#i firmly believe the only one that could beat me in a fight is hazel | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hlizr50 · 3 years

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Leathers (NSFW)

I wanted to have this ready for Gwynriel week, but I haven't written smut in probably 10 years so I was on the struggle bus for a bit.

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Gwyneth Berdara was a devious creature. A true menace.

Everyone thought she was sweet and innocent. But Azriel knew better.

She was cruel and secretive and conniving.

He’d realized her scheme as soon as she entered the High Lord’s study with the other two Valkyrie leaders, all clad in the leathers that marked them as such. And he knew, he knew, that this had been her plan all along.

As he gritted his teeth and worked desperately to quell the heat churning in his gut, his own tightening leathers, and the scent of arousal, he saw her soft pink lips spread into a knowing, satisfied smirk.

She knew exactly what she was doing.

He had seen the leathers before. He remembered the day in the house when Nesta emerged into the dining room with them on, squealing to her mate. The shadowsinger recalled that he always thought white was a terrible color for fighting garments, but even he could admit that the Valkyrie leathers were exquisitely designed and painstakingly constructed. They weren’t so different than the Illyrian leathers, overlapping scales over most of the torso, but the gold accents over the trim and feather-stamped panels over the shoulders made them look less like warriors and more like angels. Angels of death and light.

Azriel had wondered in that instant what Gwyn would look like in hers. He’d fantasized about it, seeing her standing tall and confident, a warrior in all areas of life. But she had never let him see them. She never talked about them, barely acknowledged their existence. She didn’t even keep them in the bedroom they now shared. He’d never mentioned it, never pushed. Perhaps it had been a bit odd, but the female never did anything without a reason.

And now, with his jaw practically on the floor, the musky scent of his arousal filling his nose (luckily he could tell he wasn’t the only one), and shadows twisting and writhing around him, he knew exactly what that reason had been.

Gwyneth Berdara – cruel and calculating and tantalizing Gwyneth Berdara – had waited for this moment, so she could see the practiced calm of the spymaster unravel before her eyes. One of the most powerful males in all of Prythian, absolutely undone, for all the powers of the Night Court to see. Cobalt siphons flickered.

This challenge would not go unanswered.

Luckily for the shadowsinger, this meeting was nothing deeply serious and more of a discussion about expectations for the three as leaders and members of the High Lord and Lady’s inner circle. As if anyone there had any doubts about their capability or dedication. And it was a good thing that his attention wasn’t particularly important, because he could not remove his gaze from the former priestess standing with hands on her hips as she listened intently to Rhys.

He’d always admired her body in leathers, though in the beginning he’d found it a source of shame rather than pride. Gwyn had been through too much for him to be casting lustful glances in her direction. But things had changed quite dramatically since then, in regards to her body and their relationship. Where once stood a relatively scrawny girl, now was a strong woman. The leathers – Azriel thanked the Cauldron for how tailored they were to her – showed off the definition in her arms, the muscled thighs and powerful calves, and the swell of that perfect ass. Every inch of her was sculpted from hours upon hours of training, then extra training, then training to escape nightmares or to work through feelings.

And that process was how their relationship had developed as well. The more time they had spent together, the more the spymaster had craved it. It was always easy with her. She always made him smile and laugh, things he didn’t often let others see. His shadows had been quite taken with her, and she had never shied away from them.

Nor from his hands.

He couldn’t be sure when it had happened, but she had firmly planted herself in his heart. She was beautiful and kind, irreverent, bold, and relentless. He respected the hell out of her, and that only made him want her more. But he hadn’t wanted to make the move, concerned about his own demons, concerned about her comfort and choice.

The Blood Rite had changed everything.

He had been as confident as he could have been, under the circumstances. He’d had to lean into that, keeping Cassian from falling into a pit of despair or, even worse, from doing something incredibly reckless that would’ve resulted in a death warrant on both his and Nesta’s heads. But the storm had raged inside Azriel then, a stark reality settling heavily in his stomach that he may never have another minute with Gwyneth Berdara. And since then he’d never made it a secret what she meant to him.

So he didn’t care that his hazel eyes slowly roamed her body, clad in white leather painted with gold, over and over. Memorizing every rise and fall and curve of her. He didn’t care that it was obvious to everyone in the room that he was immensely distracted. He didn’t care that his eyes had nearly popped out of his head when she walked into the study on swaying hips. He didn’t hear the amused chuckles or see the raised eyebrows when he’d nearly dragged her out through the double doors when their meeting had concluded.

The only thing on his mind now was that she would pay for her scheming.

“You seemed a bit distracted, Shadowsinger,” Gwyn giggled breathlessly, trailing behind him, tethered by his hand on her wrist. He rounded on her, releasing her wrist only long enough to cradle the back of her head as he pushed her against the wall. His body pressed into her, they breathed the same breath, her eyes bore into him with intensity and desire.

“Seems I fell right into your trap,” he whispered gruffly, sliding his cheek down roughly against hers and letting his tongue dart out against her jaw. He felt her inhale against him and he smiled wickedly against her skin. “You’re a menace, Berdara.”

“I won’t forget that look on your face for a long while,” she breathed, her fingers crawling up his chest, around his neck, and planting in the thick dark locks at his nape. It wasn’t a full confession, but it wasn’t a denial. And it sure as hell wasn’t a damned apology.

“You don’t know what you’ve started, lovely Valkyrie. I think you need to be taught a thing or two about decorum.”

Her giggle was more like a shaky rasp. Azriel could feel her heart beating as he dragged his lips down the column of her throat, feel her chest heave as her breathing quickened at his touch. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I believe I was not the one gawking and distracted while the High Lord was speaking.”

A growl rumbled through his chest, and he knew she could feel it reverberate through her, as well. He let his hands slide down the leather scales over her sides and traced them around to her back, fingers trailing ever downward until they cupped the muscled swell of her ass. After a rough squeeze he reached just a little further down to lift her thighs. Gwyn didn’t require much prodding, crossing her ankles behind him and effectively holding herself up against him. The shadowsinger lifted his head from her neck, turning his attention to the roses blooming under those freckles. One might think they made her look innocent, but he was no fool. Those cheeks were flushed with desire and satisfaction, teal pools darkened lustfully. He captured her lips in a demanding kiss as he pulled her from the wall, their grip on each other firm and unyielding. He stalked toward the door, anxious to get outside the wards of the estate so he could winnow them home.

So he could show her exactly what she did to him.

“You’re going to pay for that, Berdara,” he whispered huskily, voice coated in want. He could barely see, barely focus on getting them out into the cobbled street. The only thing in the world was her, the maddening heat of her skin and her warm breath hitching against the shell of his ear. And then he stepped into the darkness, emerging just a few paces outside the door to their seaside home with the conniving Valkyrie and heavy shadows still wrapped around him. The locks and hinges on the door took care of themselves as he stalked into the foyer, finally in the privacy of their home.

And that was all he needed.

Azriel set her down – not as gently as he probably should have – on top of the cabinet in the foyer and crushed his mouth over her soft full lips, long fingers immediately working at the ties of her leather pants. He felt her laugh against his mouth and took the chance to push his tongue between her lips. Gwyn’s fingers curled into his hair, grasping at him desperately. He grinned against her mouth as he loosened her leathers enough to reach a hand down over the lower part of her toned stomach. His Valkyrie’s hands drifted down around his neck and over the front of him. But he knew that her aim was to loosen his now very tight breeches, and there would be none of that. He pulled away for just a moment, grabbing her hands and then forcing them above her head. He covered both of her alabaster, freckle-speckled hands with one of his, holding them against the wall as he looked straight into her eyes and traced his other scarred hand down her front.

“Did you enjoy the sight of me coming undone before your eyes, Gwyneth?” She moaned as his knuckles disappeared beneath the leather, into the heat between her legs. He pushed a finger into her, relishing the wetness that had already built there. Azriel chuckled darkly, leaning in so his lips brushed her jaw. “It appears that you did. Very much.” He dipped a second finger in, his palm rubbing against her clit and eliciting a gasp.

“Az!” Gwyn breathed. His tongue darted out right under her ear before nibbling on her soft skin. “Oh Gods, Azriel.” Her voice, usually strong, was breathy and labored.

“Yes, Love?” His mouth continued to move over her neck, nipping and sucking and licking, as he plunged his fingers into her core. Satisfaction rumbled through his chest as he rubbed the pad of his thumb over that bundle of nerves. Her hips bucked against him. “Tell me, Gwyneth, was it your intention to drive me mad with arousal? In front of the entirety of the High Lord and High Lady’s inner circle?” Her head tipped back, mouth open and gasping, giving him even greater access to that elegant neck of hers. His thumb kept rubbing, fingers pumping, her body writhing under the mastery of his powerful hands.

“Did you want them to scent my need? Even as they could see it plainly on my face? In my fucking pants, stretching and struggling to contain what the sight of you did to me?” He pushed his thumb down and she cried out.

“Gods, Az, please!”

“That’s not an answer, Love,” the shadowsinger crooned against her throat as she bucked and rolled against him. “Tell me, Gwyneth. Yes or no? Ride my fingers and tell me.” He curled the two fingers inside her and pulled them nearly out of her before plunging them back in, pressure ever present on her clit. Her moaning and keening were music to his ears. He loved that he was the one she trusted to give her pleasure, that she would let go for him.

“Y-y-yes! Yes, Azriel!” She was almost there. He could feel it, feel her clenching around his fingers and hear her impending release in the cracking of her voice.

“I’m going to unravel you, lovely Valkyrie. I will undo you with my touch, just as you undo me. Just as you unraveled me in that study. I told you that you had no idea what you started.” He lifted his head and grew impossibly harder as he studied Gwyn’s beautiful face, flushed with pleasure, expressive eyes lidded, strangled cries escaping through parted lips. “Look at me, Gwyn. Look at me when you cum for me.” The wicked smile that curved his lips could not be stopped, not when those clouded teal eyes found his. They were deep as the sea, dark as the night with ecstasy. He curled his fingers inside her again and ground his thumb into that sensitive bud, driving her over the edge. She howled her release, tense muscles firing through her legs and core, making her twitch and buck. His touch was relentless, extending her orgasm as her wetness soaked his hand.

“That’s it, Love,” he praised as he leaned in to press his lips to hers and pulled his hand out from between her legs. He pulled her hands away from the wall above her head and draped her arms over his shoulders. “Hold onto me,” he whispered, kissing her again. He grabbed her thighs, encouraging her to wrap her legs around him. Then he pulled her off the cabinet and carried her down the hall, navigating the corridors to their room. Her breathing had only just begun to calm as he stepped into the bedchamber. He released her legs and she allowed them to straighten as he lowered her toes to the ground.

When she looked up at him, arms still around his shoulders, her smile was languid and content. Azriel flashed a crooked grin. “How do you feel?”

“Hmmm,” she murmured. “I feel… very good.” She giggled at her lacking vocabulary. The shadowsinger let his hands slide over her, finding their way to her back – to the buckles of her leathers.

“I think we need to get these off.” He started fingering the buckles, pulling straps with an impatience that wasn’t typically his style. But when it came to Gwyneth Berdara he could never get enough, soon enough. “I am not nearly finished with you yet.”

#gwynriel #gwynriel fanfic #gwynriel fanfiction #gwynriel supremacy #gwyn is a bit of a tease #azriel won't let her get away with it #but he's also a big fan

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5thmarauderwrites · 4 years

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The Thin Line Between Loathe and Desire — James Potter x Reader [Part I] | Request.

Requests are: OPEN.

Requested by Anonymous: “Could you do a James x gryffindor reader where they have a sort of rivalry because she keeps going around to ruin the marauders pranks since she doesn’t believe in Slytherins being ‘evil’. 💖💖 “.

Pairing: James Potter x Fem!Gryffindor Reader.

Word Count: 4,9K

Warnings: Just cursing.

A/N: i LOVE a good enemies to lovers trope and i REALLY got carried away with this request lol i’m still finishing up the next part but since it took me a while to write this and the nonnie who requested it is basically waiting forever now, i decided to release the first part nonethless. hope you all enjoy it! :)

A delicious and inviting smell of food was coming from the Great Hall as the four Marauders crossed the main hallway of the castle in the direction of the door on the right side of the Entrance Hall, which guarded the stone steps that descended deep into the dungeons, where their destination, the Slytherin Dungeon, laid. The sun had already set and the thousands of corridors that made up the imposing fortress of Hogwarts were now empty and silent as the students lodged inside their own Common Rooms, resting from the exhausting day of classes and not so patiently waiting for the last and welcomed meal before they could tug themselves into their comfortable beds.

“The feast is starting soon,” Remus nagged as the boys tiptoed their way down the stone steps, feeling the air get a little chillier the deeper they went. As much as Remus loved his friends and not-so-secretly enjoyed playing harmless pranks in the other students, he couldn’t deny that James was taking things way too far this time.

“Yes, Moony, that’s exactly why we’re heading down into their nest right now!” The boy with untidy black hair that stuck up at the back retorted with an extremely pleased smile. “We’ll caught the snakes off guard by surprising them whilst they’re leaving their hole and L/N won’t be there to ruin our prank this time.”

“And here we go! Took you long enough to bring the name of your lover into our conversation Prongs,” Sirius teased with a lopsided grin as he eyed the darkness ahead of them. Remus and Peter both barked a laugh at Sirius’ words.

“Sod off, would ya Pads?” James growled, narrowing his eyes as he glared in Sirius’ direction. “It’s not my bloody fault that this – this – annoying, pretentious human being keeps ruining our fun repeatedly!”

“Oh mate, she doesn’t ruin my fun, quite the opposite actually,” Sirius grinned as he winged a brow at his best friend. “It’s extremely amusing to watch you two together.”

“I’ll have to agree with Padfoot,” Remus said as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers and shrugged lightly, a playful smile playing across his lips.

James pursed his lips and chose to ignore his best friends as the boys arrived at the end of the long staircase, facing a vast and gloomy stone corridor hedged with detailed stoned pillars and armours ahead of them. He despised Y/N L/N with all the strength he could muster, ever since she ruined what was supposed to be the Marauders’ most epic prank on their first year at Hogwarts. Just the mere thought of the y/h/c girl made his blood boil inside his veins and his heart pick up its beating pace. How could a smart, daring and sassy Gryffindor like herself stand up for Slytherins with such enthusiasm to the point of fighting with her own housemates? James could never understand how Y/N could possibly reckon that “not all Slytherins are evil” when the majority of you-know-who’s followers emerged – and keep emerging – from this very house. The boy had spent countless nights thinking about it, but that was something he would never admit aloud.

“Mate, are you listening?” Sirius’ hand rested on James’ shoulder as the latter blinked repeatedly, trying to focus on his surroundings as he was slowly snapping out of his thoughts.

“Yeah,” James mumbled, realising they were now standing in front of the blank stone wall that led to the Slytherin Common Room. “Where’s the bucket? Wormy, do you have it?” He asked with a firmly and more confident tone of voice.

“I do, Prongs!” Peter smirked mischievously whilst lifting a bucket filled with a silver, enchanted paint that shone alluringly despite of the dim light.

James and Sirius’ features lightened up at the sight, a feeling of pure excitement washing over their bodies as their minds anticipated in a very vivid picture what was about to come. Remus, however, wasn’t as nearly as pleased and happy as his friends; his face held a deep frown and the disapproval was crystal clear in his eyes as he shook his head negatively, severely glaring at his three best friends.

“Do you really think this is necessary?” The brown-haired boy asked, trying to dissolve the boys from their terrible idea one last time.

“Seriously, Moony? This is our best prank yet, we’re making history here!” Sirius exclaimed with a scolding tone, bouncing his hands in the air.

“History?” Remus asked incredulously, winging his eyebrows whilst his eyes widened. “How is writing ‘Death Eater Wannabe’ in people’s foreheads history?”

“We won’t be writing it Moony, we’ll be painting it,” Peter mockingly corrected him, a lopsided grin on his lips.

“Indeed, Wormy!” James wrapped Peter’s shoulders with his arm. “Besides, their faces will be painted with the Gryffindor colours first; the phrase that shows their true selves will only appear if they try to wash the scarlet and gold away.” He shrugged, a proud grin on.

“Sure, because a Slytherin would definitely wear their rival house colours with pride,” Remus scoffed, rolling his eyes. “It’s only obvious that they’ll try and wash it immediately!”

“Now that is not our fault, is it?” Sirius barked a laugh, earning a glare from Remus. “Lighten up a bit, would ya Moony? The paint will only last three days, the snakes will be fine.”

“Pad’s right! It’s just a fun, harmless prank; you don’t have to go full L/N on us, alright?” James grinned as he pushed his glasses higher up the bridge of his nose, shrugging lightly in the process.

“Mate, that’s the second time you talk about her in less than ten minutes, are you really sure you loathe the girl at all?” Sirius teased, squeezing James’ shoulder playfully and wiggling his brows.

“Fuck off, Padfoot!” James hissed as he shoved Sirius’ hand off his shoulder. “Let’s put our plan in motion.”

Sirius nodded, a glint of teasing still in his eyes as he stared at James with a playful defiance. After a while, he turned his attention to Peter. “Did you manage to squeeze their password from that twat Slytherin that was in detention with you yesterday?”

“I did!” Peter answered proudly and gave the raven-haired boy a small nod, clearly satisfied with himself. “I just had to brag about Gryffindor having the most creative and unobvious passwords and he quickly told me theirs and rambled about Slytherin’s cunningness.”

“Wicked, Wormy!” James bumped his fist against Peter’s shoulder in a congratulatory way, a wide smile on his face. “Very good! I think you should do the honours.” He added, winking mischievously and pointing to the stone bricks in front of them.

Peter grinned and straightened his robes as he solemnly stood in front of the wall, clearing his throat in the process. “Pure-blood” He said and a stone door concealed in the wall slid open, revealing a long passage that led to the Slytherin Common Room.

The boys hurried to carefully shut the door close before any Slytherin student could notice them lurking. From the quick glance they took around before that, they felt the room held quite a cold atmosphere, with all the flickering green lights coming from the greenish lamps that hung on chains.

“That’s quite a scary place,” Peter said weakly as a terrified frown took over his features. He was clutched at the back of Sirius’ robes.

“That’s just a Common Room, Wormtail,” Sirius said, shaking his robes so the boy would let go of it.

“A Death Eaters’ Common Room,” James shrugged, scrunching his face.

“Godric, you three are unbelievable,” Remus shook his head as he lowered it down a bit, massaging the bridge of his nose with his fingers and closing his eyes for a slight moment.

Smirking, James flickered his wand at the bucket filled with enchanted paint that Peter had put down on the floor. “Wingardium Leviosa!” The bucket flew graciously above their heads and stopped itself carefully right upon the Slytherin Common Room door. James’ devilish grin grew wider as he eyed his doing proudly.

“Come on! Let’s hide behind that pillar,” the Gryffindor Quidditch captain nodded to a carved stone pillar on their left that provided a wide viewing from the entrance of the Slytherin Common Room.

The other three Marauders signalled their agreement by nodding at him and quickly ran into hiding. James soon followed them, his wand still carefully pointed to the paint bucket. The boys – except from Remus – leaned forward expectantly, eagerly watching the door and waiting for their first victim to cross the portal.

“And,” Sirius sang, glancing at his watch whilst bouncing on his toes. “Any minute now.”

When the door swung open and the four boys eyed the little Slytherin crowd ready to make their way out, James promptly straightened himself up, waiting for them to cross the doorstep before he could turn the bucket upside-down and, therefore, maximize the casualties. At the perfect moment, the boy with hazel eyes and unruly black hair lowered his wand as quickly as he could; ready to watch the Slytherins being bathed in the magical paint. That, however, didn’t happen. The bucket stood still, floating above the door as the students passed by below it, marching in the direction of the Great Hall.

“What’s going on? Why isn’t the bucket moving?” Sirius frowned.

“I don’t know!” James answered exasperatedly, wielding his wand to the bucket and mumbling each and every spell he could possibly think of, but nothing seemed to work.

Remus did his best to suppress a laughter as James, Sirius and Peter hopelessly watched the last Slytherin student crossing the portal, closing the door behind him and waiting until it disappeared into the wall to walk away. Like the others that passed through the doorstep before him, he didn’t seem to have noticed the suspicious bucket that floated above his head.

“What the bloody hell happened?” James asked incredulously at no one in particular, coming off from behind the pillar and stopping underneath the bucket, angrily glancing at it.

Before anyone could say anything, a wicked cackle echoed through the now empty dungeon corridor and the bucket turned upside down, spilling its entire content on James, who unsuccessfully tried to shield himself with his arms.

A loud, amused laughter grabbed the attention of the Marauders as Y/N L/N emerged from behind an armour. “Nice job Peeves!” The girl exclaimed at the school poltergeist, her arms crossed across her chest whilst she leaned against the wall.

“Always a pleasure to ruin Potter’s day, L/N!” Peeves bowed theatrically, his wicked, dark eyes twinkling and his wide mouth curling up into an evil smirk.

The initial shock wearing off, Sirius barked a laugh as the poltergeist flew off the dungeons and sang cursing verses to James in the process. James glared at the raven-haired boy before turning his attention to Y/N, his fists clenched and his body – covered in the glowy enchanted paint that was slowly turning scarlet and gold – trembling with anger.

“You!” James hissed, narrowing his eyes at the y/h/c girl as he slowly started to walk in her direction.

“Me!” She teased with a grin, tilting her head back in a defiant gesture and winging her eyebrows.

“What in the bloody hell are you doing here, L/N?” He spat, getting closer to her.

“What do you think? Stopping another one of your stupid, reckless actions,” the girl retorted, pursing her lips and clenching her fists as she met James halfway.

The two stared intensely and angrily into the other’s eyes, noses and bodies almost touching as their features and shoulders tensed up with the proximity. Their fists tightened their grips as Y/N’s perfume invaded James’ nostrils and the smell of his shampoo and shaving lotion flooded her sense of smell. James could feel her hot breath dancing across the skin of his face, making it tingle and flooding him with its warmth as he did his best not to break eye contact and, therefore, lose their little battle for dominance.

“Oh, the sexual tension!” Sirius exclaimed after a while of steamy silence and James and Y/N could hear the satisfied grin in his voice. “That’s hot!”

“Sod off, Black!” The girl hit back in an outraged tone, still not backing away from James and his intense stare.

“Excuse you? Now you’ve wounded me!” The boy answered, theatrically leading his hand to his heart.

Y/N and James ignored Sirius as they seemed to be lost in each other, fuming with what they’d describe as mutually rooted, profound loathing.

“How did you know about this?” The hazel-eyed boy asked, breathing heavily. James could feel the air becoming heavier and harder to be inhaled.

