shock. “Sneaky girl.”
“I’m sorry for not telling you earlier. I just…”
“No, no. It’s okay,” Azriel interrupted. “Do you want to hear another of my confessions?”
“Yes, please.”
Azriel put his elbows in his knees and leaned forward. He could tell that her eyes went to his biceps. Good.
“Well, when I first saw one of your videos, I thought that you might be the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”
Elain blushed even more, the color spreading to her chest. Not that Azriel was looking there.
“Really?”
“Yes. And when we talked on the phone, you know, that time when you lied about needing my help,” Azriel winked at her. “I hadn’t laughed that much in ages. I was so bummed because I thought that you lived on the other side of the country or something.”
“But I didn’t.” She smiled.
“You didn’t.” He smiled back.
They spent the entire night in Elain’s living room, just talking. Without even noticing it, a few hours went by. When they finished the sushi, Azriel made a snack buffet on the coffee table, which made Elain laugh.
“We are going to be so sick if we eat all of this.”
“Well, someone told me that she might be bedridden for more than a week, so maybe you could save some for the upcoming days of rest and relaxation.”
“Sounds like a plan,” she said and reached for the popcorn.
They continued flirting for the rest of the evening, but nothing explicit happened. They didn’t touch. Didn’t kiss. They just talked. It was all Azriel could have dreamt of. He had never felt so comfortable so quickly with anyone before. When it was close to midnight, he could tell that Elain was getting tired. After her fifth yawn, Azriel told her that he should probably get going.
She protested and then yawned again.
“Okay, I admit defeat,” she said and stretched. Azriel could see her stomach when her shirt rode up from the motion. It looked so wonderful and soft and…
He didn’t even have time to finish his thought, because Elain was trying to stand up by herself. Trying, and failing miserably.
“Could you help me to the bathroom?” she whispered and nodded to a white door just by the kitchen.
“Of course,” Azriel put his arm around her waist and supported her. She didn’t complain, but he could see the pain on her face. It hurt him to see her like this.
“I’m just gonna brush my teeth. Don’t go just yet.” She closed the door. Azriel leaned against the wall next to the door and dragged his hands through his hair.
He looked around the room, not quite believing that he was here. In Elain’s home.
This date had been even better than he could ever have imagined. He was actually quite happy that they hadn’t gone out, but he obviously didn’t like that the reason for staying home was that she was hurt.
The door opened again, and Elain looked at Azriel with a pale face. She was so obviously in pain. Azriel grabbed her around the waist again and held her up.
“Do you have any painkillers?”
She nodded. “By the bed. Could you help me? Just to the door.”
Azriel started leading the way, but after two steps Elain winced.
Azriel couldn’t take it anymore. “Hold on,” he warned her, and then he picked her up. She gasped and flung her arms around his neck. This was the closest they had ever been. One of his fingers graced the hem of her shirt. He could feel her skin there. He had to take a deep breath. “Is this okay?”
“Mhm,” she breathed, and he walked her to her room. He stopped at the door. It was a cozy bedroom. The walls were painted a dark blue and above her bed hung a giant painting with a floral motif in a gold frame.
“Nice room,” he said. He didn’t put her down. She had said that she only needed help to the door, but he couldn’t see her walking to her bed all by herself,
“Thank you.”
“Do you want me to...” he started, but he was interrupted when Elain said his name.
“Azriel,” she repeated.
He looked at her then, her face just inches from his. He could see every freckle on her skin. He could count every eyelash. His eyes went to her plush lips, and then back to her eyes.
Had she noticed?
She had his attention now.
“Azriel,” she whispered. “Are you going to kiss me?”
Azriel was taken aback. He hadn’t expected that question. He didn’t mind, of course not. he was just surprised. She could probably see that in his eyes, because she quickly tried to smooth over it. “I mean, we don’t have to. I completely understand if you don’t want to, and I..”
Azriel kissed her temple to make her quiet. It worked very well. “You’re hurt.”
“Just my ankle,” Elain pouted. “Also, haven’t you ever heard the saying ‘kiss it better’?”
Azriel rolled his eyes. “I’m pretty sure that it means that you should kiss the place that hurts,” he teased.
“Eh, semantics. I think a kiss on the lips might do wonders.”
Azriel leaned in, almost touching his lips to her. Almost. “Oh, is that what you think?” he teased.
“Mhm,” she breathed.
Azriel stayed like that for a while, his lips just out of reach. He wanted her to beg. He wanted her to go crazy with want. With need.
But that was for another time. Right now, he just needed to kiss her.
Elain was tilting her head to get closer to him. Her mouth was slightly parted and her eyes scanned his before fluttering shut.
Offer and permission.
Azriel leaned in slowly and brushed his lips to hers. It was a feathery light touch. He could feel Elain shiver in his arms, and he held her closer. Tighter. He touched her lips with his again, and he knew he needed more. He tasted her lips once more, his tongue teasing her lower lip. Elain opened up for him, letting him in. She moaned when he deepened the kiss. When he pressed his lips more firmly to hers. When her tongue joined his. They were both panting, unable to stop. Elain’s hands went to Azriel’s hair, gently scraping his scalp while her tongue tangled with his. The sensation made Azriel crazy, and if she hadn’t been injured he would have lowered her to the bed and continued his kisses down her body until she was writhing underneath him, begging for more.
But she was hurt. And it was late.
Unwillingly, Azriel slowed down before breaking the kiss.
“More,” Elain panted and kissed his jaw.
Azriel chuckled. “Don’t be greedy.”
She pouted when he walked over to her bed, and it was the cutest pout Azriel had ever seen. It was so cute in fact, that he had to lean in again and kiss her lower lip. He didn’t know how it happened, but he was suddenly sitting on Elain’s bed with her in his lap. He was still holding her tight, her fingers still in his hair. Their lips were locked in another kiss. This one was even hotter. Even deeper. Azriel thought to himself that he didn’t need air if he could just taste these lips for the rest of his life.
After a small eternity, they did have to break apart though. Turns out the human body needs air. Stupid body.
Elain leaned her forehead against his.
“I should go,” Azriel said, even though every fiber of his being protested that statement.
She nodded. “Okay.” She was still out of breath. So was he.
Elain kissed his forehead, which made him feel oddly safe. “So, can I have a second date?”
Azriel chuckled and nuzzled her neck. She smelled divine. He wanted nothing more than to taste her there; just below her ear.
“You can have as many dates as you want.”
“Good to know.” He could hear the smile in her voice.
After a few minutes of catching their breaths, Azriel helped Elain into bed. He fetched her a glass of water for the painkillers and made sure that all her windows were closed.
He leaned against her doorframe, trying to memorize the sight of her in bed. She looked so cute. So vulnerable.
“Could you lock the door when you leave? My keys are on the kitchen counter. You can just put them in the mailbox.”
“Of course.” Azriel walked into her room again and leaned over her. He kissed the top of her head and caressed her cheek with his thumb. “Sleep well, Elain.”
“You too, Azriel.”
She was already drifting off.
Azriel walked quietly through the apartment and made sure that the door was locked behind him.
Azriel was walking home on clouds that evening.
In his bones, he could feel that this was the start of something wonderful.
When he climbed into bed that night, he saw a new message from Elain. She must have sent it just after he left her place. He opened the message, and there was no text. Just an audio file.
He pressed play and was immediately met with her heavenly voice.
“I thought that this might help you sleep,” Elain whispered, and Azriel could feel tingles up and down his spine. “Thank you for a wonderful date, Azriel.”
And then she repeated his name. For five minutes, she was whispering “Azriel, Azriel, Azriel,” over and over again, and it made Azriel both sleepy and aroused.
It was actually a very pleasant feeling, he thought to himself as he drifted off to sleep.
That night, he dreamt about brown eyes, golden hair, and the sweetest lips he had ever tasted. Azriel had never felt better.
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buttterknifeee · 3 years
Text
An Introduction Pt. 2 - Teen Titans x Aquagirl!Reader
I've already finished part 3 and will be posting it soon, meaning that requests for this series is now open!!! Info can be found here and here is Part 1
Summary: You've teamed up with cloak girl, robot man, emo traffic light, and Beast Boy. What could go wrong?
Pairings: none; if you would like to see pairings for this in the future, requests are now open!!! (see info above)
Word count: 1370
A/N: This is my 100th post on Tumblr WOOOOO!!!! Thanks for the support yall :) Once again this is a reader insert of the Teen Titans 2003 show season 5 ep 10 "Go!" (The one where they all meet for the first time!)
You all hid in an alleyway to hide from the aliens, who were on their search for the pink haired girl. You all silently waited for the aliens to finish rummaging through the cars near you.
“So,” Beast Boy whispered. “I didn’t catch all of your names; I’m Beast Boy.” he re-introduced himself again with an endearing tone, opening it up for the rest of you to respond.
“Robin.”
“Raven.”
“I guess I’ll be going by Cyborg.”
“And I guess I’ll be going by uhhh-” You stopped in the middle of your sentence, now realizing that you never thought of your hero name, especially for the fact that you’ve only been a “hero” for the past 3 hours. Lets see, you think. I have water powers sooo water woman? No! Thats stupid. How about Aquaman? No you dingus, Aquaman is already a person and you’re a girl! Wait how about-
“-Aquagirl.” you decide. “Nice to meet you, Beast Boy.” You grinned and shook his hand, while Robin continued to look out for the aliens. They seemed to all be gone as the five of you peeked your head out of the alleyway.
“Alright,” Robin says, stepping out of the alley way. “We need some way to-”
Raven interrupted him. “She’s near.” she blurted, causing the rest of you to stare at her confusingly. “I can sense things,” she says to her defense.
“I’ll see if I can pick up her scent,” Beast Boy says, and you realize why he was called “Beast Boy” at that moment, as he turned into a dog and began to sniff around. You stared wide eyed at the newly transformed dog, before staring even wider eyed and Cyborg’s revealed arm, which was actually a bionic arm. He explained that he's able to hear her with something called a sonic analyzer.
Beast Boy and Cyborg both perked up, saying that they’ve both got the alien girl’s trail from their respective methods. You and the others follow the two boys, leading you to a video store with the entrance blown apart. The five of you find the girl in the middle of the store, chowing down on junk food.
“Uh… Those taste better without the wrapper,” Beast Boy says, announce your entrance. She finishes her handful of sweet treats and prepares to attack us, her hands glowing a familiar green. You gasped in fear.
Robin steps in front of the four of you, trying to stop the girl. “ It's all right. We're friends, remember?”
“Friends? Why? For what reason did you free me?” she spits, her hands glowing even greener.
“Just… Trying to be nice.”
“‘Nice.’ We do not have this word on my planet. Closest is ‘rutha.’ Weak!” she yells. Cyborg steps up this time.
“Well, around here, ‘nice’ means ‘nice.’” He says calmly. “And if you want us to keep being nice, you better tell us why the Lizard King took you prisoner.”
“Not prisoner. I am...prize. The Gordanians deliver me to the Citadel, to live out my days as their servant.”
“And the Citadel are...?” Raven asks raising an eyebrow.
“Not nice.” She says flatly.
“God, that's terrible,” you gasp. “You can’t go with them.”
“And you’re not going with them. Not if I have anything to say about it.” Robin promises.
“Um, don't you mean ‘we’?” Beast Boy corrected him. Before Robin had a chance to reply, the wall next to you exploded, sending the six of you to the floor. You quickly got up as the alien army advanced.
“Seize her!” one of the aliens yelled. You noticed the others around quickly assumed a fighting stance, and you prepared to fight as well.
You ran towards the aliens, raising your arms to burst the pipes below you, sending water straight up from the ground and overwhelming an alien soldier. You punched your arms forward, the water from the pipe shooting back the aliens from the wall they entered from. You jet the water out using your fists, sending aliens crashing into one another.
You continue to fight, making note of the others out of the corner of your eye. Beast Boy is changing into various animals to launch the soldiers through the air, Raven’s using her magic (of some sort) to send a group of aliens through the roof, Robin uses a staff and his fighting skills, and Cyborg uses his brute strength to overcome them. The alien girl uses her green bolts of energy to shoot the aliens away from the rest of you.
You notice Cyborg being carried by Beast Boy in bird form, trying to escape a few of the flying aliens. You concentrated, and a geyser shot out from under the trio of aliens, putting them off balance. Raven takes control of a streetlight and hits them with it, much similar to a game of golf.
You rejoin the others as the army of aliens lay in a pile, defeated.
“I believe the expression is ‘thanks’” The alien girl says, slightly blushing.
“Its what friends do.” You smile, gently taking her hand for reassurance.
“Aw man, my suit!” Cyborg groans. You hadn’t noticed before, but the teen’s sweat suit had been completely torn to pieces, revealing his body to be completely robotic, with colors of blue, gray, and black.
“So? You look way cooler without it.” Beast Boy says, and you nodded your head in agreement. Cyborg looked at you then Beast Boy, raising his eyebrow.
“Yeah. Like I'm taking fashion advice from the guy in the goofy mask and a girl who fights crime in a surfing suit.” He roasts you and Beast Boy’s outfit choices. You make a face at him, taking obvious offense to his statement.
“I would have changed if I didn’t literally wash up from the ocean a few hours ago!” you defended yourself, arms crossed. Beast took his comment way harder than you did.
“Goofy? My mask is cool. Isn't it? Raven?” He looks at Raven, a pleading look in his eyes. Her facial expression remains the same.
“What secret identity? You’re green.” she points out. Beast Boy mumbled, then hesitantly took his mask, revealing bright green hair to match his skin. You laugh as Robin and your new alien friend walks towards the four of you.
“This isn’t over. Now that we’ve interfered…” Robin began, deep in thought.
“Trogaar will strike harder. It's only a matter of-” Alien Girl tries to finish his sentence, but was interrupted by a loud noise. Another hologram appeared over the city, this time with the alien (whom you now identified as Trogaar) fuming with rage.
“Fools! The Earth scum were warned. Your insolence will be punished. Your city shall be destroyed! “ the large alien bellowed. A large gun at the front of the alien ship began to warm up, preparing to release on Jump City.
“Great.” Raven mutters.
Beast Boy is the first to freak out. “So, after trashing a pizza place and a perfectly good video store, now we've managed to make a humongous space gecko mad enough to vaporize our entire town?” He asks rhetorically.
“Go Team.” Cyborg says unenthusiastically. The alien girl turns to Robin bitterly.
“All the fault is yours! I commanded you leave me alone, but you insisted upon the being nice!” She yells.
“My fault?! You blast me, you kiss me, but you never stop to mention that they have a gigantic particle weapon?” he retaliates. A shout match begins between the alien girl, Robin, Cyborg, and Beast Boy, overwhelming and seriously annoying you.
“UGHHHH” you say out loud, ignoring the others. “I should have gone back into the ocean and tried swimming back home, but NOOOO i had to follow that stupid green LIGHT and-”
“QUIETTTT” Raven finally yells, snapping all five out you out of your pity parties and arguments. You all turned to her. She simply waved and said “hi.”
Robin sighed. “Look. It doesn't matter how we got into this mess. We're in it, and we will get out of it, together.”
Murmurs of agreement and nodding came out of the other five of you and Robin started walking away. He turned his head towards us.
“Come on. We got a city to save.”
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everafterkeiji · 3 years
Text
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Song: Getting Over You by Lauv
Summary: Unexpected things happen all the time but meeting him was one of the best parts of it.
Pairings: Atsumu Miya x gn!reader
Word count: 7.1k
Tags, Genre: implied enemies to semi lovers! trope, slight angst, curse words, timeskip! Atsumu
A/N: pls i didn't intend to change it last minute but pls let me know if u liked it cuz im still having second thoughts <3
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“No- I’m sorry.” Atsumu says as you felt your heart snap and break into two distant pieces. You already limited your expectations but there was a miniature amount of hope that you held onto and that was when you should’ve lost your grip.
“It’s fine, ‘Tsumu.”
It obviously wasn’t. No matter how loud the cries of your heart were, what mattered to you in this moment was to forget it ever happened- to run away and never face another failed trial of love. Atsumu can see past your smile and he hated the way it had to end in a way he avoided. There would be a time where his feelings would be up to confrontation but when it finally happened, he’d became a coward.
He was late to realize what the outcomes could lead to. How certain was he that your paths would meet again? How was he sure that he can revert this scenario in a better way that he wanted when you were losing your hold onto him?
“I have to go but it was nice knowing you, Miya.” Your lips were tugged in a weak smile while he questions why his body lacked the power to move but what resumes to play in his mind was the way his name escaped your lips like it was a curse to say it.
Turning your heel, there was an ache in Atsumu’s head. Was it regret? His decisions tied in knots? His emotions unable to declutter themselves? Hesitantly, he reaches for you. His hand wrapped around yours as you glanced down on his soft skin you used to despise to get near to.
His eyes told you stories that were hard to decipher all at once. His stories didn’t start with a setting, it started and ended with you, not a single page where you weren’t there but it seems like the chapters you had in your own story were being torn off to erase the traces of false hope.
“Y/N, I'm so sorry.” He whispers while you felt his hand tighten to make sure that you could stay- even if it lasted for a minute because he wasn’t sure fate could spare you two another moment.
But then, you softly removed his hold on you while the cold sweat runs down his forehead.
“It’s okay, ‘Tsumu. We were just never meant for each other.”
We could’ve been.
-
“Thank you for your time.” You bid the player as both bow each other as a way of manner. You gathered your bag as the athlete turns to you with a kind smile.
“I enjoyed the interview. I’m impressed at how prepared and professional you are. How long have you been doing this?” He asks, adjusting his outfit while you toss your bag on your shoulder with your camera slung around your neck.
“There was a journalism club back in my high school and I joined in ever since I was a first year.”
“You’re in college now?”
“Yes, sir.” He chuckles at your formality while he gives a pat to your shoulder.
“That’s good to hear. Goodluck with everything- I believe that you’ve got bright things ahead of you.” Your heart fluttered at the compliment while you bid your goodbyes. You step out of the hotel feeling the satisfaction hit you like a prize. The report can finally be simplified into a few more subtle fixes and maybe by 1am, you’d be able to present it to your professor without doubting your work.
Sighing happily, you decided to reward yourself to a lovely lunch with a view you often visited due to a reminiscent feeling that bubbles in your system. After ordering, you sat outside admiring the way the sun sets and leaves a lasting beauty before the moon shows.
The stress was fading from you. You had expected that the project would’ve taken weeks for you to finish knowing that some retired athletes usually avoid questions to why they left the sport they used to love. You had called a few, a struck of confidence was enough to make you do so but they often cancel your request because they either paid attention to your young age or because they weren’t ready to be asked such personal questions about them. You were lucky to score and interview with a well-known athlete whose had his fair share of the spotlight during his early 20’s. Sadly, his retirement was due to an accident and his weak body levels couldn’t bare the adrenaline of the sport. He was kind, patient, and understanding. Ever since he agreed, your attention was on the questions you’d lay upon him seeing that this was an opportunity you can’t waste. After gathering some of his past glories, you narrowed down your interrogation on what remains important to benefit the topic of your project. You were more than proud because of the compliment he had given you and the fact that you might be able to catch a break after a hectic week.
Opening your camera and flicking through the photos to decide on which you were going to use. Suddenly, a photo meets your sight. The peak of blonde and gray hair with a uniform that you missed.
The Inarizaki Volleyball Team.
Most especially, him.
A few years has passed since you’ve seen him and his brother. Osamu’s last interaction with you was filled with nothing but sweet memories and a hug that you could never forget the warmth of, while Atsumu’s last memory with you remained bittersweet- like a sour flavor in his tongue that never left. You tried too hard to forget fragments of your time with him but because of how much work you put yourself through, you lost time to reflect on the moments that didn’t hurt.
Half of your high school life was compressed into confusing parts of your story.
But the chapter that seems to be the most influential part of it, was where you got to meet the blonde who has stomped on your heart.
It was funny to be remembered as a person who had the guts to sneeze during the great Miya setters serve.
“Achoo!”
You immediately cover your face with your handkerchief as your sneeze echoed through the gym making Atsumu’s hand lose its power because he was stunned by the sound, the ball hitting the net instead as he almost hits Aran who was wide eyed that ball went his way. The team could hear Osamu’s ‘uh-oh’ and it was enough for them to know what the setter feels after the unfortunate event.
Atsumu grits his teeth as the other team cheers knowing they got the score while his head jolts to the crowd, aggressively searching for the one who messed up his serve. Even eyeing his fans who got scared by the way he turned his head in their direction.
Meanwhile, you’ve got glares surrounding you as your friend nudges you, letting out an exhale of disbelief that you’ve got death stares.
“We’ll get the next point ‘Tsumu, don’t worry.” Osamu says landing a hand to his brothers' shoulder while Atsumu readies himself for the serve of the opposite team.
“Whatever.”
After that certain match, Atsumu was more than determined to hunt down whoever caused the flunk of his serve. Silly as it is, he’s never heard someone dare to speak during his serve. He’d always let out a hand signal for them to be quiet- let it be known that if someone spoke, he’d be fine with it but a whole sneeze? He’d never let it go, especially when it resonated in his ears.
So, imagine the look on his face when he hears the exact same sound when he was just stopping by his locker.
“Fucking dust.” You said sniffling as you closed the door to your locker, and you were face to face with a wide-eyed Miya Atsumu holding out his finger and pointing it to you, as if he was accusing you of murder.
“It’s you!” He shouts making you raise your eyebrow at him, but the raise of his voice had intimidated you.
“What?” You asked him, not finding a single clue on whatever he was pertaining to.
“You messed up my serve by sneezing.” He says in the tone of ‘as-a-matter-of-fact’ making you lick your lips, a hand to your hip as you looked at him.
“I’m not apologizing for something I can’t control.” You were completely baffled by this man. Sure, you were his classmate, but this was your first year and you barely cared to take notice of all of them, only focusing on your school group that had you busy.
“You could’ve held it for like 2 more seconds at least.” You blinked before letting out a tired exhale as you eye him up and down. The setter of the school's volleyball team, you were aware of that because of how many matches you’ve been dragged to, but he’s never come up to you before.
This was a whole other introduction.
“Miya, right?” You asked him as he steps forward, looking down on you with a sly smirk.
“I guess I’m sorry.”
Atsumu stays silent for a few seconds but returns to his angry pout as he continues to stare at you.
“What’s your name?” Atsumu asks, crossing his arms in front of his chest.
“Y/N.”
From thereon, it looked like your life’s plot had spiked up. Atsumu was- you could call it as a miscalculation. Someone so loud and had his ego constantly fed was not someone you would stick around due to your strict schedule of balancing schoolwork and papers from your club. It was like a bump in the road wherein the objects in your car would’ve been juggled around because of the impact- that's what it felt like. Thinking that two years would’ve passed by like a breeze, time slowed down with him. The constant bickering and arguments were embedded in you like a tattoo. The way his cackle would echo through your ears when he’d struck a nerve to you, the way he’d purposely call you nicknames you swore you hated, to the same jokes can be dragged on for hours, and how every fiber of your body promised you’d leave when you’ve had enough.
But promises were always broken.