“How could I not? Your big ego and self-gloating aren’t exactly discreet, you arrogant twat,” Y/N frowned deeply.

“I am an arrogant twat? I?” He cried out, getting closer to Y/N, his nose brushing against hers.

The girl jumped slightly with his sudden move but quickly recomposed herself, making sure he wouldn’t notice it. “Well, obviously.”

“I’m not the one walking around thinking that I’m so much better than everyone else, sweetheart,” he spat in response.

“Do I think I’m better than everyone else? No. Do I think I’m better than you? Definitely,” the Gryffindor girl took another step toward him, and now not only their noses were brushing against the other, but their bodies were almost glued together. James felt a tingling sensation on the back of his neck.

“Are you two going to kiss?” Peter asked confusedly, blinking repeatedly as he looked back and forth between Y/N and James.

“NO!” The two rivals groaned in unison, turning their heads in Peter’s direction at the same time and unwillingly backing away from each other.

“It definitely seemed like you would though,” Remus smirked, amused, as he tilted his head.

“Oh, fuck you, Remus John! I’m way out of this daft dimbo’s league,” Y/N rolled her eyes at her sandy-haired friend.

“I’m the one way out of your league, L/N!” James frowned, poking his tongue slightly into his cheek, clearly offended.

Y/N glared at James from head to toe with complete disdain. “I suggest you go clean yourself up, Potter. Or maybe not, if you don’t want to have Death Eater Wannabe written on your forehead,” the girl laughed before turning on her heels and walk up the corridor in the direction of the staircase, leaving a huffing James behind.

“That girl is a fucking genius,” Sirius said nonchalantly as he eyed the y/h/c Gryffindor climbing up the steps.

“Genius? She’s a nosy know-it-all who thinks she’s above everyone else!” James spat in response.

“Oh come on, Prongs! Even you have to admit that your girlfriend was bloody brilliant using Peeves to prank you with your own prank,” he grinned lopsidedly.

James in fact agreed with Sirius, but he would never admit that. “She’s not my fucking girlfriend, would you stop with that?” he gritted, clenching his jaw.

/////////////////////////////////

James massaged his forehead with one of his hands, rubbing the place where the phrase Peeves Rocks was written in shimmery gold, mentally thanking the damn poltergeist for having changed his original spell a bit, as he laid in his bed. He much rather having this written down than Death Eater Wannabe, that was for sure. Actually, he preferred to have succeeded with his plan and having his forehead clean and normal, but thanks to L/N that wasn’t possible. Once again, strong emotions took him by assault as the girl crossed his mind for the hundredth time in the past hour.

“I can’t believe her, seriously. Did you see the satisfied smirk she had on her face when Peeves dropped the paint on me? She’s so bloody infuriating!” James frowned, steading himself on his elbows so he could glance at his friends, who had been chatting about something he wasn’t paying attention to.

The boys rolled their eyes, immediately knowing that that would be a very long rant. “And here we go again,” Remus groaned, covering his face with his pillow.

“Who does she think she is? She’s no queen of the enchanted land of Hogwarts,” James pursed his lips as he went on.

“Bloody hell Prongs, just ask the girl out so you can both relieve that sexual tension that has been tormenting you two for years now and move the fuck on,” Sirius grinned, as amusedly as he always did when teasing his friend about the topic in discussion.

James aimed for Sirius’ face and threw his pillow with all the strength he could muster, but the grey-eyed Black boy dodged it easily. “Fuck you.”

Sirius barked a laugh and soon, Remus and Peter joined him, all of them teasing their hazel-eyed friend. James flashed his middle finger at the three boys, an annoyed frown on his face.

“She’s extremely nice, you know,” Remus said nonchalantly as he crossed his arms behind his head. “And quite similar to you.”

“Not to mention she’s bloody hot,” Sirius shrugged, winging his brows.

“Why don’t you date her then?” James asked grumpily.

“Oh I’ve tried mate, but sadly, that girl never fell for my charm,” Sirius answered thoughtfully. “Besides, I would never go for my brother’s girl.” He added with an innocent smile and a wink as he climbed off his bed and hurried to the bathroom door.

James quickly followed his steps but Sirius was faster, getting inside the bathroom and locking its door before the hazel-eyed boy could catch him.

“I swear to Godric that the next time you imply I’m interested in her in the slightest I’ll bloody hex you, Padfoot!” James shouted, smashing one of his hands rather strongly against the wooden door.

“Well, truth hurts, doesn’t it Prongs?” Sirius’ muffled voice teased him from behind the door.

“Padfoot, I’m warning you…” James bumped the door once again amidst the loud sound of laughter coming not only from Sirius but from Remus and Peter as well.

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“You’re late, Mr Potter!” Flitwick scolded a breathlessly James as the boy opened the door of the Charms classroom after clearly running through the hallways trying to make it to class in time.

“Sorry, Professor,” the boy answered, glancing around and noticing that the only available seat was next do Y/N L/N. He immediately rolled his eyes.

“Come along,” Flitwick motioned for James to come in. “We're experimenting with Nonverbal Spells today, we've already divided into pairs – you can sit next to Miss L/N and work with her.”

Knowing it was pointless to argue with the Professor, James nodded and dragged himself with a shuffling gait to the table he was assigned to, not bothering to hide his unpleasantness.

“Hi, Potter!” The girl teased, a wry smile on her lips, as James seated next to her. “Glad to see you’re feeling well! Heard you got a nasty food poisoning that took you off classes for the past three days.”

James’ face was immediately taken over by a profoundly annoyed frown, Y/N knew very well that she was the reason he had been unable to attend classes. “The only poisoning thing in this castle is you, darling.”

Y/N laughed and faked a pout at him before turning her attention back to Flitwick, who was explaining how the pairing would work in this specific lesson.

“For today’s lesson we’ll be using the Mending Charm!” Flitwick exclaimed excitedly. “This charm, as you know, repairs broken objects. You have a shrunken desk in front of you with four broken legs. Each one of you will be responsible to mend two of them and you’ll compete against your own pair. Let’s begin!”

The class hurriedly started to work on their legs, everyone eager to be the first to succeed. Y/N straightened herself in her seat and graciously grabbed her wand from the table.

“This is going to be a piece of cake!” She said cheerfully, purposefully wanting to annoy James.

“You think you can beat me, L/N?” The boy quirked a brow.

“I don’t think I can, I know so,” Y/N gave him a skewed smile.

James huffed in response whilst rolling his eyes. There was no way he was going to let her win.

Non-verbal spells were very difficult and required a good deal of practice, concentration and mental discipline, which made performing them successfully particularly even more difficult for teenagers. The entire class was noticeably having a hard time; even Lily Evans, who were one of the brightest students from their year, was looking like she was constipated due to the amount of effort she was putting into her attempts.

“You alright there, Potter?” Y/N asked sarcastically when she noticed a swelled vein popping on his forehead as he tried for the umpteenth time to repair the legs of the shrunken desk.

“Would you mind your own business? At least I’m trying to do something here, unlike you,” James hissed in response. “Have you given up already?”

Y/N just smiled wryly at him and turned her head to the little desk, flickering her wand. The two broken legs on her end clicked together and half of the desk was standing again, two of its legs perfectly fine.

“Look, everyone! Miss L/N successfully performed the first non-verbal spell in the class! Well done, Y/N!” Flitwick clapped his little hands excitedly.

“You were saying?” Y/N teased James with a triumphant look on her face.

“You obviously cheated!” The hazel-eyed boy spat in annoyance.

“Excuse you? It’s called talent; I don’t need to cheat to beat you!” She retorted, offended.

“Yeah, right! You used some non-verbal spell that we weren’t supposed to just so mine wouldn’t work, admit it!”

“Oh, sod off Potter! Stop being a sore loser!”

“Here we go again,” Marlene McKinnon sighed from her seat, rolling her eyes like the rest of the students.

Y/N and James engaged on a fiery argument for the short rest of the class, much to the amusement of Sirius and to the dismay of Flitwick and the majority of their classmates. The two Gryffindors seemingly missed the ring of the bell that announced the end of the class and also the students leaving the classroom one by one, as once again they were too wrapped on each other to be aware of their surroundings.

“Should we tell them the class is over?” Peter asked Flitwick unsurely, as they eyed Y/N and James from the Professor’s desk, Sirius and Remus with them.

Flitwick sighed, shaking his head in defeat. “No, let them be,” he answered, starting to walk away from the classroom and motioning for the boys to follow him.

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The full moon wasn’t gentle in the slightest with Remus. He had a particularly rougher time last night and his whole body ached with deep, fresh scars. Clotted blood covered the scratches and cuts as he laid on a bed in the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey had cleaned his scars and applied a potion to help with the pain and the healing process but the boy was still suffering nonetheless.

“How is he?” Y/N stormed in, asking no one in particular as she clutched into a piece of the bed curtains, frowning worriedly.

“Hey, Y/N/N. I’m ok,” Remus answered weakly with a smile on his face, trying to sit up.

“No, no, no! Stay still!” The Gryffindor girl hurried to stop him. “Godric, I was so worried! I was waiting for Sirius’ note to know if you were okay but it never came.”

“Sorry about that, he had a rough night and we couldn’t leave his side. This full moon was particularly hard on him,” Sirius apologized, rubbing her back gently as he tried to comfort her.

“Wait, does she know about Moony’s condition?” James scrunched his nose incredulously.

“Of course I do, you twat. He’s one of my closest friends,” Y/N glared at James with despise.

“Please, would you two behave yourselves and try not to fight this time? Your arguments are more painful than all of these scars combined,” Remus joked, groaning in pain as he tried to switch his position.

“Oh, come on, Moony! They’re quite fun to watch,” Sirius grinned lopsidedly, offering his hand to Remus so he could help him.

“I do agree myself,” Peter laughed, mockingly shrugging his shoulders and pouting.

Y/N rolled her eyes and waited until the boys were chatting distractedly before walking over to James, who stood a little further to them. She had a thoughtful expression and her brows were furrowed as she approached him, fiddling with her fingers furiously. James had been studying her every move curiously and noticed Y/N was uncommonly anxious, finding it strange that the overly confident girl was displaying such an unusual behaviour. The boy with unruly black hair widened his hazel eyes in shock when she suddenly leaned in the direction of his face, his figure becoming painfully aware of their proximity. An involuntary electrical current awakened his now tensed body whilst a lump started to take form in his throat, but James brushed the odd feeling with a quick shake of his head.

“What? I’m not going to bite you,” she grimaced impatiently at the flustered boy.

“Well, you leaned in out of the blue, I’m sorry if I was surprised!” He retorted with embarrassment, rubbing the back of his neck and hoping that the heat he felt on his cheeks didn’t mean he was blushing.

Y/N furrowed her brows at his response, but her features slowly relaxed and a playful smile took over her lips as his words sank in. “James Potter, did you think I was going to kiss you?” She quirked her brows amusedly as she teased him, crossing her arms across her chest. “Not even in your wildest dreams, sweetheart.”

“As if I would ever dream about you,” he huffed, rolling his eyes. “What do you want?” He asked in a cold and harsh tone of voice.

“We need to talk,” she said, once again looking anxious. Y/N grabbed his arm and dragged him to a distant bed, closing the curtains that surrounded it and turning around to face a very confused James.

“Have you ever heard of the Wolfsbane Potion?” Y/N almost spat the words as she fiddled with her fingers, gazing at the floor.

“Wolf what?” James frowned in confusion, tilting his head a little.

“Why doesn’t it surprise me?” Y/N rolled her eyes, the confidence seemingly returning to her snarky self. “The Wolfsbane Potion, it’s a relatively newly formulated potion that relieves, but does not cure, the symptoms of lycanthropy.” She explained, this time staring into James’ eyes.

“Meaning?” James shrugged crankily, crossing his arms across his chest. He had no idea what she meant discussing potions with him after a long and tiring full moon. Maybe this was a prank of some sort?

“Godric, are you really that daft?” She grimaced incredulously. “Meaning that the transformation wouldn’t be as nearly as painful for Remus as it currently is. This potion will allow him to hold on to his mental faculties after becoming Moony.”

“Hold on, are you telling me that Moony would be a werewolf but still think and behave like himself? That would be awesome! I didn’t know that it was possible!” James’ features lightened up. “He would finally stop beating himself up for things he can’t control.”

“Exactly!” She smirked, nodding excitedly. “He deserves that more than anyone I could ever think of.”

“For once I agree with you, L/N,” James winged his eyebrows, a lopsided grin on. “How do we brew this?”

“I’m sorry, we?” Y/N frowned, the smile slowly fading from her lips. “This potion could be extremely dangerous if incorrectly concocted so, I’m sorry, but your average Potions skills aren’t fit for this task.”

“Average?” The boy huffed, displeased. “And I suppose yours are?” He asked with despise.

“Precisely,” Y/N shrugged, the ends of her lips curling up in a wry smile. “I received an Exceeds Expectations in my O.W.L.s.”

“Oh, yeah, because you’re so much better than the rest of us plain mortals,” James sneered in a mean tone of voice, his face completely disgusted. “Tell me, is this potion even real or did you just thought it would be fun to prank me by using one of the people I care about the most to humiliate me?”

Y/N frowned in shock as her mouth fell open and James felt bad almost immediately, noticing the hurt clear in her y/e/c eyes. “Do you think I’d ever toy with Remus’ life like that? He is my best friend too you egocentric – arrogant twat!” She spat, pursing her lips and clenching her fists with a slow, disbelieving head shake.

“Look, I‘m- I’m sorry ok? I know you wouldn’t,” he heaved a sigh, massaging his forehead as he let his head fall into his hand. “How can I help?” He added after a few minutes of silence, shoving his hands into his pockets and staring into Y/N’s eyes.

“I’ll accept your apology, only because I’ll need you to help Remus,” Y/N said, lifting her chin up as she glared displeased at James. “First, we’ll have to enter the restricted section of the library.”

James nodded thoughtfully as the two of them unsurely eyed the other.

#au #imagine #writing #james potter #james potter x reader #harry potter #james potter imagine #harry potter imagine #harry potter x reader #sirius black #sirius black imagine #sirius black x reader #remus lupin #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin x reader #the marauders #the marauders imagine #the marauders x reader

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teshamerkel · 3 years

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Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Seekers of Soul

Chapter 14 (19 Pages)

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Hazel gives Nia a new lead to follow in her search for answers, as well as the courage to confront Tobias.

“You’re Hazel.”

The older Pokemon smiles, looking wistful. “I haven’t gone by the name Hazel in over a decade. Most know me as Alice nowadays.”

Well, that would explain why no one knew who Hazel was. Nia opens her mouth to say something, ask something, a thousand questions she’d rehearsed bubbling at her lips. Instead, her throat chokes up as tears flood her eyes.

She finally found her. She found Hazel. And now she’s crying again. Nia scrubs at her face, apologizing, only for soft arms to scoop her into a hug, cutting off her words.

“I know it’s scary,” Hazel murmurs, paw stroking soothingly at Nia’s back. “Everything is so new and different, and you hardly know a soul.”

Nia whimpers, squeezing Hazel back and burying her face in the older woman’s soft fur. They stay like that until the kettle starts to shriek. Hazel gently escapes Nia’s hold, moving to smother the fire and pour out two small cups of tea.

Some kind of power (psychic, maybe?) outlines the cups in gold, and then they levitate into the air, catching Nia off-guard. Hazel floats over to the table, drinks following smoothly enough not to spill, and sets one of the cups in front of Nia. The riolu sniffs and wipes away the last of her tears, accepting the tea with a quiet word of thanks and cupping it in her hands. There’s something soothing about its near-painful warmth and faint herbal scent; even watching the drink’s steam rise and curl into the air feels calming.

After a few moments of silence, Hazel speaks up in a hushed voice. “I found myself in the Pokémon world when I was about...oh, 26 years old or so. It must have been around 1980.”

Nia looks up, taken aback. “1980?”

Hazel nods, taking a sip of tea. “Yes. I’ve had the chance to speak with a few others in our situation throughout the years, and it seems time here runs on a scale similar to Earth’s.”

“Yeah,” Nia agrees, doing the mental math and feeling shock numb her ever so slightly. “You’ve been here for...for 40 years?”

“Give or take, yes.”

Hazel says something else, but Nia doesn’t answer. She’s focused on trying to control the tremor in her breathing, the shaking in her fingers, the violent pounding of her heartbeat. 40 years? Last she’d heard humans had only been appearing in the Pokemon world for about 30 years.

How long has this really been happening?

“Did you—did you ever try to go back?” Nia rasps.

Hazel hesitates. “For a year or so, yes. I did try to find out...why I was here. What happened.”

“And?”

“I’m afraid I didn’t find many answers,” Hazel answers, blue eyes flashing gold as she uses the same psychic ability to stir her tea without using her paws. “There were far less cases of our situation back then, and even less Pokémon who actually believed that we were once human. We were left to do most of the searching for answers on our own, and without many resources it’s difficult to find any solid leads.”

Nia’s grip tightens around her tea. “B-But there has to have been some breakthroughs somewhere after so long, right? How did you do your research? Reading? Traveling around to ask other Pokémon? What about those Pokémon who remember their past? The ones who are always former humans? Yuh—Yamask! Surely there’s something that no one has tried yet!”

Nia doesn’t register how desperate she must sound, how close she is to breaking down again, until Hazel doesn’t answer. She looks worried.

“I mean—there have to be answers, right?” Nia asks, consciously quieting her voice. “Somebody has to know how this happened to us. How to fix it.”

Hazel’s face drops into something sympathetic. “You want to go back. To your old life.”

Nia blinks, bewildered. “You don’t?”

Hazel shakes her head. “This is my life now. I have a husband and a daughter. Beautiful grandkids. A successful career and a home. Every morning I sit on the docks and watch the sun rise with a cup of tea and a pastry from the neighbor’s bakery. At this point, I’m more comfortable as a raichu than I would be as a human.”

Nia can’t believe what she’s hearing. Sure, the Pokémon world is wonderful and the people are kind, but...

“Don’t you...don’t you miss your family? Your friends?”

“Of course I do,” Hazel answers, tone slipping into something sharp for the first time. “But that doesn’t change the fact that sometimes you don’t get a choice in the matter.”

Nia flinches, looking down into her tea again.

The raichu’s voice softens. “I created a new life here, instead. I found love, and friendship. Of course I’m not going to forget my old family and friends, but that didn’t mean I had to stop living my life until I found a way back to the human world. And I’m glad I thought that way. I’m happy here.”

Nia knows the words are supposed to be soothing, but instead she’s fighting off a rising wave of panic. Her stomach rolls and there’s a sinking, heavy feeling in her chest that feels like lead. She doesn’t want to start a new life here. She doesn’t remember her family and her friends, not exactly, but the longing in her heart makes her sure that she needs to get back to them. She has to find a way. There has to be a way.

After a few beats of silence, Hazel asks, “Did you lose your memory, coming here?”

Nia blinks back tears and meets Hazel’s eyes, nodding.

“But you have yet to regain it.”

Nia nods again. “I...I know I was human. I remember certain things, l-like technology and some songs, and that I used to play softball. I don’t remember my family or my friends or what happened to bring me here, b-but...” she reaches up to clutch at the fur of her chest, where it feels like she’s tearing in half.

“You know how you feel about them,” Hazel guesses.

The tears finally spill over, so Nia squeezes her eyes shut. “I need to get back to them.”

Hazel is silent as Nia takes a few deep breaths.

“I wish you luck in finding answers,” Hazel finally says, words slow and careful, like she’s trying to find the perfect way to phrase this. “Just...know that they may not be the answers you would like.”

Nia’s not sure what to make of that, so she just takes another deep breath and sips at her tea. It is tasty, if a bit bitter.

“Where are you staying now? Do you have anyone to help you?” Hazel asks.

Nia finally offers a small smile. “Yeah. I’m living at the Lexym Guild, with a meganium named Maggie and my, uh...my Seekers partner, Tobias.”

Hazel tilts her head, frowning. “He didn’t come with you today? It’s quite a walk from the guild.”

“N-No, he did,” Nia answers, shifting uncomfortably as she once again feels the emptiness of Tobias’ absence. “He’s, um...out somewhere in the port.”

“This was an important mission for you, to find me. He didn’t want to be a part of it?”

Nia isn’t sure how to answer that without admitting aloud that Tobias doesn’t care about Nia’s goals at all. Instead, she simply shrugs.

Hazel hums. Then, she slides a paw across the table to gently lay over Nia’s own. “Nia, I’m going to tell you something very important, okay? Look at me.”

Nia does, swallowing hard.

“The Pokémon world is...kinder than the human world, in many ways. But you still have to be careful that Pokémon don’t take advantage of you. Of your lack of knowledge regarding this world. Your fear. Your kindness.”

“What—“

“I could be wrong,” Hazel says, cutting Nia off softly but firmly. “But this Tobias sounds like he isn’t there for you the way partners—and friends—should be.”

Nia feels her ears pin back, betraying the truth of Hazel’s words. “H-He’s had a rough life—“

“Which is unfortunate,” Hazel says, squeezing Nia’s paw. “But that doesn’t excuse his actions. Everyone needs to learn to adapt and grow. With you, he has the chance to become a better Pokémon. And if he decides not to take that opportunity, then it isn’t your job to deal with him. Your feelings are important too.”

Nia’s vision blurs with tears, and she looks down at her cup of tea as it slowly loses its warmth. “You sound like Maggie.”

“If this Maggie agrees, then I’d say you should really consider your current arrangement. It’s easy to take advantage of someone like you. You’re sweet, and you’re lost. Don’t take that.”

Nia sniffs, squeezing the raichu’s soft paw. She already knew this, but hearing it from Hazel, from someone who has been in her exact position...maybe it is finally time to make a change with Tobias.

“It’s your decision, of course,” Hazel says, voice lighter again. She leans back. “Just...think about it. Why don’t you tell me about how your life has been since coming here? How long have you been in this world?”

Nia smiles, relaxing and slowly unraveling the story of the last two weeks of her life. Waking up in the Pokemon world, settling at the guild, choosing a name and meeting everyone, saving Tobias and forming a team with him, training and starting out as Seekers, meeting Hadley and hearing about his old “human” friend...

At the mention of Hadley, Hazel laughs, looking like she wants to be mad but can’t quite manage it. “I haven’t seen that silly old bug in years! Of course he’s the one to rat me out. Always had loose lips, that one. Which is remarkable for someone without actual lips.”

Nia giggles. “Sorry. I’m glad he told me, though, or else I never would have found you.”

“Did he tell you how we met?”

Nia shakes her head, leaning forward in her seat.

“Well, I’d fallen terribly ill while on the road in my early years. When I went to a doctor, they were shocked to find that I had a developed a form of the common cold.”

“One of the medics at the guild mentioned something about that,” Nia says. “They said if I got sick, it could be, uh. Serious.”

Hazel hums a thoughtful sound. “I don’t remember much about that week or so I was sick, but doctors did seem rather...cautious. About telling me whether I’d pull through or not. Looks like I brushed by death’s door a bit closer than I thought.”

Nia’s fur prickles at the casual way she mentions it. “Y-You aren’t scared that you’ll get sick like that again?”

“No, not really. I did have a few more bouts of illness throughout my life, but nothing that I couldn’t pull through. Nowadays, I’m fairly sure I’ve been through most common ailments, having had children and all. They’re germ magnets!”

Nia cracks a small smile.

“Still, that does remind me,” Hazel says, focusing back on the riolu. “The first time you start feeling ill, do go ahead and check in with one of the medical Pokémon at the guild, all right? Your symptoms might come on weak, but don’t take any chances.”

The riolu swallows hard and nods. Hazel said when she got sick, not if. The raichu seems sure that it’ll happen eventually, and Nia would be lying if she said that didn’t send a bolt of fear into her heart. She doesn’t want to die, and especially not here, sick and without her family.

“I met Hadley when I was recovering in hospice,” Hazel continues. “He’s always been a reckless thing, and he’d chipped his shell in a fight with a golem, of all things. He lost, of course, but he didn’t want to tell me that.”

Nia tries to relax again as Hazel dives deeper into her story. Soon enough, they’re both laughing, and moving on to talking about the oddities of the Pokémon world, of how strange it was to wake up with tails and ears and superpowers. Apparently, Hazel had arrived as a pikachu, like her daughter Margot is now, and had decided to evolve later on in life. She explains that the levitation abilities of alolan raichu help a lot with larger wood carvings, when she has to work on areas much higher than she can reach on foot.

“So evolution didn’t...hurt, or anything?” Nia asks at one point. “It still sounds so weird to me.”

Hazel nods understandingly. “It is odd, no doubt. But no, it didn’t hurt. It was...a bit strange, feeling my body shift and change in the span of a few seconds. But I certainly don’t regret it. It’s quite sad, really, that evolution doesn’t seem to be working anymore. An upsetting development, to be sure.”

“H-How long has that been going on, anyways?” Nia asks. She’d been meaning to bring this question up with Maggie for days now.

Hazel stirs at her cold tea. “Oh goodness...maybe the last ten years or so? It’s fairly recent.”

“And no one knows what’s causing it?”

Hazel sighs. “Well, we’re certainly getting the share of the blame. Has anyone warned you about that yet?”

Nia nods. “Y-Yeah. Everyone at the Haven is really nice, but August and Maggie said I should be more cautious about revealing that I’m human when we travel farther away. Why are we getting blamed?”

Hazel shakes her head, looking bitter. “When a problem rises up that no one knows how to fix, it makes it easier on folks if they can blame someone else for it. The animosity has only gotten worse as time goes on and more things change. Being unable to evolve has changed the lives of a lot of Pokémon, and not for the better. I shudder to think about all of the poor cocoon Pokémon who got caught in their middle stage and are trapped there.”

Nia frowns. That’s such a strange thing to happen so suddenly, presumably after never happening before in the history of this world. “What did everyone say, right after it happened?”

“Oh, they were sure the world was ending. That Arceus herself was forsaking them. But then nothing else drastic happened immediately after, the days carried on, and eventually Pokémon grudgingly adapted.”

“Are any Pokémon still looking into it?” Nia asks, feeling her curiosity rise and her itch to research resurface.

“Oh yes, the last I heard it was still a hot topic, particularly in the bigger cities. Around here, Pokémon are content to make due.”

Nia thinks about the evolution that she would have available if she could evolve. A...lucario, she thinks it was? Similar to her current form, but bigger. Taller. She remembers reading that Tobias would eventually become a much larger creature, though, a dragon with wings and everything. It’s difficult to imagine the little charmander going through such a huge growth spurt.

After a moment of thoughtful quiet between them, Hazel lightens the mood by launching into another story from when she’d first arrived in the Pokémon world. Apparently when she’d first woken up, she’d screamed and accidentally electrocuted a kind but terrifying-looking Pokémon who was just trying to help her out. Nia listens and strokes the rim of her cup, smiling warmly at the old raichu. She has such an obvious grandmotherly air about her—even more so than Maggie.

At the end of her story, Hazel suddenly sits up. “You know, that reminds me of something I saw last week. There’s a Pokémon who’s trying to gather former humans for a meeting sometime soon. Some sort of club, I suppose?”

Nia’s ears perk up. “Really?”

Hazel nods. “I’m comfortable as a Pokémon now, so I dismissed it. It seemed like a load of hullabaloo to me! But maybe you would want to look into it? They would likely know more than I would about how the research on this phenomenon is going.”

“Y-Yeah, absolutely! Do you know where I could find out more about it?”

“I believe there was a flyer up in the bazaar near the waterfall, on one of the bulletin boards.”

Nia jots that down in her mind, beaming. “Thank you so much, Hazel! Oh man, I’ll check that out as soon as I leave.”

Hazel chuckles again. “Why don’t you go on ahead? If you don’t have anything else to ask me, that is. You look ready to jump out of your seat.”

Nia laughs, embarrassed. “Sorry. I’m excited.”

Hazel shifts, sitting heavily onto her tail before rising into a float. She collects the two cups from the table and sets them down in the kitchen area. “It’s fine. Come along then.”

Nia moves to follow the raichu out into the shop. She casts a quick glance up at the loft, but it’s quiet. Margot and her boys must already be asleep. When the two of them reach the front door, the raichu turns to her with a smile.

“You take care, all right? Smack some sense into that partner of yours or tell him to hit the road.”

Nia laughs, nodding. “I’ll do my best.”

Hazel leans in, taking Nia’s hands in her own and dropping her voice to a whisper. “And if things don’t turn out how you want, just remember that there’s always a silver lining. You’ll reach happiness, one way or another.”

Nia’s breath catches. Fear and denial roll in her gut (she will find a way home, she will), but she knows the raichu only means well. So she offers a shaky smile. “R-Right.”

“Thank you for the talk. Come back and visit this old girl if you’re ever in the area. It’s nice to have another human around.”

Nia nods. She is right about that. “Absolutely. Thank you so much for talking with me.”

“Of course.” And with that, Hazel pulls her into another hug. Nia hugs her back, squeezing hard and breathing in the scent of her short fur. She’s only known her for a couple of hours, but she already knows she’s going to miss her.

“C-Can I write you sometime?”

“Please do,” Hazel says, pulling back and patting the riolu’s cheek. “I would love that.”

“I’ll send you a letter as soon as I figure out how the mailing system works.”

Hazel laughs, playfully pushing Nia out the front door and into warm night air. “Go on, get out of here! And good luck. Remember what I said.”

Nia nods and gives the raichu one more wave before turning to join the Pokémon still milling about on the boardwalk. She’d passed the bazaar earlier in the day, when she was searching for Hazel. It’s...to the right? She thinks. She supposes she could just follow the sound of the waterfall, too.

As Nia makes her way through the port town, faintly lit by the fat moon overhead and the light spilling out from homes and shops, she keeps an eye out for Tobias’ tail flame. As much as Nia hates conflict, Hazel is right. She needs to have a talk with the charmander about their partnership. She can’t keep sacrificing her emotions and her own goals just because Tobias insists on keeping up such a bitter attitude and shoving her away at every opportunity.

Nia finally finds the giant bulletin boards in the bazaar, sitting in front of shops and between closed market booths. Wait. Dang it, she can’t read anything at this time of night! Great. If only a certain fire type were here. A small growl of frustration slips from her throat. She doesn’t have anything that can make light, right?

Oh! Wait, maybe..? Nia hesitates, glancing around. Would she even be able to do it here, already so worked up and exhausted from the day? She supposes she doesn’t have much of a choice but to try. She closes her eyes, feeling the tear-drop appendages framing her face rise as she searches for that fire at the core of her being. Her aura. After a moment she finds it, burning strong and bright. She stokes it with thoughts of her family, of Maggie, of Xander and Andyn, of Hazel...and she feels it grow. Satisfied, she directs it towards her hand with a little nudge, focuses it in her palm, imagines the light cradled there...

Nia cracks open her eyes, grinning with delight to see the cyan of her aura condensed into a tiny flame. It casts a faint blue glow over her and the flyers, and she hurriedly starts skimming the papers for anything about humans. She scans the board once, twice, feeding more energy into her palm and feeling it start to strain her as the seconds tick by.

“C’mon, c’mon,” she mumbles, picking up the pace as she frantically scans flyer after flyer. She eventually abandons the board and runs to the second one nearby. Hazel said it was only like a week ago, right? It has to still be here. What if it’s buried beneath other papers? What if—

Nia’s gaze snaps back to a particular flyer as she catches sight of the word ‘human.’ There are a few of the flyers nailed to the wood, so Nia snatches one, dimming her aura and skimming through it.

The Will of the Humans Movement

Are you a human who suddenly ended up in the Pokémon world? Looking for answers, a network of others that understand you, a place to talk about your past and the human world? Come join us in one of the largest cities in the land! We’ll be having a conference in the city of Ghatha on the first day of the fall season. Food will be provided, as well as resources for finding your way in the Pokémon world until you can be returned to your human life.

Nia takes a deep, shuddering breath, killing off her aura and laughing to herself. She’s incredibly relieved that this sort of idea even exists, that this group sounds so confident about being able to return her to the human world, but she can’t help laughing at the very human-like advertising method. It almost sounds like a college club flyer, or a support group. These guys are the real deal, all right. And it says the first week of fall? If she recalls correctly, it’s nearing the end of summer right now, so that can’t be very far away at all!

Nia folds up the flyer and carefully tucks it away into her satchel. Then she sets off again, wondering how she’ll find Tobias. It’s a warm night, but he probably would have gone inside by now, right? Nia knows she passed one or two larger buildings that advertised themselves as inns. Or maybe he’s still at one of the restaurants? He did seem really excited to eat here.

Just in case, Nia peeks into the restaurants she passes on her way towards the inns, scanning the small crowds inside and feeling her belly start to rumble at all of the delicious scents. Finally, she pokes her head into a restaurant with savory, smoky scents pouring from the kitchen area. In the dim lighting, a familiar tail light and red scarf catch her eye. Tobias!

The charmander looks relaxed, slouched into a seat, empty plate in front of him as he picks at his teeth. Nia hurries over to him, taking the seat across from him and making him jump.

“Sorry,” Nia says, smiling. “Good meal?”

Tobias sits up. “Yeah, definitely. Worth the trip for this alone.”

A silence falls between them, and Nia feels her happy expression slowly drop. She doesn’t know why she expected it from Tobias, but...he didn’t even ask if she’d succeeded in her search for Hazel. Didn’t even mention how his supposed “search” went.

“So I was thinking of just using the inn two doors down for the night, and then heading back a bit after dawn tomorrow.”

Nia nods. “Uh, sure. But, um. Can we talk first?”

Tobias stops cleaning his teeth, giving Nia a suspicious look. “What about?”

“It’s...kind of important. To me. Please?”

Tobias heaves an annoyed sigh, but this time Nia doesn’t wince away. In fact, she feels her anger and frustration only grow stronger.

“Fine,” he says. “Shoot.”

Nia glances at the owners of the restaurant, adorable blue and white otter Pokémon with seashells on their chests, chatting amicably at the entrance to the kitchen. A purple bulldog Pokemon with huge fangs sips quietly at a bowl of soup nearby. The atmosphere is peaceful. She doesn’t want to shatter that with a potential argument.

“Not here,” Nia says, meeting Tobias’ annoyed gaze. “How about down on the docks?”

“Seriously? Why?”

Nia bites back an exasperated sigh. “Just trust me on this. Please?”

There’s a beat of silence, and then Tobias grunts a quiet, “Fine. Let’s go, I already paid.”

Nia nods, and the two head out. Tobias falls back to let her take the lead, and she guides them to one of the staircases, down to an open dock over the water. As they walk, Nia feels herself grow more and more nervous. Her stomach feels tight and nauseous. Maybe this can wait? Maybe she should keep the peace this far from home. She could always just talk to him about this tomorrow.

Hazel’s serious expression flashes through her mind. No. The raichu was right. She needs to put this out there right now, before she loses her nerve. The two of them reach the end of the dock, and Tobias crosses his arms, shuffling away from the edge.

Nia swallows, mouth opening and closing as she tries to figure out how to begin. “W-Well, I wanted to talk about, uh, our team.”

That at least seems to pique the charmander’s interest.

“I-It’s just...I was wondering if you could m-maybe try being, uh...a little nicer?” That’s it, Nia. Nice and stern. God, she’s such a pushover.

Tobias blinks, snorting. “What? Is that seriously why you dragged me out here?”

Nia cringes. “I mean, yeah! I...I-It’s just that you don’t ever want to talk, and you don’t seem to really care about w-what I want, and we’re partners and all, so—“

“We’ve been through this before,” Tobias interrupts. “I’m not nice. And we’re partners, not friends.”

“I know that!” Nia says, voice sharp. Tobias straightens up, anger flashing across his features. “I know that, but there’s a difference between being partners and being whatever we are! We should care about each other, have each other’s’ backs! Actually talk to each other! But every time I try to start a civil conversation you just say something cruel or don’t even answer me!”

“Look, you aren’t special,” Tobias growls, stepping closer with a snarl curling at his lip. “I treat you like I treat everybody else—better even, and—“

“And that’s what I mean!” Nia says, voice edging on a shout. “You treat everyone like dirt! Even Maggie half the time, and she’s been nothing but kind to you your whole life!”

Tobias actually winces at that, but the shame on his face only seems to fuel his anger. Even his tail flame flickers brighter. “Look, I signed up to be Seeker partners with you, nothing more. It doesn’t say anything in the contract about me being nice. You knew how I was before you asked me to form a team with you.”

Nia feels angry tears prick at her eyes, and she throws her arms out in a bewildered sort of gesture. “Okay, fine, I did! Maybe I thought that somehow I could change you, be your friend and help you open up. I know you can be kind, Tobias, I’ve seen it with Maggie and the kids—you can be nice, you just choose not to!”

Tobias huffs, smoke pluming from between his teeth. “That sounds like a mistake on your part.”

“Maybe it was,” Nia admits. “But I don’t think it’s wrong to expect that my partner would have the basic decency to care about me and my goals a little instead of only focusing on himself.”

Tobias opens his mouth to respond, but Nia beats him to it.

“I know you didn’t go looking for Hazel like you said you would. You didn’t even ask about my search or if I found her when I finally tracked you down! You didn’t do a single thing to support me even though you knew how important this was to me!”

“I’ve been nothing but kind to you,” Nia goes on, ignoring the way her voice breaks as she steps forward, feeling a thrill of satisfaction when Tobias steps back. “I’ve kept your secrets, lied to protect you, tried to befriend you so you’d have someone to talk to...I’ve tried so hard to be a good person and bring out the best in you.”

“I didn’t ask for that,” Tobias protests weakly.

“You shouldn’t have to! We’re partners! We should be on each other’s team, not two separate ones. And I shouldn’t have to ask you for the simple courtesy of respecting me and not being a—a total jerk!”

“I protect you in dungeons!” Tobias snaps back. “I share the money we get! What more do you want?! Where is all of this even coming from?”

Nia makes a frustrated noise. “Tobias, we’ve only been partners for two weeks and already I’ve reached the end of my patience! This isn’t a sudden thing! How did you not see this coming?”

“How am I supposed to know if something’s wrong if you don’t tell me?”

“Maybe by paying a little attention! All I’m asking is that you try to care a little bit!”

“And if I refuse?”

Nia tries to take a cue from Margot, straightening up and changing her expression into something harsh and unmovable. “Then I’m leaving the team.”

Finally, Tobias’ mask of anger melts away, leaving only horrified shock behind. “W-What? You can’t—you need to gather information, and—”

Nia crosses her arms. “We both know you’re the only one who would be struggling to find a new team, Tobias. I’d be fine.”

The charmander’s expression closes off, cold and distant. “...And to get you to stay?”

Nia doesn’t answer for a few moments, thinking and enjoying the way her piercing gaze seems to make Tobias squirm with unease. “I would need you to try to be kind. To be an actual partner. Care about me and what I want, the way that I’ve been doing for you. Actually talk to me. Trust me.”

“Trust you? You’re blackmailing me.”

Nia fights back a new surge of anger, sighing. “Tobias, this isn’t blackmail. This is a second chance.”

The charmander doesn’t answer that, and the two of them stand locked in a tense silence.

“So that’s all? I just need to be nice to you?”

“I need you to try to be kind,” Nia corrects. “There’s a big difference. Sucking up to me or faking a personality isn’t going to cut it. You don’t need to be sweet and bring me breakfast in bed. I’m just asking that you stop treating me like the enemy. Like someone whose wants are lesser than yours.”

Tobias is silent, flexing his claws as he stares out at the water with fury in his gaze. Eventually, he says, “Did Hazel put you up to this?”

Nia barks a short, humorless laugh. “You’d know if she had if you’d actually gone with me, wouldn’t you? I’ve been feeling like this for a while, Tobias. Maybe if you paid attention to someone but yourself you would have noticed.”

Tobias growls at that, a few embers fluttering from his breath, bright in the darkness.

“You don’t need to decide now,” Nia says, feeling her anger start to drain in favor of exhaustion. “I want you to be serious about your answer, either way. This is a dealbreaker for me.”

Tobias glares at her for a moment more. Then he snarls something under his breath and storms past her, back towards the staircase to the shops and inn. Nia watches him go, and doesn’t relax until the charmander’s bobbing tail flame disappears completely in the darkness. Then she sinks to the ground, cradling her head in her hands. That was...more intense than she’d been expecting. But she also got her point across. She thinks.

She sits there for a while longer as the moon climbs high into the sky. Eventually, she rises to her feet, taking shaky steps back towards the buildings of Afon’s Cap. She’s definitely not going to go sleep in the same inn as Tobias after that. She considers returning to Hazel’s to ask to stay the night, but she really doesn’t want to bother the little family when they’re likely all asleep by now.

Instead, Nia picks a different inn than the one Tobias had suggested earlier. What tomorrow brings for her and her team she doesn’t know, but when she flops down into a pre-made nest, she feels...light. Relieved to finally have that off her chest, to finally have a resolution between her and Tobias one way or another.

Nia is done being the charmander’s doormat.

#pmd #pokemon mystery dungeon #pokemon #alolan raichu #riolu #pmd seekers of soul #tesha draws #tesha writes

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cacoetheswriting · 3 years

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champagne problems, ch.12

Chapter Twelve: Godspeed: Moving out and moving on. A/N: chapter is titled after this song if you want to listen while reading. Word Count: 2.0k Warnings: mild swearing, heartbreak, jealousy, talk of breakup/s, serious angst, idiots being idiots, very mild fluff (? idk if you would call it that), this whole series is a real slow burn.

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The solace circulating through your veins as you stared blankly at the packed cardboard boxes of your stuff was strange to say the least. It was undoubtedly odd to be feeling this content about a huge chunk of your life just, ending.

And so drastically for that matter.

You knew you should be feeling sad, mournful even. You were supposed to get married in a matter of months. You were on your way to live the rest of your life with who you believed was the right person. Ethan. Your person. The two of you were about to start looking for a forever home, think about starting a family. You were supposed to start your happily ever after.

Now, you had no fiancé and no place to call home. Yet what you felt as you stood in the half-empty apartment you once shared with Ethan was peace.

Because the heartbreak you were experiencing wasn't for your life with Ethan, it was for Spencer.

“Apart from these here, is there anything else that’s yours?” Luke asked, pointing to the boxes that currently held all of your attention.

You blinked and looked up at him, pausing your thoughts. “I have suitcases in the bedroom, and a few more things to grab from the kitchen.” You advised and he nodded quickly before proceeding to lift one of the cartons.

You watched him leave and couldn't help but think back to the night you ended things with Ethan. How he stormed out before you even got to finish your reasoning and endless apologies; the sound of slamming doors echoing in your ears.

“You okay?” Tara asked, appearing in the doorframe you were currently examining. She shoot you concerned look. “Yeah... I’m just, I don’t know. I guess I’m not feeling what I should be feeling.” You replied averting your eyes to her. “I’m relieved of all things.”

“That’s normal.” She stated.

“Is it though? I’m going through a breakup, and a big one at that. Yet I haven't shed a single tear for Ethan and for what we lost. But with Spencer...” Your voice faded out and you quickly cleared your throat. “I guess I just thought despite everything I would at least feel a little bit sad.” You added, gently shrugging your shoulders.

“Y/N, if anything this proves Ethan wasn't the man for you.” Tara said simply and you nodded, desperately hoping she was right.

Which of course she was.

Tara and Penelope were the only two people on the team who knew the entire truth behind your engagement falling through, and the reasons why. Therefore, only the two ladies knew Ethan wasn't the person for you. Spencer was.

However, that fact remained unspoken.

With one last reassuring smile, Tara turned to the remaining stack of boxes and lifted one carefully. You followed suit, and the two of you made your way outside to the moving truck - where you found Luke and Penelope bickering about how best to fit everything.

“Words cannot express how grateful I am for your help today.” You glanced between the small group after placing the box you were holding at the back of the truck. “Thank you, seriously.”

“It’s our pleasure.” Luke expressed with a wide grin. “Yeah, what kind of friends would we be if we let you do this alone.” Penelope chimed in, her lips twirling upwards.

You couldn't help but smile back at them before turning your attention to Tara. “And thank you for letting me stay in your spare room while I find a place of my own.” She playfully rolled her eyes at your words. “I wouldn't have it any other way girl.”

“Now, we better finish up and get moving if we want to make Rossi’s dinner on time.” She added and all four of you promptly got back to work.

Evenings at Rossi’s were something you always looked forward to greatly. A delicious home cooked meal, an abundance of wine, and quality time spent with your second family. The most perfect mix.

Tonight was no different. The evening was an escape.

See, you had recently fallen victim to crude office gossip. News of your broken engagement spread like wildfire. People had their own theories and speculations as to what really happened. And they weren't shy about adding their own five cents to the story.

Everyone present at the dinner however, knew better than to ask about details of your failed relationship. Tara and Penelope already had the full story, and the others knew you weren't here to share more than you already had. You came to enjoy yourself. So they didn't pry and for that you were eternally grateful.

Especially since one of the reasons why was to make an appearance at the dinner momentarily. And to say you were anxious about seeing him tonight would be an understatement.