You stuck around and he did too. Atsumu provided you with his trust and company whenever you needed it. It’s a pleasant experience but it surely wasn’t at its best. What comes with it were headaches and harsh words but having a person who knew you until graduation and stayed was a different reason. He was a familiar, a person who isn’t a call away when you needed it but being in their presence would give you a pinch of comfort.
Maybe the only thing you can thank Atsumu for is getting to know his twin brother.
You accidentally sent a text to Osamu about you panicking about a missing file to be passed the following day and Osamu was up and ready to help you locate it. After finding it, you decided to treat him for being a life saver and he of course, was having the time of his life for the free food- it was also his favorite restaurant at that moment. During this time, you’ve got to talk more about each other. Months pass now Osamu and you were way better friends than you and his brother.
You and Osamus’ bond were the type that was just so serene, hardly any type of judgement when you’d bring up a problem, and all secrets were kept tight.
Osamu was the shoulder you can lean on, while Atsumu’s would shove your head away when you do so.
Your friendship drifted away when Atsumu stabbed your heart with the words “No.” and “I’m sorry.” You hesitated that day, to dial Osamu’s phone the way you used to, but it never happened. Your sobs muffled your voice and if you called him, he’d never understand a word that you’d say.
The opposite is that Osamu would understand everything.
Because you and Atsumu mirrored the same amount of pain.
He’d never seen his brother so- ruined. Atsumu’s thin walls didn’t shield his shouts of sorrow while Osamu withstood every bit of the torture show his brother had. Checking him on the next day, the setter was fast asleep with bags under his eyes and a red nose, clutching onto his pillow so tightly.
Osamu knew that day that the damage has been done and not a single band aid would mend the two shattered hearts.
-
Atsumu strolls to the around looking for a restaurant along with his teammates. The sun has fully set making the streets of Japan light up with how busy and crowded they were. Bokuto and Hinata were busy pointing at stands that had their favorite slabs of meat while Sakusa trails behind them with a mask, wanting to be removed from the push of people. As the eyes of the blonde land on a certain stand with multiple notes stuck onto a board, he smiles fondly. He then sees two kids running with smiles on their lips as they held each other's hand, obviously excited to explore the night.
“Come on, don’t be a wuss.” Atsumu says as you rolled your eyes and thought hard about his hand that was held out in front of you. Atsumu grunts before taking your hand in his before you could even decide properly. You followed his lead as he walked you through the sea of people. You were nervous that he had left practice to accompany you. Observing you from afar, you looked devastated, but you continued the rest of the day with a smile like nothing happened. Seeing that you looked dull talking to Karou, he pulled you away from whatever void of sadness you surrounded yourself in.
“Atsumu shouldn’t you be at practice?” You asked sighing, still with his hand in yours as you stopped by a stand.
“I should be but whatever that Karou did is obviously hurting you, you idiot.” Your eyes widened at his statement and this reaction confirmed his suspicions as anger forms inside of him. What could that boy have done to get you this upset? Did he physically hurt you? Atsumu hated how he cared- it wasn’t his business to meddle with but the frown on your lips was something he wanted to remove from you.
“Thank you.” You muttered as he buys you the same thing he ordered. He sees how you weren’t as colorless as before. The lights of the night brought saturation to your features as his eyes adored every feature of yours.
“It’s nothing.”
“Atsumu-san?” Hinata asks, tapping the boy on the shoulder while the blonde awakens from his escape.
Atsumu looks around once more, seeing that there wasn’t a trace of you, he moves on.
Like he was supposed to do in the first place.
-
“For our new assignment, why don’t we take the vice versa of your last project. Retirement is inescapable but why not find the reason they’d got into the sport. What makes it so exhilarating and unforgettable? That will be our topic this week. I’m giving you a week for interviews, photos, and articles. Video format is more suited for this task. Is that clear?” You all nodded as you wrote down the list of possible athletes to meet, jotting down an outline of some key points to remember.
“A tip for you all: look for the younger generations. It doesn’t matter to me what status the athlete stands in right now, it could be a friend or even a child. What I’m looking for the depths of the details in your research.” The professor stands making all of you bid him goodbye as he walks out of the room. You gathered your notebooks, sighing that you won’t have the time to properly rest- an exam was near right at the submission of your new task. You realized that you needed to sort out the things you were required to do before everything would pile up and get tangled in the short amount of time.
Who should I interview? God, everyone is so busy at this season. You thought. It’s true- you realized that matches were always lined up by this month. You also had classes to attend to and your mind could collapse at any given moment. You were more than worried about organizing your time properly but the feeling that you’d have several sleepless nights haunts you. You wished he could have extended the submission- though it didn’t get any better since after exams you tended to be drained from studying all night.
Going back to your apartment, you decided to put sticky notes all over your wall to help you sort out your priorities. Tomorrow would be Saturday meaning that you’ve done all the works to be passed on Monday and that you had zero meetings or classes. Saturday and Sunday would be divided to work parts, by Monday you should be up and running to work again.
You couldn’t let go of this group. It had given you countless of opportunities- even an offering to be an editor at a well-known magazine agency. You were in queue for the letter, so you decided to continue with the tasks of the group. You were thankful that you got used to the craziness of it all. The ability to multitask, to put the phone down once in a while, managing your time, those were just one of the benefits of getting used to it. The things you hated was that you barely had time for yourself. To lounge and just do nothing never met with what you were doing. You envied how some people from your group would plan some hang outs during a busy week and you always questioned how they managed to do it all without panicking.
You yawned as you felt your stomach growl at the scent of the delicious street food. Seeing that you fell short on money because the amount that was in your wallet was enough for your way home, it meant you’d have to wait to eat dinner until you came home. Letting out a groan you decided to walk your way even if you get shoved. God, you were starving and exhausted. The emotions were starting to fill you the more you moved. It didn’t help that everyone was so loud. You could hear the sound of the cackles from the drunken men in the corner, the cries of the baby that brought irritation to your eardrums and even the off-key singing of a (possibly) drunk girl at karaoke. You just wanted to cover your ears and crawl back to your bed not caring if you’d only be able to get 2 or 3 hours of sleep.
As you walked, you felt a boiling pile of liquid drip to your stomach making you let out a yelp as your clothes were drenched in the coffee stain that you despised. The liquid got to your skin making you wince at just how it impacted on your skin. You felt your eyes water as the woman tried to pat away the drink but instead made it worse because you wanted the fabric to be away from you as possible- which was the opposite of what she was doing.
“Oh my god- I'm so sorry.” She kept saying while patting your abdomen while you tried to wave her off, but she kept going making the tears flow from your eyes as you chose to walk away, covering your face at how humiliated you were. You sobbed in your hands as you bumped into someone before removing them from your face to find a bench to sit on but seeing that people were already turning their heads to look at you, you’ve had enough already.
Finally finding your bus stop, you sat down burying your face in the palm of your hands sobbing as your mind replays how you’ve made a fool out of yourself for the last time. Everything was going terribly and you didn’t know how to control it without losing your cool. Sure, you’ve managed to escape the people but the feeling is still badly glued to you.
“Is everything okay?”
Someone asks but the voice became a blur to you because you were so focused on your sobs and the unstable breathing.
“Go away.” You whispered but there was a weight added to your left side as you kept your face hidden behind your hands.
“I shouldn’t have asked.” The man says looking down before standing up to leave the bench, making you intake in a sharp exhale, relieved he left.
“Why does everything have to be so fucking difficult? How am I gonna interview a volleyball player at this state?” You rambled on thinking that guy has exited your business and was free from companion.
“I mean- we’re not close- but I’m a volleyball player?”
You wiped your eyes as your heart started to run a mile now that you’ve familiarized yourself with his voice.
Lifting your head, there in front of you was the one thing that your heart had wished to see.
“Atsumu?”
His eyes widen as his chest expands, his heart growing ten times bigger than it was while it beats like a drum on heavy metal song.
“Y/N- I didn’t know- wow.” Breathless, speechless, weak- those were the words that defined your emotions. You wanted to pass out- to act like you just mistaken him for a person but he was real and you had a hard time believing it.
“Atsumu?" God, he missed it. The way his name would fall of those taunting lips of yours. The tone in your voice leading him back to the memories that he couldn’t push away.
You had to believe it. There was no other way that your starvation can make you this delusional. You called his name like you were unsure that he was ever real- like a character your brain had developed to cope with your sorrows. You dared to touch him, maybe if you did it would be a wisp of air but you were scared that if you reached out to him, you could feel his skin and remember how you wanted it to be within your grasp all the time.
Perhaps it’s a dream but this time you’d never want to wake up if this was the only way you can be together.
“Y/N..I- how are you?” How could he manage to act so civil? Your presence shocked him like electricity in his veins, pumping his heart at an unusual speed. His voice was unsteady and low, experiencing the same thoughts like you.
It’s like he was dragged back to your last encounter. Seeing your eyes filled with so much agony and how you looked so torn from his rejection, it’s the same look that you had now. It’s like his eyes were playing a risky game with him but he couldn’t complain since he’s been wanting to see you ever since you let go.
“Well, I’m burned-out that’s for sure.” You said with a light chuckle as he sits back down, wondering if it’d be alright to be close to you.
“What’s this interview about?” He asks, fiddling with the strings of his jacket while you tore your eyes away from him because you knew the admiration for him would erupt anytime soon.
“What got athletes into the sport in the first place.” Atsumu places his finger under his chin, thinking deeply about what offer he just made.
It’d mean that he could be in the same room with you for more than the hours he spent crying to himself but why waste the chance? You needed it- heck you wouldn’t be this distraught if you weren’t so affected by it. There was a never-ending list of things to do but meeting with Atsumu wasn’t even in your list of expectations because you were over with hoping into something that takes a miracle.
But he is the miracle.
“Atsumu..I don’t want you to see me like this.” You said, looking down on your hands that were on your lap, letting your hair fall in front of you to avoid his concerned gaze.
“What do you mean?”
“I haven’t seen you in years, this is not what I planned to look like when I first see you.” Atsumu feels his heart frown at how low you spoke of yourself, but he understood. If you saw him in the state that you were in right now, he too would feel like he could’ve done or look better, even at least handle the situation without crumbling apart.
He knew you were in a troubled place of your mind but he just wonders where you could talk about why everything fell apart.
He missed the way it was casual to talk to you. Maybe an insult as a greeting, or a flick to the arm but he never expected to talk to you with his heart dropping in your hands. He just couldn’t forget the way you’d let him go that day during graduation, it’s almost like the sensation was still lingering around his palm even if he held a ball.
He just wished he said yes, only then, you’d be meant for each other.
“Do you mean it?” You asked sighing, not baring the weight of his silence. The pace of his heart quickens as he starts to worry if this was the confrontation that he held back all these years.
“The interview.” He was more than glad to do it. He was thankful that you weren’t talking about the bad memories or the circle of tension you two were in.
He looks at you while another strike was given to his heart seeing you this way. He’d do everything to bring back the color in your features.
“Of course.”
You smiled at his words as you both stand up but you felt conscious about the stain that was still stuck to your shirt making you desperately try to hide it by pulling your bag to the messed up section. Atsumu didn’t know that the person he had followed was the same person that got coffee dipped down on them. He didn’t recognize you at first because you had your hands covering your cries. He was worried for you when you ran off but when he knew it was you, he couldn’t believe if it was luck or a granted wish.
“Just wear this.” He says, handing you placing his jacket on your shoulders as your heart flutters at how he looked at you, completely filled with sincerity and the way his hand stayed on your shoulder.
“What the fuck do you want?” He asks you with a knife-like stare, purposely bumping harshly into you.
“Wow Miya, I was just walking.” You said returning the same fuel that he had.
“Then get out of my way then.”
“Thank you.” You said smiling lightly. He catches a glimpse of your smile and he feels his world light up at the sight of it.
I missed you.
“So where to?” He asks as you walk beside him just like old times. His height still intimidating you but it was still difficult to believe that this was the same Atsumu you had fallen for in high school.
“My apartment. We missed the bus so I hope it’s okay for you to wait.”
“I can always drive us there.” You’ve never whipped your head faster than this moment. You always trusted Osamu when he said that Atsumu couldn’t be a better driver than his own brother because Atsumu liked to rev up the engine like one of those scenes in a movie.
With the thought in your mind, you laughed.
Atsumu stops walking as he lets himself dwell at the sound of it.
Then there was a smile that he couldn’t contain.
“Sorry for laughing, ‘Tsumu. Never pictured you to have a car earlier than ‘Samu that’s all.” You explained as he chuckles, continuing to be beside you, a place that he finds himself to be the happiest.
“Yeah yeah I get it- I’m a little careless but not all the time y’know?” He says while he leads the way. The breeze felt comfortable now, it had a tweak of coldness but maybe it was just the atmosphere of you two.
When you walked to his car and told him your address, there was another silence but you tried to tell yourself that this was just Atsumu. Nothing to be worried about because you’ve known him for too long to act like all distant.
This is Atsumu- that's every reason that there is to feel nervous around him.
“How long have you been living there?” He asks while you started to feel just how badly you wanted to give in to sleepiness. You shifted once in a while to control yourself from falling asleep in his damn car. Every urge to just lay quiet for a while but you knew this would lead to a deep slumber.
“Ever since graduation.” You answered, annoyed that his jacket was inviting you to lay there and sleep away your stress though you were scared that once you wake up- Atsumu would be gone again.
“And you didn’t call to tell me about it?” He jokes but the chuckle that he expected never came because he knew just how awkward it’d be if you actually called just for that sole reason. Atsumu bites his lip at his failed attempt to drag the conversation on.
Then you giggled.
“I wanted to but I wouldn’t wanna bother the famous MSBY player.” You said smiling at him, proud that he continued on. You knew from Osamu of course, a single update when he had mentioned how well his restaurant had become, you also saw them in a poster once, even recognizing a few of his past opponents.
“Well, it would be a shame.”
There you are.
You finally arrived at your apartment and again you felt the slice of satisfaction as you removed your shoes and placed them on the table. You were partly thankful that your apartment was clean since you never have the time to spend a whole day in it only coming home late at night. Atsumu looks around as you prepare him a drink and a few snacks-it'd be rude not to.
Atsumu sees the photos where you won several awards for your loyalty and hardwork at your club. He sees how time passes and you grew into a version of you that he finds even more flawless then before. Your equipment and how everything was organized on your desk, he knew how much things changed because he used to see you doubt yourself every time you’d finish a paper but now you won awards because of them.
“Atsumu, is it alright if I shower real fast?” You asked while he raises a brow at you confused that you had to ask for his permission.
“Of course, Y/N- you didn’t have to ask.” He said chuckling while he sits on the couch, letting his eyes wonder around.
“I promise I’ll be back.”
“Please don’t rush yourself. Take yer time. “ He says while you smile at him before dashing to your room to gather new clothes, feeling like you’ve won a lottery with how happy you were to remove the coffee drenched top, tossing it to your laundry bin while you step into the shower enjoying the way the water decorated your skin, cleansing it from all the worries. While Atsumu scrolls on his phone to ease himself from the anxiousness. His finger would casually glide over Osamu’s phone number, to ask him what to do.
After a few minutes, you stepped out of the shower like a whole new person. You saw the way Atsumu’s eyes lit up when you walked in but you pushed the thought away. He pats the seat next to him while you grabbed your notebook and pen, ready to scribble down the questions.
“Are there any uncomfortable questions you’d want to avoid?” You asked him while he shakes his head while you took note of the possible questions.
“Is it okay for the interview to be filmed?” He nodded while you leaned onto the pillow, sighing happily at how you’ve managed to calm down from the pile of embarrassment earlier.
“Thank you for doing this, ‘Tsumu- really you don’t know how much I appreciate you for this.” You said leaning your cheek on the side of the couch as Atsumu copies your actions staring at you lovingly.
“You’re welcome, Y/N.” He says smiling while you returned to write a list of questions for him. With every time you look down on your notebook, Atsumu’s eyes never left you while his mind recalls every moment where he msised the opportunity to tell you just how beautiful you were.
Soon, you’ve fallen asleep while he lets the feeling sink in.
I’ve never wanted to hold you more than I do now.
He sighs before placing the blanket on your body while he kneels down and tucks a piece of hair behind your ear, his finger tracing your cheek.
“You’ll never know how much I missed you.” He whispers while you shifted in your sleep meeting his face. Before he stands up, he feels you reach for him while he’s left surprise at your touch.
“Stay please.” You whispered while he smiles weakly, placing a kiss on your forehead.
“I always will.”
-
The morning comes and you felt the blush creep on your cheeks remembering how easily you felt asleep. You wondered if Atsumu stayed, if he left- you couldn’t really blame him. So yawning and stretching when you woke up, you certainly didn’t expect to see Atsumu cooking you some breakfast. You couldn’t even move your legs, every part of you has gone stiff just admiring the way he moves.
“Hey, good morning.” He greets with a wave, a spatula in his hand, a bright smile tugged on his lips.
“Atsumu- oh god I’m so sorry.” You said as you went to him. You caught a whiff of what he was cooking and you swore you could’ve drooled knowing you didn’t even got the chance to eat dinner. Atsumu knew that of course so he called Osamu up in the morning to serve you the best breakfast he could ever make. He was initially supposed to make you dinner but you fell asleep before he could do it so this was his rebound.
“Idiot, it’s fine. Just sit down on the table and I’ll prepare the food.”
“Atsumu-“
“Just go, Y/N. I promise it’s okay- you deserve to rest before you work again.” You couldn’t even think properly with his words. It was so minimum but it was something you’d forget to do- rest. Hearing him remind you that sets a new feeling in your system. You did obey him though, you sat on the table as he even handed you coffee for him and you, placing the breakfast on the table. God, he was everything. You thought that after a few years, you two would completely drift apart but it seems like you were wrong for the hundredth time.
“Please don’t even think about ways to thank me, it’s nothing to me. “ He says taking the seat next to you while you place the food on his plate. You couldn’t even utter a word at how grateful you were for him and he’d be happy to get used to seeing you first thing in the morning.
“Atsumu, after breakfast can we have a run down of the questions first?” You asked him, growing more comfortable.
“Yeah sure.”
-
You sat on the couch, placing your camera on the table aligning it to the best possible angle as Atsumu sits down in front of you. You had your notebook on your lap as he praises how you looked so professional even if it was just a practice.
“Ready?” You asked while he nods with a smile as you pressed the camera to shoot so you could keep your composure, even if you struggled to.
“What does the sport mean to you?” You asked him, your eyes glimmering with the suns rays hitting it perfectly, while the words were removed from Atsumus mind. Seeing his hesitation, you decided to reassure him.
“It’s fine if you can’t answer straight away. I can always change the question if you like.” You commented, smiling at him to make sure he doesn’t feel rushed to answer. He nods, still not finding the exact same words to describe what he wanted to say.
“I’ll change the question for now.” You said while he let’s out a sigh before listening to you once again.
“What was the biggest struggle in your career?” He sends you a worried stare but his mind nearly bursts at his answer.
“Getting over you.”
You dropped your pen on the couch as Atsumu continued to speak since this was the answer his heart was sure of responding to.
“I tried to forget- I did. For every year that passes, the more fucking harder it gets to act like I didn’t love you back when you walked away.”
“Atsumu-“
“I know I said no- I was too late to realize how stupid I was to be scared of falling for you. I couldn’t let myself be the man who could love you when all this time I tried to hate you because I knew I would hurt you- and I already did.”
We get hurt a lot but it doesn’t mean I won’t come back to you.
Love grew and died during your second year at Inarizaki.
Before Atsumu, you found Karou. A boy who was a new recruit to your group whose helped you multiple times and has shared a conversation with you about your similar likes. There was this strange infatuation with him that even Osamu had to question how deep was the bite of love on you. You’ve fallen, of course. Occasionally leaving notes on his desk to just let him know how he made your day but it never worked. He would only paste the note on another persons desk like it was nothing. Not even getting the reaction you wanted, it felt too normal when it shouldn’t be. Realizing how this was just rejection in the shadows, you gave up. Obviously heart broken at the mere thought of how your chances were blown away. When Atsumu saw how gloomy you were that day, he had to show you how much you didn’t need Karou and there grew a different bond between the both of you.
And with a bond like that, you became attached to him.
It was all becoming clearer and clearer as you realized that you fell for the wrong person first.
“You’re too stupid to fall for a douche like him. “ He says kicking the rock that was in front of him.
“You’re lucky with that admirer of yours, Miya. I’ve never seen someone stick around you for so long.” You teased. It’s true the half of the twin hearthrob has gotten himself a sincere admire. It wasn’t one of his crazy fans- this was a person who genuinely cared for him and the words on every note he received would make the poor boy blush uncontrollably and you envied how he’s yet to realize that he too was falling for this unknown person.
While you two were oblivious to the slip up of the universe, it took a toll on you.
Because the notes you’d leave on Karous desk, always ended up on Atsumu’s instead.
“I wanna meet them so bad. Just to see if they actually care and it’s not a prank. They haven’t given me a note and it’s been what a month? I doubt it was ever real.”
“With the amount of effort they gave, I’m sure it was real.”
It’s real for me even if it shouldn’t be.
There wasn’t any other way then to accept the feelings that stayed on your skin. The moments where you thought that being around Atsumu would bring you stressful banters and more, it turned into butterflies that surrounded your room. You chose to deny it at first but remembering that graduation and good-byes were near, you had to tell him at some point.
And when you did, you poured your heart out and not even a single drop was caught.
“Last words before I forget your dumbass?” He taunts while you felt your sweat drip down the side of your forehead as you couldn’t control it anymore. You wondered if there was a simple word to describe just how much you adored him without turning it into a whole speech. This was it- you had to do it or else you’d end up being stuck on the feeling of loving him.
“I..like you Atsumu and I can’t say good-bye without telling you.”
Then there was the awful silence that he gave making you clutch onto your shirt, preparing you for the worst.
But by the way he looked so terrified and frozen, you knew.
“Atsumu?”
“No- I’m sorry.”
“And I don’t know what I’d do if I let you leave again.” He whispers as he leans closer to you, taking your hands in his while your ability to speak has been taken away by how gentle he was as his thumb caresses your hand and a look that looked so fragile.
He takes his hand and cups your cheek, pulling you close to him as his vulnerability increases.
“Do you feel the same too?” He was being so careful because a wrong choice of a word could make it all fall apart again and you could feel how tense he was but he holds you like a gem- something so beautiful that it’d cost him his life if he ever dropped you.
Your hand lands on the same hand that was on your cheek while Atsumu’s eyes widen remembering how you neglected to hold his hand before.
But it stayed.
Closing your eyes and melting in his touch, you spoke.
“I never stopped loving you, Atsumu.”
He lets his forehead rest on yours, a smile on his lips, who was soon to be on yours.
“Then be mine all over again.”
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omegatheunknown · 3 years
Text
AEW Double or Nothing 2021
In which the spirit of WCW is alive in confusing and delightful ways and we are left to parse whether overbooking and extracurriculars are offset by having actually very good wrestling happening at the same time.
- Lessons learned from Revolution on the production side? Maybe just cool it on pyro, though the rappelling adventure in the Stadium Stampede showed some of that now-characteristic 'trust us it'll look better on TV' flair. Hot crowd tends to paper over most woes, and the crowd was pretty hot. My one gripe is that the casino theme is hanging around like yesterday's takeout containers. Nothing wrong with clinging to a theme, I just think it's time for season 2. My suggestion? Under the Sea.
*Pre-Card Serena Deeb (C) v Riho for the NWA Women's Championship (***1/2) - Serena Deeb's star has finally risen. She's a remarkably consistent technician and she can get a match out of anyone at this point. She's working at the level of Mercedes Martinez or Madison Eagles at this point, it's amazing that she was overlooked or considered fit only to be a coach for so long. With the NWA belt she has this new swagger, she's basically everything Tessa Blanchard might bring to the table with none of the downsides (Serena has a lot of friends and seems like a lovely person, even!) - Riho's back and here to stay. Her time in Stardom didn't do much for my evaluation of her, which is that there are many better wrestlers that would be better representatives of the joshi style and she's merely pretty good. - The match was very good. Serena showcased a champion's aggression against a sympathetic Riho, they really work well against each other, Deeb's technical prowess against Riho's flexibility led to a very dynamic finish.
*Main Card Hangman Adam Page v Brian Cage (***1/2) - Here the shenanigans start. Brian Cage is on Team Taz, Team Taz has nothing else much to do tonight, so why wouldn't Team Taz flex their muscles, bait us with HOOK, etc? (Because it would be nice to have some variety in the card in terms of a match where one competitor stands across from another competitor?) - Hangman is (checking notes) yeah, still over as fuck, as befits the Anxious Millennial Cowboy. Cage terrifies me, he's a child's drawing of a body builder. He do be very agile for a man of his immense musculature tho. They match up well, Page is biggish for a flyer, Cage loves to play catch. Nothing much to write home about, other than Hangman's beautiful moonsault to the floor and what was overall a very good curtain jerker. - Okay fine, I am curious about Cage's reluctance to lean on the goons, Starks can't come back soon enough.
The Young Bucks v Jon Moxley & Eddie Kingston (***) - I will not be referring to Mox & Eddie as (The) Wild Things because it gives me 'he calls it the wacky line' flashbacks for some reason. - The Bucks have to cheat and abuse Rick Knox's attention span constantly to be on even footing with Mox & Eddie, which is a clever sort of thing that gets washed out by the appearance of LG and Karl Anderson, which again, is cool in a vacuum but was the story of the evening. - Pace was weird - repetitive in eliminating Eddie, then Mox fights back, failed hope spot, Bucks team up, Eddie saves x2/3 in a row. - Mox, unlike Cody (in so many ways,) will probably actually be taking some time off with Renee, which is the kind of thing I would prefer not to know in terms of booking, but they really uh, put him down on the canvas here, and it felt pretty finale-esque.
Casino Battle Royale (n/r, but on the balance pro) - Any changes to the theme of the PPV would likely include changing up the nonsense suit format of these largely joyless slogs. - Obviously anticipating a NJPW talent, or... I dunno, actually -- Lio Rush was a surprise. Got in a quick demonstration of his otherworldly quickness, and you know what, there's probably a fun place for him in AEW. He'll need some friends, of course, feel like Team Taz might fit his temperament. I wonder if he was aware of the Mark Henry news... - Christian does not need to win this kind of match to get a title shot, obviously, but that said it was super lovely to use him to give Jungle Boy the shine. Jungle Boy would be a license to print money if he was even as big as Hangman. - Could register some continued griping about how Penta is not getting his due in AEW but he also literally was dressed as the Joker so I'm low on sympathy on this one particular night.
Anthony Ogogo v Cody Rhodes (*) - I did not like this. It's hard for me to read jingoism as a face move to begin with, and Cody's was egregiously tone deaf and kinda silly yet delivered without a trace of irony because Cody doesn't do irony on purpose, ridiculous neck tattoo aside. - Great argument to be made that Ogogo just isn't experienced enough to be winning matches against Cody. But like, what are we doing here? Cody needs to take some time off, maybe. I thought that's what was happening when he had his mini feud with Penta that really just ended in quick decisive Cody win. I though maybe Cody was being turned when QT and The Factory snapped-- sure, they're a group of impotent player 2s, but Cody is an out of touch elitist with a callous and manipulative streak. Alas, also no. America #1. - Cody is approximately 8 times as tough as Billy Gunn based on his weathering of the one punch man. Match ran a bit long given how little there was to go on. Cody gigged? Quelle surprise. - Cody had the best match on the card like, 3 out of the first 4 AEW events or something, and that was all booking and storytelling. I do hope Cody follows Moxley's lead into a little sabbatical.
Miro (C) v Lance Archer for the TNT Championship (**1/2) - Card's hossiest hoss match, a quick burst reminiscent of a car wreck. Absolutely hit on what it should've hit on but a little slow moving considering it went all of 10 minutes. - I will not complain about Jake the Snake, who I love. And also the gimmick spot, with Miro very astutely yeeting what was definitely a snake in a bag (surely.) back down the tunnel.
Dr Britt Baker, DMD v Hikaru Shida (C) for the AEW Women's Championship (***) - Picked up a lot of steam toward the end but seemed a little toothless (heh) until the last five. - Shida 'deserved' some more time as champion in front of crowds but also it's time to let heel Britt reach her peak, I can't even imagine how obnoxious she can be as the champ, it's going to be great.
Sting & Darby Allin v Ethan Page & Scorpio Sky (***1/2) - Such is the power of STING that I feel like I might be underrating this match... I mean it was an okay match about very simply getting some revenge and the sixty year old man did a very subdued Code Red and a slightly less subdued dive. He's also Sting. They missed an opportunity in calling it the 'Scorpio' Death Drop, but the main takeaway here is you see something like this where it's The Icon and you start to understand why WWE trots out their legends to come out of incredibly still kick ass without bending their knees. - The difference, I guess, is that Sting is absolutely being used to build up Darby Allin, whereas it's not like the fed brought back Goldberg and his attendant aura to pump up... anyone but Goldberg?
Kenny Omega (C) v PAC v Orange Cassidy for the AEW World Championship (****) - Off the top I have to say I'm very sad that the rest of the Galaxy's Greatest Friends were seen only very briefly, nice of them to bring OC's backpack. - Also have to point out that PAC's promo featured one of my favourite jokes, that Kenny must be short for Kenneth as a sort of legal/birth name belonging to a professional wrestler. (See also: Samoa Joseph) - And Mr Cassidy certainly did try in this match, ragdoll sells and all. Kenneth and PAC are absurd talents who bring aerial, power and technical maneuvers in equal measure and OC is not doing any of those on the same level, but he picked his spots, showed his genre savvy and hung in there to the point that he wasn't just the fall guy. - The extracurriculars continue in a match that was already a little overboard for silliness due to asymmetry... I think if you're the Invisible Hand it would've made sense to save up all your tricks for this match, but who am I to question the golden goose? - Sure, Kenny and Don ran the classic heel manager interference spot and taking out the ref in desperation spot but having to take out the ref because PAC wouldn't break the hold is fun, as is the stupid/inspired sense in running the 'smash opponent with the belt' spot four times so as none of your heavy gold prizes feel left out. (I love that AAA Mega Championship, they weren't on TV so we get to see it?) - "Fuck You, Don," indeed.
The Inner Circle v The Pinnacle in 'Stadium Stampede II' (***1/2) - This one had to grow on me for two reasons, first that it's usually pretty unforgivable to co-opt the main event spot from the championship match, and second to law of diminishing returns on dumb gimmick matches. - But grow it did. There's a full on meat locker? Commentary will refer to a cardboard cut-out of Shahid Khan as Tony Khan's father (that's canon now,) and Jericho will lovingly pat it? Konnan happened to be the DJ at whatever night club there is a Jaguar Stadium? Spears surrounds himself dramatically with chairs and his hoisted by his own petard? - Ultimately it comes down to letting Sammy shine. His involvement with the Inner Circle has sometimes come at the cost of being able to showcase that prior to AEW he was an ascendant talent in PWG, on his way to Ricochet level feats of acrobatic excess. Still feel like Sammy could've/should've been the one tossed off the cage a few weeks ago, but even better is being the guy getting the pin in the ring.
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littlefreya · 4 years
Text
The Way to Hell - Part 9
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MANY Thanks to @raspberrydreamclouds who designed this cover as a gift! ☝
Summary: Post Mi6, Alternate Canon. August escapes Ethan Hunt with his face intact and is currently the most dangerous man alive. Unwilling to back down from his murderous agenda, he plots to continue where he stopped, unaware of the trained assassin who is sent to bring him down.
Chapters: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10| Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Completed.
Pairing: August Walker x OFC (Lacey)
Word count: 8.3k
Warnings: Dark themes, smut, fluff and angst. Unprotected sex, hints of stalking, violence, swearing, sexual mentions, slight gore, choking, death.   
A/N: Okay, this chapter is long, it was hard to write, you guys may never speak to me again after this. So I’ll just post it now, and turn off my phone and hide beneath the blanket with excessive anxiety. Thanks @agniavateira for editing my work and being my muse.💖 
As always, comments and feedback are more than welcome 💖💕
*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it or parts of the source material and claiming it as your own*
Title: Lacey
~*~
Have you paid the ferryman?
~*~
The cool light of fluorescent doesn’t do the honeyed gold of her hair justice. 
Doe eyes meet him, a striking green. Pure, like freshly-cut grass on a spring morning. The navy-coloured suit she wears counters the sunny shade of her slightly curly hair. She sports mid-length tassels, cut neatly just above her shoulders. She looks like she had it done this morning by the looks of it . 
“Hartmann, Lacey.”
Sitting at his desk with a pen pressed to his lips, the CIA agent observes her while ignoring the small hand in front of him. A tall, fit man in his late 20’s, face clean-shaven, hair like pure chocolate, combed neatly to the side but for a large rogue curl that falls on his brow. He collects it between his fingers and attempts to tuck it back in place.
“I don’t do partners, sweetcheeks.” he retorts after a short glance and turns away from the young agent, returning to his computer to browse a file he was just reading before she interrupted him.
An amused sigh passes through her plump lips as she shakes her head with sheer disbelief. “Do you have it any more cliche than that?” 
“I might, depending how long you are going to loom over there, princess.” August shoots back and slightly adjusts the tie around his shirt collar, not bothering to face the young woman again. It’s obvious what this is: a muzzler, or rather a babysitter in the form of a really good-looking girl. 
He fights the temptation to take another gander at the way her hair frames the apples of her rosy cheeks. 
“But since you’re already here, how about you fulfil your purpose in life and get me a cup of coffee? Double espresso, no sugar.”
August shoots her a look, observing her immediate reaction. Lacey’s green eyes widen, her mouth slightly opens. She rubs her knuckle between the soft pads of her fingers while thinking of what could be a suitable response to his disrespectful request.
I guess Erica didn’t bother prepping her.
Sloane, the heartless lioness. She leered at him with that sour look on her face since the day he stepped into the building. He swears the woman must have slices of lemons hidden in her panties. There is not even a drop of respect in those dark eyes whenever he sits in her office. Nor does she harbour any trust in his performance on the field. 
It all just worsened thanks to Ukraine. 
The explosion in the old Soviet power plant killed dozens of innocent lives at the cost of one. Though that man was responsible for the death of thousands, if not more. 
If you want to tear down a building, you better use a fucking hammer.
That cunt should thank him and promote him. 
“Nothing but daddy’s boy.” That’s what she sees in him. He might as well be another dead CIA agent like his father, then. Erased from memory, his great achievements discredited. At least he doesn’t have a family to throw to the dogs so they can rip them to shreds.
Oh Sloane, if only you knew half of the shit that goes beneath that stuck-up nose of yours.
Releasing another deep sigh, Lacey slumps to the seat in front of him, crossing her long legs together and leaning back in her chair while grabbing the folder on her desk. Her lips clamp together tightly, trying to hide the saltiness on her face. Long lashes curtain her eyes which pretend to read through the file. August rolls his eyes with annoyance, trying to ignore her existence and continue working his way through a case he’s been reading before she interrupted him. 
Yet every now and then his storm-touched eyes peer at the naive-looking woman, observing her and trying to determine how long will she last.
~*~
Is this hell?
~*~
That dusting of freckles on her nose and the fresh shimmer in her eyes give out much softness, yet she is anything but weak. Lacey Hartmann is a shield-maiden of some sort. For 2 months she withstood August’s “boot camp,” meaning she appeared unaffected by his cold demeanour.
At times there is even a hint of a smile hiding beneath that peach shade lipstick when August challenges her with an obscene dark joke. A hint of amusement tints the green of her irises, but she never dares to admit it. 
Too coy, almost chaste, yet iron-willed. 
August finds her behaviour borderline masochistic as he continues to prize her with nothing but arctic affection. Even so, she always listens when he speaks, her eyes open with pure intent, a fertile green field in her glance. 
Something spikes at the marrow of his bones, intrigue or so. Trivial thoughts find themselves latching into the tunnels of his complicated mind. His CIA brain begins to note her morning routine. A glacial stare registers the vanilla latte she drinks almost religiously every morning at 9, with two teaspoons of sugar. Lacey has a sweet tooth, it seems. She never misses dessert at the cantine and he once caught her bending the rules and sneaking candies back from their previous mission at eastern Europe.
He also noticed how when she is nervous, she twirls a finger in her hair with agitation and chews her plump lips. 
Blue is another point of interest. The colour seems to be dominant in her attire and accessories for some cryptic reason, though. not obsessively. She wears black or grey but then ties a silk scarf the shade of the sky around her delicate throat. When she is having a bad hair day, it’s the red pencil suit that draws attention to her body instead. The combination is horrifying when she sits in front of him holding her favourite mug which is glittery cerulean. 
He begins to wonder about her life outside of the headquarters. Her file rested in his apartment for weeks yet only recently he found himself bored enough to peek inside and read about her personal life. No husband is listed under her marital state, yet he wonders if a woman as attractive as Lacey has a man waiting for her at home. Someone kind, he imagines, and pitiful. She looks like a woman lacking a strong man in her life. 
“Are you going to finish that?” 
August’s brows furrow as she cuts into his adventurous trails of thought. His glassy eyes pierce at her as she sits in front of him at the cantine, sharing a lunch table. He hardly speaks during lunch anyway, and only listens to her musings with the usual sulk on his face. 
Lacey appears slightly frightened when she sees his menacing expression, yet her fright melts into a soft blush and a coy grin, in an attempt to pacify him. He nudges the plate with a slice of chocolate cake in her direction. 
“No, go ahead.” he watches as she digs her fork into it with excitement, her eyes shutting with near orgasmic pleasure as the chocolate melts on her tongue.  
His mind continues to wander, offering him possible imaginary visions of her personal life while she mumbles something in the background about the cake being outrageous. 
Her home address would be in that file too. 
It’s nothing but idle curiosity, after all.
~*~
You don’t believe in hell.
~*~
It’s been over 6 months of enduring her by his side. August imagined she’d run off crying to Sloane 2 days after being forced into this partnership, but she keeps a vow of secrecy, even when he bends a guideline or two during missions or violates nearly every HR policy. At first, she would warn him about his behaviour, but now she just calls it “The Walker Way”. 
It almost feels like he has a partner in crime. 
They arrived in Sicily a night ago, their mission is to locate and capture a millionaire-turned-terrorist and bring him in for questioning. It’s a  high profile target, which means the CIA spared no expense providing them with the finest hotel suites and fancy attire to attend a gallery opening. An informant suggested the suspect might be doing his bidding at the same mansion. 
Lacey meets August at the hotel’s main parking lot, wearing a cornflower blue mermaid-cut gown. Threads of silver adorn the outlines of her cleavage and little pieces of sparkling glitter draw his attention to her bust. He doesn’t attempt to hide the way his eyes fixate on her breasts. Beaming at the pale pink fat of her bosom before his gaze finally wanders to meet her face, giving her his regular cocky stance.
Is she wearing a bra underneath?
“You look handsome,” Lacey compliments, swallowing a complaint about the obvious way he objectified her. “We look as if we’ve matched colours.” The royal blue three-piece suit brings out the ocean in his eyes and she allows herself to dwell in the calm water as she glances back, offering him a smile.
Stoic, he ignores her praises, studying her face quietly. The shade on her lips is not the usual one; it’s darker, making her look more vamping. He doesn’t like it, her natural appearance is sweet and supple, and this colour clashes with her complexion and the concept of her in his mind.
The unnerving silence between them greatly challenges her. The need to crack the autumn evening air with some sort of dialogue pans in her chest. 
“Are you…” Lacey begins speaking when her eyes squint at the region of his mouth. “...growing a moustache?” Bold fingers reach up, ghosting over his upper lip where a few days’ stubble seems to grow longer than the rest on his jaw. August cocks his eyebrow as the tips of her fingers almost touch his mouth. She notices his disapproval and pulls her hand away apologetically.
“For the mission, I thought it might make me look older.” 
An amused smile cracks on her face, her cheeks rounding up to perfect blushing circles. “The real Mrs. Walker would be mortified.”  
August scoffs, rolling his eyes at the notion before turning away to watch the cars that pass by. His hand rests on his chest, straightening the vest underneath his suit and stretches the muscles of his back. A timid-blowing zephyr caresses his face; his Adam apple rises and drops dryly in his throat.
“Is there a…”
“Oh c’mon, Hartmann! You know the answer to the question, don’t act stupid and play small talk with me, it’s not your style.” 
Lacey’s lips press shut together, her green eyes dropping to the floor. She knows the only Mrs. Walker is his mother, and Madeleine has been gone for a couple of years now. Everything is in his file, allowing her to learn about the “mundane life” August Walker leads, or at least the ones he allows her to see through her CIA spectacles. 
It was an obligation to do the same with her. His old man once told him to learn who he’s dealing with before opening his “goddamn mouth.” That’s all there is to it, and his curiosity if he has to admit it.
Lacey Hartmann lives alone with her cat, Sir Podrick, on Hampshire St 457 on flat number 45. A magazine two-room apartment, picture-perfect, tidy to the point of OCD. She has an older sister but they rarely see each other. On her free weekends, she loves to watch romantic comedies while drinking hot chocolate with tiny marshmallows. 
He often wonders if her sweet tooth is compensating for something missing in her life. Yet there is never a man in her apartment.
Sometimes she dances in front of the window, especially after a hard day at the office. He can’t tell which music is playing in her headphones, but the way she moves her body makes him believe it’s something upbeat and cheerful. 
The images of her bedroom window vanish as a slightly irritating thought peaks in his mind at her comment. Mrs. Walker. A hiss of violent air shoots from his nostrils. 
Relationships were not something he cared to pursue. Life had other offerings. 
Besides, the women he liked were too tender and he was too rough. So, his conquests never lasted more than a night. 
Agitated, he pulls his sleeve to look at his Rolex, muttering something obscene under his breath which makes Lacey shift uncomfortably on her feet. The driver should have arrived by now. Every car that parks at the pebbled road bears disappointment, dropping off more honeymooners and rich, older married couples. 
A soft smile breaks on Lacey’s painted lips while she stares at August who’s facing the driveway with his fists clenched at the sides of his body.
“Well, since we’re stuck here waiting for a ride, you better entertain me.” Lacey speaks with grace, not a hint of nervousness or fright in her voice. She learnt how to deal with August and his tantrums by now. 
August remains silent, his sight never breaking from the driveway and the alley of palm trees that pave the path. 
“Or I guess we can stare at the big full moon,” she says to herself, lifting her eyes to the clear sky.
August stares back at the golden-haired woman, her long lashes fluttering gently as she counts the stars in her mind. A naive glint sparks her eyes as she’s captivated by her own fascination. The pale blue of the moon reflects on her milky skin, making her look like a siren in her beautiful dress.
“Yeah, it’s lovely,” he says in his deep voice. 
*~*
And even if it existed, hell wouldn’t have you.
*~*
The expo is held at a royal mansion of some sort. A large Sicilian palace that is owned by an ageing millionaire. Golden floral embellishments spread across the azure velvet walls, shimmering at the lights of the crystal chandeliers which dangle in the halls.   
Various ancient trinkets are placed in glass cubes. Crudely-made bows and arrows that were carved from cheap wood by a half-brain neanderthal are offered for the price of 200,000,000 Euros.    
Ridiculous.
Keen on finding their target, both August and Lacey decide to split up upon their arrival, planning their strategy ahead by protocol. August is the striking image of professionalism tonight, stretching his gaze around the large hallway. He has been this way for the last several missions, working by the book, making sure to perform as clean as possible, whatever that means in CIA terms. 
He even managed to win a word of praise from Sloane, who still can’t stand the very sight of his face. But at least she ceased from eating his head at the conclusion of every mission. 
And Lacey seems to appreciate it, too. 
The brooding man spends the night pretending to be enthralled by the exhibition and its boring guests who continually attempt to strike pointless conversations with him. As part of his task, he only speaks with those who seem to be an asset and brushes others away by answering in fluent Italian, pretending to not understand a word in English while smiling at them politely. 
Blending in, the young agent stands by one of the bars, leaning onto the marble counter and enjoying some type of strawberries-in-cream dessert which was offered to him by a tall,  abnormally attractive waitress who’s been walking around with a silver tray. 
Lacey would love this fruit-pudding thingy, he muses as his fingers brush through the mid-length stubble above his lip. His eyes carefully scan the room for any group of men in their late 30s for a clue or a sign. 
The sound of a woman’s laughter chips away his attention like a siren’s call.
So that’s how she sounds like when she laughs. 
Grabbing a glass of champagne, he steps forward on the black carpeted floor, following the cheerful voice as it rolls delightfully in his ears. Storm clouds gather in his eyes. The siren is behaving unprofessionally to the point of being offensive. A tall glass of half-empty Lambrusco hangs between her slender fingers while her head falls back; her hand rests on her chest, trying to contain her laughter. 
She is the centre of attention to a group of famished men. 
August frowns with disapproval. She’s supposed to act drunk, not get buzzed. Standing at the large pathway, he watches how she smiles widely, mouth gaping, small dimples peeking at the corner of her lips. The honey of her hair makes her stand out in a room of dark beauties, the shade of her dress an anchor for any travelling eyes.
He takes an irritated sip from his champagne, swallowing the sparkly liquid, trying to ignore the bells of laughter which begin to sound like an insult, meant to provoke him. His piercing eyes search for the target in the room, focusing on the task on hand and being the professional his father urged him to be. 
Yet as if magnetized, his glare returns to her.  
For a moment there he nearly forgets that she is a CIA agent. The men around her flirt nearly barbarically, their mouths salivating with predatory hunger. Is she too pure to understand their intentions? The vultures are waiting to tear her limb by limb. Possibly hoping she will be drunk enough to be dragged by one of them.
The storm inside him rages. Thoughts of her being tainted by one of these hideous men enter his mind and poison bubbles in his throat, drowning him in anger.
He puts his champagne flute on the tray of one of the hostesses who passes by. He fixes his tie over his neck and swallows hard. His strides are confident and charismatic as he marches into their circle abruptly, reaching an arm over to Lacey. 