The two of you haven't held a conversation that wasn't work related since the night at his apartment door. Every time you got the inclining to talk to him, you were painfully reminded by his words and your heart was in anguish once again. Not that the aching ever went really went away. On most days it hurt to even look at him.

The buzzing office whispers and obvious glances only made matters worse between you and the brunette doctor. It was through such secondary channels Spencer found out about your broken engagement. You had planned to tell him in person, even if things were awkward between you, but you never got the chance. The office chatter beat you to it.

Because of the distance you weren't sure how Spencer felt about the end of your engagement. A part of you thought - rather hoped - he would have changed his mind since you still firmly believed he didn't mean what he said. However, the opposite happened. He seemed more withdrawn than before.

As if that was even possible.

A small smile circled your lips as the brunette doctor entered the dimly lit garden. A smile he noticed immediately from the corner of his eye, while he said hello to everyone else. And although he wasn't looking directly at you, he couldn't help but smile too.

It was a moment you didn't even know you were sharing.

“You should just talk to him.” Penelope nudged your arm, her gaze following yours. “I don't want to make things worse between us.” You replied, your eyes still glued to Spencer's frame.

“Sweetheart, and trust that I say this with love, but it can’t possibly get any worse than it is.” She pointed out.

You chewed down briefly on your bottom lip while she nudged you in the arm again, encouraging you to go to him.

Letting out a deep breath, you downed the rest of your drink. For a brief second Penelope thought she won as she watched you amble in the direction of the handsome doctor. The sly grin on her face quickly disappeared when instead of approaching Spencer, you made a beeline for inside the house.

If you had the courage to talk to him, what would you even say? That you were pathetically in love with him? That despite his pleas, the only man you wanted to be with was him? No, you couldn't admit that. Spencer didn't want you. The pain in your chest was proof enough, he didn't want to be with you.

“Y/N.”

Wiping the lone tear that trailed down your cheek, you did a double take at the sound of your name - the sound of your name coming from his lips.

As soon as your eyes locked with hazel gaze, the air caught in your throat.

“I was hoping we could talk.” Spencer stated calmly, taking a single step towards you.

“We have nothing to talk about, Spencer. You said I should be with Ethan and I broke up with him but that wasn’t because I thought it would change your mind.” You conveyed. A big fat lie.

“That’s not why I want to talk.” Spencer countered, his brows furrowed closely together. “I-I still care about you and I know you’ve been through a lot these last few weeks... I just, I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“You don't have to do this. You don't owe me anything because you feel guilty that my engagement fell apart. And I especially don’t need you worrying about me.” You spat, surprising yourself at the harshness of your tone. It wasn't intentional and you cursed yourself for letting your emotions get the better of you.

Spencer swallowed. His jaw clenching for a brief second. He knew he deserved your anger. He deserved your hostility and the cold shoulder. Honestly, he was surprised it hadn't come sooner. But as he watched you fight back your tears, he knew there was only one way to fix this - apologise.

He crossed the space in your direction, stopping just mere few inches away from you. He lingered in his spot for a moment, wondering whether he should take your hand in his like he did so many times before.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. For everything.” He apologised.

“I know you are.” You whispered back, loud enough for him to hear. “I’m sorry too, Spencer.”

The two of you looked at each other in congenial silence - the first one you shared in a very long time. For a split second. For one blissful pure moment, everything was back to the way it was. He was once again your best friend, your confidant.

The love of your life.

As he stared so deeply into your eyes, into your soul, you were reminded of the many joyful happy memories you shared. Where the good really outweighed the bad. Where it outweighed the heartbreak.

“Friends?” You suggested, the corners of your lips twirled upwards into a tiny kindhearted smile. It wasn't what you wanted but it was the best you could come up with to keep him in your life.

Spencer returned the expression. “Friends.” He replied, although unbeknown to you it was also not what the outcome he hoped for. Not while the voicemail you drunkenly left him continuously replayed in his mind on loop. The message where you admitted you didn't really believe he didn't want to be with you.

“I-I me-an you uh couldn't-t even look me-e in the eye when you sss-said it.... please-e S-Spencer-”

He wanted you to remember the message. Remember the last time you said you loved him. In his eyes, it would make fixing things between you a lot easier.

But he didn't deserve easy. Not after the way he let things unfold.

You stepped forward, breaking the distance between you. Slowly, with your eyes still fixated on his, you reached out your hand and placed it gently on his forearm. At your touch, Spencer’s heart landed in his throat. You gave his arm a squeeze and said ‘I’ll see you back in there.’, and although he saw the sentence escape your lips, he didn't quite register it. He couldn't think straight. His mind was boggled.

The amiable look in your eyes was captivating and Spencer wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around you. Hold you tight.

He wanted nothing more than to kiss you. Kiss you with all his might. Kiss you like he’s never done before. Kiss you like he would for the rest of your lives together.

There was nothing holding him back anymore, nothing standing between the two of you, and yet the brunette doctor couldn't move.

When he didn't say anything, you dropped your hand and walked around him. He turned, simultaneously following you with his lost gaze. Trying to decipher what was going through your head. Did you also want to kiss him? Spencer settled for never finding out.

With one last smile, you disappeared back into the garden leaving him alone.

Frustrated with himself, Spencer ran a hand through his hair and let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding. The small box he’d been carrying around everywhere these last few weeks in the inside pocket of his jacket weighing him down. The ring he’d never get to give you.

Fuck, he should have kissed you.

Still I'll always be there for you How I do

A/N: as always i’d love to hear your feedback! if you would like to be added to a taglist, please let me know. thank you for your continuous support. with love, mal. x

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story taglist: @girloncorneliastreet, @haylaansmi, @rexorangecouny, @l0ve-0f-my-life, @obsssedwithjustaboutanything, @aperrywilliams, @sassy-hades, @rainsong01, @reverdevivre, @dracomikaelson, @softieekayy, @lunaofcrows, @andrewhoezierbyrne, @blameitonthenight21, @lyl-26, @do-yr-research, @nazifa94, @stepsofthefbi, @chatterbug2-0, @calm-and-doctor, @halseysunset, @ellesgreenaway

spencer reid taglist: @no-honey-no, @calm-and-doctor, @idroppedmygourd, @averyhotchner, @wowitsel, @elldell1204, @hey-there-angels, @reidabookforonce

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid series #spencer reid story #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #champagne problems series

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sodamnbored · 3 years

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I so badly want a Roman prequel series. More than a Solangelo book. There could be so many great things in it.

Ideally, we’d get a series, basically original PJO but on the Roman side, presumably then following Jason in the same way we originally followed Percy.

But that would just be rehashing what we’ve already seen! Jason’s story would be too similar to Percy’s! - I hear you cry. But bear with me.

Yes: there would be some big similarities - following a son of one of the big three as he grows up and masters his powers and all that. And yes it would also conclude with him fighting a titan. But! I also think they’re different enough that it would read more as parallels than just copy and paste. It could be really interesting.

For one thing: Jason is starting way earlier than Percy. And I am desperate to know about the wolves thing. Correct me if I’m wrong, but all the info we have thus far is pretty vague, no? We know he went to the wolves when he was about two years old. But we don’t really know how long he stayed with them.

There’s the idea that he was raised by wolves (which don’t get me wrong I love that) and only went to the Legion when he was older - for parallels sake say about twelve. But we don’t know that’s the case for sure. He might’ve just spent the more or less normal time period with the wolves, or even if he were there longer than most - a year, two years even - he might’ve toddled off to camp still pretty young.

Cause this is another thing: we know very little about Camp Jupiter. In CHB you see for a fact that there are plenty of young demigods there, talking ten and under. Unless I’m mistaken, we never really heard mention of any little kids in the Legion right? Hazel was what, thirteen, in SoN, which is fairly young, but I don’t think there was any mention of anyone much younger than that. There was the little girl helping Terminus, but she was from New Rome not the Legion. And the Legion isn’t a summer camp of course, that’s a crucial difference.

They are quite literally an army, preparing for war should one ever arise. So do they have a minimum age requirement? Would not be unreasonable to assume they would. We know the majority of Legionaries are legacies from New Rome as opposed to actual half bloods, so it’s not unreasonable to think these kids live normal lives in New Rome until they hit a certain age and get conscripted/have the option to join the Legion for training.

If this is the case, then Jason might not’ve been with the wolves for years at all. He could’ve done his time and then been passed along to the care of New Rome. Set up somewhere to go to school and grow up and have something of a life to prepare him for his future in the Legion. That would be an interesting difference from Percy who had grown up not knowing about his heritage, for Jason to be fully aware of his godly parentage and to grow up knowing he was heading to the Legion as soon as he was old enough. I’m not sure about timings because in The Lost Hero pretty sure he’s fifteen and has twelve lines on his tattoo “for twelve years of service in the Legion” according to the wiki; but the wiki for the tattoos alone says the lines can be for years at Camp Jupiter or for completed quests and such, so it could mean he was toddling about CJ at three years old in mini Legionnaire armour like Caligula (oh the irony), or just that he crammed a crap load of cool stuff into just a few years when he was older.

So the series could quite happily start with him joining the Legion and maybe just summarise his life before that, have the important parts explained as relevant to the plot, I dunno. But it would give us more info on how Camp Jupiter actually works because personally I am clamouring for more info on the Romans.

Presuming that Jason is at least a Probatio by the time he’s about twelve (and it’d be cool to see him earn his full place in the legion too), that also means we’d get to see other people’s stories happening alongside his.

We know he fought the Trojan Sea Monster at some point, so that would be a cool quest to see play out. We don’t know a lot of other things he’s done, but we can assume he’d have been in the Legion when Reyna turned up, which would also be a really interesting story to follow.

We know from tSoM that Reyna and Hylla were on Circe’s island, when Percy was about 12/13, and it seems in SoN that he and Reyna were both around the same age, 16 or so. We know Reyna and Hylla spent some time after tSoM on Blackbeard’s ship before she made it to Camp Jupiter. So somewhere between ages 12-16, she would pop up at camp and I firmly believe she would’ve been Jason’s friend before they both became Praetors. And I would kill to see it. I wanna see them go on a quest together so badly. They would be an awesome team.

But we’d get to see Jason go through the steps, Probatio to Centurion to Praetor. We’d see him improving the Fifth Cohort’s standing in the Legion. We’d see Reyna become Praetor. (We’d ideally see Jason and Octavian gently bitch at each other like with Percy, but that’s just for me.) We’d get to see Jason and Reyna being Praetors together for a bit hopefully. That would be cool. And no doubt the series would conclude with their side of the Titan War, with Krios’ defeat - which would be so cool to see!

Being able to see more of their side of the war would also be really interesting as well. Because surely, there was more to it for them than just that one battle out of nowhere right? They must’ve been aware of the war and enlisted by the gods to help out right? Maybe there were some other titans for them to fight, maybe they had defectors too? Perhaps they were under the impression Kronos was still chopped up in little bits and Krios was running the show, either wanting to take Kronos’ place as the big cheese, or thinking the titans were working to reform Kronos, but they were kept out of Luke’s side of things so they didn’t realise that he already had been? Who knows. Certainly not me, cause we don’t have any books on it.

And there would be opportunities to have almost crossovers. Particularly regarding the war. They might just overhear things that don’t necessarily make sense to them but that we get, stuff like that. See some aftermath from one of Percy’s visits to the area. So many options.

Oh also actually, just for added angst and a different view than Percy’s, there was that freaking tragic bit in HoH I think where Jason thinks about his mother. The part about following orders and rules bothered him, but he insisted on doing so and keeping his promises because his mother had abandoned him and broken her promise. That would be an interesting aspect for the narration and his point of view because it’s the exact opposite of Percy. Percy doesn’t mind pushing the limits with the gods and exploiting loopholes or calling them on their faults, focused on surviving till the end of the day when he can go home to his mother and forget the gods and their stupid rules. Jason, on the other hand, doesn’t have anywhere to go back to. Camp Jupiter and the roles he’s given there are quite literally it for him, so even though he may resent it as much as Percy, he feels the need to bite his tongue and do everything in his power meet expectations and stay in line, etc. And yes, it’s for the benefit of others like he said in HoH, but maybe also the threat that if he makes too much trouble, where else is he gonna go and who else outside the Legion does he have?

Unfortunately we wouldn’t get to see Frank and Hazel come into it as newbies because that would’ve only happened after the war, so unlikely the series would continue after they beat Krios. But it’d still be a good set up to lead back into HoO alongside original PJO.

Also, I wanna know if Jason would’ve been particularly aware of his dad handing him off to Juno, or if she took a back seat until yoinking his memories out his head and dumping him on a dusty bus. I quite like the idea of him knowing, that she wouldn’t have been shy about popping up now and again as his patron, maybe sending him quests, offering occasional assistance like Poseidon did for Percy. Juno cared about her little champion, you can’t tell me different. I’d like to see her drop by from time to time. Or if he just accepted he was Jupiter’s and his dad basically never wanted to talk to him, and was a bit blindsided when Juno popped up after his hit on Krios.

Maybe he was just heading to bed after a long day of Titan slaying, thinking what he’d have for breakfast tomorrow and poof - Juno staring at him in his PJs, doesn’t he feel underdressed. Barely gets out an “um-?” before she’s like “got a quest for you. Surprise!”

(Since we got The Fall Of Jason Grace from Apollo in ToA, this series could be called something silly like The Rise Of Jason Grace to mirror it. I dunno.)

Either way, I need this. We deserve this. I will literally pay like 20$ per book if we could get this.

Wrote this hella sleep deprived and without sources and I’m still in ToA and haven’t read the extra books yet like demigod files and the Probatio one, so anything I’ve missed, had been answered, or is just plain wrong, let me know.

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fanmoose12 · 4 years

Text

Partners

Characters: Petra Ral, Levi, Hanji Zoe x Levi Genre: Action / Mystery / Romance Rating: T

Detective!au

Summary: when Petra was promoted to a detective and partnered up with legendary Levi Ackerman, she felt like the happiest person in the world.

But, as she soon found out, detective Ackerman she used to admire so much was actually a far cry from the ideal policeman Petra thought he was. He was rude, harsh and easily annoyed. And, in addition, he still hadn’t moved on from the death of his previous partner - detective Hange Zoe.

Chapter 3/?

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

“Fuck,” Levi groaned, tightly gripping the steering wheel and looking up at the sky through the windshield. “The sun is almost up. We’ll need to be back at the precinct soon,” he glanced at Petra. “Do you still want me to take you home? Or we can have breakfast. There is a nice café nearby.”

Petra smiled. “Breakfast sounds good. Right now I need coffee more than a shower.”

Levi nodded, and without another word, speeded up the car.

A few minutes later they arrived to a small, cozy-looking café near the side of the road. It was painted in pretty pastel colors. Petra looked around in surprise, she would never guess that Levi preferred such home-looking establishments. It looked too personal for the grumpy detective.

As soon as they entered, a middle-aged woman with a warm, motherly smile came out to greet them. Her eyes widened, as they landed on Levi.

“Detective Ackerman!” she clasped her hands, looking utterly delighted. “It was so long since I’ve seen you! When was the last time that you and your partner have graced my café with your presence?”

“Two years ago,” Levi mumbled, avoiding the woman’s gaze. “And I don’t want to talk about it. I just want my damn breakfast.”

“Oh,” the woman’s face fell, as she looked at Petra. “I… I see. Alright, hon, do you want the usual tea and omelet?”

“If you would be so kind,” Levi agreed, taking a seat at the table near the window.

“Sure,” the woman gave him a smile. It was a sad and sympathetic one. “And you, my dear?” she turned to Petra. “What do you want?”

“An espresso and a toast would be great.”

“I’ll bring your order in a moment,” the woman stared at Levi for another second, and then turned around, disappearing into the kitchen.

“So you came here often?” Petra asked softly, trying to ease the tense atmosphere.

“I said that I don’t want to talk about it,” Levi turned his glare on her. However, before Petra opened her mouth to apologize, he sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. "Let's just... Let's just talk about the case, alright?" he asked, looking up at her beneath his fridge.

"S-sure," Petra nodded, all too eager to change the topic of conversation.

In that moment, their orders were brought and put on a table in front of them. Petra smiled gratefully and Levi gave the woman a curt nod, taking a sip from his cup.

"What we know is this," Levi began, taking out a small notebook out of the inner pocket of his deep blue jacket. "A woman was killed in her apartment. Her throat was slashed."

"The apartment was very clean," Petra whispered absentmindedly.

"Huh? What did you say?"

She fidgeted in her seat, feeling shy and unsure. What if she says the wrong say? What if she makes an idiot out of herself? But when she gathered enough courage to glance up at Levi, he was looking at her with interest. Petra straightened out. "Her throat was slashed," she repeated his words. "But there was no blood. The killer obviously tried to make it look as clean as possible."

"Hm, maybe, you're right, good job," he said. Just a few words, but it made Petra's heart beat so much faster. "Also, no signs of forced entry or fighting were found."

"Maybe, she knew the killer?" Petra offered.

"Maybe," Levi agreed. "That bastard always knew how to be charming."

"Are... Are you talking about Zeke Yeager?"

Levi gave her a sharp look. "It's not nice to eavesdrop. Especially, if you want to build a trusting relationship with your partner."

Petra's cheeks flamed up. "I'm sorry! I didn't really mean to, but—"

"But you were curious," Levi finished for her. "Well, a good detective should always be curious. So I guess the least I can do is to satisfy your curiosity."

"You don't have to!"

"No, I do," Levi protested softly, but firmly. "I've been a real jerk to you. And, while I'm really not a nice guy, you didn't deserve all that shit I've dumped on you. If we're going to be partners, we need to learn to trust each other. And trust is impossible, when there are secrets. But before I tell you anything, I have one question: do you know Djel Sannes?”

“Who?” Petra’s brows furrowed in confusion.

“Deputy police chief?” Levi’s eyes narrowed, as he carefully surveyed Petra’s face. “You don’t know him?”

“Er, sorry,” Petra chuckled, taking a sip of her espresso. “I’ve been a police technician for too long. I’m not really knowledgeable about all the higher-ups.”

“Hm,” Levi’s gaze lingered on her for another second. “It seems like you’re telling the truth. So it’s time for me to do the same," he turned his head to the side, staring at the window. He looked as calm as ever, but his hand was holding the cup so tightly, Petra worried he might break it. "As you probably know, Zeke was a notorious criminal. He was real bastard, who was not afraid to dirty his hands. Drug smuggling, kidnapping, murder - he was ready to do anything. Hange and I have been tracking him for months. Finally, we’ve managed to locate his hideout. As soon as we did, we started planning an ambush. Two weeks later and we were ready to capture Zeke. We arrived at the location, the building was huge, so we split up,” Levi let out a barely audible sigh. “Several minutes later, the explosion rang. It was a real fucking mess - the whole right wing of the hideout collapsed, there was fire and smoke all around. I tried to get there as soon as I could, but, no matter how hard I looked and how many broken slabs I’ve overturned, I couldn’t find even the sign of their bodies under all that mess. Only a few days later, forensics team found bits of Hange and Zeke’s DNA. But it was all they managed to retract.”

Despite, the horrible events he recounted, Levi’s voice was devoid of all emotions. His face was just as expressionless. Petra wasn’t sure if she should be amazed by his self-control or worried for his mental state. She decided to do neither, and instead followed Levi’s example and acted like as professional.

“You think Zeke had survived the explosion?”

“Erwin says it’s impossible,” Levi replied, expertly avoiding giving her a straight answer. “Says that DNA, found on the scene, had confirmed their deaths.”

Their? So Levi didn’t believe in Hange Zoe’s death as well? Petra remembered a desk in their office that looked as though it was waiting for its owner, even after two years. Was he really still expecting her to come back? Petra shook her head, she was losing focus again.

“You don’t believe the forensics team?”

“Zeke knew that we were coming for him. He planted the explosives beforehand,” he said. “Someone tipped him off, I’m sure of it.”

Petra’s eyes widened. Levi couldn’t be serious, right? “You think someone in police was involved with him?”

“I don’t have evidence,” Levi lifted the cup to his lips. “Yet,” he added with an intense look in his eyes. He shook his head and it was gone. “Now let’s deal with our breakfast, before it gets cold.”

***

As they were finishing their meals, Levi’s phone started ringing. He took it out and glanced at the screen. Sighing, he accepted the call.

“Yes, Erwin?” he asked, taking the last sip of his tea. For a few seconds, he listened to whatever was said on the other line. Petra watched him with interest. “Alright, we’ll be there soon.”

“Let’s go,” he told Petra after putting the phone back inside his pocket and paying for their breakfast. “They found a witness.”

***

Levi and Petra were making their way through the precinct, heading towards the interrogation room. As they were passing through a coffee machine, Moblit caught up with them.

"Detectives," he greeted them with a smile. "The autopsy report is finished," he handed the file to Levi, who accepted it with a murmured 'thanks'.

"Did you find something?" Petra asked, cocking her head.

"Yes," Moblit nodded with a grim face, all signs of the warmth gone from his expression. "We found traces of drug in victim's blood. Strong sedative, given to her three or four hours before her death."

"Shit," Levi whispered with feeling.

“And that’s not all,” Moblit tugged at his collar, looking tense and uncomfortable. Desperately trying to avoid looking Levi in the eyes.

“What else did you find?” Levi asked in a strangled voice. He probably already guessed what Moblit was going to say next, because he lowered his head. The black locks obscured his face completely.

“We ran a few tests on… the glasses that we found,” Moblit paused, clearing his throat. “We can’t really tell how old the blood on the lenses is, but… It definitely belongs to detective Hange.”

“Shit,” Levi clutched the hands on his side into fists. Petra wished she could look at his face, but she knew she wouldn’t like what she’d see there.

“Well, since I’ve delivered you the report,” Moblit chuckled, the sound fake and forced. “I… I’ll be going!”

"Wait," Levi grabbed him by the sleeve. "About yesterday, I sh—"

"It's fine, Detective," a sweet smile was back on Moblit's face. "It was a rather stressful situation for you. I understand it and harbor no ill feelings. Oh, and by the way, stop by our department, when you won't be so busy. I've got something that probably should belong to you."

"I..." Levi stared at him for a moment, his grey eyes reflecting a storm of unnamed feelings. But once again, he blinked and it was gone. "Thank you, Moblit," he said sincerely. "I'll come as soon as possible."

"Remember, Detective, our department has the best collection of tea," Moblit gently teased. "And Petra," he turned his hazel eyes at her. "Nifa brought delicious cupcakes today."

Petra chuckled, a warm feeling spreading through her. Moblit was always so nice, it was impossible not to like him. "I'll try to visit you as well."

"We'll be waiting then!" Moblit waved his hand and turned around, disappearing into the crowd of other policemen.

"You're getting friendly with Moblit," Levi commented, as they continued to walk.