“Sweetheart, here you are. Come see this piece, you’re going to love it.” hee speaks with contained anger, his baritone loud and clear, roaring through his puffed chest and squared shoulders.
Lacey turns to smile at him as he latches his fingers around her forearm, rescuing her by pulling her away from the predators with as much elegance he can muster at his current aggravated mood.
“Are you fucking drunk, Hartmann? What’s wrong with you?! We have a dangerous man to catch.” He whispers angry and low in her ear, carrying her toward an open terrace where they can discuss and re-strategize the mission.
The cool breeze caresses their faces, tenderly running through their hair as they approach the open air. The young woman continues to giggle as August’s fingers tickle beneath her armpit while he takes her to stand next to the large renaissance modules that hide them from the guests of the event. He lets go of her forearm, looking down at her with a scowl.
“Relax, I was trying to make it look convincing with these decadent, empty idiots.” she attempts to pacify him, looking up into his eyes, her head reaching just beneath his square chin. 
“Isn’t it ridiculous?”
“What is?”
“The way they sell these artefacts on such a high price when it was created by a primitive creature who ate his own fleas,” she mocks with a mischievous smile. “This is the end of human culture, this capitalistic point of view.”
A cold shiver crawls at August’s spine as he hears her speaking of his ideals. He had never seen her this way before. 
So opinionated, so bold. 
Has she been reading my mind?
They have never been this physically close, he can smell the lupines on her skin and the Lambrusco on her breath. Lacey’s amused grin begins to relax somewhat, her eyes now staring at something with stark fascination.
“You have a brown spot in one of your eyes.”
August brow furrows even deeper, dark lines forming between his thick eyebrows as the woman ogles him in a bizarre way. His blood thickens as the pleasant wind brushes at his face.
“Sectoral heterochromia, I was born with it.”
“It’s beautiful,” she answers with an enchanted glare, batting her lashes and moving further to study the shape of his flaw. Her feet arch to the tip of her toes, reaching higher to his face. August remains still, watching as if within a haze when her lips crash onto his. 
Chills spiral through his nerves, his eyes wide open as her soft lips press into his in a long, chaste kiss. There is a small hum in her voice, painted lashes look like black curved trails as her eyes shut with an enchantment. For a second he can feel her body press into his, her breasts grinding at his broad chest. She slowly detaches from him, opening her eyes and falling flat on her feet.
Alarm spills onto her face, her hand covering her mouth with guilt as panic surges. August stares back without a sign of emotion on his arctic face.
“I’m so sorry!” She calls out in utter embarrassment, moving away from him by a step.
His breath grows rigid, his mind a war. In an instant, he pulls her wrist away from her face and claims her into his grasp, kissing her earnestly, even violently. Lacey’s moans melt into his mouth, her body crashing into his, writhing as her lips gape, accepting his insidious tongue. 
She tastes like sugar.
August slams her against the wall, growling as her hands roam down his body and messing his outfit. A fervent stir tingles at his groin and the way she squeezes the muscles of his behind and tries to shove her hands under his trousers does nothing to relax his racing heart. Depraved, his hand pushes between her legs, trying to cup her heat through the tight dress, yet it cages her legs too tightly. 
“I want you out of this fucking dress.” August growls, breaking the passionate kiss to breath hot and heavy in her ear. 
“Then take me back to the hotel.” she retorts breathlessly, grinding her pelvis into the growing hardness in his groin.
“We can’t, the mission.”
Lacey emits a frustrated huff, sounding as if she’s meaning to beg as her body constantly pushes into his in a snakelike dance. “Forget about him, he’s not here, we’ll do it the Walker way.”
There is nothing in this world strong enough to convince him otherwise as those big doe eyes peer at him with admiration and a sense of need he never received from any woman before. It wasn’t like the women who begged him to fuck them as he tormented and delayed their release.
For the first time in his life, he felt purely wanted.
~*~
The ride back to the hotel is the most dreadful experience he had to endure in his life. Both Lacey and he sit at each side of the car, avoiding eye contact whilst their organs throb with aching need. She keeps her fingers laced together while the driver listens to some old Italian love song and sings along the tunes on the radio. August attempts to avoid drowning into his thoughts but the idea of having her tonight makes the blood pool hot in his loins.
They hardly make it into her room. Exploiting every moment left in solitude to make out like horny teenagers. Whenever a hotel staff member or a guest passes by, they break away from one another in the most obvious manner.
As they finally arrive at the suite, August kicks the door shut with his foot and preys at her, his talons reaching for her face, his thumb wiping off whatever remains of her lipstick before kissing her again. 
“I don’t like this, it isn’t you.” he states in between invigorated kisses while Lacey battles to take off his clothes, pushing the blazer off his shoulders and then working the buttons of his vest and shirt with lust guiding her fingers. She ignores his remark, answering with another breathless kiss instead while moving to fumble with his belt.
Their feet kick at one another as August leads them toward the king-size bed, fondling the curves of her body through the terrible prison that is her dress. His long legs nearly lose their balance as she successfully unzips his trousers and finds him fully erect and pulsating in her small hand. 
Logic turns to steam at the manipulation of her hands. His gasps resonate through the length of his throat, giving in to the whispers of his heart. How long yearned for her, wanting to keep her in the birdcage of his vision. 
Lacey, so bold yet so sweet.   
With the swiftness of his hands, he turns her around, tugging at the zipper of her dress while dotting her collarbone with possessive nibbles. Her naked figure unveils to him as a flower opens to the sunlight of spring.
Left in nothing but her baby-blue lace underwear, she steps out of her dress and moves to face the large naked man, pacing back as he sneaks toward her like a direwolf. The look on her face is admirable. Drenched of fear and desire at once, feeding his natural dominance.
“August…” she whispers his name. Her lips quiver at the sight of his broad form, appreciating every sinew, every muscle. August reaches to hold his cock as the blood stirs into it with rage, wanting to be inside this angel, to taint her and mark every piece of skin. 
“I don’t have a condom.” he warns, licking his lips as she slides her underwear down her long, creamy legs. Her mound is completely waxed, just the way he wants it. Pure.  
“I’m clean and protected.”
Inviting him into her mysteries, Lacey offers him a devoted stare and reaches her delicate hand toward him. No clarity is left in his mind; desire clouds every rational thought, every self-preservation instinct. He ignores her hand and lunges at her like a predator.
They fall into a sea of silken sheets together, August covering her body with his, giving no care of how his weight crushes her. His hands hold her wrists pinned to the mattress as he pushes her smooth thighs apart with his knees.
Lacey’s moans are mesmerizing as he sinks himself into her wonders. Singing her pleasure at him like a true siren. An overwhelmed groan breaks from his own lips as the wetness of her flesh encloses around his cock, sucking him from within with an embrace of lust. Soft and delicate, she writhes against his crude, rugged body and he thrusts inside her with teetering grunts, taking her with sheer, primal dominance. 
She feels different, like no other woman he ever had before. Completely submissive to his darkest desires. Her body opens to him, like a precious, heavenly nymph and he takes what he wants. Deeper and deeper, drowning into her womb, never wanting to stop, invigorated by the way her hands clutch at his body with the same desperation that is in his chest.
For three days, they never leave the suite. Lost in a carnal euphoria that makes both of them forget the existence of the outer world.
~*~
Oh, hell indeed exists, it’s on the earth you walked your entire life.
~*~
The delicious aroma of crispy, caramelized bacon and fluffy pancakes tickles his senses to wake up. Salty and sweet, the scent draws him to sit upon the bed that’s slightly too small for his wide frame. A drowsy smirk crawls onto his face. This scent is his second favourite thing to wake up to.  
Locating his cobalt trunks on the floor, he hauls himself out of her bed, pulls them on and tries to tame the messy bundle of curls on his head while he walks to find her in the kitchen. The bacon sizzles on the pan as Lacey stands next to the stove in his buttoned-up shirt. She is flipping an impossible quantity of pancakes and frying strips of bacon in another pan. 
Her rounded ass peeks at him with every shift her body makes.
August sneaks behind her with the skill of a CIA agent, looming closer and wrapping his arms around her torso, his chin resting on the top of her head, while his hungry eyes feast on the pancakes and amber bacon.
Lacey flinches in his grip, he can feel her heart jump for a moment before she relaxes into his embrace, lips melting into a wide smirk as August rocks her from side to side.
“Morning,” she hums delightfully. “Go sit, there is freshly brewed coffee waiting for you.”
August drops a kiss on the top of her head, a low growl of serenity climbing up his throat. “You’re a dream, princess.”
And you’re all mine. 
With a wisp of unwillingness, he detaches from her and walks to the table, where Lacey’s favourite mug of coffee awaits him with steam rising from within. His eyes are a calm sea sparkling at the sunrise as he looks at her with admiration. 
Everything about her tips him across the edges of sanity; the way she smiles at his horrible dark jokes, the way she listens to everything he says with devotion and appeal, the way she speaks about her ideals and sees him like no person ever did before.
Lacey turns her head and sneaks a small glance at him, giving a smile and a wink before returning to the stove.
It took 5 months to admit to himself that he likes this, that he enjoyed being here, with her and her stupid cat, or in every distant location in the world. It didn’t matter if they were in Afghanistan or Paris, as long as he got to listen to her breathing in her slumber. That night in Sicily wasn’t just mindless sex. It was a union of two souls. They spent the night talking and while he was reluctant to open up-as he still is-he was stunned to find out just how much this woman shared similar points of views.
Though she never says it specifically, Lacey wants to watch the world burn. 
He hasn't even told her about his idea, not yet. It’s probably too soon anyway as he only started formulating his intention a couple of months ago. A part of him still fears how she may react if she finds out he’s been selling CIA secrets and dealing weapons right beneath Sloane’s nose. 
“I hope you’re hungry,”
Lacey calls out as she places two large plates of pancakes and bacon on the table and walks quickly to get the maple syrup from the counter. Sir Podrick jumps on the table as she puts the syrup next to the plates. Aggravated, August shoos the cat away and reaches to grab the woman's forearm, forcing her into his lap possessively.
“You know I am, princess.” he murmurs as he kisses her shoulder and then her lips, before grabbing a piece of pancake and some bacon with his fork and nibbling it deliciously. Lacey remains on his lap, grabbing a stripe of bacon from his plate and chewing on it with a pleasant moan before directing her gaze to August.
“How long do you think we can keep this a secret?” she asks, slight concern appearing on her face. August swallows the remaining pancake in his mouth and sips some coffee to clear his throat. His fingers thread through the gold of her hair, combing the large waves repeatedly.
“I don’t want them to take you away from me.”
His voice is nearly that of a child.
The agency’s protocol won’t allow partners to be in a relationship due to an incredible conflict of interest. “Sloane would lose her shit if she’d find out this entire time we’ve been doing this.” He chuckles dryly and shoves another piece of pancake into his mouth while still looking at Lacey. The first morning rays shine through the wide-open window, basking her face with a shimmering summer glow. 
“We can run away,” she teases. “Buy a yacht, tell Erica to go fuck herself and sail the sea.”
August smirks, his hand descending to the small of her back as images of embarking to the great unknown with her fill his chest with euphoric bliss. 
A daydream, perhaps in the future, after mankind is free.  
“I think she’s beginning to warm up to me though.” 
“Well, she did start calling you The Hammer after the last mission.” Lacey answers and grabs the mug from August’s side, stealing a mischievous sip. “If only they knew it has a different meaning to some of us.”
August crooks his eyebrow up at Lacey and wipes his moustache clean. His hands reach to tickle the sides of her belly, causing her to let go of the mug before he snatches it back. Her giggles make his heart feel at ease, something he’ll never dare to tell or show her. 
Asserting his dominance by only giving as much. 
“Why did you join the agency in the first place? You never told me.” she wraps her arms around his shoulders, the green of her eyes appearing yellow at the ray of sunlight that beams on her face.
His gaze falls upon the table, staring at the remnants of the pancakes while licking his teeth. Thoughts of his past begin to echo in the chasm of his mind. 
The day his mom fell to her knees and let out a banshee-like howl of agony at the empty ceiling as two agents came into their house.
He was 13, and from that moment on, he was all alone in a cold, ravenous world. 
“I wanted to die for the government, just like my father.” he spits out, thinking of how his life turned over one autumn morning. A tall, lanky boy who couldn’t even comfort his mother as she tore off tufts of her hair. 
August didn’t even cry, not since then.  
The curious look on Lacey’s face fades into sadness, compassion welling on her now golden-green irises. “You never told me how he died.” 
A muscle twitches in his cheek, his eyebrows knitting together as anger begins to slightly boil his blood. “Like all heroes, forgotten. I don’t know how, it was during a mission in Moscow. Nothing in his files but a mention on an accident, no details other than that.” 
“Is that why you have such small faith in the government?” Lacey asks innocently, referring to their pillow-talk. The ones they have while she presses her soft cheek to his chest and draws invisible circles onto his chest.  
The lump in his throat dries as he remembers the weeks that followed after his father was gone. They were thrown to the dogs to be gnawed at. No compensation, no financial support, and no one to comfort young August. 
His mother couldn’t even look at him anymore. Those blue soulful eyes, the cleft of his chin, and even the shape of his nose were inherited from his father. 
The most pain August has ever endured was when someone he loved was unable to look at him anymore.  
Madeleine was a loyal housewife from the midwest who never took a real job. Arthur provided for them. While he wasn’t the warmest father, he kept his family close, taking them with him on his trips, unless they were too dangerous. 
By the time August was seven, he’s already been to all continents. 
After his father’s death, both the money and his mother withered away. Having no experience in anything but waiting tables, Madeleine couldn't support her own child and perhaps she didn’t want to. The boy was a painful memory of what she lost. 
The last he remembers of her, she dragged him with her to church and went on her knees as August sat on the bench. She prayed and cried out to God until her knees bled and her eyes rimmed red from the tears she wept.
But God never answered.
That week, social services arrived at their door. He never saw her since that day and needless to say, no one wanted a hostile 13-year-old boy. 
August turns his face to stare at Lacey, examining her round, freckled face and her plump, pink lips. They make her look like a renaissance painting of an angel. At times, he’s afraid that his rage will tarnish her, swallow the light of her spirit. Yet he can never hold back, fucking her so roughly, she hurts for days. His instincts drive him to spill all his fury into her cavities. To offer all the spite and hurt that poisoned his soul, as if it will cleanse him. 
And for a few seconds, he is sanctified. Coming inside her makes him feel complete in every sense of the word.   
The soft purring of Lacey’s cat grounds him to reality. The chubby ginger cat rubs around his leg affectionately, his yellow diamond eyes staring at August. 
“Let’s not talk about it, anymore,” he replies in a somewhat final tone.
Lacey nods at him, giving him a look full of understanding. Her fingers reach behind his ear, stroking the soft chocolate curls and tucking them back. “Okay, Aug. But we really need to talk about that!” 
Her fingers move to point at his thick moustache, her eyes narrowing with disdain. 
August strokes his moustache with his thumb and index finger and lets them slide down the stubble of his square chin. “You don’t like it?”
Lacey shakes her head with protest, trying her best to appear irritated. “No.”  
Princess is so cute when she pretends to be angry.
August offers her a smug smirk in return, grabbing the last remaining piece of bacon from his plate and sliding it whole into his mouth. “Too bad, it stays.” he answers with his mouth full, grease smearing on the corners of his lips. “It makes me look dangerous and you love it.”
“No, you look like pornstar.”
“I’d fuck you like one.” he answers with a dark glint in his eyes. In a sudden movement, he places both hands on Lacey’s waist and stands up with her in his grip. The woman squeals with surprise as he flings her over his shoulder with little to no effort and stings her ass with a sharp slap.
“Do you want it here, sweetheart, or in the bedroom?” he asks and bites the fat of her behind. Lacey cries out in pain, her legs kicking the air.
He loves to hear her laugh, just as much as he loves to hear her scream.
*~*
If hell is on earth, then what does it make you?
*~*
Like a creature dwelling in the darkness, he sits in the bleak hours of the night, fingers stroking the keys as if he’s a composer, conducting his symphony of destruction. The flesh of his lips chafe at the lack of sleep and insufficient fluids, yet he gives no care. 
This will be his legacy, his gift to the world, his gift to her.
The pale teal light of the screen flickers lightly on his weary corneas. It’s nothing but pixels, black on white, five blocks of paragraphs for now, but the raw power in words proceeds beyond any other weapon known to mankind. So pure, so cataclysmic. 
Just like an atomic reaction.
She will see through his eyes soon. The potential, the greater good. All her words of breaking the system, about dreaming of a better world. A sweet, naive girl with a mind fed with agenda. It was as if they were threaded into one another’s life, destined to be. 
The paving of a new world has already begun. They call themselves the apostles, a group of no more than 12 people, men and women of science and power. Their identities are unknown among one another. It matters very little, the seeds have been sown into the earth. Small acts of terror, biological and chemical incidents around selected locations around the globe, just enough to test the waters. 
Greatness from small beginnings.
It will take time, yet he is patient, and his little angel of destruction will be by his side once the time is right. All mankind will be reunited in peace after the earth will shudder beneath their feet.
~*~
Does it make you a monster?
~*~
Something sharp prods his mind to wake up. A nightmare, whispering toxic words in the darkness. He hears a vague ruffle in the webbed darkness of the night and he blindly reaches his palm to stroke her and finds himself abandoned. There is a knot in his gut and a storm brewing in his mind. Carefully and silently, he reaches for the loaded gun in his nightstand and slips out of bed. 
Pale blue and humming, a soft light invites him to follow to the office next to his bedroom. His heart drums heavily in his chest, his face falling as his vision becomes clear. Bright pink winks through the molten mixture of shadow and light. She hovers over his open computer, spreading files and paper plans over the surface of his desk, all the while holding her digital camera, violating his secrets.
Whatever is in his chest shrieks and bleeds with misery.
“Would be more efficient if you’d switch the light on.”
The woman jumps as she hears his voice and a heavy flood of bright light showers her crimes as August flicks the switch on. She straightens up, as stiff as a frozen tree. Unable to face him right away, her face remains hidden from him. August can see the spasm of her legs beneath her nightdress.
“What are you doing?” August asks, his voice low and menacing, eyes travelling from the Nikon camera that hangs from her hand to his secret scribbles as they lay on his desk, right next to his open manifest. 
“Look at me.” he demands, stern and composed as he can. 
Lacey turns slowly to peer at him, her lips aquiver, eyes shining with guilt. The only sound from her is the shudder of her breath that rushes through her heaving chest. 
The hurt must have blinded his thoughts. He doesn’t remember aiming his gun at her head, it’s only when he sees the woman’s surrendering gesture does he register his actions.
Taking a deep breath, he lowers his gun and places it carefully on the floor. His hands splay in the air, disarmed, offering a truce as he stretches to stand straight. 
“Was I…” he swallows the dryness in his throat and licks his lips. 
It would take a real fool to be so blind to see what was in front of him the whole time. 
“I was your mission?”
Lacey remains quiet, her eyes refusing to meet his. Tears glide down the apples of her rosy cheeks. 
“Tell me the truth Lacey, please. I just want to understand.” The threat in his voice turns soft, becoming nearly a plea as he takes one step forward, watching the woman flinch and step back, her behind colliding with the desk.
The woman weeping in front of him is a trained CIA agent, yet the despair in her eyes shows no signs of panning struggle. The only way out of this room is through him, a man who is nearly twice her size and knows her every move.
“Erica suspected you’re the one who is leaking secrets, so she sent me…”
That’s why she inquired so much, wanted to hear his thoughts, to sleep at his home despite his reluctance. He agreed for the first time tonight, unaware of her insidious intentions. 
Did you really think you deserve this?
August scoffs, his heart clenching painfully in his battered lungs. 
He was wrong. There is something more painful than having someone you love never look back at you. 
“Did she tell you to sleep with me?”
Lacey’s gaze drops to the floor in silence; her answer is nothing but a pathetic sniffle as she pinches her nose.
Bile rises in his throat as he sees shame on her face, so obvious, so obscene. Her purity was false. 
There was nothing sweet or innocent about her, she was nothing but a whore.
“Answer me!!!” he rumbles, more beast than man. 
Lacey jumps and sobs with panic, nodding her head at him with her confession.  “Ye..Yes… any means possible.”
Running his palm through his face and groaning with frustration, the young CIA agent exhales hoarsely. He takes another small step towards her, gradually closing the distance between them, watching his shadow loom on her porcelain skin.
Lacey’s eyes widen with panic. Her ankles kick back the wooden legs of the desk, her hands scattering August’s belongings. White sheets of paper fly down to the floor, ink smudged by tears.
“Stay away,” she warns.
“Does she know? Did you tell her or anyone else at the agency?” he ignores her pathetic threats, taking another step closer. Her floral scent fills his nostrils, nearly triggering his instinct to claim her lips. His gaze softens with an ocean of mercy as she shakes in front of him so violently, breaking into tears of grief. 
Delicate fingers cup her jaw, sliding across the slick moistness of her tears as he tilts her chin up. “Please, tell me the truth.” 
Lacey lifts her gaze to meet his, her eyes puffy and red, her plump lips swollen. She wipes her nose with the back of her palm. “I had nothing to report, until now.”
His grasp tightens around her chin, forcing her head back to look at the text flickering on the monitor. “All this talk about a better world, I thought this is what you wanted.”
She snaps her head back to glare at him, eyes narrowing with disgust and anxiety. “You thought I’d like this?! This is sick!”
August’s nostrils flare yet he gives a gentle nod of understanding and hushes her sudden surge of stress. His hand caresses her round, damp face. The thick pads of his thumbs wipe the salty tears away from her skin and his body presses into hers. 
Even a tremoring mess, she is still so soft and warm. 
“Did you ever love me?” 
His lips are merely an inch from her temples as he whispers. His large hand slides down her cheek, stroking down her jaw and descending further below her chin.  
Unable to muster another lie, she remains silent, aware of the fact that the sand in the hourglass has all but diminished, along with her chances of survival.
Words are unnecessary. The truth speaks loudly in her eyes, the poisonous infidelity was always there all along. Struck by her angelic beauty he was too blind to see, leeching onto false heaven, a childish fantasy of love that never existed.
Small spots of blood begin to form in her wide-open eyes as his long fingers lock around her thin neck, squeezing with intensifying force. Tighter, harder. His name remains caged in her throat as she fights for the air she thinks she deserves. 
“No, you didn’t.” August whispers, his vision beginning to blur. “You never did.”
Strangled yips of pain wheeze through her mouth. Struggling frantically while August hardly even bats an eyelid, staring at her with no emotion on his face. Desperate arms reach out to both heaven and hell, her body squirms and her eyes plead for August to let go. 
Begging for her life.
Something breaks inside her throat. Her last breath follows, a short gasp, frozen in her body for eternity as both her heart and her eyes become still. 
August glances at her pale skin, her gaping lips stained violet, her bloodied eyes glassy, returning his broken reflection.
Sorrowful tears roll down the lines of his face as his heart pumps with pain black as tar. A loud gasp of agony rips from him, shuddering across his entire existence as the very base of his soul chars in his chest. Broken, he falls to his knees with Lacey cradled in his arms, his hand stroking her dull hair and her blue cheeks while husky cries of anguish come through his throat.
All emotions end. An empty abyss claims the spot where his soul once laid. The only thing left to him now is pure, undistilled hatred.
~*~
I am the one who reigns in hell.
~*~
Black cold liquid seeps into weary lungs. Skeletal hands caress his face unkindly, the thin bones, so hard and frozen as they travel down his grey cheeks. No grace is given to him, no redemption. This was nothing but a dream of a life. 
As tar oozes from his throat, her voice continues to call for him. 
His last memories are of Erica, sitting on her throne of lies, swallowing his accusations while peering at him through her dark eyes. Face filled with guilt, oh, she didn't have a clue. Everyone believed Lacey Hartmann was the double agent this entire time. Angelic eyes hiding dark secrets. He planted the evidence in her house, in her computer, sparing his manifest of course. Just enough to tarnish her name forever. 
A painful wheeze splits his throat. Iron tinged his tongue. 
The promotion was won right after the body was cremated. A fine medal given for having his life put at risk.  
Glory and fame won over the woman you loved.
I never loved her. She was a lying whore, she betrayed me.
But you did love me, August. 
Blood spills through his mouth as he coughs. His blue eyes shoot open, peering at a great hole in the ceiling and the dust that floats calmly in the chill air of night. The pain sears his shoulder, throbbing furiously to remind him there is still blood running through his veins. He grunts as he clutches at the gaping wound, trying to hold onto the blood that still remains in his wretched heart. 
Run and hide, little Ingvild
I am no one but Lucifer himself. 
I will have my vengeance.  
__________________________________________________
Disclaimer: I don’t own Mission Impossible franchise or August Walker
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magicalforcesau · 3 years
Text
Letters (part 2)
As Obi-Wan and Satine continue their written correspondence in the back half of their Hogwarts career, their bond strengthens to the point where it might not strictly be platonic.
ao3 link
Fifth Year Summer
Dear Ben,
I GOT MY MENTORSHIP REQUEST APPROVED! I’m going to be a peer mentor this upcoming year! Oh, I know this is going to be another responsibility when we’re already saddling quite a bit with OWLS and our duties as prefects. While it was your initial idea to join, I have no regrets. If I’m to influence the minds of thousands from the Ministry, it will do me good to have practice on a smaller and more impressionable scale. Besides, far too many first years are led astray in my opinion. Having firm and caring guidance will be most beneficial.
I hope you can write to me with the same news, even if I still believe you are pushing yourself far too hard. Just please consider your own mental health for this upcoming term. You’re already wound tighter than anyone I know. I would truly not like to partake in the bets that Fives and Echo make behind your back about when your head will explode. I believe either myself or Cody would win. We know you best.
Speaking of being wound tight, I have been dedicating my summer to the practice of enchanting muggle objects as per our homework assignments. Turns out, it truly is not that difficult. I’ve been careful not to alter anything that would come into contact with other muggles, but I look forward to showing you the results of some of my recreations. Between you and me, I’ve been constructing some that were not on the instructed list.
You’re not technically a prefect yet, Obi-Wan Kenobi, so don’t even think about making a wise remark about how you could see me in trouble.
Yours Truly,
Satine
Dear Satine,
I, too, just received confirmation that I’m to mentor a first year this upcoming school year! Regardless of your speculation and wariness, I stand by my decision. We will be kept busy, but idle minds mean time wasted. If you hadn’t agreed on principle, I don’t believe you would have signed up right behind me. As for my extracurricular activities, pretending as though I am not stressed in the slightest about the prospect of the coming year is futile, but I hope to work through it and to become a better student as a result of it. My father has relented on training by Quidditch form. There are bigger things to worry about such as OWLS, which is why I’m to be locked in all summer. No complaints there- I’d much rather read.
Speaking of reading, I’ve thoroughly enjoyed the books you snuck into my trunk. Yes, I found them and they were quite a welcome surprise. A bit of relaxing education is just what the doctor ordered. Not literally, because I loathe visiting my family’s practitioner. He takes the term “witch doctor” to new levels and I will leave it at that.
You’ve always been far better at charming objects than I ever have. To be fair, I still don’t have a full understanding of what certain muggle objects actually do, but I’ve got most of the list marked off by this point. While I promise not to report you for deliberate rule breaking, I do admire your gumption. I hope you’ll one day let me see what you’ve crafted. You know I adore learning the novelties of the muggle world. I believe last we spoke, you were telling me about ‘computers’.
As always, I’d love to know more. You have a manner of speaking that simply can’t go unnoticed, at least not to me.
Best,
Obi-Wan
Fifth Year- Winter
Dear Satine,
I apologize if this owl reaches you at an indecent hour. I know how you are about your beauty sleep. It’s been strange being back home, even if for a couple of weeks. It’s only made me realize just how unreal this year has been in terms of excitement and mystery. Though I do not blame the boy for any of it, I won’t lie that it was a much quieter school without Anakin Skywalker present. I wouldn’t change any of it, of course. I believe I am making a difference in working with him. He has a bright mind, if he chooses to use it.
I still can’t get the vision of him foaming at the mouth on the floor out of my head. There’s no doubt that someone has it in for him. I can only imagine who. While eccentric, Anakin is still just a child. He’s harmless.
At risk of drastically changing the subject- my true reason for writing was to thank you again for the watch. My parents have ingrained in me the importance of writing thank you notes regardless of the nature of the gift. However, this might be the first time the sentiment has felt important in action. It may sound ungrateful, but a boy can only receive so many tie clips before he starts to sound a bit robotic in his delivery.
However, please note that every word I say, I mean through my very bones. I hope you didn’t take my silence at receiving it to be anything less than breathlessness. You always keep me guessing, Satine Kryze, and I would have you no different. I am still in awe every time I catch a gander at my wrist.
You did a marvelous job in transfixing and refurbishing it. Seriously, it is of no wonder that Charms comes easier to you than it does to me. Had I not known otherwise; I would have assumed this watch was always crafted with the intention of being magical. Even if it were just a standard watch, it would still have meant more to me than anything I’ve received simply because it came from you. My friend. I’m not sure I deserve it.
I suppose I’ve no excuse for fear of being late any longer, now do I?
It’s never coming off!
Obi-Wan
Dear Ben,
I’m no longer, by any means, insinuating that the boy is trouble. Or more accurately, I don’t believe he’s cognizant of these omens. What concerns me, is Qui-Gon seems to believe that a dark time is upon us. He won’t share his suspicions outright, but I can tell just by how he talks to Anakin with a certain level of wonder and curiosity. Surely, you see it too.
Even still, I say, when school starts up, we try and start our own investigation- off the books and away from Anakin, of course. We needn’t worry him more than he already is. Perhaps while Gryffindor has the field for Quidditch practice we can better research. There’s been too many strange occurrences this year for it to all be coincidental. I’d argue this is the tipping point.
We can further discuss a game plan back at school, but at risk of hurting feelings and potentially endangering lives, we should keep this between us.
I am, however, glad to hear you enjoyed the watch ♥
Yours,
Satine
Sixth Year- Summer
Dear Satine,
I received my OWLS results today as I’m sure you did the same. I wanted you to hear from me, personally, that I am, in fact, alive and well despite what I received as scores. I’m surprised at how alive and how well, quite actually.
For some context- I received all O’s in everything… With the exception of Arithmancy- of which I got an E. I’m not positive where exactly I went wrong in studying for it. I don’t recall the exam being particularly difficult. It’s never been a prized subject of mine as you well know, but I’ve always delivered nothing less than near-perfect marks.
My parents took the news surprisingly well. As opposed to blaming me for slacking off or being distracted by frivolous things such as friends… They were in support of me. In fact, they’re positive that the school is deliberately discriminating against me. I think it might have to do with the recent revelation regarding Anakin being the chosen one. They’ve been much kinder to me and the choices I’ve made as a result of my association with him. Where they believed I was wasting my time, I apparently “saw” what they couldn’t- even if my decision to mentor Anakin had absolutely nothing to do with the matter.
I still have not yet mentioned my pursuit of becoming an Auror. You have to space this kind of news out when you can. They’ve supported me on this, but I’m not sure they’d take that in stride. My parents have been itching to have me become a lawyer or a politician for as long as I can remember.
How were your scores? I’m sure you did brilliantly. I should know, I studied alongside you during all of this madness. I’m eager to properly celebrate with you when we next meet. My mother asked me where I’d gotten the watch the other day and I exclaimed that the brightest witch of my age crafted it for me personally… She assumed it was Ventress, but you’ve always thrived in the chaos of being underestimated, now haven’t you? I will never make that mistake.
Truly,
Ben
Dear Ben,
Don’t you ever scare me with such a dramatic introduction ever again! I nearly had a heart attack, assuming you’d gone and failed your OWLS in a fit of insanity. Given how unusual our fifth year was, I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if it had another anomaly to toss our way. I thought I was going to have to portkey to you and shake the living daylights out of you for being so foolish.
You landed on your feet, as you always do and seem to make it look incredibly easy to those that do not know any better. We’re matching, actually, except my E was in DADA- likely during the practical session when I wouldn’t cast that Sectumsempra spell. To have us perform such an act on a defenseless animal is cruel (even if it was a spider), particularly in the name of ‘testing’. If they must endorse the epidemic of violence, can they not simply provide test dummies?
I’m actually surprised I scored that high, since the instructor looked at me like I had ten heads. I spoke to Cody today. He passed, despite how hard he doubted himself. We both knew that he would do fine, of course.
Ventress has been around a lot more frequently, hasn’t she? I know that she’s been quite displaced ever since Dooku’s outing. She’s quite smug and entitled for someone who hardly does anything aside from being an errand girl to a Sith terror. I’m sure she’ll be continuing her tricks this year. To think your family thinks you could be as shrewd and awful as her.
How is Anakin this summer? I contemplated sending him an owl just to see how he was processing the more recent revelations, but it would most likely sound more from the heart if it came from you. You were truly excellent with him this year, if I hadn’t already mentioned it. I know I convinced you to break away from the status quo and lean into your desires to become an auror, but you’ve got a real knack for teaching and seeing the best in people. It’s truly one of your best traits. That, and the fact that regardless how much of a mess you are, you always manage to look pristine from head to toe.
Actually, that last bit is borderline infuriating. I hope to see you before the summer lets out. I understand why that might be difficult, but it seems with your parents’ investment in Anakin, you might have a valid reason to be away from the homestead more often. If you understand what I’m saying.
Best,
Satine
Sixth Year- Winter
{A draft from the desk of Obi-Wan Kenobi}
[Boldened text in parenthesis] = out loud thoughts
Dear Satine,
How do I say this without sounding like a damn fool? You kissed me!
It’s been brought to my attention by literally everyone that we have a certain noticeable chemistry. [Why am I saying what everyone else thinks when I should be saying what I think?] Usually, when we are together, we argue. A lot. Sometimes, I’m surprised we haven’t strangled each other yet by how heated some of our debates become. You have this ability to get under my skin in a way that no one else possesses. Truthfully, I love [Too strong! Don’t go scaring her off now] truly appreciate that about you.
But there are times when I get this feeling… And it’s come on more and more the longer I know you… Like we could get beyond the possible strangulation phase and onto something… Better. [What is wrong with me?] You challenge me and I think sometimes I’m able to challenge you as well. I think having people in your life that push you to be the best you can be is a sign of true companionship friendship. You’ve become a constant in my life that I wouldn’t shake even if I could. Looking back, it’s only natural for me to grow feelings for you.
Where I tried to convince myself those feelings were simply an intense comradery, I cannot deny that I do not notice how the light casts on Cody’s hair or linger on him as he walks away [Blast that makes me sound like a pervert] wonder what his hand would feel like in mine. My heart doesn’t quicken if Cody touches my shoulder or laughs at one of my jokes. Cody doesn’t sit incredibly close to me at the dining hall, but if he did, I would be more confused than completely entranced. Cody is my other best friend, but my entire day is not made or broken by seeing him smile.
I wouldn’t be jealous if the seventh year boys decided to notice that Cody was beautiful.
And you are disarmingly beautiful, but I’ve always known that, even if I try to ignore it.
You can imagine how terrifying all of this is to realize at the remarkable hour of 3 in the morning- a mere 3 hours after you decided to kiss me under the mistletoe. How am I supposed to think of anything else now or ever again? Which leads me to think [Don’t be presumptuous] wonder… If you share these feelings. And if you do, we’ve got quite a predicament there. Because if I could blissfully convinced myself that we could never be, I’d be able to bury that deep within me, but even the idea of hope that you could see me in that light… I fear that would be all too tempting. The evidence says that you might. You’ve always been a better investigator than myself, but I can’t shake this feeling that we have these spellbound moments where everything slows down. And it’s just you and me. During those moments, everything is alright.
Usually, when I’m troubled as I am now, I do not hesitate to reach out to you. You’re my co-conspirator, my fellow prefect, my best friend. However, given the situation, that’s not very easy to do. Even if Qui-Gon speaks of it like it is . I wish it were, because now all I can imagine is the mark you’ve left with your kiss. It’s the same sort of feeling I get every time I touch the face of the watch you gifted me last year.
Should I ever muster up the courage to send this letter to you, which I definitely shouldn’t, because you deserve the sort of man that would bare his heart in person, please understand that while I’ve dedicated my life to studying magical text, I’m not nearly as well-versed in the subject of love. Since I’m so certain you’ll never read this, there’s no point in denying that it’s anything less than love.
Love,
Ben
Seventh Year- Summer
Dear Ben,
I wanted to ensure that you were on the road of being okay, all things considering. I tried to wait to give you space, but I couldn’t make it more than a week without knowing you weren’t going mad locked up in that house of yours. I’m not even positive you’ll write me back, which is infuriating, but understanding since Qui-Gon’s passing is not one to be taken lightly by anyone, but especially you. I wish I could alleviate the pain you must be feeling in any way.
I’m relieved just a little bit, knowing that Anakin is in your care. It was very surprising of your parents to offer him refuge, as he’s currently got no one else to possibly lean on. Hopefully the two of you can find some solace in each other during these difficult times. I care for both of you very much and my heart aches knowing I am virtually helpless in making this any better. I know you are likely placing an immense amount of pressure on yourself to distract you from addressing your own mentor’s death, but while your parents might encourage this behavior, it’s not a true way of coping. You need to let someone in.
Stay safe. Do not hesitate to reach out (no matter how cliché that sounds). Even if you talk to Cody instead, that’s fine. Just… Don’t lock yourself in that head of yours and go rogue. I’d miss you far too much.
With Love,
Satine
Dear Satine,
I’m not okay, but I’ll have to be soon. Anakin is safe and on the same boat. I’ll write later with a real reply. I’m not quite in the spirit right now. I just wanted you to know that I haven’t gone completely mad in absence.
~Obi-Wan
Dear Satine,
I’m sorry to be writing to you so late in “true” reply. I’ve been quite busy with Anakin this summer. It has been helpful having someone else around. While a gray cloud still seems to follow him around, I’d say he’s faring better than expected. It’s alarming how resilient the boy is, but also incredibly depressing that it needs to be that way. We’ve discussed the matter of Qui-Gon’s death a couple of times. While you won’t like this, I think there is some closure to knowing that Anakin’s attacker, who became Qui-Gon’s murderer, is dead.
Meanwhile, I must confess that it still haunts me every night. I haven’t said anything to Anakin, because like you rightfully assumed, I’m not about to unload that burden onto him. He feels it’s his fault just as much as I do. We’ve taken to playing Quidditch outside. My family owns several acres of land, so we are able to get out of earshot every now and then. Anakin actually gets on quite nicely with my parents, which is a massive relief. Getting back to school for our final year will be a good way to get back into routine. On the other hand, I’m dreading trying to attempt adjusting to a school without Qui-Gon.
I suppose studying my brains out for the NEWTS alongside you will provide for ample distraction. You, alone, are admittedly very distracting. I am referring to your character of course. A general statement.
There’s always Quidditch, unfortunately, which isn’t nearly as fun and carefree as playing with Anakin in the yard. Despite how massively competitive he is? He’s just turned 13 and he’s loads better than me already. I still hate the flying aspect.
I’m writing you, of course, because we just got notified that I’m to be the Head Boy to your Head Girl. This incredibly tragic time has truly made me appreciate the people I have in my life. You are, without a doubt, shining at the top of that metaphorical list in bold and underlined print. I wouldn’t be Head Boy had it not been for you.
A lot has changed thus far, Satine, and I’m growing tired of being afraid. Life is too short and it’s always going to throw negatives at us- some that are absolutely debilitating. However, there is always the light, which has made me think that perhaps this year, some changes don’t have to be bad. There are many things I’d like to discuss with you, in person. Because this sort of conversation should be the kind that happens face-to-face.
Would you like to meet before school?
Truly Yours,
Ben
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rosyredlipstick · 3 years
Text
guess who watched high school musical 2 and got caught up in the ryan/chad of it all: a conchell AU
this is pure 100% cheese. thats ur warning. also unbeta-ed.
Spending the entire summer at their mother’s golf resort had sounded like a dream for exactly 3 seconds, until Mitchell remembered the…. Everything about his siblings. 
When he wasn’t pulling Sebastian away from flirting with all their guests and the entire staff, he was lecturing Scarlett and Drew about taking advantage of the concierge service, making sure Stefan and Valentina weren’t spending too much time in the sun and were definitely drinking virgin cocktails, reigning in Lacey and Sophia’s pranks, and making sure Sabrina was happy in her first summer enrolled in the youth program. Oh, and he was choreographing a major number for the end of summer talent show. So. Full plate. 
Still, it was nice he had convinced Will to come along for the summer. While he was one of Mitchell’s official guests, he had quickly befriended the entire young staff in the kitchens and by the poolside. More than often, when they were on their walks around the resort, Will would no doubt be called out to or greeted by grinning teens in red and white polos. 
Mitchell, used to his friend’s sunflower attraction toward attention, smiled knowingly and let it happen without a complaint. At least Will was enjoying himself--he’d been way too stressed about his pre-med program the last few months and, with Mitchell spending most of his time at the resort trying to rein in his power-drunk sibling, he was glad his friend wasn’t spending the summer alone at the poolside. 
Of course, with all his new acquaintances, that also meant that Will’s tendency to interfere with Mitchell’s personal relationships appeared. 
“I’m telling you, you need to hang out with friends more, you’ve been busy all summer!” Will was smiling brightly. “This is the perfect opportunity!” 
“Yes, the perfect opportunity to intrude on a social gathering!” Mitchell protested, “It’ll be weird if I go. You should just go and have fun, don’t worry about me.” Mitchell sighed, “I don’t want them to be uncomfortable! This is their down time, I don’t want to ruin it by being the boss’s kid.” 
Will rolled his eyes, “It’s a baseball game, Mitchell.” 
Mitchell shook his head, final. “Sorry. But I don’t think so. Text me afterward, okay? We can grab ice cream.” Will said nothing. He peeked a look back to the other boy, “Unless there’s something else?” 
Will sighed and looked off to the side as his cheeks colored. “Okay, listen, of course I really want you there because you’re my best friend and everything but also -” 
“There’s a guy.” Mitchell guessed, bored. Will found the love of his life at least once a week. “Who is he?”
Will didn’t even put up a fight. “I’m not sure if you know him. He works in the coffee shop? Pale, dark hair, sharpest cheekbones I’ve ever seen?”
Mitchell thought for a second, “Nico?” He guessed. Nico, for the past few months, has consistently served him the best caramel macchiato he’d ever had every morning. Mitchell dreamt about that drink, on especially good nights.  
Will melted into a dreamy mess. “Yeah. Nico.” 
Mitchell blew a puff of hair up into the hair around his face, “I mean…” He grimaced, “If you need a wingman or something -”
“Yes!” Will was already celebrating, “Thank the gods, thank you! I mean, I think you’ll enjoy yourself at the game and everyone’s really cool, but yes! Okay, if you could just like, set up a really good opportunity for me and Nico to be together like, alone, I’d so appreciate it -” 
Will continued to ramble about the perfect situation Mitchell could set up, including the ideal mood lighting, when Mitchell interrupted him.
"Is Percy okay?" Percy had just rushed by, looking upset, and hopped in his mother’s car without a word to either of them--odd, as he usually offered at least a hey guys! If not a full on conversation that left Mitchell feeling like a better person for having it. It was kind of his thing. 
"Oh, he's in turmoil because he feels like he has to choose between swimming or singing with Annabeth at the talent show and he doesn’t know which to choose." 
“Oh.” 
Will wrinkled his nose, “Yeah, he’s kinda got his own thing going on right now. I saw him dancing by himself in the golf course earlier, but I thought I’d just give him some space.”
“Smart,” Mitchell commented, growing a bit uneasy as they approached the field. There was a crowd already assembled there with a smaller circle throwing a baseball back and forth. As they approached, a few people called out to Will in excitement but it wasn’t until they were faced with a smaller inner group of people that Mitchell was addressed. 
A tall, smirking guy with wild curls was the first to greet him, lightly tossing a baseball into his own mit as he spoke. “Brought a friend, Will?” 
Will smiled brightly. “Yeah! This is Mitchell.”
“Trust me, I know who Mitchell is.” His humor-filled gaze flickered to Mitchell himself. “Nice to finally meet you.” 
Mitchell’s cheeks heated. “You know me?” 
Travis let out a small disbelieving laugh. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.” Travis elbowed the guy at his side, who shared similar curls and features. “And this is my brother, Connor.” 
“Hello, I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced.” Mitchell held out his hand with a smile. “I’m Mitchell. You’re on the staff, here?” 
Despite the incredibly stupid question Mitchell just asked considering Connor’s bright red LIFEGUARD tank top he still wore, Connor was kind enough to nod along with Mitchell’s obvious question, his eyes wide. Mitchell’s hand, still extended out to him, wobbled in the air. 
He was a second away from dropping his arm and shaking it off completely when Connor seemed to realize that he was waiting for a handshake in the first place and nearly dived for it. In his haste, he almost completely tripped over himself and onto Mitchell. 
“Oh, well,” Mitchell caught him before he could take them both down on the dirt field. “Are you okay? Is it too hot or something?” Connor’s face was strangely pale compared to his brother’s, despite the mid-afternoon summer sun. Mitchell resisted the urge to reach out and touch his skin for sun stroke. 
“So hot,” Connor whispered, in his arms. Mitchell stared down at him in concern.
A girl--Katie, maybe--came up beside him and physically took Connor out of his arms, a tight smile on her lips. “This is nothing, he’s just dehydrated.”
“More like thirsty.” A girl across from them muttered.
Katie continued on like no one said anything. “Let’s get some water in you, dude.” 
Will was smiling on like this interaction was completely normal. “So anyway I was wondering if Mitchell could join our game?” 
“Hmm, well this is an employee-only game.” Despite his words, the light tease in Travis’s voice kept Mitchell from getting nervous about the whole situation. “But it does raise the stakes.” 
That Mitchell could work with. His lips stretched out into a wide grin. “Yeah? What were you thinking?” 