Petra glanced at him. Levi's face was always so expressionless, his voice so neutral, it was hard to understand what he meant by his words. Was he disapproving? Or was it a simple observation?

"Well, he seems like a nice guy, so..." she trailed off, smiling impishly at Levi.

"He is a good man," Levi agreed. "Most members of forensic team are," he added. "They are trustworthy and honest. If you have any trouble, and you can't reach me or Erwin, they're your safest bet."

Levi was silent after that, but his words rang loudly in Petra's mind. It was the second time this day that Levi hinted about his lack of trust in police. Could it be that he was right? That there were traitors among their ranks who worked with the criminals? Or was it just a speculation of a man, who didn't know who to blame for the death of one woman? Who still wasn't able to accept that she was gone?

"Are you ready?" Levi asked, breaking Petra out of her thoughts. He stopped in front of big, metal doors.

Right, the interrogation room. They came here to question a witness.

"Sure," she smiled, hoping that her voice didn't quiver too much. "Shall we?"

Levi nodded, opening the door and letting Petra go in first.

Inside the small, dark room stood only a table and a couple of chairs. On one side of the table sat a young man, probably in his mid-twenties. He had light brown hair and a long face with narrow dark eyes. Petra and Levi sat down on the opposite side.

"I'm detective Ackerman and this is detective Ral," Levi said, before Petra could open her mouth. She couldn't help but feel disappointed that she wasn't the one to introduce them. She had rehearsed that line for so long...

"…Your name and occupation,” Levi asked the witness. He took out a pen and opened his notebook. Then he lifted his eyes, focusing his gaze on the man in front of him.

"Jean Kirschtein," his overly straight posture made it obvious that he was trying very hard not to squirm under Levi’s intense stare. Petra would have laughed, if she didn’t feel the same every time Levi turned his piercing eyes on her. “I’m a concierge at the apartment complex, where… that woman was killed.”

“That woman?” Levi raised an eyebrow. “So you didn’t know her?”

“I mean…” Jean ruffled his hair. “We’ve never really talked? She waved at me sometimes as she was passing by and sometimes she came up to my desk, so she could take her letters or deliveries, but that’s about it.”

“How long have you been working as a concierge there?”

“Um,” Jean raised his head, looking at the ceiling with pursed lips. “It’s already been three years, I think? By the way,” he leaned in, looking at Levi intently. “You look familiar. Did you use to live in that apartment complex, detective?”

“No,” Levi answered immediately. Maybe, it was Petra’s imagination, but he sounded rougher than usual. She looked at his face closely.

“Are you sure?” Jean pressed. “I’ve definitely seen you before.”

“I’m on a TV a lot,” Levi glared at Jean, daring him to say something else.

Levi sounded annoyed, and even more than that, disturbed? Was Jean really mistaken, or did Levi really live there? If so, then why deny it, and so fiercely? Maybe, he was not living there alone, maybe he shared the apartment with—

Oh. That made sense.

“When we got to the scene of the crime yesterday,” Petra softly began, diverting Jean’s attention from Levi. “Your post was empty. Why?”

“Ah, yes,” Jean scratched his neck, a slight blush suddenly appearing on his cheeks. “I, um, I had a date yesterday, so I left earlier.”

“How much earlier? When does your shift end?”

The blush on Jean’s cheek became more prominent. “At six in the morning. But I’ve left… a little after eleven.”

“You just left?” Levi scoffed, siting back in a chair. “Why am I not surprised?”

“It was an important date!” Jean threw his hands in the air. “And that jerk Eren refused to cover for me, because I was going out with his sister!”

Levi pinched the bridge of his nose, gritting his teeth in annoyance. "I didn't come here to ask about your personal life. Did you see the killer or not?"

"Of course, I've seen him! Why else would I come here?"

"Alright," Petra said placatingly. "Did you see him enter and exit?"

"Eh, no," Jean scratched his chin. "Only enter."

"And you left the post at eleven?" Levi opened the autopsy report. "It says that time of death is somewhere between ten pm and midnight. But if you didn't see him leave..."

"Then the death happened after eleven," Petra concluded.

"Yes," Levi nodded. "That or he left some other way. Is there any security camera in the hallway?"

“There is, but they’ve been malfunctioning for more than a month, so…”

Levi cursed.

"Have you seen that man before?" Petra asked, remembering that the victim probably knew the killer.

Jean shook his head. "No, I haven't. I have a good face memory," his eyes darted to Levi for a second. "But I definitely haven't seen that man before. That's why he attracted my attention in the first place, actually. I mean, I wouldn't have called that woman completely antisocial, she lived with a roommate after all, but... She had never brought someone home, that's why I got so intrigued."

“When did they enter the building?”

“Just a little after seven,” Jean answered.

Levi made a small note.

"And did you get a good look on his face?"

"Mm, yes," Jean nodded. Petra opened her notebook and prepared to write down every detail. However, Levi didn't do the same and just continued to watch Jean with bored expression, as though he already knew what he was going to say. "He was tall, probably close to my height. Not exactly muscular, but his shoulders were wide. He wore dark jeans and light, long coat. He had slight stubble on his face and his hair was dark and curly."

"Bullshit," Levi said quietly, but fiercely.

"What?" Petra and Jean asked in unison, both turning to stare at Levi in confusion.

"You're lying," Levi calmly elaborated.

"No, I'm not," Jean protested.

"Yes, you're."

"I'm not!" Jean jumped from his seat. "I know what I've seen!"

"What you've seen is wrong." Levi answered in a cold, angry voice. "And if you aren't lying," he slowly rose up, coming to stand close to Jean. Too close. He grabbed his tie, pulling Jean down to his level. Levi was so much shorter than him, but Jean’s face paled as he looked at Levi’s murderous expression. “Then you’re covering for him. Are you, Mr. Kirschtein?”

“Did he pay you? Did he pay you to come here and spout these lies?” Levi wasn’t letting him go and Jean was already getting pale in the face, desperately trying to free himself from the Levi’s steel hold.

Petra knew she had to do something, she had to intervene, she couldn’t just let Levi manhandle their witness like that. She was frozen with indecisiveness and uncertainty up until— Up until she saw the panic in Jean’s eyes.

This wasn’t like it was supposed to go. They shouldn’t act like that. They were meant to help people, not harass and manhandle them.

“Levi,” she called, at first gentle and quiet.

He didn’t hear her.

“Levi,” she pressed, more insisted this time.

Still no reaction.

“Detective Ackerman!” she shouted, getting to her feet and throwing Levi off Jean.

He looked at her then, dazed and confused. Slowly, he turned to Jean, the realization of what he had done reflecting in his eyes.

“My behavior was extremely improper,” Levi said, carefully pronouncing each syllable. “I lost my cool and I… apologize. Detective Ral,” his eyes darted back to her. “Finish this by yourself, please. There is something else I need to oversee.”

Then, after quickly fixing his jacket and shirt, Levi left the room, looking serious and composed. Petra once again marveled at his ability to put on the mask of indifference.

A silence settled over interrogation room. Petra kept nervously glancing at Jean, not really knowing what to do.

“He’s going through some stuff, isn’t he?” Jean chuckled, awkwardly rubbing his neck.

Petra smiled, eternally grateful to Jean for easing the atmosphere. “That’s one way to put it,” she answered, sitting down.

“I guess he already has a suspect?” Jean sat down opposite her.

Petra nodded in affirmative.

“And I guess he doesn’t match my description.”

“Precisely,” Petra sighed. “He suspects a guy who has been dead for two years, so… it’s no wonder that the description doesn’t match.”

Jean whistled. “I was correct then. He’s going through a lot.”

“He’s not a bad person,” Petra said, fiddling with her notebook. “Just a really sad one.”

“Yeah, I get it,” Jean ruffled his hair. “But… you do believe me, right?” he asked, looking at her beneath his fringe.

“Of course,” Petra gave him a reassuring smile. “I think that’s all we needed to discuss. You can go.”

“Alright,” Jean got up, stretching his feet. “If you need me for a follow-up questioning or something…”

“We’ll contact you, don’t worry,” Petra replied, opening the door and walking into the corridor. Jean followed after her. “Thank you for your time. And please forgive my partner for…”

“Manhandling me?” Jean grinned. “It’s alright. He clearly didn’t mean it, I understand. I’ve done worse things when angry. I hope you catch your guy… and I hope your partner gets the closure he needs.”

“Thank you again. Do you need me to walk you out?”

“No, I know the way,” Jean winked at her. “It’s not my first time at the police precinct. And I’m not even handcuffed this time!” he laughed merrily. “Goodbye and good luck!” he saluted to her and then walked away.

As Petra watched him go, she understood one important thing.

She could kill for a cup of coffee.

#jean cameo!!!!!!!#the next chapter will be filled with some plot stuff again #but the next after that would be more exciting!#but i also don't know when i'll continue cause i'm feeling pretty meh rn #anyway hope you're still enjoying it!#snk #levihan #levihan fanfiction #levi ackerman #petra ral #moblit berner #levi x hange

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levisnackajack · 3 years

Text

The Wrath of War

Chapter Twenty

A few days later, Eden was officially free of being barred away in the medical quarters.

Hurriedly, she gathered her things and practically sprinted back to her bedroom before wrapping herself up in her harness, uniform and boots. She felt so elated, as though a heavy weight had been lifted off her chest as soon as the nurse graced her with the green light.

Now, the only thing that was properly on Eden’s mind was the Levi’s last words to her.

I guess it is, brat.

His words had carved themselves deep into her bones; as well as finding shelter in the darkest, most hidden place in her brain. She couldn’t stop thinking about him; scheming of ways to beat him at his own hot and cold game.

Jean was more than happy to assist her with her games. Although she had never asked him for help, Jean would almost always find a way to flirt with her. It was just their way of communication- light, innocent and incredibly refreshing. He’d throw his arm over her shoulder lazily after training or lean against her side whilst they ate.

Eden found herself laughing harder, talking louder and becoming more buoyant around Jean when the Captain was around. The atmosphere automatically grew bleaker when the intimidating man entered the room. He didn’t mean for that to happen, merely focusing on his cup of tea or the paperwork in his hand, but the daunting aura followed him everywhere.

It put the raven-haired girl on edge every time she could sense him close by. Their eyes would meet over Jean’s shoulder when he’d walk into the dining area and Eden would automatically bat her eyelashes at her comrade; sending him the toothiest of grins that made her plump lips stretch widely, and eyes crinkle.

She’d never miss the chance to catch the way Levi’s jaw would clench tightly, stormy eyes twitching in irritation as the grip on his teacup would visibly grow stronger.

It made her thrive.

When Levi had the chance, he’d be ruthless with Eden; making her run more laps than the others because he ‘wasn’t satisfied with her running’. His scowl would grow deeper when she’d flicker her eyes to Jean in front of him, a devious smile painted across her face.

That made the Captain grab her by the arm and shove her away from the rest of the Squad, barking at her to continue running laps until the sun went down.

Then one warm, sunny afternoon, Eden and her comrades were training outside, beside the wall of giant trees and buzzing bees.

Levi was busy speaking to Hange as Eren trotted behind them sulkily, sending Eden a playful smirk when she caught her childhood best friend’s eyes.

“Are you tired? Want me to carry you back to the medical quarters?” Jean’s deep voice mocked her as they stood opposite each other. Eden’s eyes snapped back to him, arching a brow.

“Stop trying to make up excuses for not sparring with me, Jeanie-boy. If you’re not up for a spar session; all you need to do is beg me to go train with someone else,” she retorted, folding her arms across her chest.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world, darling. I promise to go easy on you,” Jean sneered back at her, rolling the cuffs of his white shirt up to his elbows as he settled his body in the first fighting stance.

She mirror him, pouting her lip as her hands balled into fists, stretching them outwards.

“My hero, let’s see what you’ve got for me,” she said smoothly, charging at him without a second’s notice.

He recoiled quickly, shifting his body out of the way as her fist swung at him. Raising his own fist towards her, Eden grunted as his knuckles nearly collided with her jaw. She captured his wrist, twisting it in an awkward way, kneeing him in the gut.

He swore under his breath, smirking mischievously at the sight of Eden growing angrier; her erratic moves quick and choppy.

“Feisty. I like it,” the boy muttered when Eden sent another punch towards his face. She caught him in the chin; ducking hurriedly when he stepped to the side, attempting to elbow her away from him.

Suddenly, she let out a squeak when he grabbed her by the waist, slamming her down onto the ground.

“Jeez,” she groaned, letting go of a shrill giggle when his fingers brushed against her side. “What the hell? That’s not fair...Jean...-” Eden shook with laughter as his fingers ghosted over her tickle spots. He fell to his knees as he attacked her ruthlessly, watching her try her best to squirm away in between heavy gasps for air.

Eden was an extremely ticklish person. Her reflex was so bad to the point of her growing violent if someone touched her sides, just below her ribs and against the curve of her slim waist.

Her palms pressed against his chest as she tried shoving him off of her; but her attempts were for nothing. Sighs of pleading echoed out of her, hazel eyes filling with tears as he continued pushing her, a wicked, victorious smirk masking his handsome features.

“Don’t you dare ever say I’ve never won against you,” Jean growled at her, unable to suppress the lopsided smile that stretched across his face when Eden began nodding fervently.

“Sure, no problem, I promise. I...-”

“Oi, idiots.”

Her blood turned into ice as Jean froze above her. He quickly scurried to his feet, saluting the approaching man firmly.

Eden lay on the ground, shaking; eyes wide as she tried her best to purse her lips and completely conceal the grin threatening to contort her face.

The sun grew covered by Levi as he loomed over her, scorching eyes blazing down at her. She swallowed thickly as she moved to sit up. Thankfully, her Captain was a gentleman, and he decided to assist her with that by grabbing her by the collar and pulling her up to her feet.

Her hands shot up to catch his wrist; but he shook her forcefully, his chiseled jaw defined by the muscles tightly clenching underneath.

“This is why you nearly got yourself killed, you dumbass,” he seethed at her, brows furrowed deeply as Eden continued trying to free her collar from his iron grip.

“Captain, it was my fault too...-” Jean began urgently, snapping his mouth shut when the Captain’s glare settled on him.

“Shut it. You weren’t the one who spent nearly a month bedridden, straw-head,” Levi retaliated in a lethal tone, his words dripping with poison. Shifting his glare back to Eden, he ended the training session for the rest of the Squad and ordered for them all to head back to base and clean their quarters.

“I didn’t tell you to go, brat,” he barked at her when she tried stepping away once more.

He let go of her abruptly, causing her to lose her balance for a split second before recollecting herself.

“Captain,” she began, her words halting their path on her tongue when he held his hand up.

“According to the nurse, you’re fit enough to handle a real fight. Let’s see if you’ve forgotten what you’ve learnt,” he quipped, craning his neck before holding her gaze for a long moment.

Eden stared at him in shock, her heart racing avidly as she stepped towards him.

“I bet you missed beating me up,” she replied, raising her fists at him.

He scoffed under his breath, swinging his arm towards her harshly as he spoke flatly. “Trust me when I tell you I could care less about your injuries, Eden. I can do what I want, whenever I want.”

She dodged him quickly, twisting her body effortlessly until her back collided with his chest. “I find that hard to believe, sir.” The bone of her elbow caught Levi in the ribs.

Eden didn’t know whether it was her retort that had affected him or the unexpected move; but Levi visibly grew angrier. He grabbed her by the hair and threw her against the tree bark beside them. The wood grazed her cheek and she winced; knowing better than to thrash when he kicked the spot behind her knee.

Her knees buckled and she fell to the ground, her bones cracking as they met the hard floor with a thud. Pulling her by the hair once more, Levi craned her head until her face was looking up at his whilst he towered over her menacingly.

“Watch your mouth, brat,” he snarled at her, ignoring the way she hissed when his fingers stiffly laced with her locks in a harsher manner. She couldn’t do anything but look into his blown-out, steel pupils. Yet, both of them had no knowledge of the tall individual who stood far away from the scene; watching them intently- cerulean eyes glinting as a smirk formed on his lips.

With a tight nod to himself, a level-headed Commander Erwin watched as the pair sparred, undoubtedly sensing the intensity of each calculated move from afar. The tension made him affirm to himself that they would be the most suitable team for the new mission sealed in his mind.

Gripping her collar once more, Levi shoved her to the ground before wiping his hands with the small handkerchief hidden in the pocket of his uniform at all times.

“Get up. I want you to go clean the bathrooms. If you have the energy to mess around, I’m sure you can spend a good hour hunched over those grimy toilets.” He blinked down at Eden as she pulled herself to her feet; caught a little aback at the fabricated smile that plastered itself onto her face.

“It would be my pleasure, sir,” she chirped back at him in a spiteful way; sauntering away rapidly in fear that he’ll pull her back and punch her in the face.

She swore under her breath when she heard the door of the restroom swing open.

“I literally just started. I hope you didn’t come to inspect my cleaning just yet...Sasha? Connie? What are you doing here?” Eden blinked at the duo who had walked in sneakily, twisted grins splayed over their faces as they both gripped some sort of cleaning supply.

“Nonsense, Eden. We came to help you out!”

“Ain’t no way we’ll let you clean on your own when you’ve just healed,” Connie retorted, heading towards the bottle of antibacterial cleaner. Sasha sprayed the mirrors with glass cleaner liquid, winking at Eden, affirming what the boy had just stated.

Eden felt her insides warm up. “Thanks, you guys. I truly appreciate it. Can’t say the Captain will commemorate your actions with a medal though.”

“Yeah yeah,” Sasha rolled her eyes at the girl’s words. “We know that! But, that’s only if he knows we’ve been here. Trust me, Connie and I are super good at remaining undercover. Don’t worry about anything but removing those icky stains from the floor, ewww.”

They chattered as they cleaned rapidly, each individual focusing on a different area. Eden laughed when she found out that her friends had watched her spar with Levi; feeling a little proud that Sasha had decided to bet on her that she’d win this one. She kicked Connie’s boot when she realized that he had bet on the Captain.

“You can’t blame me. I won in the end. Now Sasha owes me her weekly fruit snack.”

Sasha concealed the grin from the oblivious boy, directing it only towards a set of warm, hazel eyes. “Allegedly. I just said I’ll consider giving him my fruit snack if I see that the Captain was being too harsh on you.”

Their conversation came to a halt when the sound of boots resonated around them.

Three pairs of wide eyes searched each other’s faces for an answer on what the hell they should do.

“The cubicles,” Eden hissed through her teeth, shoving each comrade in a separate stall. The front door swung open viciously just as Eden managed to close the second stall’s door shut. She leaned against the wood, pretending to be taking a break when Levi’s glare settled against her face.

She cleared her throat awkwardly, tapping her palm against the door as she pushed herself off it. “Hello there, Captain. I didn’t expect to see you so soon.”

Levi didn’t respond. His steady stare lingered over the spotless floor, the sanitized sink and the shiny mirrors. He then sharply turned to frown at her.

“Quit playing, Eden. Who helped you clean the restrooms?”

Silence settled around them as Eden’s brain racked with excuses. Her eyes widened and she feigned offence. “No one? You told me to come clean the bathrooms and that’s exactly what I did.”

He paused, scrunching his nose at her words. “I didn’t take you for a liar. There’s absolutely no way you managed to clean everything in fifteen minutes.”

Eden’s brows furrowed as she tipped her chin towards him. “I guess you need to stop underestimating me, Captain. Maybe I’m just full of surprises.”

Levi let go of a breathy huff, shaking his head ever so slightly as he turned to the side; still standing stationary at the threshold. “Come with me. Commander Erwin wants to speak with us.”

Curiosity seeped through her as she quirked a brow in his direction. “Oh?”

Letting out an exasperated sigh, he titled his head towards the hallway. “We don’t have all day for you to process my words. I can write everything down for you later. Let’s go.”

“I’ll meet you there. Let me just put everything away...-”

“Did I ask you? I said come on,” he impatiently threw at her, watching with a dark glint in his eyes as she trotted towards him wordlessly. It was as if she could sense Connie and Sasha’s impending laughter and she wished she’d just linger around a little longer.

Walking past the threshold, Levi drearily matched her pace before placing a hand on the small of her back; guiding her towards his office in a bored, aloof manner.

Eden’s face remained emotionless; but her insides grew heated up as she couldn’t focus on anything but the firm press of his hand against the thinly concealed skin. The sound of cackles and giggles echoed through the hallway a moment after the pair had disappeared towards Levi's office.

“I’m sorry Commander, I’d just love some confirmation. So, you want me to accompany Captain Levi to retrieve an undisclosed report regarding ancient titan findings for Hange from the Trost District?” Eden repeated what the Commander had previously just reiterated, making Levi pinch the bridge of his nose in irritation.

“That’s right,” Erwin smiled at her from behind Levi’s desk, his arms clasped behind his back. His height intimidated Eden so much. The Commander was definitely a force to be reckoned with and although he had starkly contrasting features in comparison to her Captain; his deep-blue eyes visibly revealed the thirst he had to lead his people towards victory.

Inclining his chiseled jawline towards the shorter man, Erwin spoke again. “I trust you are able to manage this assignment on your own. If you’re aware of the type of man Dimo Reeves is; you’ll know better than to trust the words he’ll throw your way.” He leaned over the desk, fingers settling against the immaculately clean wood, “At the end of the day, merchants thrive on bargains and what better way to lure the Survey Corps in with a deal regarding unspoken secrets about the world outside the walls?”

Eden nodded her head in affirmation, trying her best not to continuously flicker her eyes back to the Captain beside the Commander. She could feel his stare piercing through her skull; as though he was urging her to break her pact and meet his eyes.

Blinking rapidly, Eden pressed her fist over her heart, saluting them both formally, holding the Commander’s inquisitive stare. “I would be honored to assist my Regiment on a mission that could substantially assist humanity in the bigger picture. Thank you for considering me, Commander.”

The tall man waved her off, but stood impressed by the confidence emitting from the young woman. He could definitely appreciate why Levi seemed so intrigued by her.

She was like a fresh breath of air; her eyes glinting with the flame of hope- although having first-hand experiences with exactly what humanity’s hardships were like. Many comrades would lose that spark after the second, or even the first battle in open territory.

This was why Erwin has decided Eden was the best choice to accompany Levi on this classified operation. Putting all his cards in, Erwin knew that there was a considerably enormous chance for Dimo Reeves’ proposition to be a farce.

But, it was worth the risk.

“Very well, Chiasa. Prepare yourself. You are to depart tomorrow at the brink of dawn. The Regiment has full trust that this will all be for something. You're dismissed.”

Bowing her head lightly, Eden began stepping backwards towards the exit of an office she knew all too well.