Travis clicked his tongue, “How do you feel about being Captain? I take one team, you take the other.”
He thought it over then nodded. “That sounds fair. What’s the prize?” 
Travis shrugged, messing with the baseball in his mit as he spoke. “Any ideas?” 
Mitchell pretended to think, already knowing what he wanted. With a group this size, his choreo could really expand into something great. “If you lose, you guys have to join my dance group for the talent show.” 
“Hmm,” Travis looked to the girl at his side--Phoebe, he thought, another lifeguard. She once helped him with Sabrina’s floaties. “We’ll consider that. Guys?” The circle of employees gathered a bit closer to talk it over. Will shot him an excited look. 
Suddenly, in the midst of their talking it over, Connor burst from the huddle and pushed his way over to Mitchell. “I’ll give you fifty dollars if you let me on your dance team.” 
“Wait, no -” Travis grabbed his shoulders from behind to push him back, “Connor, we’re trying to negotiate with him!” 
“Oh,” Connor nodded seriously and turned back to where Mitchell was waiting, amused. “I’ll pay two hundred -” 
Katie slapped a hand over his mouth and dragged him back to the crowd, him protesting all the way. Travis looked back to Mitchell, tired. “Just ignore him, please.”
Mitchell watched him sink back into the crowd, something small curled at his lips. “I don’t think I can.”
“Anyway,” Katie was the one to speak now. “We talked it over, that sounds fine. If we lose, we’ll be in your show.” 
Mitchell had to resist punching the air in excitement. “Great.” 
Travis leaned back with his arms crossed, looking him over. “And what do we get if we win?” 
“Well, what do you want?” 
“Dinner and a movie,” Connor choked out, almost like he didn’t mean to.
Mitchell raised an eyebrow, “An catered employee afternoon in the movie theatre?” He thought it over, then shrugged. “I could probably arrange that.” 
Travis rubbed at his forehead, “I - sure. Yeah, that sounds fun.” 
“Alright,” Mitchell smiled with a small shrug of his shoulders. “I guess it’s game on, then.” 
...
Of course, against a batch of peers who had been playing baseball all summer, Mitchell was bound to lose. However, they didn’t lose as hard as he expected. 
After the match, when Mitchell was left aching from the game and loss but proud despite it, Will sunk down next to him at the picnic table. “Good game. I didn’t think you’d get so into it.” 
At the last moment, Mitchell had ended up diving for a ball, completely dirting up his outfit. He had caught it, and it had counted, but two players had already made it home in the meantime. Still, it was a close loss. 
Mitchell smiled slightly. “Me neither. But it was worth a shot at a full dance group.”
Will laughed softly, “Still. Great catch.” 
“It really was.” They both looked up at the new voice--Katie, from before. She’d been on Travis’s team with Connor, Jason, Leo, Annabeth and a few others. The rest of the group was mostly dispersed by now, most of them arranging rides home or plans to grab food. “We haven’t had a game that fun in a while.” 
At her arrival, Will stood and offered her his seat. Which was kind, but also definitely just a ploy to escape and run off wherever Nico was lurking. Mitchell waved him off with a roll of his eyes before returning back to the conversation. Katie took his place without a word. 
“Well, I’m happy to help. It was a good time, you guys work well together.” Mitchell shot her a knowing grin. “I’ll start working out the theatre rental. Any movie requests?” 
She shrugged, “We can take a vote on it. But we’ve also been talking.” Katie had an amused twinkle in her eye. “We’re in. We’ll still do your show, it sounds fun.” 
Mitchell sat up completely, a bolt of excitement hitting him. “Wait, really?” At her nod, he absolutely lit up. “Oh my god, it’s gonna be such a fun show, I promise!” He got to his feet in excitement and threw his arms around her shoulders in a hug, pulling away promptly. “Oh my god, wait, I’m covered in dirt I’m so sorry -” 
She waved it off but stood herself. She, too, was covered in dirt from the game so didn’t seem to care much at any additional. 
He couldn’t help but babble on. “It’s going to be so much fun. You won’t regret it.”
She smiled at him, looking like she was indulging him. “I know. Anyway, just a moment,” She disappeared for a few moments only to return, dragging Connor by the wrist. She pushed him toward Mitchell, almost bumping them into each other. “Connor will be your contact point for organizing this. Trade numbers, will you? For planning.”
“Oh, sure!” Mitchell fumbled to get his phone out and hand it over. Connor’s phone appeared under his hand faster than he thought possible. 
Katie left them alone as he punched in his own phone and name, drifting back to where Travis and a few others were waiting. He handed back Connor’s phone, suddenly closer to the other boy than he had realized. He paused. 
“You have grass in your hair.” Connor breathed out. 
“Oh,” Mitchell dipped his head in embarrassment and rubbed at his head. “Oops.” 
“I -” Connor gestured to his own temple. “Other side?” 
He tried but Connor only stepped forward slightly into his space, reaching out slowly. “Let me -” Mitchell felt a slight pull on his hair, not painful. Connor pulled away with a blade of grass in between two fingers. 
“Got it,” Connor said weakly, staring down at him. 
“My hero,” Mitchell teased. Connor nodded gravely at that, like he was accepting a mission.
Connor licked his lips before he spoke. “That was a really good catch. You’re a good player.” 
“Baseball’s just a dance of its own.” Mitchell shrugged, joking. “What can I say? I’m just that much of a star athlete.” Connor nodded, looking like he completely agreed. 
Before either of them could say anything further, Will called out to him and ran their way, grinning, with another guy at his side. “I heard the news! They’re still doing the show, that’s great!” Will was glowing, “See, coming to this was a great idea!” 
Mitchell stuck out his tongue, “You just wanted to brag that you were right.” 
“No!” Will looked behind where he had ran from and lit up, “Actually, I wanted to introduce you to Nico!” 
Nico, who trailed after him a few steps, walked up beside Will with a sarcastic roll of his eyes. Mitchell liked him already. “Next time you’re going to run off mid-conversation, can you at least give me a warning first? I’ll die before I jog after you in jeans.” 
“You’re the one who wore jeans to a baseball game!” 
“And why not? You think I’m gonna participate in this?” 
“Well, you’re an employee at an employee baseball game. Perhaps I thought you were going to play.” 
“Where would you get that idea? Have you not seen the everything about me?” 
“Hi, I’m Mitchell.” He stuck out his hand with a grin. He could sit here all day, truly, but he did have things to do. “You’re Nico?” 
“That’s me.” He raised an eyebrow. “You look familiar.
“Mitchell is one of Aphrodite’s kids. He’s a good one, don’t worry.” Will explained, shooting Mitchell a wince like he didn’t know exactly how his siblings were. 
Mitchell snorted, “On behalf of Drew and Scarlett, I can’t apologize enough.” 
“That… helps.” Nico winced. “I messed up Drew’s chai latte my first day on the job.” 
Mitchell groaned, “Again, I’m so sorry. I’ve been trying to get them to act like, you know, normal people -” 
Nico cut him off. “We work at a golf club. I get more cranky boomers in an hour than an AARP meeting.” Nico shook his head, “They’re a lot, but definitely not the worst customers to have. At least they tip well.” 
He could have wilted in relief. Across from him, Will’s eyes were nearly hearts. God, he was already lovesick. 
Which reminded him --
“Actually, Connor and I were just leaving. We’ll leave you two be.” Mitchell lightly grabbed Connor’s elbow to start steering him away. “Will, can you get a ride home? I’m probably going to be staying late.” 
Next to him, Nico perked up. “Oh, I can give you a ride? If you want? I’ll have to pick up my older sister but, um, it’s not that out of the way -” 
“I would love to.” Will looked perfectly composed, despite the screaming excitement that must be running through his head. He even managed to grab onto Nico’s hand as he led them away toward the parking lot. 
“Young love,” Mitchell commented, shaking his head fondly as the other couple walked off. “Must be nice.” He stepped back and dropped his hand from Connor’s elbow. “Oh, sorry!” He laughed lightly. “Sorry, I was recruited as Will’s wingman and I wanted to give them some time alone. Cute, right?”
Connor’s throat bobbled. “So cute. Um,” Connor made a jerky movement, like he was gonna run his hand through his hair but decided not to. “So you’re, uh, staying late?” 
“Yeah,” He blew some air up into the hair hanging over his face. “If you guys are gonna join the number, I want to have the choreo adjusted for a group before we start rehearsals.” 
“Cool, cool.” Connor nodded slowly, “Cool.” 
Now that he was closer, Mitchell could almost recognize Connor from his many shifts poolside. His lifeguard chair was almost right across from where Valentina would occasionally drag him to tan in the afternoon sun. Didn’t he once help Mitchell apply sunscreen, when Valentina ran to get slushies right when he was reapplying? 
His hands were cold, Mitchell remembered, or maybe his own skin was just that hot. He shivered when Connor applied the first handful of cream on his back. Mitchell had to advise Connor to take some of the sunscreen himself, after his own skin started to stain red. 
He was kind, was the point. Or at least, that’s what Mitchell remembered. 
Mitchell gestured at his parked golf cart as they approached it. “You want a ride anywhere? I’m heading toward the main pavilion.” 
Something wobbled in Connor’s expression before he spoke. “I could, um, go with you?” He said it as a question, looking slightly nervous as he spoke. 
“Yeah, sure! The employee entrance? Did you forget something?” 
“No, no, like -” Connor made another awkward gesture toward nothing. “Like, if you need help with the number? I could come? I mean, it’s never too early to get started on learning the dance, right?” 
Mitchell smiled, “Oh, sure! Do you have experience with dance routines?” 
Connor nodded confidently. “Yes.” 
“Really?” Mitchell turned to him in excitement. “Have you been in any dance groups before?” 
“Um. No.” 
“Oh, so like private lessons or something? A club?”
“Uh. No again.” His confidence was fully wavering now. 
Mitchell raised his eyebrows, “So what experience do you have?” 
“I sometimes dance in my room?” Connor scratched at the back of his head. “I, um. I didn’t think you’d ask many questions, actually.” 
Despite his awkwardness, Mitchell was… charmed by Connor’s fumbling. 
“Um,” Mitchell bit his smiling lip, looking away then back. “Actually, I was supposed to get ice cream with Will after the game.”
Connor deflated before he could finish. “Oh. Okay, yeah.” 
“No!” Mitchell was quick to correct. “I meant like, with Will going off with Nico, I still want to get it. With you. If that’s okay?” 
Connor’s expression bloomed into something so joyful, Mitchell was almost taken back. “I would… adore that.” 
“Adore?” Mitchell couldn’t help but tease. “Why’s that?” 
“I just,” He turned to Mitchell, his eyes wide. “I just really, really like ice cream.”
Mitchell bit his lip, “Me too. I mean, I really like ice cream. Ice cream is… sweet.”
Connor huffed out a small laugh, “Yeah. I, uh, agree.” He made an awkward little motion with his arm at the golf cart. “Um, shall we go?” 
Mitchell stepped forward and looped his arm with Connor’s. “Actually, I thought we could walk?” 
“I will do literally anything you want.” 
Mitchell laughed, “I’ll hold you to that.” 
To Mitchell’s amusement, Connor’s face turned a dark, dark red. He looked away, his lips pressed together in a small excited smile. Perhaps the baseball game hasn’t been such a bad idea.
56 notes · View notes
nosferatvpussy · 4 years
Text
distorted lullabies [chapter VIII]
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Word count:  5,459
Warnings: none
Pairing: Dracula x female reader
AO3 link
A/N: Not much Dracula in this chapter and I apologise for it! I'm trying to progress the story while keeping it entertaining. Still hope you can enjoy it. 
Also, as I was reviewing this I realised not everyone might get a reference I threw in there (you'll know when). If you're curious about what I'm referring to, just watch this clip at the 2:40 mark (do NOT watch it around other people).
____________________________________________________
My gaze crossed with his over the table. He took a knight between two fingers, hovering in the air in thought. The dull light of a cloudy day streamed in at our right, creating shadows on the chessboard and making the pieces look bigger than they actually were. My eyes flickered to the ticking clock next to the chess board and then back to his. He frowned at my smirk. The knight hung ominously over my remaining bishop and I raised an eyebrow.
“I taught you that,” Renfield complained, pointing his knight at me. “It doesn’t work on me.”
The clock chimed, signaling that his time was over. I gave him a toothy grin as he stared in shock at the sequence of zeros on display. With his clock zeroed, mine started counting down from 3 minutes. 
“Doesn’t it?” I giggled, plucking the white knight from between his limp fingers and placing on the square it had been before. I pushed a black rook forward across the chessboard very slowly, the prospect of victory swelling inside me and making me outright laugh at the defeat on his face. I knocked the knight I’d just placed with my piece, leaving nothing in between his king and my rook. Renfield pressed the bridge of his nose with two fingers and swore as I retrieved the downed piece. “Good luck getting out of this. Check.”
I clicked the button on top of my clock to finish my move. Renfield stiffened, shooting me a cold look.
“When did you get so devious?”
“Don’t be a sore loser. You won all the past matches! This loss will be good for you, you’ll learn humility.”
“Funny,” he said, although he didn’t laugh, shifting his calculating eyes back to the chessboard.
Renfield supported an elbow on the table, fingers resting on his temple, like he was conspiring against a prosecution. I blinked, trying to stop the smile that threatened to overcome my mouth. Were it not for the sterile environment and the annoying ambient music, I could’ve thought we were back at work. My phone buzzed on top of the table, attracting both of our gazes. 
“Is that Count Dracula?” He inquired, gaze focused on the chessboard again, doing an excellent job of sounding uninterested. 
“Of course not, it’s ten in the morning,” I said as I reached for the mobile. “Isn’t he supposed to be in his cof--uh, bed?” I corrected, glancing at the nurse, Margaret, sitting not far from us. She had her head buried in a magazine but every once in a while I would catch her leaning her ear closer.
“He’s got a regular bed, Y/N,” he murmured, rolling his eyes. 
I unlocked my phone.
“I know. It was a j--” 
“Oh, do you?”
“Are you twelve?” I snapped and Renfield giggled, only reinforcing my suspicion. “Time is flying,” I indicated the chessboard and Renfield stopped laughing. I blew out a breath as I read the text that had made my phone buzz. “Since when is Evelyn getting married?”
“She sent the invites ages ago.”
“She did?” I raised my eyebrows, trying to remember if I’d seen it in my pile of mail back at home. “We work in the same office. Couldn’t she have hand delivered it?” He shot me a look. “I see what you mean. She thinks she’s bloody Posh Spice.”
Renfield’s hand stopped mid-air, on his way to move a rook but changed his mind at the last second, tapping his temple again. 
“Who?”
“Oh, you’ll get on my case about Dracula like you’re a schoolgirl but don’t know who Posh Spice is?” 
Nurse Margaret snickered, raising her magazine to conceal her affected grin, only confirming my suspicion that she could hear snippets of our conversation.
“The Beckham girl, of course I know,” Renfield glanced at Margaret, furrowing his brow. “I was very absorbed in my game and wasn’t listening,” he uttered the last bit louder, staring directly at the nurse. Her face became as red as a tomato. She skittered up from the couch she’d been sitting on, moving swiftly towards the nurse station on the other side of the room. Once she was out of earshot, Renfield said, “Is Evelyn asking you to RSVP?”
“Do I have to?” I grimaced. “The wedding isn’t even in London. I don’t like her and I have to travel all the way to Berkeley?”
“You know you have to.”
“Maybe I’ll get the flu. An aneurysm, if I’m lucky!”
“Her surname is on our calling card, Y/N.”
“Damn it.”
Renfield just looked at me and I slumped down on my chair. It didn’t matter if I was winning at chess when I was absolutely being defeated in this subject. I couldn’t not go to Evelyn Seymour’s wedding, the only remaining direct descendant of Edward Seymour, one of our firm’s original founders in 1821. Her surname was first in line when talking about the most prestigious law firm in London, followed by Sterling and May. From birth, she had a seat reserved for her at the firm, her birthright if I wanted to get poetic about it. Although her surname didn’t instantly grant her power over the entire business, she treated everyone like it did and that was precisely why I didn’t like her. My arrogance was an easily dispensed front but Evelyn’s owed hers to bad parenting, if I had to guess. 
“I can’t go, obviously. I imagine all the other partners will be there, except me,” Renfield sighed and set the piece he had on his fingers to the side. He leaned forward, peering at me over his spectacles. “It’s only proper that you go to represent me,” he lifted a hand before I could protest. “Yes, you. Y/N, you’re my sole pupil I’ve taken in 30 years at that firm and only because the other partners forced me to,” he scoffed. “I was less than happy with this at the beginning, as you well know, but it’s the one thing I can be proud of in my many years of practise. As I’ve been told by many people, I’m uncaring, rude and outright despicable at times. I struggle to find many redeeming qualities in myself, although you seem to pick them out effortlessly. Somehow, under my tutelage you’ve grown to be a brilliant lawyer and, while all credit can’t be mine, I believe I’ve had a finger at shaping you into the person you’re today, which is infinitely better than me,” he cleared his throat and removed his spectacles, suddenly interested in cleaning its lenses on his shirt. “Regardless of what’s come between us, I will have nobody else representing me at that wretched woman’s wedding. It will serve her well, too, for spurning you for so many years. Let’s not spare her our spite, shall we? Do try and sneak a picture of her face at the wedding party when you sit at the partners’ table. It will do wonders for my recovery.”
I used my ring fingers to tap the inner corners of my eyes, containing the tears that threatened to spill over. 
“Damn you,” I sniveled and laughed.
“Yes, well. I had to say something to convince you to go. Did it work?”
That, that was the Frank Renfield I knew. He had to still be in there, whole. His eyes were just blue, without a trace of otherness behind them as he spoke, and I grappled onto that to remain firm on my quest against Count Dracula, no matter how unlikely the odds against me.
“Of course it bloody worked. Will you try to kill me again if I give you a hug?”
He put his spectacles on, summoning a serious expression although his eyes were still welled up. 
“Let me win this match and I’ll do it. No promises if I lose.”
“Do your best, then,” I smiled, gesturing to the board. 
He averted his gaze to each of our pieces, analysing their positions. I left him to his devices while I typed a text back to Evelyn.
“Do you have a dress in mind?”
“Um,” I made, scrolling the screen up to check when the ceremony began. A twilight wedding should be pretty. It wasn’t the easiest time of day to choose a dress befitting of it, though. Not too fancy and not too simple wasn’t something one usually found in London’s evening wear stores. “I might have to go and get one.”
“Wear purple. It’s Evelyn’s favourite colour and she’ll be wearing white on her wedding day. Imagine her face--”
“Christ, you’re a teenage girl. How have I never noticed it before?”
“I’d been reading celebrity magazines before you brought me my books. They got to me. I’m still not over their effects, it seems,” he shuddered.
I chuckled and sent the text to Evelyn, confirming I would be there.
“Purple it is then. It’s not like she doesn’t deserve it. I’ll see if Diana wants to go with me, I’ll make her wear purple, too.”
I put my phone aside just in time to see Renfield’s next move. 
“I heard that Evelyn’s fiancée is rich but not the most fetching gent. If you really want to send her into fits, take Count Dracula as your plus one. Checkmate.”
My mouth fell open as I watched him replace my king with a pawn. A pawn, of all things. I glanced between the chessboard and Renfield’s conceited grin, trying to find out how on Earth he managed to pull that off. Had I not taken that pawn into account? 
“Sneaky bastard,” I said, stunned. “I wanted a win!”
“Better luck next time, I guess. At least you get a hug as a consolation prize.”
I looked at him, shaking my head.
“I’ll take it but what I’ll not take is Count Dracula to the wedding, no matter how much I want to annoy Evelyn.”
Renfield leaned back on his chair, tapping his fingers on the edge of the table. 
“You’re still resisting him?”
“Please, don’t sound surprised,” I frowned. “You know I don’t take well to being underestimated.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t offend you like that,” he gave me a smile which disappeared a second later. “Frankly, I’m more surprised that he hasn’t just taken you for himself,” his voice grew thicker as he spoke.
“He won’t do that unless I give him consent.”
“And you think he won’t break that deal of yours if he grows tired of waiting?” he tilted his head like a bug.
I narrowed my eyes. His eyes had lost the bright shine that I was so used to seeing, especially when we were in court, and acquired a dreary gleam that immediately sent a shiver through me. I could only suppose that my refusal to take Count Dracula as my plus one was what set him off. From now on, I presumed that whatever I told him would be reported to his “master” so I had to choose my words with diligence.
“I’d like to think he respects me enough to keep to our deal.” 
Renfield chortled, a sound so unnatural to him that I almost doubted it came out of his throat.
“I do wonder,” he started between a few more laughs, “how is it that you manage to resist him. I thought it virtually impossible.”
“There’s a disconnect, I think, between mind and body for whatever concerns Count Dracula. My body responds in one way,” my mouth went dry as I thought about his mouth on my neck and I shook my head, “but I’m still quite capable of seeing what he is.”
“Which is?”
“I don’t have to explain it to you, do I? You told me that you have love for him,” I said and he nodded, “if that’s so, you love everything in him, even the worst parts. People love the whole while acknowledging the bad and choose to ignore it. So you know that he’s a manipulative monster who has killed hundreds, perhaps thousands of people simply for the fun of it and--” I interrupted myself before I got carried away by my bitterness.
I shut my eyes, taking a moment to allow the rising wave of emotion to settle. The tightening on my throat told me there was more than bitterness but I wouldn’t trouble myself with exploring what that meant. Not now in front of Renfield. 
“Y/N,” Renfield said my name with such gentleness that my eyes shot open and when I stared at him, I was met with the dark blue eyes I had grown accustomed to. He had leaned forward, an open hand extended to me over the table. I put my hand in his without a second thought. “I understand that it’s hard but do yourself a favour and surrender. Surrender with arms wide open or he’ll hurt you and those around you. Listen to me. He will. He might shower you with what you think is affection and perhaps you’ll find yourself falling for him,” he squeezed my hand in his when I started shaking my head in denial, “but at some point he’ll become impatient if you keep stalling and he’ll do it. There is no way out.”
“I know,” my voice didn’t come out, so I tried again, “I know.”
People were supposed to have choices. And while I didn’t want to be hurt more than I already was, I had to try. I had to be free of Count Dracula. If what Renfield said was true, how could I possibly be with someone who was just as willing to care for me as he was to hurt me? 
My phone rang. Recognising Zoe’s number, I grabbed it and stood up. My hand and Renfield’s were still joined and I used it as leverage to bring him into a hug, forcing him to stand up. He stiffened for a second but then his arms went around me, patting my back awkwardly. His heart beat steadily and I smiled into the hug.
“See you later,” I said as I stepped back, holding tightly to his forearms. “I’ve got to run to lunch with a friend.”
“It’s still early.”
“It’s on the other side of London,” I lied. “You’re doing better. Keep doing whatever it is they have you doing here.”
“Not like I have a choice,” he said.
I almost asked him if he even wanted a choice since he was a willing slave but decided against it by giving him a smile and leaving. 
________________________________________________
“News?” Zoe asked me as she organised vials inside her briefcase.