“Thank you, Commander. Captain.” She glanced towards Levi, the butterflies in her stomach going wild as he stoically tipped his head downwards in response.

Closing the door with a trembling hand, Eden rushed back to her bedroom, praying to whoever could hear her thoughts that she’d have the power to go through a long mission with only Levi by her side.

Tags: @idiot-juice-enthusiast @hadassackerman

Link to the story in AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28919136/chapters/70952145

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in-tua-deep · 4 years

Note

i love the unviable au an unhealthy amount, could you elaborate a little more on how they stop the apocalypse?

HMM. Well. They wake up, and Team Apocalypse is a go. Five absolutely insists that they get Vanya on the team, and he absolutely wants Vanya to know he’s alive. Well, present at least.

(Ben - Ben retreated from the world, after he died. He didn’t want the others to know. He wanted them to grieve and let him go. Besides. With how the rest of the family treated Klaus after - after everything

after Five. After Five vanishing and the drugs and Ben’s death and Klaus’s spiral that no one seemed to care enough to pull him out of. Klaus was the only sibling that could see Ben, and Klaus needed him. Needed him in a way that none of the rest of the family did.

Ben didn’t ask Klaus to tell them others about him. Klaus figured that no one would believe him anyway.)

Klaus in hemming and hawing but Five isn’t exactly Ben, is he? He can interact with the world, in his own limited way. He can write. He could do this with or without Klaus.

But no one else needs to know, probably.

(Five doesn’t think much about how Team Apocalypse is going to be comprised of mostly people who he didn’t find dead on the ground. The only one he saw dead is Klaus, and isn’t that funny? To Klaus, a solid half of the team is dead.

To Five, only Klaus is.)

So Klaus and Ben and Five get up in the morning, and Five says that they Have To Find Vanya. Except Vanya’s not in the house, she’s gone back to her own apartment because she has stuff to do and a life to live.

(Somewhere, the Commission is getting antsy. Klaus heads towards Vanya’s apartment, and that’s not supposed to happen. Vanya is supposed to be isolated. Something is changing the timeline, and they aren’t sure what.

So they send some investigators. Their best. Hazel and Cha-Cha are deployed.)

So they go to the apartment. Klaus awkwardly knocks on the door and it swings open and there’s Vanya blinking at him in the way she always does.

“Vanya!” Klaus cheers, and leans forward to wrap her in a hug, because he is a very touchy-feely person and he had to watch as Five and Ben got all the hugs last night.

“Klaus?” Vanya says, sounding confused, but she lets her brother in. She watches him with wary eyes, and Klaus feels his heart break a tiny bit but - he’s known to his siblings, as a thief and a magpie.

“Do you want... some tea?” Vanya asks awkwardly, shuffling towards her kitchen, “I have uh. I have a lesson soon, but I mean, uh...”

That’s about the time when Five loses patience from where he’s been telling Klaus to Say Something and starts picking up couch cushions and throwing them.

“Uh.” Klaus says, staring, from Vanya’s point of view, into space. In actuality he’s looking at Five who is behaving like an absolute gremlin.

(Klaus is reminded, all over again, of how young his brother looks. Is. How old Five was when he died.)

“Do you want to explain what’s going on, Klaus?” Vanya asks tightly.

“Five is really impatient.” Klaus blurts out, and then covers his mouth because oops.

“Five?” Vanya says loudly, and Five rattles a cabinet in confirmation.

“Uh.” Klaus looks at Ben. Ben shrugs, because lets be honest they weren’t able to control Five when they were younger either, they have no chance now.

“Wait,” Vanya says, pale as milk, “So yesterday, in the courtyard...”

“Yup!” Klaus says cheerfully, putting on his best grin, “Aw, you know, a broken calendar is right twice a year and all that!”

“That’s not the saying.” Five informs him, flopping dramatically onto the couch.

“It was almost the saying.” Ben says sympathetically.

Klaus valiantly ignores them.

“Five is... here?” Vanya asks, her eyes scanning the apartment.

“On the couch, like he owns the place the little shit.” Klaus tells her.

Vanya stares at the seemingly empty couch for a moment, and after a few beats of silence, she just says “I’m going to go ahead and cancel that lesson.”

(Somewhere, somewhen, the Commission’s hackles all go up in alarm as Harold Jenkins frowns down at his phone and wonders if he should try his luck and go to the apartment anyway.)

Later, when Ben has Five distracted trying to teach him to pick something up, Klaus talks quietly to Vanya.

“Van, he’s - he’s so little.” Klaus tells her, voice a little too thick, “He looks - he’s exactly the same as when he left. He’s so tiny, and he’s still in that fucking uniform. He’s so tiny and I can’t stand it.”

And Vanya wraps her arms around her brother. She and Klaus have never been close, not even when they were little, but they’re both outsiders. They’re both rejects. And there’s a certain sort of kinship in that.

“I wish I could see him, too. See them, too.” She whispers, because telling her about Five also means telling her about Ben.

And Klaus could say a million things to that. Could snarl and tell her to be careful what she wished for, because alongside Ben and Five came a hundred million nightmares that rattle around Klaus’s head every time he’s too sober to ignore them.

But he looks over as Five slaps at Ben’s shoulder to get his attention and then guide his hands over to the apple they have settled in between them as their test subject.

And then he looks at Vanya, and he says - “Yeah, me too.”

And then there’s a knock on the door.

“Shit.” Vanya says, swearing. “I left a message but - it’s probably my student. Just. Lay on the couch and look miserable or something.”

Klaus is very good at acting, sort of. So he immediately drapes himself across the couch and groans dramatically, adding in a cough for good measure.

Vanya rolls her eyes, and opens the door to apologize to whatever child was supposed to have a lesson and -

Oh. Not a child. An adult. She blinks, “Uh, hi. Can I help you?”

“Hi!” The man greets, smiling at her. Not too many people smile at her like that. “I’m here for the lesson? I know, I know. I’m a bit older than your usual clientele - ”

Klaus coughs loudly and Vanya winces, “I’m sorry.” She says, cutting the man off, “I tried to leave a message - I’ve had an emergency come up and I’m not able to do lessons today.”

“Oh, but - ” The man starts, and Vanya suddenly feels someone push on the door as if to close it. She manages to catch it, but considering there’s no one there, well.

“I’m very sorry.” She says firmly, using one hand to bat through the air behind the door to shoo who she assumes is Five away. “If you send me your availability, I’d be happy to reschedule.”

“That would be really great.” The man says, nodding. “Do you think you’d be free tomorrow? It’s just - I’d really like to get started, you know?”

The door rattles again and Vanya winces, “I’m not sure. If it’s urgent I can, uh, send you the information for another teacher. I really am sorry about this.”

“I’ll call later then.” The man says, “Sorry for bothering you.”

“Not a problem.” Vanya says automatically, “Have a good day.”

And then she closes the door, and turns around to frown at Klaus, “Tell Five to quit, I had that handled.”

“You know, I only have to translate his responses to you.” Klaus points out, sitting up and swiping a hand across the back of his mouth, “Like, he has ears.”

“Five, I had that handled. You didn’t need to be pushing on the door.” Vanya says to the room at large, her hands on her hips.

“Five!” Klaus says loudly, sounding very scandalized, “Why! We oughtta wash your mouth out with soap!”

Vanya gives him a critical look, “I’m not sure whether you’re saying that to get him into trouble or if he’s actually swearing. Either way, we should probably talk.”

“Five says to clear your schedule for the week.” Klaus says scooting over on the couch and giving it an inviting pat, “You’re officially recruited for team apocalypse.”

“Me?” Vanya asks, completely confused. And why shouldn’t she be? None of her siblings have willingly recruited her for anything before. Forget being the last kid picked for team sports, Vanya wasn’t even on the list.

Klaus’s eyes soften, because even if Vanya wasn’t on the list, Klaus was still the last picked kid. “Five insists. Loudly.”

And Vanya smiles. It’s wobbly, but it’s there, because she’s been leaving out peanut butter and marshmallow sandwiches and leaving the lights on since she was a kid, grieving for the one sibling who was on her side. And here he is. Refusing to ignore her. Picking her for the team.

Of course the apocalypse can’t happen the same way, because Vanya isn’t isolated. She’s part of Team Apocalypse.

Instead of nagging at her about Leonard, Allison sighs and tells say that she loves Klaus as well but... he’s Klaus. He’s probably going to rob her the moment her back is turned and all that. He’s still their brother, and it’s nice that Vanya is hanging out with him but...

And Vanya bristles, because yeah Klaus is the family fuck up but he’s their brother. She’s the family wallflower, the odd man out, the freak. So she and Allison still fight, and Allison still insists that she’s just looking out for Vanya and Vanya insists that she’s never needed Allison to look out her before now -

An important thing of note.

Five doesn’t have the eyeball.

Five knows what it looks like, he probably had it in his apocalypse nest and poked at it when he was stuck on an equation. He knows that color it is. He probably memorized its serial number. He doesn’t have the physical eye.

Klaus is still chaotic as fuck, but Vanya adds a certain sense of... level headedness to the team. And despite everything, Klaus is actually fairly efficient... when he wants to be.

Vanya has the exhausted “I don’t want to be here any more than you do” look to her that inspires some measure of sympathy from overworked desk ladies so they probably get the info about the eye not existing yet without all the... extra drama.

Now. Hazel and Cha-Cha aren’t hunting someone down. They’re investigating. So they don’t burst in gun blazing, they’re basically stalking Vanya in an effort to figure out both What Changed and how to isolate her.

I know what you’re thinking. But what about Griddys? Do the squad not know about the commission agents trailing them?

Well, after the whole eye escapade, Klaus is hungry. He fondly recalls food an ex used to make with Vanya and she smiles and marvels at how different their lives are. And then, because she’s suddenly a little nostalgic, she offers to take him to the one restaurant they went to as kids.

Griddys.

So they go, and Ben and Five are there are well, and Klaus probably insists on getting them waffles as well (“it’s lunch time Klaus” “waffle time is ALL the time Vanya”) so they’re sitting there eating

and of course Cha-Cha and Hazel are stalking them. And why be careful and hide their faces. The Hargreeves don’t know them. They can just blend in as two ordinary people, eating lunch.

Except there’s the one little ghost who can. Five spots them, and immediately freaks out because those are ASSASSINS and he never did figure out what role Vanya played and What If They’re There To Kill Her

So he frantically informs Klaus, and Klaus whispers to Vanya, and Five tells them they need to get the hell out of dodge. ESPECIALLY Vanya.

And this is Vanya’s life now, so she sneakily tucks money under her plate (because she isn’t dining and dashing Klaus, jesus) and smiles at Klaus and goes to the backroom, where she shimmies out the window.

Klaus stuffs the remainder of his waffle in his mouth and grimaces at his hands and goes to the bathroom as well, except he diverts and goes out the back entrance where he meets Vanya in the alley and they both scarper.

“I can totally talk you through stealing a car.” Five says eagerly, “I saw like, loads of commission agents hotwire a care. I totally know what I’m doing.”

“Fucking sweet.” Klaus says, nodding. “Pick out a ride then, little man.”

“Absolutely not.” Vanya says, having gleaned enough from Klaus’s words to understand, “We are not stealing a car, jesus. If we need a ride, I can always... I don’t know. Call a cab.”

“The little dude has a point.” Klaus says, “Calling a cab isn’t exactly uh, you know. Conducive to a quick getaway.”

Vanya frowns.

“We could steal Diego’s car.” Ben offers, because secretly Ben is also very chaotic.

“Diego’s car.” Klaus agrees with wonder.

“We’re going to get stabbed, aren’t we.” Vanya sighs, putting her face in her hands. It’s not a question.

(And meanwhile in the diner, Cha-Cha realizes that the targets are gone and checks outside, and Hazel gets to chat with the lovely owner. Agnes. What a lovely name, huh?)

Honestly the whole au sort of ends up being like. The Klaus and Vanya show against the siblings while Five and Ben work together in the background and Five causes, you know, absolute chaos. And also gets lots of hugs. Ben and Five get lots of hugs in this au.

Klaus still gets kidnapped. Not because they want to get Five, but because they want to isolate Vanya. Well, not just that. They’d just kill him if that was it. They also want to know - what changed. What made Klaus seek Vanya out. What changed the timeline.

And Five can move things. Five can write on things. So he sees Klaus get kidnapped and follows him, figured out where he is, tells Ben to look after Klaus, and goes back to Vanya. He grabs a sharpie, and scrawls the address on the closest available surface, and hey if Vanya just happens to be fighting with Diego about the car...

“What the FUCK.” Diego demands.

“Fuck.” Vanya says, looking at the address. “Fuck. Okay. Okay, Diego, are you in?”

“In what?” Diego demands, scrubbing a finger over the sharpie that has popped up on the windows of his fucking car.

“Rescuing Klaus.” Vanya says, looking braver than she feels.

“Klaus can deal with his own shit.” Diego growls.

“Okay.” Vanya says, and of course she’s alone, she’s always been alone in this fucking family -

“Where are you going.” Diego asks, jogging up to her, “I don’t know what the fuck he’s gotten himself into, but you’re going to get yourself killed.”

“Then I guess I’ll get to see Klaus either way.” Vanya bites out, “And the family will have rid itself of another problem, huh? Win win all around.”

Diego swipes a hand over his face and swears, “Fuck just, fuck. Okay. Okay, fine. We’ll go drag Klaus’s ass out of the fire. And then you are going to explain exactly what the fuck happened to my car.”

“Deal.” Vanya says, already in the passenger seat and buckling in with determination.

Safety first, bitch.

So they go to the hotel. They bust in. They manage to get away. And Klaus manages to get his hands on the briefcase.

“Klaus, wait - no!” Five screams, and Klaus opens the suitcase and vanishes.

(But Five was touching Klaus, was trying to grab his arm to pull him away, terrified and incapable of helping because he’s intangible. Five gets to go with on this side trip to Vietnam.)

And then a light flashes, and there’s Klaus, and Five, and - some random dude.

“I thought you were joking.” Dave hollers, staggering backwards and staring at the suitcase like it’s going to jump up and bite him.

(Five is impatient, and irritable, and wants to get home to take care of things and stop the end of the world. Klaus falls head over heels for a soldier, but in the past few days... he’s gotten awfully fond of Vanya. He wants to help her.

By our powers combined, we have a Klaus who is motivated to go home, but also motivated to convince Dave to come with. We end up with... alive Dave.)

(Wow this is one of the few aus I have with alive Dave. Go me.)

“Vanya, Diego, Ben.” Klaus says, beaming, “Meet my boyfriend, Dave!”

“Klaus, I say this with the utmost sincerity.” Vanya deadpans. “But what the fuck.”

“Ben?” Diego demands.

Vanya and Klaus turn to Diego with contemplative looks.

“Oh yeah, forgot about that.” Vanya says.

“In my defense I’ve been gone for like, months.” Klaus says. And then pauses meaningfully. “Wait a second, does that mean - ”

A pebble flies and hits Klaus in the face. This does not stop him.

“I’m the oldest sibling!” Klaus yells, preening like a peacock, “Behold, infants! It is I, your eldest brother!”

“Absolutely not.” Diego growls, as Klaus points at thin air.

“Am so. Physically, I am older than everyone else. Yeah, it’s on technicality. Suck it, Casper.”

“Klaus, stop messing with Five.” Vanya sighs, sounding like this is something she has said before. “You know he can probably kill you.”

“Five?” Diego squawks.

“Is anyone going to tell me what’s going on?” Dave asks, already looking like he’s accepted his fate and life might as well be this weird.

“The world is ending in five days. Welcome to team apocalypse.” Vanya tells him sympathetically.

“The world is what.” Diego hollers.

“Oh yeah.” Klaus muses, “Forgot to mention that as well.”

“What is going on!” Diego howls.

“Don’t we all want to know.” Klaus flutters in sympathy.

After that, they decide to convene at Vanya’s apartment and go over what they know, and what they’ve learned.

Team apocalypse gains two (2) members! Welcome to the team, Diego and Dave.

(Diego didn’t complain to Patch about a missing sibling because he doesn’t know Five is around. Patch doesn’t find a ransom note, because Hazel and Cha-Cha didn’t leave one. Patch doesn’t die, and Diego has no reason to go tearing off in grief and anger and vengeance.)

And that’s more on team apocalypse trying to stop the apocalypse lmao

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aniimvs · 3 years

Text

he was nothing. not alive, not dead. he felt no warmth, no weight. only a prolonged cold he wasn't even aware of. a luminous absence, a scattering of particles traversing a continuous blue, unhindered by the tides of thought and feeling. but then that changed in a way indescribable. a sudden sense of being just appeared around the event horizon his essence occupied. he had no eyes, no ears, but still he could see impregnable darkness with thousands of lights brushed across the black like dust.

those speckled motes crawled by as his new awareness pushed forward. onward his sightless gaze traveled, faster and faster till those millions of specks turned into stretched lines that surged ahead. faster and faster as a ringing budded and blossomed at his core. the white noise crescendoed from within when it revealed its true nature: a howl.

it consumed him. the rhythmic beat of four dense steps echoing in the dark. running, running, faster, faster. the streaks of light curved into one another, joining at a brilliant point. like the birth of a sun, it was blinding white-gold. he slammed into it, his nothing burned away into something new.

he blinked.

hazel eyes adjusted to the sunlight and found there was a blue sky beneath all that brilliance. he was on his back, his limbs numb but present. all of him flat and senseless against the dusty cradle of rockbed. dirt crunched in his ear as his muscles twitched back to life. memories spun like webs, he recognized them all but couldn't recall what any of them meant.

a shadow eclipsed the sun, shielding him from the unforgiving rays. he tilted his head back to squint at it, gathering the details in one go. the face he found was almost completely white, encapsulated by blue details and black detailing. black, t-shaped eyes that funneled down into a v-shaped mouth.

a stormtrooper?

no, there was a ridge on the top of the helmet. a memory from the depths of his youth cowed its way to the surface. the holo of a man rotated before him, poised for a fight, armor pristine with the same flared sail on the apex of his helm. a droid's feminine vocabulator in the background.

❝ ...the entire army was cloned from the genetic material of a single donor... ❞

a clone.

❝ you alright, sir? ❞ the helmet asked, ❝ help is on the way. just stay still for me, we'll have you out of here in a jiff. ❞

the clone reached out, his armored hand firmly encircling the young man's shoulder. ❝ i need you to stay calm and─ AH! ❞ startled, the confused revenant tossed the trooper several feet away with a stuttering ripple in the force. weak, meager, the man knew it was a paltry display of his capabilities, but it is more than enough to bounce the clone across the rock.

wherever the force flowed, the life around it imparted an essence. in some places, the force was bright and impudent. in others, dark and ravenous. sometimes it hummed free of the morality sentience thrust upon it. but no matter what, it felt the same to him whenever the man called upon its obedience. a cold burn that brought with it pain and succor. it ripped his veins apart, fueled his anger, stirred his furry. always, it recognized him and him it.

except, it didn't. the breath of the galaxy hesitated. its nebulous presence trembled between his fingers, hesitant. it shifted uneasily around him, trying to form to his shape and failing to fit him as it should. it was confused, or as confused as unthinking lifeblood could be.

there was a hollowness in his gut that leeched all the feeling from his extremities as more signatures populated his vision. the man drew himself to his feet and reached for the spot he believed his weapon should be. he found only air. nearby the clone groaned, clutching his head.

unarmed, unsteady, the revenant gritted his teeth, eager for a final fight.

music-inspired transmission for @skywlkrr // scar - resistance

#skywlkrr #skywlkrr // 01.#⋞ starter ⋟ // the cycle anew.#wbw verse tbt.#remember that starter you liked for m o n t h s ago?#i'm so sorry #but post-tros benlo finding his way into anakin's time via the wbw?#*steeples fingers*#disassociation cw #⋞ queue ⋟ // i will always be with you.

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thesibyllinebooks · 4 years

Text

The New Yorkers (Part 21)

Frank gave Annabeth a gracious smile as he opened the door to let her in. “Good morning,” he said. Annabeth stepped in.

“Hey, Frank.”

Frank was the only person whose neatness could rival her own. The only decoration in the apartment save for a few metals and awards were photographs of himself and Hazel, and some old pictures of his mom and grandmother.

“Hazel’s finishing up in the kitchen,” Frank explained. Annabeth could smell food and she heard the faucet running. Hazel stood in the kitchen, finishing up the dishes. There were three places set at the table.

“Morning, Annabeth,” Hazel said, turning around. She wiped her wet hands on a towel hanging on the stove. “You’re just in time.”

“Oh, Hazel, you didn’t have to make me breakfast,” Annabeth said.

Hazel shrugged. “It was my turn to make breakfast anyway. What’s an extra plate? And besides, I thought pancakes could soften the blow of whatever’s stressing you out.”

Annabeth and Frank sat at the table. Hazel joined them with forks. For a long time, Annabeth sat and ate her pancakes. That was much better than rehashing the script she’d come up with in her head to ask- or beg, if she had to- Hazel for her help. She stared at the bowl of gleaming red pomegranates in the middle of the table.

Hazel caught her staring. “Nico brought those a couple days ago from Propserpina’s... um Persephone’s garden. Aren’t they beautiful?”

“And poisonous,” Frank added.

“To you. So,” Hazel started slowly. “What’s the matter? When you called you sounded stressed out.

Annabeth swallowed. She sipped her orange juice to help the fact that her throat suddenly went dry. “I, uh well... I got a visit from Athena yesterday,” Annabeth started slowly.

“How was that?” Frank asked.

“Well, not good, or else Annabeth wouldn’t have called me beside herself,” Hazel reminded her fiance. She turned back to Annabeth. “You can tell us.”

Annabeth knew there were few people on the planet she could trust more. After sailing to Europe with them to defeat Gaea, Annabeth realized the Roman demigods had unmatchable courage. Besides that, they were genuinely so calm and caring it made Annabeth thankful to have such good friends.

“Well, there’s a war starting... on Olympus,” Annabeth started. “A mutiny against Zeus.”

“Gods,” Hazel said. Her shoulders tensed. “That’s not good.”

Frank’s dark eyebrows knitted together. “That’s funny... because my dad said something about a war. Didn’t mention it was on Olympus. Why would the gods want to overthrow Jupiter?”

“I could think of a few reasons,” Annabeth said shortly. “Ares is one of them. And so is Hades. And Hephaestus and Hermes. It was Poseidon’s idea.” Annabeth thought about her mother’s visit. It almost brought tears to her eyes. She firmly reminded herself she’d fix everything with Percy. That was why she was here.

Hazel looked dumbfounded. “I wonder if Jason knows...”

“I doubt it. But you mean to say that your mom- that Minerva is going to defend Jupiter?” Frank asked slowly. Annabeth couldn’t read his expression.