I rolled down my sleeve and let my hair down now that we were done doing ‘business’. I settled myself on a more comfortable position which wasn’t difficult since Zoe’s car was the epitome of comfort.
“He came by,” I said, putting on my courtroom face. Zoe whipped her head around towards me, frowning. “Out of nowhere. It’s not like I could have told him to hold on and call you.”
“Where did he take you?”
“We stayed in and watched telly.”
“Watched telly? That’s it?” She questioned, closing her briefcase and letting it slide to her feet, near the car’s pedals. I shrugged. “You swear?”
Her disapproving tone reminded me of my mother’s and I scowled.
“I have no reason to lie to you.”
“You have every reason to lie to me. Last time we met, you told me there was a bond between you two. Had I known this in the first place, I would--”
“Would what? Waste a perfectly good opportunity to capture Dracula because of a damned bond that’s not even my fault?” I raised my eyebrows at her and she pressed her lips in a fine line. “I’m not on his side. Or yours, for that matter. I could care less about the importance of your research, Zoe. I haven’t questioned the Jonathan Harker Foundation, have I? It’s shady business but it’s not my business. All I want is to be out of danger.” A tiny part of me questioned where would be the fun in that and I pushed it aside. That had to be the bond making its presence known. “We watched films together. Period.”
I stared at Zoe, waiting for her to chew on that.
There was no need for her to know about what happened halfway through Interview with the Vampire. Or about him carrying me to bed. After my encounter with Renfield, I wanted to forget how lovely it felt, sleeping on the Count’s arms. Dracula hadn’t done that for anyone’s benefit except his. I had to understand that.
“I don’t know if what I’m about to say will make you happy, considering-- nevermind,” Zoe shook her head. “With the samples you’ve been giving me, I’m close to synthesizing a pill that can possibly block his access to a person’s memories.”
“Possibly?”
“We’re still in initial stages of trials but it’s not like we can be certain of anything without the Count in our custody. However, I’m almost sure this pill will definitely work on you since it's being manufactured based on your genetic data.”
“Possibly and almost won’t keep him from killing me if he is able to read my memories.”
“We’re working on it, Y/N,” Zoe bit out. “One of the side effects, however, is short term memory loss. It only lasts for as long as the pill’s in effect but I’m doing my best to mitigate it.”
“What are the other side effects?”
“Heartburn, headache and mild paranoia, usually specific to loud sounds. So far that’s what we’ve got from our human subjects. None of those symptoms last very long either,” she paused, examining me. “Does Count Dracula trust you?”
“I don’t think he trusts anyone. I think he regards me… differently… than he does other people.”
“Why do you think that?”
I thought about the haunting sorrow I’d seen in Count Dracula’s eyes when he spoke about his late wife and how he immediately shut down after that. I doubted he had told many people about her.
“I just do,” I shrugged. “How long until you can give me this pill?”
“A month, if nothing goes wrong. You’d be willing to use it?”
“Can you get it ready in two weeks?”
“Two weeks! Why?”
I took a deep breath for what I was about to say.
“There’ll be a wedding, up in Berkeley. It’ll be in Berkeley Castle--”
“Huge place.”
“Exactly. I’ll take Count Dracula as my plus one. Everyone will be focused on the party and there’ll be plenty of opportunities for you to capture him--”
“We haven’t planned anything, Y/N,” Zoe interrupted, shaking her head vehemently. “It’s too soon. No, no. Absolutely not. We’ll get killed, not to say about the possible collateral damage with the guests. No.”
“We won’t get many chances like this,” the words stumbled out of my mouth in my hurry to get them out before I regretted this. “Berkeley is our best bet. Dracula will be distracted. I’ll do my very best to guarantee it. I’ll even pull a Sharon Stone if I have to. Just, please.”
“Y/N, no. I told you. It took months of planning until we could move on him and get him out of the sea. This has to be rehearsed. We would need a team of people infiltrated at the wedding, a deep knowledge of the property, not to mention contingencies set in place… It’s too much work for only two weeks.”
“I don’t care!” I slapped my thigh in frustration. “I’ll be hanging on his arm all night. If he senses something is off, I’ll know and we drop the plan. We’ve got to try.”
Zoe frowned at me.
“Why are you suddenly so desperate?”
I straightened on my seat and cleared my throat. 
“He’ll grow bored of me, eventually,” I said, remembering Renfield’s sudden sympathy. “There’s no way we can know when, so I’d like to be rid of him sooner rather than later. If we wait too long I might be having this same conversation with you in a few months except I’ll have fangs on my mouth. Or not at all, in which case I’ll be six feet under.”
If I was to take everything Renfield said into account, it scared me. However, I was more frightened at the idea of losing control over the bond. Losing control over myself. From day one, sordid ideas about Count Dracula drinking my blood had pestered me. Whenever I was around him I found myself captivated by him, almost beyond reasoning. Like I always had an unseen force pushing me towards him and consuming me with nothing except raw craving. Never in my entire life had I felt such forceful desire and it terrified me. The leash, as Count Dracula had put it so well at the museum, could break at any second and I wasn’t ready for it to happen yet.
“Get your phone,” Zoe said at last.
“What for?”
“To see if we can find clear pictures of Berkeley Castle’s grounds and decide on a possible course of action,” Zoe said matter-of-factly as she secured her hair on a ponytail.
The turmoil inside me calmed down, for the most part. 
“So we’re doing it?”
“Only, and only if I can have this pill done by then. If not, I’m calling it off.”
I flashed her a smile as I pulled my phone from my back pocket.
“I’ll take that.”
“Were you serious when you said that about Sharon Stone? About the Basic Instinct thing?” Zoe made a face but there was nothing in her eyes if not amusement. 
“God, no,” I said and she raised an eyebrow. “Last resort thing only, if it comes to that.”
Zoe laughed, shaking her head to the sides at me.
“I hope it doesn’t come to that.”
“Me, too.”
As our laughter died down, we dove into every website we could find that had pictures of Berkeley Castle. We struck gold when the property’s floor plan and aerial view simply popped up during our Google search. According to Berkeley Castle’s own website, wedding ceremonies usually took place in the Great Hall or outside on the gardens. The reception was almost always hosted inside the castle.
Zoe’s phone ringing momentarily interrupted us. Gaze still focused on my phone’s screen, she answered her own without checking who the caller was.
“Hello?” Zoe stiffened at once, listening to whatever the person on the other end of the line was saying. “Jack. Jack. Jack, calm down, I can’t understand you,” the voice grew loud enough for me to make out the words “friends”, “Foundation” and “suicide”. I remained focused on my phone, scrolling through pictures, like I hadn’t heard anything. “No, I didn’t know. Where are you? Okay, stay there. I’m on my way and then we’ll talk.”
After more reassurances, Zoe ended the call and looked at me.
“Go. We can do this some other time,” I told her. “Is everything alright?”
“Yeah, yeah. Fine. Well, no. No. One of my students at the Foundation,” she gestured to her phone, “needs me. An emergency. I have to go. Now, actually.”
She would’ve made a terrible lawyer. Terrible voice pitch when she lied and with the way she babbled, she would be eaten alive in a courtroom. I would’ve wiped the floor with her. From what I could tell, this was the first time I had caught her in a lie and I wondered why now. I could ascribe it to the dodginess surrounding anything to do with the Foundation but my intuition told me there was more to it. 
Prying would probably result in more lies. 
“Of course,” I said, flashing her a brief smile, “I understand. Call me when you can.”
______________________________________________________________
My ears buzzed inside the lift as I tried to keep my courtroom face on. I couldn’t wait to get home and sit in silence to cleanse my head from an entire day listening to office gossip.
“I’ve got this lovely dress,” Mallory was saying, “It’s this really beautiful champagne colour--”
“Isn’t that the one you wore to Jamie’s wedding?” Sarah asked.
“You can’t wear a dress you already wore before,” said Chelsea with a sneer.
Mallory furrowed her brows, looking anxious. 
“I remember the dress,” I intervened in Mallory’s defense. “It’s very pretty. You shouldn’t keep it hidden in your wardrobe, Mal. Wear it. I’m sure nobody will be rude enough to ask you about it,” I looked pointedly at Sarah.
“No,” Mallory countered and both women stared at her. “It’s another one. I happen to like the colour, is that a crime?” she asked indignantly. Sarah shrugged. Mallory eyed me, “Do you know what you’re wearing, Y/N?”
I’d gone shopping two days earlier with Diana during my lunch break. She’d pouted when I said I couldn’t take her as my plus one but immediately dropped the act in favour of a smile upon hearing the name Count Dracula come out of my mouth. 
“The Count? The one that gave you the hickey?” she’d whispered the last part during dinner at her house on Sunday.
“The very same,” I’d replied. Little did she know the extent of that hickey.
“Dating royalty, Y/N--”
“Drop it, Di. Will you do me the honours of going dress hunting with me? It must be purple.”
“Purple?”
“Evelyn’s favourite colour.”
“Oh, you’re evil!” She’d laughed. “We’ll find the perfect dress. You’ll look so gorgeous that he’ll faint when he sees you.”
Diana’s excitement over my love affairs had made me wonder if I was so much of a lost cause that any person remotely interested in me should be celebrated with buying an evening dress. On Wednesday, we’d browsed half the stores in Strand before Diana convinced me to hop on the tube towards Belgravia with the promise of gorgeous boutiques in which I would definitely find a dress to my liking. Diana got to flex her marketing muscles to persuade me into getting the one I liked the most, despite the steep price. She’d taken the dress home with her so I wouldn’t have to return to the office with it. 
“L/N?” Mallory touched my shoulder.
“Oh, sorry. I zoned out thinking about all the dresses in my wardrobe,” I blinked at her. “I’m not sure what to wear yet.”
“You should make up your mind quickly, then,” Sarah said in her usual brisk manner. “We’re one week away from Evie’s wedding.”
Evie, right, like they were friends. Of all the women, Mallory was the only one who could call herself Evelyn’s friend and, sadly, between her, Sarah and Chelsea, she was the one I most got along with. Mal and I had started our internships at around the same time and we’d suffered through college together, too. We barely talked now that she’d gotten close to Evelyn. I’d stopped being Y/N to her and became simply L/N.
The lift finally opened and we spilled out. Freedom! I thought, tightening my pace towards the lobby and putting as much distance between me and my colleagues. Through the exit doors, I could see the last rays of sunshine reflecting on the glass plated buildings that seemed to be a requirement at Canary Wharf.
“We’re renting an Airbnb together in Berkeley,” Mallory said, catching up with me. “Me and the girls. It’ll be cheaper that way.”
“Okay…”
“There’s a spare bedroom,” she continued, swiping her baby blonde hair that had fallen on her face in her effort to keep up with me. 
“Oh,” I blinked, stopping abruptly in front of the exit. Mallory nearly tripped over me. “You’re inviting me to stay with you guys?”
“Yeah,” she paused. “I know you aren’t fond of them but you can ignore what they say. It’s what I do half the time I’m with them.”
“Then, why do you spend so much time with them?”
“Trying to climb the ladder, professionally speaking,” she shrugged. “All of you guys were trained by one of the firm’s partners except me. All my efforts go unnoticed because of it.”
“Mal, you could’ve just kept talking to me if that’s what you wanted,” I frowned. “Renfield would--”
“Not a chance. Renfield doesn’t like anybody at the office except you.”
I acquiesced with a shrug. I loved the man but he wasn’t the nicest person to people.
“I’ll think about the Airbnb,” I told Mallory.
Me in a house full of girls when I had a vampire on my heels? Big no. But after years of distance from one of my best friends, I wasn’t going to simply dismiss her because I didn’t like the people she socialised with.
“You still like going to Camden for drinks? Peace offering?”
“Peace offering,” I grinned.
Mallory laced her arm with mine and led the way out. I frowned up at the sky, searching the rays of sun I’d seen moments ago but all I found was cloud upon cloud upon cloud. Hearing the rushing pair of high heels towards us made me cringe and stop on the sidewalk.
“Girls!” Shouted Chelsea. “Did we hear something about drinks?”
“I’ll get rid of them,” Mallory whispered to me in an exasperated tone before putting on a blinding smile and turning to face Chelsea and Sarah.
As Mallory tried to talk them out of it, a sleek black BMW slid to a stop in front of me. I had little more than two seconds to take in the tinted windows, dark enough to make me wonder if they were inside the legal limits, before the passenger's window started going down. The voices behind me quieted as the driver leaned across the seat. He had sunglasses on but I’d recognise that face anywhere. I bent forward, leaning on the car’s door.
“You had to get the flashiest car available, didn’t you?” 
“Oh, dear, no,” Dracula drawled. “The flashiest one was yellow. Black suits me better.”
“Um, Y/N… Who’s that?” Chelsea’s flirty tone made me roll my eyes.
“An impertinent client,” I said without turning to look at her.
“Is that what I am?” 
“Amongst other things that shouldn’t be spoken out loud,” I muttered.
“Your client?” asked Sarah. “L/N, are you breaking the code of ethics?”
“Renfield’s client,” I corrected, glancing briefly at Sarah. 
When I looked back at Dracula, he was grinning.
“Hello, ladies,” he waved at them, eliciting giggles. If I hadn’t known them for years, I wouldn’t have guessed they were adult women considering their behaviour. “Is that jealousy I see?” he said in a low voice. 
“You wish,” I retorted. In a whisper, I said, “It’s still daylight. Aren’t you going to burst into flames?”
“I might if you don’t get in the car.”
“Tempting. I’ll just stay here.”
“Stay, then. The sun will set in precisely seven minutes and when it does, I’ll get out of this car.”
“And do what?”
“Right now, throwing you over my shoulder seems appropriate.”
My knees quivered at that thought. I had to learn to stop baiting him into conversations like these. At some point, he would carry out his threats and I would probably enjoy it, which wasn’t ideal if I wanted to come out of this breathing.
“Um, Y/N?” Mallory’s voice was a gift sent from heaven to make me look away from the Count. “Do you want to postpone our drinks or--”
“Oh, drinks? Where are we going?” 
“There’s no we--” I glared at him.
He smiled innocently, surprising me that he was actually able to.
“Camden, I hear,” Sarah chimed in.
“Lovely Camden! Why don’t I give you ladies a ride?”
“I’m okay with that,” Sarah said, followed by Chelsea’s nod.
I already had a flimsy hold over my own libido, I wouldn’t attempt trying to control Chelsea’s and Sarah’s too. As much as I didn’t like them, I wouldn’t wish Count Dracula on them. With that in mind, I flung open the BMW’s door and threw myself in. 
“Maybe some other time, girls. He’s mine,” I announced, already regretting my choice of words. Turning to Mallory, I said in an apologetic tone, “Lunch tomorrow so we can catch up?”
She grinned at me, glancing briefly at Count Dracula, who was most definitely staring at the back of my head. 
“Sure,” she affirmed with a wink. “Bye.”
I was still waving at her when Dracula accelerated, leaving his parking spot. I stared out the window without registering where we were headed, waiting. Tension grew until I began feeling smothered. 
“What’s that about me being yours?”  
I shut my eyes and threw my head back against my seat. 
“Just… shut up.”
.
.
I know it's a bit mean that I ended the chapter there but I didn't have any time left to write. I'll try posting chapter 9 earlier next week (wednesday or thursday, maybe) to make it up to everyone.
Taglist: @rheabalaur​ @festering-queen​ @feralstare​ @girlonfireice​ @deborahlazaroff​ @thorin-smokin-shield​ @mr-kisskiss-bangbang​ @dreamer2381​ @apocalypsenowish​ @a-dorky-book-keeper​
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kitkats-mikrokosmos · 3 years
Text
you who led me through that maze, you are my light - chapter 1: such stuff as dreams are made
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crossposted on ao3
genre: fluff, slowish burn, romance pairing: ot7 x reader summary: ❝ this rain, too, is coming to an end i won’t let go of your hand anymore i wish that you would love me ❞
(or the one in which bighit holds a raffle for army to spend 4 months with bts in a remote lakehouse, and you win)
word count: 1390 warnings: cursing
see author notes at the end
Words could not begin to describe the cocktail of emotions that shot straight through your veins as you stared down at your phone.
"Dear (L/N) (F/N),     Congratulations! You've won the raffle!     Please contact us by January 31st, 2021 to claim your prize.     We look forward to hearing from you. -BigHit Entertainment"
This had to be a joke, right? There was no way that this was real. Spam or a cruel joke from your family or maybe this was a dream.
You reached over and pinched your forearm. Hard.
The only thing that resulted was an explosion of stinging pain across your nerves and involuntary tears springing to your eyes.
So this wasn't a dream. But that still left spam or a joke.
It was totally in character for either of your brothers to pull something like this. But you didn't know if they knew how to spoof an email address, and, as you peered at the screen, you realized that address looked very official.
Quickly, you opened an incognito browser and did a Google search for BigHit's email address (addresses?). There was no guarantee of credibility, but still, it was better than operating under the assumption of goodwill. That was the sort of thing that got you hacked and all of your data sold on the dark web, and that was something you'd rather avoid. Once you'd found emails that looked like they might be correct, you opened the email again to compare them. The result had your heart hammering in your chest and your pulse fluttering in your throat like hummingbird wings.
They were almost identical.
This was probably the real deal.
This was probably the real deal.
You leaned back in your chair, a bark of disbelieving laughter leaving your lips.
Well shit.
You had some plans to make, you guess.
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"Dear (L/N) (F/N),     We discussed what you mentioned in your last email, and, in the effort of making you more comfortable, we thought that we might send the boys out one at a time to join you in the as-of-yet undisclosed location. You would have a week to get to know each other individually before another member would join you both.     Is this sufficient? -BigHit Entertainment"
"Dear BigHit Entertainment,     That sounds great! Thank you so much for being so understanding. I really appreciate it. -(F/N) (L/N)"
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"Your plane will leave tomorrow at 6:00 AM. Sorry, but that ended up being the most convenient time."
"It's fine, I understand," you said, smiling even though you wanted to cry at the thought of waking up at 4 in the morning so that you could make the plane ride. You'd have to make an emergency order from Target for a couple of those Starbucks frappucinos. You absently scrawled a reminder to yourself down onto a sticky note that you stuck to your corkboard, phone balanced between your shoulder and your ear.
Oh, how you missed the days when you could just drive to the store down the road and pick up whatever junk food you happened to be craving at the moment.
Still, life goes on.
"All precautions will be taken, of course. Still, when you arrive in Seoul, you'll be required to quarantine for two weeks. I know you've already been informed, but I just wanted to double-check one more time: you are okay with this, correct?"
"Yes. Yes, I am."
You'd expected it, in fact. They couldn't have known for certain that the ARMY that won the raffle would be from Korea, and there were all sorts of travel restrictions, worsened by winter - that they could fly you in at all was nothing short of a miracle. Quarantine seemed obvious.
You'd rather not spend time holed up in some hotel or someplace for fourteen days, waiting to see if you'll start displaying symptoms, but you'd also rather not get other people sick by accident - especially not the boys. The only way those two things could coincide was if the pandemic was over, and, unfortunately, things weren't there yet. You were still praying for a vaccine, but in the meantime.
"All right, I believe that's everything. We look forward to meeting you, (L/N)-ssi."
"I look forward to meeting you, too. Thank you. I really appreciate this opportunity."
It sounded like the person on the other end was smiling when they replied, "Of course. Have a good day."
"You, too."
"Bye."
You hung up and turned in your chair. Your suitcases were packed and waiting by the front door, and butterflies swooped in your stomach. In less than 24 hours, you'd be hopping on a plane to Korea, and in a little more than 2 weeks, you'd be meeting BTS.
Already, you were nervous. You couldn't imagine how much of a wreck you'd become as the day approached. Still, that was something for future-you to deal with. Present-you had enough on your plate.
First order of business: ordering coffee.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
You blinked blearily up at the airport.
Where to now? you wondered as you stepped through the automatic doors. Multiple signs blinked at you to please wear a mask, and you adjusted yours a little, fixing it on the bridge of your nose. You glanced around. There weren't any obvious directions or anything.
"Uh, are you (Y/N) (L/N)?" an unfamiliar voice spoke.
You turned.
A woman in a pressed blue uniform and a matching mask stood there. She stopped the mandatory six feet away, and, judging from the crinkles of her eyes, she was smiling at you.
"That's me," you said, reshouldering your carry-on bag.
"Excellent!" she chirped, in true customer service fashion.
You felt bad for her, having to be this upbeat at ass o'clock in the morning. Maybe she could recommend you her coffee brand. Or maybe she was just fueled by spite like you'd been when you worked at the coffee shop downtown. Opening was always a fucking nightmare.
"Please follow me." She gestured onwards, then began walking.
You trailed behind.
"I'll take you to security," she continued as she walked, her heels clicking against the linoleum. "You'll be flying on a private plane today. Whoever's flying you out must really want to be sure you're safe." She paused. "And have a lot of money." She gave a tottering laugh.
You probably would've found the joke funnier if you were actually awake, but alas. You'd had two of your three coffees already, but there was only so much caffeine could do when it was up against the existential nightmare of an early morning.
Luckily, she didn't seem particularly daunted by her less-than-enthusiastic audience. Instead, she kept chattering on - about what, you weren't sure; you were having an incredibly hard time focusing your foggy brain to focus on anything for longer than 0.2 seconds.
You were flying to Korea. Jesus Christ. The reality was finally sinking in - as much as it could, given your current state. What country had you saved in a past life to be this lucky?
You likewise went through security in a daze, still reeling. You were only slightly more coherent when you were boarding the plane.
The flight attendant gave you a sympathetic smile and advised that you try to get some sleep - it was going to be a long flight.
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14 hours later, give or take, the plane had touched down in Seoul. You disembarked and were immediately swept away, rushed through customs before being deposited into the care of BigHit employees. One notable employee being Kim Hyun-Woo, whom had been the one you communicated with primarily as this whole thing was being set up.
He greeted you with a wide grin. "It's so great to finally be able to meet you in person, (L/N)-ssi."
You tried to return his smile as best you could. "You as well." You yawned. "Sorry, that was a really long flight."
"I understand." He nodded and gestured to the car. "If you'll climb inside, we'll take you to the hotel you'll be staying at for the duration of your quarantine."
You did so, and you were soon on your way.
You watched Seoul's cityscape slide by, the brilliant lights offset by the dark of the night, and you wondered why it was that you felt like your life was about to change. Forever.
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Short first chapter I know, but the next chapter will be longer - and juicier. You’ll be joined by the first member next chapter, so be sure to vote to decide who that’ll be.
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greenninjagal-blog · 4 years
Text
Deja vu pt2
Wow, I did not expect this to get the following that it did. I’m so glad you guys are enjoying this! Here’s part 2  But if you missed part 1 you can find it [here]! 
Summary: Four years after Remus runs away, he makes a friend and gets to see even more death.