Annabeth nodded. “She said she’s going to defend her father. And she’s not going to turn her back on thousands of years of tradition. But she said something else- she said that she knows Percy and Poseidon are close, and he’ll do anything to defend him.”

“It’s true,” Hazel nodded. “Neptune talks to Percy way more than our fathers talk to us.” Annabeth knew that her relationship with her father was strained. Ares wasn’t exactly the nurturing type either.

“It all makes sense,” Frank said suddenly.

“What does?” Hazel and Annabeth said in unison.

Frank took a deep breath. “A couple weeks ago, Percy came to talk to me. Poseidon had visited him and told him to stay away from you. Said Athena said the same thing to you,” Frank explains. “If they’re rivals, and now on opposite sides of this war, of course there’s no way they’d want you together.”

“That’s awful,” Hazel said sympathetically. “You can Percy were just starting to get along. You look so cute together.”

Annabeth looked at her friends. They were lucky at least that their parents were on the same side. So were Jason and Piper. She knew what she was about to say was going to sound absolutely insane.

“The thing is, we’ve been together,” Annabeth said. Speaking the words out loud hit her with a wave of emotion.

It was clear Hazel and Frank didn’t understand what she was saying. “Huh?” Frank asked.

Annabeth gripped her fork tightly. “Athena told me yesterday that I met Percy when I was twelve. We went to camp together, fought together, became friends, fell in love- he went on the quest with all of us. She used The Mist to get rid of my memory of him because she thought I’d help him and Poseidon fight against Zeus.” Annabeth took a shaky breath.

Hazel looked heartbroken. At least she didn’t think Annabeth was a nutjob. Frank looked like he was trying his hardest to be sympathetic, but was still very confused.

“So you and Percy were dating?” Frank asked. “This whole time?”

Annabeth shrugged lamely. “Apparently. I can’t remember.”

“And he was with us the entire quest?”

Annabeth nodded again. “And he was with me in Tartarus.” Annabeth felt tears at the backs of her eyes.

Frank still didn’t seem sold. “But how is it possible that we remember doing those things with you...but we also separately remember doing them with Percy?” He looked like his head was going to explode.

“Oh, stop interrogating her,” Hazel said. She reached across the table to squeeze Annabeth’s hand. “The Mist is powerful. It can create multiple versions of reality and have you thinking so many different things are true at the same time. I just can’t believe I didn’t realize or I didn’t sense anything- oh, Annabeth...”

Annabeth’s lip trembled. The look of realization on Hazel’s face almost broke her. She knew what she was asking seemed crazy, especially since she didn’t have any evidence herself.

“Hazel, I didn’t know who else to ask. You’re the only demigod I know who can control The Mist, and you have Hecate’s blessing, so maybe you’re stronger than my mother- and if I had someone else to ask I promise I would. The last thing I wanted to do was involve you...” Annabeth sniffled.

Hazel and Frank shared a grim look. Without hesitation, Hazel nodded. “I’ll do what I can,” she said. “I can’t promise you anything but of course, I’ll try. I’ll make an offering to Hecate this evening, and hopefully that’ll put me in her good graces.”

Annabeth wanted to cry out with relief. “Hazel, I can’t thank you enough.”

“You don’t have to,” Hazel assured her. “I’d do anything to help you Annabeth.”

“You said Athena wiped your memories in the first place because she was afraid of what you’d do for Percy. Do you think you’ll do anything rash?” Frank asked.

“I don’t know,” Annabeth admitted. “I don’t think so. But I don’t know how much I love him. I don’t know how much I used to love him. But if there’s a way to find out, I can’t not try.”

Frank nodded with understanding. “I mean, if my father and Hazel’s were going at it, I’d do whatever it took to keep Hazel safe, no questions asked. So it’s only fair Athena would assume the same,” Frank said. “But it’s your choice what you do for Percy, not hers.” Annabeth couldn’t agree more.

Hazel gave Frank a quick smile and turned back to Annabeth. “We’ll figure this out, I promise.”

***

Percy sat on the couch and tried to keep himself from cracking his laptop in half. He’d been staring at the tiny letters on the screen for a while now. His dyslexia wasn’t making filling out any of the perfunctory work forms any easier. It was starting to get late and Percy felt his eyes drooping shut. He’d had a long day at work. A good, productive day but a long one.

His dreams were odd. They were all about Annabeth. When they were in the back of a zoo truck as kids, swimming in the lake at camp together, kissing at the bottom of the lake in Camp Half-Blood... the dreams felt familiar to Percy, almost as if they were memories.

A hard, heavy beating on the door woke Percy up. He closed his laptop and set it next to him. He got up to answer the door. For some reason, he felt more alert, and different somehow.

As soon as the door opened, Percy was ambushed. Annabeth’s arms squeezed around him tightly. Her hug felt just as much like home as Paul and Sally’s place. Annabeth kicked the door shut. She squeezed Percy so tight he felt like his eyes were going to pop out of his head. He didn’t care.

His senses were heightened. He noticed every little thing about Annabeth. Suddenly, he remembered smelling that linen-lemony smell all over her for years. He remembered years of battles with her, some he even wished he could forget. He remembered playing Capture the Flag alongside Annabeth, and her readjusting the straps on his armor whenever they were crooked. He remembered sailing to Greece with her and worst of all, he remember the long, hard fall into Tartarus. Thankfully, things had gotten better for them. Percy remembered graduating high school, ice skating in the wintertime, hanging out with Annabeth at his mom’s, and a lot of kissing.

He pulled back from Annabeth so that he could take a good look at her. Even though she looked the same as always, she looked different. He felt like he recognized her more. He could finally understand that calculating, challenging expression in her eyes. He’d been looking at it for years.

“I don’t... what... how?” Percy said dumbly, looking at his girlfriend. Was girlfriend even the right word? Annabeth was part of him, much more than someone he just hung out with and went on the occasional date with. He knew Annabeth just as well as he knew himself.

Before she answered him, Annabeth put her hands on Percy’s cheeks and kissed him. “I love you,” she said. Her eyes pooling with tears. “I love you so much, Percy. Athena came to me yesterday. She wiped our memories, she used The Mist-”

“I’m starting to wonder how many times a goddess can wipe my memory,” Percy said bitterly. “Why this time?”

Annabeth took Percy’s hand and guided him to his couch. She didn’t let him go. She didn’t want to. Never again. “Because she knows how much I love you and would do anything for you. And because... your father wants to overthrow Zeus.”

Percy stared at Annabeth blankly. He couldn’t believe the words coming out of her mouth, even though he knew she wasn’t a liar. He tried to focus on the feeling of her hand in his so that he didn’t have to think about her revelation. Percy knew his father and the King of the Gods didn’t get along, but he’d never think Poseidon would start a full-out mutiny. And why was it that Athena had told Annabeth, and Poseidon hadn’t told him? He knew he spoke to his father far more than Annabeth spoke to her mother.

Percy took a deep breath. He looked at Annabeth cuddled on the couch under him, looking up at him intently as if she planned to never look away from him. “I don’t- I don’t know anything about that. Let’s not worry about that right now. I mean, we just got our memories of each other back, that’s what I want to focus on.”

“You have Hazel to thank. She made an offering to Hecate, and I guess she helped her-”

“Well, it’s official then,” Percy said with a shrug. “We owe Hazel our firstborn child.”

Annabeth laughed. “I just can’t believe everything we’ve been through. Imagine, we go through hell and back- literally- all to never actually reunite because you decide to ruin my shirt with a taco. And not apologize for it.”

Percy laughed at the thought. He couldn’t believe he’d all but hated Annabeth at one point. Sure they bickered, but not as much as they had when they’d met again months ago. “I mean, if I can get over how annoying you are twice, then obviously it’s destiny.” Annabeth slapped his shoulder. He kissed her in return.

Annabeth bit her lip. Her stormy expression returned. “But what if that hadn’t happened? If we’d never run into each other again, if Piper and Jason hadn’t set us up, if you hadn’t exploded sewage all over me, we wouldn’t have gotten together. We wouldn’t have realized that we’ve already spent almost half our lives together,” she persisted.

Percy knew she was right, But still, he was just so happy to have Annabeth back he couldn’t bring himself to focus on what could have been. “It’s what The Fates wanted. And sometimes they have more power than the gods.”

“You’re right,” Annabeth sighed with resignation. She wrapped her arms around Percy.

“What? Me, right?” Percy asked in disbelief.

“For once, Seaweed Brain” Annabeth agreed, smirking.

“We should do something to celebrate,” Percy suggested.

“Celebrate?” Annabeth repeated.

“Yeah, it’s not every day I get my memory of you back. It’s been like, five years since that happened last. We should see a movie, or go take a walk-”

“Right here is fine, Percy,” Annabeth assured him.

Percy smiled down at Annabeth. He was fine with that. After all, if they’d spent a hundred nights cuddling together on the couch, what was one-hundred-and-one?

“Well, are you hungry? I could make some dinner,” Percy offered. Unfortunately, now Annabeth would remember he was a miserable cook.

Annabeth shook her head. She squeezed Percy tighter like she was hanging on for dear life. “My mom was right,” Annabeth whispered, even though she knew knew Percy didn’t want to talk about things. “If it comes down to it, I’ll fight with you. I’m not letting you go again. We promised each other that.”

Percy nodded slowly. He still wasn’t sure how he felt about his father’s actions. If it meant keeping Annabeth safe, he’d take a backseat.

“Annabeth, we don’t even know for sure what it’s going to come down to. And until we do, I don’t want to worry. I just want to keep feeling like we’ve made it and all this is behind us for a second, even if it isn’t.”

Annabeth nodded understandingly. “Okay, we can do that.” She kissed Percy again. He knew it would be a matter of time before his relationship with Annabeth went back to normal- all the bickering, the late nights falling asleep watching Annabeth study, her complaints on how dirty and disorganized his bedroom was. He was ready for all of it- scratch that, excited.

#percy jackson #annabeth chase #pjo #pjo fanfic #heroes of olympus #hazel levesque #percabeth #fanfiction #quarantine reads #the new yorkers #frank zhang #trials of apollo

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always-andshewrites · 3 years

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In chapter 2 Katniss has a talk with Madge and inadvertently learns some new information, pushing her to have a talk with her dad. Peeta initiates a talk with Mr. Everdeen, thinking he is going to get scolded for his and Katniss' "late night visits" only to have Mr. Everdeen thank him for helping his family out all those years ago. Dylan takes Katniss to the secret place in the woods where she hopes to get some answers, only to have more questions. Haymitch (with inspiration from Hazelle) does a nice thing for Madge; Poppy chats with her dad with a fancy coin that disrupts the Capitol's "bugs" with an idea to share it with K & P.; Madge and Katniss have "girl talk" and we even get a little bit of Madge/Prim. Katniss wakes up blindfolded, as Peeta whisks her away to the woods for some "alone time" before the tour. Katniss and Peeta wake Haymitch up and on their way home they see a car in his driveway... It can only be one person, right?In Chapter 3 Katniss and Peeta come face to face with the devil himself . . . And let the games begin . . .

Summary:

Katniss and Peeta made it out of the arena together, but little do they know the games are only beginning. Who can they trust as secrets are exposed and identities are revealed? This is the sequel to "Changing the Game"; a Hunger Games - Catching Fire rewrite. Told in several different character POV's.

Chapter 3 - Deal with the Devil

| Peeta |

Using my free hand to open the door because my other hand is being held hostage by the death grip from Katniss’ hand, I slowly push the door open. I tense up when I feel my heart begin to accelerate from the thought of some Capitolite laying their filthy hands on any of my things. It’s true that this is my home, but technically, it is the property of the Capitol, and thus, belongs to President Snow. However, the thought of him or any of his goons in my home sends a murderous rage festering inside me.

The moment my foot passes the threshold my head snaps to the left, meeting Katniss' stare. Both of us immediately recognize the all too familiar rancid aroma of blood and roses filling the air, informing us, without a doubt, who our intruder is.

‘Snow.’ Katniss conveys, casting me a worried glance and gripping even tighter onto my hand.

No one appears to be on the main level of the house, so we tiptoe, quietly making our way up the steps and to the second floor. Stealthily, we creep down the hallway, eager to face our intruder, yet anxious at the same time. I instantly take notice of the door to my art studio, which is always, without fail kept shut and locked up tight; is slightly ajar. It is what grabs my attention, confirming that something is amiss. All of our friends and family; or really anyone who visits us knows to steer clear of that room, aware of what lies beyond the threshold.

Curiosity overpowers our fear, and together we make our way into that room. This is the one and only room I ask Katniss to stay out of, not because I have anything to hide but because I know the sight of my paintings will most likely trigger her gag reflex, in addition to causing her now dormant nightmares to return. They are not so much paintings, but a visual timeline of each of my nightmares, a vivid recollection of our time in the arena.

When I glance down the row of paintings, for the first time I see them as an onlooker would and cannot help but notice how each one is more vibrant than its neighbor. Most likely because the nightmares become more lucid and lifelike the closer the Victory Tour gets.

Katniss doesn’t want or need a visual to remind her of the horrors we faced in the arena. But for me, it’s like . . . like a form of therapy. It’s like if I have the ability to remove the images from my mind and transfer them onto a canvas; by turning them into a still life portrait, something tangible, it grants me control; the power to lock them away forever, or even burn them if that’s what I wanted to do.

As much as I want to forget the horrors we faced and as much as I want to expunge the memories from my mind, at the same time I don’t want to forget. If I forget, then who would remember Thresh and Rue? And what about the other tributes? No, I need to remember, it’s what gives me the motivation to continue living my life. The drive to fight our battle.

Once the door is open, we see the backside of a man with fluffy snow-white hair. He is dressed in a sharp, tailored suit, slowly pacing the length of the room. His hands are clasped behind his back, giving a slight nod here and there, as if offering his approval at the paintings lining the wall.

“Dammit— Lucy . . . Kill . . . Mock—jay . . .” I think I hear him mumble to himself just as his body tenses for a moment. I am instantly intrigued and wonder who this “Lucy” is.

‘Did you—’ I meet Katniss’ eyes, curious as to if I’m hearing things. She nods, confirming my sanity.

'Peeta, I'm scared.' She shudders, squeezing my hand a little tighter, if that is even possible. I reciprocate, entwining our fingers, assuring her that I am not going anywhere.

'It's going to be okay; he's not going to hurt us.' I tell her, though not quite certain myself. It is moments such as these that I am grateful for whatever forces have bestowed us with our telepathic link. The ability to communicate silently while in the presence of others has proven to be more than . . . useful.

“Aghhem . . . Excuse me, can I help you?” I announce our presence, clearing my throat to grab his attention. I would recognize that snowy white hair anywhere, I do not need to see his face to know his identity, but I still need him to turn around and face us.

“These are quite remarkable.” President Snow takes his time turning around as he compliments the painting behind him, presenting his face with an approving smirk. This particular painting details one of his ferocious mutts from the arena; a squirrel foaming at its mouth fills the page, while Katniss and I are drawn as miniscule beings in the far bottom left corner of the canvas. I am leaning over the side of the cornucopia gripping firmly onto Katniss’ calves while she aims the golden arrow at the Queen. Why am I not surprised that this painting brings him pleasure?

On the other hand, I do not miss the way he sneers disapprovingly at the canvas portraying me and Katniss with our allies from District Eleven. I have captured us high up in a tree with our friends, seeking refuge from those who mean us harm. Katniss and I are settled in our sleeping bag on a branch; just below us are Thresh and Rue in an almost mirroring position. I remember that night so clearly as we swapped stories from our district’s.

“President Snow, what an honor, what—” Katniss begins to offer pleasantries, but the deleterious man in front of us cuts her off before she brings it to completion.

“I think we’ll make this whole situation a lot simpler by agreeing not to lie to each other. What do you think?” Snow says with his affected Capitol accent and a hint of arrogancy. His lips are plump and full, the skin appearing painfully tight as he speaks, causing me to believe they must be surgically altered. Lips that full just aren’t natural.

‘I think it’s meant to highlight his features.’ Katniss quips and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to mask my amusement.

“Yes, I think that would save time.” Katniss affirms, her voice confident and steady as she stands tall. She has one hell of a poker face but she can’t fool me. She is utterly terrified, as am I.

Snow continues to marvel over the neighboring paintings for a moment before a sly grin appears on his face. He follows it up with a nod of approval and then his eyes are back on me. “I heard you were talented Mr. Mellark, but I just had to see it for myself. I would never believe that someone from as lowly a district as Twelve could produce such . . . works of art.” He begins, slithering to the far corner of the room and taking a seat in a chair behind a desk. Wait a minute, where did that desk come from? Before today, this room contained only my artwork, an easel, a handful of blank canvases, various containers of paint, my brushes, and a few other random art supplies. Either I’m losing it or, or— did he bring this furniture with him? Is it meant to . . . intimidate us?

'What do you think he wants?' Katniss presses, never removing President Snow from her line of sight.

“Please, why don’t you have a seat?” Snow affirms, motioning for us to take a seat in the sophisticated looking high back chairs in front of him. However, I get the distinct impression the “please” was not merely a request. Katniss and I take a seat, refusing to release our grip on the other’s hand and scoot our chairs closer to the other so that our knees are brushing.

'I have no idea, but I have a feeling we are about to find out. And . . . where did the desk and chairs come from?'

‘No clue.’ She answers without missing a beat.

Unsure as to how I should respond to President Snow’s remark, I say the first thing that pops into my head. “President Snow, my paintings will be on display in the Capitol in just a few weeks, so I know you didn’t come all the way out here just to see them. Why don’t we forgo the pleasantries, and you can tell us why you have chosen to grace us with your presence.” I assert, holding my head up high, recalling my lessons on proper etiquette with Effie as I come off as unperturbed. I really hope he can’t see how utterly terrified I truly am.

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raptorginger · 4 years

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How Quietly We Endure All that Falls Upon Us

CHAPTER 1-She and Him

The snow swirled down from the night sky in a languid flurry, the flakes fat soft clumps of white that clung to the black wool coat and unruly dark hair of the sullen man walking down the sidewalk. His head was down against the gentle onslaught, the snow landing in his hair only to melt moments after, the soft locks soon heavy with the weight of water. His hands were shoved deep into his pockets, clearly balled into fists. He walked past joyful groups and couples deep in love, all unseeing and oblivious. The warm store windows with their brightly and attractively lit Christmas displays did nothing to draw his gaze, fixed as it was on a spot a few feet ahead of his large booted feet. Bells and music, laughter and happy conversations poured from every corner, but he heard nothing.

He hadn’t wanted to come. He really hadn’t, but the doctor had insisted that if ever there was a time to visit, this was it. She might not remember him on another. After the long journey here, which felt like a short one, and the brief trip up the steps of the convalescent home, which felt like the longest journey in his life, he wasn’t sure she remembered on this one. Doctor Penndrel had recommended that he visit during tea every morning for the duration of his stay. It might help her remember who he was if he came during a routine part of her day. He wasn’t sure he could walk up those portentous steps again. A nurse, Miss Connix, had made a suggestion as she showed him out of the doily laden Victorian mansion.

“Bring something that reminds Mrs. Organa of an old hobby. Something she used to enjoy doing,” she had murmured sympathetically as he left.

He had given her a wry brittle smile of gratitude, well practiced and almost a reflex at this point, and murmured his thanks. He’d turned the large brass knob, the glass rattling in the old wooden door frame and the Damask curtain ruffling in the draft as he stepped onto the snow and dead leaf dusted front porch and down those steps. The old dried wood creaked beneath his feet, his steps now heavier and burdened with knowing.

As he shuffled down the icy salt caked sidewalk, he tried to remember. What had his mother enjoyed doing? The young nurse had spoken as if he’d actually seen his mother in the last who knew how many years and knew something as familiar, as personal, as that. A group of girls dressed in too short dresses and too long coats stumbled into him as he stomped, their tittering laughs grating and irritating to his ears. They swished their long bottle blonde hair flirtatiously in his direction, perfect smiles spreading across prettily made up faces, but he grumbled an apology and went on his way as they tried to entice him into following him into a nearby bistro.

“Stuck up bastard,” he heard one mumble as they all flipped their coconut scented locks back over their shoulders and sauntered away to make merry in some overpriced gastropub that served pretentious food and mediocre Moscow Mules, the drink du jour.

He found his mood growing even more dour as he walked. He looked up, finally taking stock of his surroundings. After leaving the elegant abode that served as a high end rest home, he had walked with no goal, no intent and letting the sidewalk guide his steps, hopefully in the direction he’d parked his rental car. He hadn’t even gotten a room at a hotel yet. He had walked through the little town’s “Main Street” district and had entered what the downtown authority had dubbed “The Warehouse District.” Looking around, it seemed to be comprised of more boutique shops and micro breweries. Rather than selling the typical tourist junk and clothes, the stores here seemed higher end, more modern, with an air of aloofness that contrasted sharply with the easy going atmosphere of the watering holes with names like The Workshop (insignia a hammer and sickle) and Right Brain (a brightly colored facade with a board advertising beers with names like Chubby Squirrel and Dead Kettle). Loud eclectic music pounded through the cement walls along with raucous whoops and hollers, and most of the shops were closed at this hour of the night. He recalled having parked in a municipal lot around here somewhere, but everything looked different yet the same in the dark.

The man in black stopped on the well paved sidewalk and was getting his bearings when a group of men and women drunk on high octane IPAs and Bourbon Stouts came stumbling out of one the cement buildings, tumbling into him and knocking him prone into the wet ice glazed gutter.

“Fuck!” the man swore, speaking aloud for the first time in hours. Pain shot through his tailbone and elbow, and he struggled to his feet only to find himself back on the ground, his hands and feet unable to find purchase on the ice. The group stumbled off to their next destination, oblivious to the injury they had caused the stranger.

He considered just remaining on the ground, not wanting to further his humiliation. The man assumed this wasn’t the first time someone had passed out in this particular gutter. His head did hurt. Then again, he’d freeze to death on a night like this. He heaved a sigh and tried to push himself upright again. He groaned as a sharp pain filled his head, swirling and bright and harsh behind his eyes.

“Excuse me?” said a gentle voice beside him.

The man looked up to see a slight brunette standing beside him, a heavy winter coat clutched around her shoulders. Her hazel eyes were bright with concern, and her freckles danced even in the poor artificial light of the street lamps. Then again, it could be the little pinpricks of light that now danced before the man’s eyes as he tried to rub the pain out of them with his thumb and forefinger making him see things.

“Excuse me?” the brunette said again, this time crouching beside him. Out of arm's reach, he noticed. He wasn’t surprised. Most people liked to keep him at arm’s length. “Do you need some help?”