Words: 5293
Read on Ao3 || My general writing Masterlist
Remus spends his twenty first birthday at his favorite location: The Basilisk Casino. Its a nice place, the type of place that drains life forces with people along with their wallets. The golden walls shimmer like scales if you look too long at them, which is all the more reason to focus back on the dice, the slots, the chips and coins and cards. The coins all have snarling snakes on them and Remus just loves rolling his thumb over the crevices of the design while he watches his opponents sweat. He can’t count the number of times he’s been cursed out at the table, the number of times he’s been checked for bugs by the debugging crew, the number of times that he’s had several dealers and security watch him as he played at the tables, the number of times where he cashed in his coins and called himself “Lucky”. 
Luck, of course, has nothing to do with it.
But he usually walks out of the casino several thousand dollars richer and it’s nice. To have money, to have a room in the upstairs hotel that he paid for himself, to have clothes that he picked out, to wave his excess cash in the faces of every person who’s tried to figure out how he’s cheating.
(Because they all know he’s cheating. One doesn’t go a full night at the tables without losing once. It's actually impossible.)
((Unless, of course, you can see the future.))
Remus is twenty one and he’s never lost a game of cards.
The staff has mixed feelings about him and Remus knows this, because they hate cheaters when it reflects badly back on them-- and boy did a lot of them get yelled at those first three weeks before Remus had asked his poor dealer to invite her boss to the table to play-- but the number of cheaters that Remus outed purely for the fun of seeing their eyes go wide has landed him in the good graces of a few.
Which is weird, being in the good graces of people. And so is knowing that if he finds that one cute dealer with the scar on his knuckles, they’d go up to Remus’s room and they’d spend the night with two bottles of Baileys and no clothes.
“Hit” Remus sings as he knocks on the table behind his cards. His dealer, a girl who’s been working for a while and knows his tendency to give her instructions before she’s finished dealing to everyone at the table, nods to show she’s seen him. The players to his left and his right both glare at him.
Remus smiles, because he already knows what cards they’ve got and what they were going to bet now that he’s announced himself: the old guy with the silver watch was going to stand, the loser with the mullet was going to hit as well, and the woman who’s tag was sticking out was going to hit then split. 
Only that old guy was going to walk away with any money earned, four rounds later, after the lady loses everything she made in a risky gamble and the slots catch Mullet head attention.
Remus stays because he likes Blackjack, likes the easy memorization, likes the repetition and the exchange of chips, and he flips one of his Barneys in the air as he waits for the table to refill. 
“That’s certainly impressive,” A voice says sounding like silk even over the chattering of the slot machines to their backs. 
“This? Its nothing!” Remus flips the coin again, letting the stranger catch it in the air. “I’m more impressive in the bedroom.”
The man hums, twisting his wrist to look at the coin he caught. “Do you often let people steal 500 American dollars from you?” The man asks so very teasingly as he rolls the coin between his own gloved hands. 
“You’re going to give it back,” Remus says with a grin, “One way or another!”
The man has a nice smile-- a smile far nicer than the one the dealer with the scar on his knuckles has-- and its prettier in the present time than looking at it in the future. His teeth are all aligned and straight and his molars grind together just enough to look like a threat. He was dressed better than most of the people out tonight: no fancy tourist with rented suits that barely fit, and he had an actual handkerchief. 
Remus wonders if he pulled it out would it be tied to another and another and another like every other clown he’s met? 
--No. The man just laughs at him and and twirls the Barney between his hands.He does not ask for it back.--
“You’re awfully confident about getting your money back when this is a game between the house and I,” the man says. He’s got green eyes, and black hair that’s gelled right back out of his face. The way he leans against the table makes him so easy to push--
--The man hits the ground spilling his rack of chips and the nearby tables pounce on them like panthers. Its honestly funny to watch and Remus laughs the entire time as the police are called.--
“I’m confident about a lot of things,” Remus wiggles an eyebrow at him. “How confident are you?”
Instead of answering the man places the purple coin in the betting square on the table. Remus tosses a pumpkin just to top him. 
“I heard a rumor that there’s a man here who’s never lost a game before,” The man with the green eyes says and even though there are four other people at the table (betting far lower than them of course; the table minimum is twenty five), Remus feels almost as if its just the two of them in the world. “Can I assume that man is you?”
“You know what they say about assuming,” Remus laughs as the dealer begins her deal, “It makes an ass out of me and you!” 
There’s a four of spades in front of him, and an ace of clubs in front of the stranger. The dealer has a five of diamonds. 
--He hits and receives a King of diamonds that puts him at fourteen. The stranger also hits, and receives a matching King of diamonds. He stands and the dealer reveals her second card: a jack of clubs. Fifteen to Fourteen to the house.--
--He hits and receives a King of diamonds that puts him at fourteen. The stranger also hits, and receives a matching King of diamonds. He hits a second time and receives a three of clubs. The dealer reveals here second card: a jack of clubs. Seventeen to fourteen to Remus--
The stranger is watching him, Remus notes with a feral grin as he taps the table behind his cards for their lovely dealer. The stranger who was betting using Remus’s money, scans the table and then taps as well.
The dealer gives Remus and Dee their matching Kings of diamonds.
“What are the chances,” The stranger muses. “Perhaps I should bet with your money more often.”
Remus taps the edge of the table behind his cards again. 
“Don’t worry about that!” Remus waves him off, “You’re going to lose it in Poker in an hour.”
“Are you challenging me to a game?” the man says, half turning from the table to wave down a drink waitress. “Why would I ever want to play a game of cards with a man who doesn’t lose?”
“Beats me!” Remus admits, “but we end up over there anyway!”
The stranger laughs. It sounds like a melody to Remus’s ears, something soft and warm and Remus thinks he should hate it. Whats the point of soft and warm things when there are chips and cash and not-completely-terrible-whiskeys? Soft and warm things are illusions anyway: no mother’s love is unconditional, and no late night blanket forts in his brothers room last forever.
Isn’t it great? That whole “growing up” thing?
He’s thought about making a call with the payphone but Roman’s old number is someone else's now and Mom answers the landline with a different last name.
Remus is twenty one. Roman should be too. If he managed to stay alive this long without Remus being his godforsaken guardian angel.  
The waitress returns with the drink and its a screwdriver that smells like oranges even from where Remus is standing. The stranger gathers up his chips won in the game, and slots them back into his rack.
“Well?” He says, “I would like to see this cheating trick of yours.”
Remus laughs at him taking his own tray. “No one knows my trick.” 
“Oh?” The man sips his drink, “No one knows? Do I get a prize if I figure it out?”
Remus’s shoulder brushes with the man as they walk towards the poker tables. Its quieter here, away from the slot machines, and the tables are thick with intense glares at cards. The craps tables are going strong and someone must have just won big because everyone is clapping and someone is screaming. The roulettes are hardly any better, although Remus nearly cleared out a whole dealer last week with his multitude of correct guesses that got him physically dragged from the table because its literally a 1 in 36 chance every single game and theres no way anyone should be able to win three times in a row, much less fifteen. 
“I’ll tell you what,” Remus says as they join a table for poker that was just clearing up. “If you can figure out my trick, I’ll do one thing for you.”
“For me?” The man echoes, “Interesting. Anything I want?”
“I will fuck you on this table if you tell me to,” Remus says, making the woman next to them choke on her pina colada.  
“Charming,” The man hums, “But I believe I have a much better thought in mind.” 
He’s taking it surprisingly seriously and Remus knows he should probably be concerned, but the truth of the matter was, he wasn’t. After all, he spent nine years physically telling the people closest to him that he could see the future, and they didn’t believe him. A strange man who was going to lose the first three hands is never going to believe in a magic like that.
The irony of it all. Remus wonders what he did that pissed off the big G up there so badly that they cursed Remus to never be believed. Maybe he should have just changed his name to Cassandra and started wearing tunics around the casino (because hell yeah those things would have been much more breathable than these slacks and button up he was currently wearing). Plus a tunic would totally show off his calf muscles. 
--He gets to play three more games of roulette before he’s forced out by security who ask him very nicely to put on pants before coming back and Remus just thinks its funny how he got in to play in the first place. Turning the poor door boy bright red and stammering--
There’s something fascinating about the way the strangers lips look around the straw, the way his eyes settle on the cards of the table the way his gloves fingers weave over his chips with the certainty of someone who knows what they are doing. Remus thinks that he might have played a game with this man before, once or twice, (because he comes here often enough, doesn’t he?) but his memory hasn’t been great since he was seventeen and thought about crushing his brother’s windpipe.
Remus is twenty one and this stranger looks like danger no matter which way Remus squints at him. But is that such a bad thing?
“Are you going to look at your cards?” The man asks without looking at him.
“No,” Remus says, because he already has in the future and he’s got a seven and an eight both of diamonds. (The strangers fingers hover over his own cards-- a five of clubs and a jack of spades-- and his green eyes darting to glance at Remus in suspicion.) The other players at the table shift nervously and Remus thinks that even the old lady at the end is going to pitch a fit about Poker etiquette but she holds her tongue. 
He sees ahead to the rest of the hand, something he glanced at earlier. By the time the dealer draws the turn card, Remus not looking at his cards makes the the business man to their left  over confident about his chances about his straight. The couple on his right have both individually decided to back out, and the old lady is holding nothing but a two pair. She folds when she realizes that neither Remus nor the very attractive stranger to his left are going to fall for it. 
The stranger folds, the businessman checks, and Remus wins the round with a straight flush without having picked up his cards before revealing them.
“You’re cheating!” The business man yells and Remus grins at him as he takes the two blacks and the quarter that the man bet with.
“Not in any way that you can prove, big boy.”
He’s twenty one and he wins the next three hands before the table clears out of all but him and the stranger who followed him there. Security is called twice to deal with another debugging ritual at the old lady’s insistence and the the dealer is screeched at by several parties. Remus thinks the old guy handles it with grace and elegance: threatening to have security called over if the players don’t sit down right then and there.
“How much do you make in a night?” The stranger asks, as the dealer changes from the older gentleman to a young girl.
“Are you planning something?” Remus asks, inhaling the scent of oranges that waft off this stranger, “Gonna get me drunk and in bed and then steal my money? Slit my throat for good fun?”
“I don’t think I’d have to get you drunk for that,” His eyes slide past Remus for a moment to something across the room. 
“Oh, so true,” Remus agrees, “Everyone loves a good bit of knife play!” The dealer begins to shuffle the cards to nicely. 
“Besides,” Those green eyes come right back to Remus, startlingly close and perceptive in a way that makes shivers run down Remus’s back. “Shouldn’t you already know the answer to that?”
Remus is twenty one, spending his birthday in a Casino as far away from where he grew up as he can be. And despite not having talked to his family in four years, he can still hear Roman’s voice in his head, chanting a mantra of “I don’t need you”, “I don’t need you”, “I don’t want you”. 
“Don’t know what you’re talking about, pretty boy,” Remus says picking up his cards to look at them, to feel them, to remind himself he’s here in this casino and not back in the room with his hands on Roman’s fluttering little pulse.
The stranger rolls a Barney from his tray, Remus’s Barney, and places it on the betting pool. “Interesting.”
Remus wonders what that means, but there’s no answering vision. Any time he pushes the stranger laughs it off until the dealer motions for them to play or leave the game. 
Remus is twenty one and the way that this stranger said “interesting” is the way a scientist says it before they start dissecting a frog. Clinical, cold, like a knife straight to Remus’s throat. His green eyes are dangerous pins holding Remus in place at this table, but he can’t find it in him to wish he was anywhere else.
The stranger picks up his new cards and pretends to look at them. Remus isn’t sure what that means, isn’t sure why this stranger suddenly seems so much different, isn’t sure what could possibly be more interesting than the card game they're playing.
Until he is.
Of course because--
-- He places another three blacks in the betting pool in front of him and he turns just in time to see the stranger lunging towards the crowd that was passing behind them; towards the armed security guard that was wheeling the fucking cash box of the casino towards the elevator to the vault across the floor fuck. Several guns go off and and there’s a couple hundred screams that break Remus’s eardrums in the moment, but all he’s aware of is the body at his feet, the body of the stranger with pretty green eyes, with welts of red bursting out the back of that nice tailored suit that was suddenly shredded and that face smashed into the floor, but there’s no mistaking the way his skin on the left half of his face wasn’t--
There’s something in the back of his throat that tears him up inside, like he’s regurgitating a bunch of swords he forgot he had swallowed. Every hair on his body stands on end, curling with an electric current that didn’t actually exist but one that Remus couldn’t get out of his veins even is he started carving with a knife--
He forgot-- how did he forget? He hated the color red so damn much; how could he have forgotten that?
He grabs the stranger beside him with an iron grip and pressed him to the table as that cash box rolled by, as that future twists away, as that sight fades from his vision from something plausible to a nothingness in the back of his mind. 
“Sir?! Sir!” 
The stranger gasps for air, looking caught between surprised and not, with those fake green eyes and that stolen black hair, and that completely unmarred face and makes Remus’s skin crawl. Remus wonders if this stranger--this stupid idiot of a stranger-- knows his body reverts to normal once he’s dead and gone and passed.
The rest of the table is in chaos, and Remus isn’t sure if its because both his and this stranger’s chips just got tossed across the table with the viciousness of a life or death (or death or death or death) situation, or because the Dealer dropped her deck, or because Remus just grabbed a man and that wasn’t poker etiquette or something else entirely.
He doesn’t care.
He lets go of the stranger (the living, breathing alive stranger), and he shoves through the buzzed, singing pair behind him, knocking them both to the ground. His hands-- oh fuck his hands sting and shake with some emotion that Remus can’t remember the name of.
“Sir! Your chips!”
Remus rips at the collar of his shirt, tearing off an entire button as he struggles to get enough oxygen in his lungs. The golden walls shimmer and shine and distract, but Remus throws himself through the crowd to the exit.
Remus is twenty one the first time he meets someone else like him.
Well not entirely like him, because this stranger who stumbled upon him by chance doesn’t see the blood, or the deaths, or the future. He doesn’t know all the consequences, doesn’t know the feeling of seeing living, breathing people just stop, doesn’t know what it smells like to mix blood and a half finished screwdriver on the floor of a casino for a box of cash that he had no chance of leaving the building with in the first place.
The night air hits him like an eighteen wheeler (which Remus knows what that feels like, he does, because he thought about it once out of curiosity four years ago when he couldn’t quite believe that he had wasted seventeen years of his life on someone who would never been willing to do the same). Its bitter cold and harsh and it tears his skin almost right off his bones.
He stumbles and nearly falls, does fall, is caught.
Caught by the back of his shirt and hoisted back up, with a second hand stabilizing him by his chest. Remus starts to laugh because he didn’t see this coming. Of course he didn’t see this coming.
Its almost like that day when he didn’t see that argument with Roman coming, except back then he was looking ahead and that wasn’t an option, and now he just hadn't been looking long enough, hard enough, close enough.
Remus feels something against his back, solid, cold, oh its a wall. The stranger who followed him from Blackjack to poker, who bet with Remus's money, who just caused Remus to lose his first game of cards ever-- that stranger with green eyes that aren't real is right in front of him pressing him to the wall and holding him steady.
Remus laughs harder like he can dislodge the cancerous lump in his throat by the force of his will alone. 
"Did I die?" The stranger asks as Remus wheezes for air.
And isn't that just hilarious?
"Everyone...dies!" Remus convulses under the man's touch, "Everyone dies... someday, Scales!"
The stranger isn’t like him, because instead of seeing things and wondering if they’re all in his head, he fucking changes his appearance.
Remus hiccups painfully-- a gasping air that shreds his diaphragm as he laughs with tears on his face. He forgot again: how he hates the sight of red, how he needs to breath if he wants to keep living, how he's too old to be crying over every single, little, itty, bitty death he sees.
"You can see the future," the man says like a statement while Remus drags his nails over his own face and through his hair to get rid of his worthless tears.
"Its funny!" Remus grins with all his teeth. "It's always funny! Did you know you revert back to your natural half snake self when you die?"
The stranger flinches, just like everyone does when Remus opens his mouth and talks about death, just like someone who’s afraid of dying, just like Roman.
“You,” Remus says gaining enough sense of his own to shove the stranger off of him and back, “You are…batshit fucking insane!” He laughs, because what else is there to do? Scream? Cry?
(He’s screamed and cried before. It doesn’t work, because they never believed him and then they go and get hurt and tell Remus to shut up, shut up, I don’t need you--!)
“How far in the future can you see?” The stranger asks.
“Take me to dinner first,” Remus twists a hand through his hair, then drags it down his face, smushing his nose and flattening his mustache and then dropping it into the empty air.
The stranger catches his hand, and the silk touch of the gloves freezes Remus’s where he stands, against the wall of a casino in a dark alley where the shimmering light doesn’t touch and the sound is strangely diluted.
“Answer me,” the stranger demands.
Remus laughs, “Or what? You’ll turn your hands into claws and rip my throat out? Maybe roll your body into a giant python and choke the life out of me without leaving a fingerprint? Can you secrete poisons too? Spit them right into my eyes--”
His other gloved hand goes right over Remus’s mouth, squeezing the hallows of his cheeks until its just borderline painful. “Why don’t you tell me?”
Remus already knows the answer before this stranger asks, already knows that despite the burning closeness between them, despite the cool indifference he’s been portraying, despite the millions of ways that he could kill Remus, he’s not going to, not in any way that matters.
He’s a good guy like that.
Kinda.
“You must think I’m insane,” Remus gurgles, shoulders shaking from laughing, with the future in his eyes and no air in his lungs.
“Are you?”
“Not that insane. Not yet!” He pushes off the wall and leans forward into his companions personal space until their faces aren’t more than a few inches apart. “Can’t you tell? I’m the pinnacle of stability, Slitherous Snape!”
“Stability is a lie made up by society to sell more products.” The man waves him off, easily without putting so much as an inch between them. “You are a seer. And I’m in desperate want of someone who can see the future.”
“Because you want to rob the casino we just left,” Remus says.
It sounds different coming from his own lips rather than the man before him. It sounds different hanging in the space between them. It sounds different being a real thing.
“Because I want to screw over the owner of that casino for some unsavory acts he performed against someone who was dear to me,” The man corrects.
“An altruist!” Remus does a shimmy with his upper body. “All that money is just a bonus then, right?”
“Oh yes absolutely! And How…” The man hesitates and clears his throat innocently, “How much money…did you say?”
Remus laughs at him, again. The hysteria is fading leaving another pesky emotion that Remus doesn’t know if he likes or not. Its dangerous, he knows that. Dangerous because even while he stands here, talking to this shapeshifter who is every bit a lie as a person can be, he feels his heels beginning to dig into this idea.
This stupid awful terrible idea. This What if---
---oh…. Oh no.---
“How many times do we die?” The man asks, breathlessly excited. “How many times do we get away?”
Remus is twenty one and he knows that stealing is morally wrong.
But.
But there’s a man in front of him who likes money far too much and a casino behind him that’s filled to the brim with cash waiting and six hundred fifty million futures where they both die painful, violent, expected deaths.
And for once Remus can’t even focus on that part of this frankly awful idea. He’s too busy focusing on the way that in every single future-- all of them-- there’s not even a little--
Remus watches them again and again, as many times as he can until he almost forgets that they haven’t even happened.
And oh. 
The stranger is looking at him and there’s something in those green eyes that he can’t hide even if he wanted to.
“There’s a dealer,” Remus says, because he needs to see it happen for real. “Two inches taller, blue eyes, scar on his knuckles. Turn into him.”
The stranger blinks and his eyes are blue, his skin ripples like a puddle when a child jumps in it, and suddenly Remus is staring at someone completely different and yet entirely the same. The man before him is the dealer from the casino, but when he smiles so softly all Remus can see is that stranger who didn’t hesitate at all.
And oh. 
Remus knows he’s in trouble, because he can feel electricity in his veins, that burns all of his nerves and hijacks his brain. Because this is what its like for someone to trust his power, for someone to have complete and utter faith in him.
This is what someone believing him when he said he could see the future is like.
“You’re bleeding,” The man says tentatively.
“Happens,” Remus says cupping his hand under his nose to catch the red splatters before they hit the ground. In the shadows he can’t see just how scarlet they are and he thinks that’s a relief. “You really….you really didn’t hesitate.”
“Should I have?” The man cocks his head to the side, half a grin on his face, as if he doesn’t quite get the joke Remus is telling. (There’s no joke, and that fact alone makes Remus’s stomach flip.)
The question is a loaded gun anyway and Remus doesn’t feel like pulling the trigger on himself today at least.
Remus is twenty one and he helps rob his first casino.
Which seems insane, because Remus is a lot of things, but he wasn’t really a lawbreaker until that moment he talked the man who could shapeshift into anyone straight through the four levels of security and the cameras and figured out the codes that he needed to get in to the vault and the path he needed to take out, which led him all the way up the stairs to Remus’s hotel room.
There’s enough money on the floor to fix the world hunger. The man, his partner in crime, the shapeshifter sits in the middle of it like a dragon watching his hoard, scribbling mathematics on the hotel provided pad of paper so that he can count it all. His shapeshift is off, allowing Remus a look at his green scales and yellow eye without all the blood.
He’s grinning like the cat that caught that little canary. Remus thinks its a good look on him.
Remus holds one of his poker chips in his hand, a Barney that wandered off from the casino floor and found its way to Remus’s hotel room.
“So,” He says, because silence has never been his type of thing, “What now? We split ways?”
The man makes another mark on his pad of paper shuffling through the green papers. “I’m afraid not. You still owe me.”
“What?” Remus turns to face him, and if there’s a spark in his chest, a nudge of excitement, well who can blame him? Its not like hes spent his whole life waiting for people to leave him.
Another dash on the paper. “We made a deal, unless you’ve forgotten. You said that if I could figure out how you were cheating, you’d do one thing that I want you to do.”
Remus snorted and waved to the money around them, “What do you call this?”
“This?” The man gave him a shark-like smile, “You did this of your own violation!” He held up a wad of cash, a smug superior smile on his face, that makes his fangs glisten.
“I seem to recall you asking,” Remus challenges.
“Not in this timeline, Love Muffin,” The man throws the cash at him. “You still have blood on your face by the way.”
Remus lets the cash fall to the floor because money is nice, but there’s something much nicer about the way that this man is looking at him, the way he’s still looking at him, like Remus is something more than a nuisance, more than a distraction, more than an unwanted, frustrating intrusion. 
“What do you want?” Remus says, because he hasn’t looked ahead this far yet and the uncharacteristic fear in his chest is slowly turning all his organs to butterflies. 
He knows what he wants this man to say, knows what he wants to hear come out of this man's mouth and he thinks that if he looks in the future and its not what happens, Remus will surely explode right there in his (their) room. 
“Hm?” The man says tapping his hotel offered pencil to his chin. “Well, you did say anything I wanted right? Anything at all?”
Remus nods, rolling his finger over the snake design on his stolen poker chip.
“Well then, the one thing I want…” He hesitates, “...is for us to stick together. I think we make quite the team, don’t you? My name is Dee.”
“Remus,” He chokes, because suddenly there doesn’t seem to be enough air in the world, and he’s afraid if he inhales too deeply trying to get more, the whole reality will shatter.
Dee makes another mark on the paper. “Well Remus,” He says, “Any other places you’d like to rob with me?”
Remus is twenty one and he thinks that this is the best birthday he’s ever had.
(Part Three)
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