She spoke slowly, her voice melodious and accented. Her gaze was assessing, concerned. He wondered if she thought he was a bar patron, drunk off his ass.

“I...I fell,” he muttered as he tried to right himself again. He managed to get up into a sitting position, but his head continued to swim in pain. He groaned lowly and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to focus on breathing in and out.

The young woman blinked a few times and looked at him askance, as if she didn’t quite believe him. “I saw what happened,” she chided gently. “That gaggle just bowled you right over.”

He looked over, right into her eyes, and was overcome by her nearness. Warmth radiated from her, even as she kept a respectable distance between them. Her smile was easy, gentle. He blinked in surprise as the pain began to ebb somewhat.

“You’ve got a bit of a cut on your temple, and I’m worried you may have a concussion,” she murmured. “I have a first aid kit in my apartment. May I?” she asked as she held her hands out cautiously near his elbow and forearm.

The man stared at her outstretched hands. People touched him all the time, impartial and cold. Handshakes, back slaps, accidental bumps. Compelled by a tiny voice in the back of his mind, the man obeyed and offered up his arm. The young woman was much stronger than she appeared and hauled him easily to his feet. She slipped one arm around his back to grip the waist of his coat as the other remained firmly at his elbow and steered him swiftly and carefully across the street. The man was silent, dumbstruck by the feeling of her hands on him over his coat and layers. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been touched with actual care or concern. He didn’t care for touching generally, not usually trusting of the person attached to it.

She stopped outside a nondescript looking apartment door that stood just to the side of one of the more attractive shops. Tactile, it was called, according to the letters stamped out of the forged iron sign above the shop door. Tiny spotlights illuminated a lovely display. A woven basket of unspun, undyed wool sat beside an antique spinning wheel. A honeycomb shaped shelf contraption held a variety of soft looking beautifully colored yarn, labels dangling from delicate string. A porcelain tea set and canisters of local tea sat on a small end table between the shelf and spinning wheel. The young woman opened the door and led the man slowly up the wooden stairs, her eyes watching him carefully for any sign of distress, or possibly for ill intent. He wouldn’t blame her, a stranger to her that he was. She was quite a bit shorter and much more lithe than he was, but he was fairly certain she could beat him in a fight.

He stumbled a bit at the top as they reached the landing where it turned unexpectedly. The woman gripped him more firmly as she fumbled with another key.

“Careful,” she chastised in her lovely voice, the sweet quality shifting easily to stern. The man could hear a soft scratching and snuffling behind the old wood. She helped him to lean against the wide door frame, situating him out of the way as she unlocked two or three locks and turned the old knob. “Wait here while I restrain the dog,” she commanded kindly.

A large black blob struggled to get out of the door and closer to him, low barks and loud chuffing accompanying the sound of clipped claws on wood, but the woman grabbed the thick collar and hauled the beast away. He heard the snap of a door along with a ‘shush’ and a moment later the woman returned and helped him inside.

Her apartment was small, the air stuffy but in that warm winter way that meant it was heated by an ancient radiator. The light was dim, the only illumination coming from a light over the stove in the kitchen and a floor lamp beside a small loveseat. An old faded area rug was well trod, the wood beneath it just as dark as that in the stairway. Perched beside a large bay window overlooking the street was an antique velvet armchair, the upholstery long faded and the nap worn almost through. An old steamer trunk served as a coffee table, the brown leather surprisingly well maintained.

The woman helped him to a high backed bar chair, which, thankfully, did not swivel. The man gripped the arms tightly as he hoisted himself up, leaning over the counter on his elbow. The woman poured him a glass of water from a filter pitcher on the counter and flicked on the tiny lights over the bar. The man was glad they were purposefully dim. She disappeared down a short dark hallway, and he could hear the sound of rummaging. She returned quickly with a few hand towels and what looked like an entire ER nurse’s cart worth of supplies packed neatly into an old Caboodle. She set everything on the bar by his elbow and hopped up into another chair facing him. She pulled a pen light from somewhere in the depths of the case and began assessing him with focused eyes.

The man began to fidget, not having been under such intense scrutiny, since, well, he couldn’t even remember. He flinched when she pressed her fingertips to the skin around the cut on his temple, gently probing with one hand while the other held the light. So warm. Soft. Gentle.

“I’m sorry. Did that hurt?” she murmured, looking into his eyes through her lashes.

The man’s throat was dry. He coughed to clear it. “N-no. Not at all,” he croaked.

“Mmm good. This shouldn’t need stitches.” She began pawing through the case again, pulling out a few packets of antiseptic wipes and a couple of tiny butterfly bandages.

“This might sting a little,” she warned kindly as she daubed at the cut gingerly. The man winced at the burn of the alcohol, but it was over as soon as it began. A flash of tongue appeared between the woman’s lips as she bit down, focused on getting the placement of the bandages right. Suddenly, that’s all the man could see.

Too soon, she leaned back in her chair and gathered up the wrappers and dirty wipes. “I’m Rey, by the way. Rey Johnson. I want you to focus on the light for me please.”

She shined the light right in each of his eyes, gauging how his pupils dilated. She pulled it back, watching his gaze carefully. “Now follow, please.” The light went right and then left, up then down. Then suddenly it was close. The man recoiled instinctively, but he kept his gaze on the light.

“Very good.” She put the light away, and the man had to blink back the purple spots. “Do you have a wallet?”

“What?”

“A wallet. I want to quiz you. Then we’re done, I promise.”

The man didn’t want to be done, but he handed over his wallet anyway. She flipped the soft black leather open to look at his ID, her fingers trailing along the fine stitched edge. He was suddenly very jealous of his wallet.

“Name?” she queried.

“Benjamin C. Solo,” he replied. He watched the ripple of a swallow chase down her throat as a flush of pink danced along her collarbone.

“Date of birth?” Her voice was a touch shakier, he couldn’t help but notice.

“May 4, 1985.”

She closed his wallet and handed it back to him. “I think you’re all good.”

Ben tucked his wallet back into the pocket of his jeans. “Thanks. Are you a nurse or something?”

A strange look crossed Rey’s features. A grimace she was trying to hide, but Ben caught it.

“I was,” she whispered as she rubbed her arm, her gaze somewhere far away. “I own the shop downstairs now. I like it much better,” she hastened to add, trying to get her voice back to a happier tone. “Not that I didn’t like being a nurse! It’s just, something happened, and I couldn’t do it anymore. Sorry, I’m babbling.” She petered off, probably worried she’d put him off with her hurried explanation. Ben found himself wanting to hear the whole story, about this and anything else she wanted to tell him.

“No, that’s okay. Umm, shit happens, you know. I get it. I do. I did one thing, I didn’t like it, and now I do something else too.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m an environmental lawyer now.”

Rey leaned forward, her arms draped over her knees, her eyes brighter. “Really? What’s that like?”

Ben shrugged. “Rewarding. Feels better than what I used to do.”

“And what was that?”

“Corporate law.”

Rey scrunched up her face in mock disgust, and Ben almost had to laugh. Five minutes with this woman and he found himself feeling warmer and more at ease than he felt in forever. He didn’t want to leave. He fiddled with his water glass, wondering if it would be rude to take off his coat. And his shoes. And if he could crash on her tiny couch.

“Would you like some tea?” Rey half-asked, half-shouted as she jumped out of her chair.

Ben jumped up too, startled. “Yes!” He cleared his throat, trying to temper his excitement. “I mean, yeah, that sounds great. Thanks, Rey.”

Rey was nodding nervously as she poured water in the kettle and set it to heat.

#reylo #reylo fanfiction #fluff #eventual smut

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redroseinsanity · 4 years

Text

Ōmagatoki - Day 2

@daisugaweek2019 | Day 2 - Haste/Wish

Chapters: 2/7

Summary: In the Kamakura period, a fallen samurai undertakes a journey to pray for the mountain god’s mercy as a famine threatens his people, but instead meets an enchanting tree spirit. Daichi knows that the kodama is possibly the most dangerous being he has ever encountered, and yet, he falls.

—

“What if I told you that there’s a price to pay for saving your people?”

“What kind of price?”

“A sacrifice.”

One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven

Daichi woke with the dawn. In the early strains of morning light, the clearing that he had decided to take a chance and fall asleep in proved to be a good choice, with a thick amount of vegetation providing ample buffer from the chilly night winds.

As the night’s memories streamed into his consciousness, he glanced around and found that he was alone. With a wry grin, he shook his head. A dream, after all.

The alluring stranger was nothing more than a figment of his exhausted mind or the result pushing his body too far after months of inactivity. Nevertheless, he shut his eyes and recalled the way his name had sounded in that musical voice, holding it the way one held a piece of candy on their tongue.

Daichi.

He drew a deep breath, and proceeded to banish it from his mind.

After washing up in a stream nearby, he ate some of his rations and drank his fill before moving off, taking care to mentally mark his route lest he lose his way.

He had no clear idea what he was looking for, but if he were to believe the stories, he would know it when he found it. A place or a landmark or something that he would see, and know in his bones that it was where he ought to be paying his respects.

By midday, he had plunged so deep into the heart of the mountain forest that he had the nagging feeling he might have gotten lost. The logical part of him demanded that he turn back and head down the mountain, go home and return to the meaningless wallowing in self-pity that he had indulged in prior to this.

But he hadn’t found what he was looking for and he refused to revert to the despondent creature he had been. Daichi’s sense of duty had been unwavering even in the blur of his purposeless moping, and it had been the sense of responsibility he felt for his people that had dragged him out to practise his combat drills, to take tours to see the extent of the problem and eventually, had forced him up this very mountain. So, on he pressed, past hanging vines and gleaming blades of immaculately shaped leaves, careful not to disturb intricately constructed webs.

In the thick of the woods, he grew increasingly uneasy as he manoeuvred across fallen logs and mossy stones. A stream trickled along in the distance and by this point, he was fairly certain he had chanced upon some kind of untouched paradise, given the surreal beauty of the scenery.

Yet, there was a cold prickling at the back of his neck and something in his gut had his hand clasped loosely around the hilt of his katana. This place was perfect, too perfect, in fact. Was this it?

“Daichi?“

Keep reading on AO3 or read after the cut

Daichi whirled around, half drawing his blade as he struggled to locate the source. From the thicket, the stranger seemed to have been pulled from thin air, his figure rippling in the wind while Daichi blinked, trying to focus on him.

"It is you,” the stranger’s hazel eyes were no less beautiful in the daylight than they had been at dusk, but they held a measure of concern and something sharper, something Daichi tried and failed to put a finger on.

You’re real, Daichi thought in disbelief, his gaze flickering over a slight build clad in pale jade cloth and faltering at the same silver spun hair, dripping over his shoulders.

“What are you doing here?” The stranger asked, taking bold steps over just as he had quietly and unhesitatingly sidled up to Daichi the night before.

“I could be asking you the same question,” Daichi shifted into a defensive stance, “Who are you? Why are you here?” How is it that I have not met you sooner?

The stranger seemed surprised, then a delighted smile lit his face and Daichi promptly forgot all the other questions he had.

“You can call me Suga,” he stopped right in front of Daichi, bringing the faint scent of cedar with him, “I am wandering, just like you.”

Up close and in the light, Suga was far more beguiling than Daichi had anticipated and he groped for words or any form of coherency in his brain while valiantly attempting to recover the power of speech.

“I am not wandering,” he managed to say firmly, “I am searching for a specific place so I suppose you can say that I am questing.”

“Well, I can tell you this is not the right place,” Suga declared cheerfully, turning towards the direction he originally came from and starting off.

When he realised that Daichi had not followed, he threw a look back and frowned.

“Are you not coming?”

“Do you know where it is? If not, I- I am afraid I must keep going,” Daichi fought down the instinctive urge to go wherever Suga did and willed his feet to stay planted where they were.

“I know what you need and I know how to get it,” Suga flashed a winsome smile, eyes twinkling as he continued in his original direction and now, Daichi hastened to catch up, heart pounding faster than his brisk walking warranted.

“How do you know?” Daichi asked, pulling back a branch to allow Suga to walk past it and was rewarded with a beatific curve of pale pink lips.

“I live here,” Suga replied simply, and as if to prove it, he hopped deftly over three ridiculously uneven stones to cross a stream.

Daichi hovered at the edge of the bank before deciding that he could clear it and took a single leap, stumbling a little as he landed on his bad leg only to catch himself and straighten quickly in a painstakingly rehearsed move.

He looked up to see Suga watching him with a peculiar expression and instantaneously, his stomach seized. He had no use for pity, not here, not when he had undertaken this precisely to prove (to whom, he had not yet figured out) that he was nothing worth pitying.

“I did not think there was anybody living here,” he blurted, hoping to distract Suga and feed his own curiosity at the same time.

“Of course there are,” Suga replied off-handedly, picking up his pace and trotting confidently on, “You people down there believe differently simply because none of you have met anyone who does.”

Daichi reined in ten different rebuttals and questions on the tip of his tongue to remind himself that the logic that had guided him for the past twenty four years seemed to evaporate on this mountain.

“But now I have,” He was unaware that he had spoken aloud until Suga whipped around to face him again, he smiled gently at Suga’s surprised look, “I’ve met you.”

He didn’t expect Suga’s face to soften into fondness, and he certainly didn’t expect his traitorous heart to fall out of beat for that moment.

“Yes,” Suga’s eyes, growing endeared and yet, filling with an age old melancholy, looked brighter than ever, “Yes, now you’ve met me.”

Standing there in a fern coloured set of robes, Suga seemed to fit right in with the foliage they were surrounded by and Daichi could see why he constantly failed to see him until he was practically right in front of the samurai. Not for the first time, Daichi speculated on just how much of this encounter was real. For all he knew, he had accidentally tripped into the spirit realm and was doing nothing more than talking to ghosts or figments of his imagination.

Just to be sure, he looked down at the dirt track that Suga was leading him along, eyes trailing past the hem of the cloth to where Suga was taking small but confident steps ahead. And his own gait stuttered.

There were no footprints.

Chancing a casual look back to his own tracks he saw his own sturdy shoeprints in the dirt and checking again, he ascertained that there was only one set of footprints despite there clearly being the two of them.

He supposed he ought to be frightened or that he ought to start running away in terror, but all he felt was a calm sense of acceptance, as though a piece he had been struggling to comprehend had fallen into place and that seemed about right.

He did not stumble again as he followed Suga, accompanied by the notion that nothing he knew held true anymore and simultaneously, that person in front of him was the truest thing he would ever know.

“This is further from the heart of the forest,” Daichi said dumbly as he got his bearings a long hike later. Suga had guided them into another small open patch on the crest of the mountain, adjacent to where Daichi had started out. This angle afforded him both a view of his land and the spectacular stretches of mountains that lay beyond it, and Daichi winced as he was reminded of how poorly his people were doing.

“The heart of the forest is not somewhere you need to go to save your people,” Suga came to stand next to Daichi, “It is not safe for you.”

As silently as he had approached Daichi, Suga left to recline against the slanted wood of a large beech tree.

“What if I told you that there’s a price to pay for saving your people?”

“What kind of price?”

“A sacrifice.”

Daichi mulled over it for a brief instant although he already knew the answer.

“Then I will pay it.”

Daichi wondered if they had arrived at the point whereby Suga would demand that he lay down his life for what he was asking. He waited but all that came was a scoff as Suga wiggled to make himself more comfortable.

“You say rash things for someone so steadfast,” Was the simple reply and Daichi let out an exhale, relieved and disappointed.

From where he stood, it was a steep dive down to the neatly fenced farming plots and village that Daichi was familiar with. Here, with the breeze toying with argon strands of Suga’s hair and the sky settling into a rich blend of reds and oranges, Daichi felt far removed from his life down below.

Not even when he was an unimaginable distance away fighting the war did he feel so far from where he called home. As he watched Suga’s lids flutter closed, observed the slow inhale, the way the other man seemed to lean into the touch of the tree trunk he was resting against, he could not help but feel as though he was much closer to the sky than he was to his land.

Guiltily, he wondered what it would be like, to keep going up, to stretch his fingers toward the horizon instead of tilting his chin downwards.

He was out of his depth, this he knew. He knew it when he was walking behind Suga and desperately wishing he could test the silkiness of that maddeningly silver hair. He knew it when he failed to get the answers he was looking for but believed that he did anyway because the voice that gave them was so enchanting. And he knew now, when the sun was setting and he had no idea what he was doing except that as long as it involved this mysterious man, he wanted to keep doing it.

“What are you hoping for?” The question startled Daichi out of his thoughts and he turned to see Suga still with his eyes closed and head pillowed on the dark brown of the bark.

“I’m hoping that I can find a way to feed my people, maybe a miracle so that not so many die when the winter comes,” Daichi confessed in a low tone, searching in the distance for an answer he did not possess. It was the tail end of spring, but one good harvest in the summer could be his people’s salvation.

“No, that’s what you want for your people,” Suga’s eyes opened languidly and he focused a glittering hazel stare on the samurai.

“What do you want?"

Daichi drew a blank. Samurai were taught to put their community and nation first. Nobody had ever asked him what he wanted before. Rather, no one had ever asked him what he wanted without having a standard answer that they expected to receive. His brows knitted as he slowly made his way over to Suga and dropped into the spot next to him.

Around them, dragonflies lit on taller blades of grass, as though surveying the area before heading back. Daichi thought of the picture they made, Suga’s light green fabric against his dark brown sensible clothes amidst the verdant field, the branches swaying overhead and the pale warmth from the fading day.

All of a sudden he was biting back a ‘You’ from the tip of his tongue. You, he thought, with surprise and abandon, I want to stay here with you.

Instead he cleared his throat, and pondered the question, deliberately avoiding the unnerving weight of Suga’s gaze.

"I think I would want to find peace,” Daichi said more to himself than anything, “To find purpose and to be at peace with the path that life has shown me."

He looked up to see Suga eyeing him thoughtfully, and for a cold second he imagined that the other man knew that he had not been completely truthful.

But Suga broke into a grin, a flash of white in the dimming light.

"Well then, Daichi, would you not say that it’s peaceful here?” With me? Remained unspoken, but it rang out in the evening regardless and as if on cue, the last of a flock of swallows hurtled past, racing to get back before nightfall.

Daichi smiled, shoving the clamour of uncertainty into the far reaches of his mind, clamping down on the urgency that prodded him to find what he was looking for and go home. He could not stay in this haven for long, he could not dodge his responsibilities forever and although he knew all of that, for now at least, he could linger just a little longer.

“Yes,” he gave that smile, wist swallowed only to leave a genuine albeit bashful crinkling of his eyes, to Suga, “I would say so.”

#daisuga #sawamura daichi #sugawara koushi #haikyuu!!#daisugaweek2019 #redwrites #haikyuufanfics

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musikfurfreiheit · 5 years

Text

Second Chance (5/10)

Hurt. Angry. On the verge of tears. And it was all caused by one person.

Merel looked at the blue-haired woman in front of her. She couldn’t believe it. After all Alissa had done to her, she still had the nerve to show up here. She’d betrayed Merel’s trust, and then acted as if it was nothing. In the end, that had been what hurt Merel most. Not once had Alissa been sorry for what she’d done, and she still didn’t seem to be.

‘Nice place you got here.’ Alissa smiled. ‘Are you going to invite me in?’

‘What are you doing here?’

‘Catching up. We haven’t seen each other in such a long time.’

Merel looked at the other woman in disbelieve. Was she serious about this? How had she even found this apartment? The whole reason of Merel moving to another city had been to avoid seeing Alissa after all. Before she even had the chance of go over all the question she had, Alissa’s voice sounded again.

‘Oh, hello Vincent!’

The woman pushed herself a way into the apartment, Merel trying to avoid her touch at all costs. She watched Alissa making her way towards her cat, and that’s when something snapped inside her. She could take the pain of Alissa hurting her, but she had to stay away from Vincent.

‘Get out.’ Merel firmly said, repeating herself when Alissa ignored her. ‘Get out! And don’t you dare touch him!’

This time the other woman looked up, a smile playing on her lips. Merel’s hate towards her seemed to grow even more when Alissa spoke again.

‘You don’t seem happy to see me, little bird.’

‘GET OUT!’

Merel nearly screamed this time. Raising her voice and fighting her tears hurt her throat, but it wasn’t stopping her. She wouldn’t give Alissa the satisfaction of seeing her cry, not ever again. She just wanted the other woman out of her life, or at least out of the apartment.

And unfortunately, the mess just became bigger the longer Alissa stayed.

A soft knock sounded on the still open door. Charlotte stood in the doorway, guitar in her hand, confusion on her face. Merel almost wanted to beg the redhead to help her, but Alissa finally seemed to understand she wasn’t welcome.

‘Oh.’ She said, eyeing Charlotte before making her way to the door. ‘It’s like that, huh?’

Without another word Alissa left the apartment. She turned around one last time, winking at Merel with a smirk before disappearing around the corner. It was more than Merel could take. Her small frame was shaking. She felt too angry to cry, but was so glad to see Charlotte at the same time. She tried to breathe, tried to calm down, but the worry on Charlotte’s face only grew.

‘What was that about?’ The redhead carefully asked.

‘Alissa, my ex-girlfriend.’ Merel answered, not looking Charlotte in the eye. ‘I don’t understand how she dared to come here. I want her out of my life, that’s why I moved all the way here. And she has the nerve to come here! She makes me so angry! I- I…’

‘Hey, easy, easy. She’s gone now. It’s okay.’

Merel finally looked up when she felt Charlotte’s hand on her shoulder. For a few seconds she just stared. She stared at the calming smile on Charlotte’s lips, at the dozens of freckles on her cheeks, at the hazel eyes she so desperately wanted to believe. Then she sighed.

‘I’m sorry.’ Merel mumbled. ‘You shouldn’t have to see the mess that’s my life. You’re just here to play guitar.’

‘Are you kidding? We’re not going to play guitar today, you won’t be able to teach me anything today.’

‘But-‘

‘No buts, take the day off. Or, hour, if you have other students.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘I am.’ Charlotte smiled. ‘But you’ll have to make it up to me. I’ll pick you up at 9 this evening for drinks.’

Charlotte looked at her for another second, the smile still in place. Then she left, and somehow had calmed Merel down with just a few words and a smile.

Just as awful as her morning had been, that’s how surprising her evening was.

Not only had Charlotte indeed arrived just in time to pick her up, she’d done so on a white motorcycle, fully dressed in leather. Merel had felt her heart racing during the ride to the bar. She was excited to finally ride a motor, even if it was just at the back. She made sure she remembered every detail of it. The sound of the roaring motor, the smell of the leather, the feeling of the wind, and the feeling of being so close to Charlotte.

And that last feeling hadn’t left her yet. Charlotte had been innocently touching Merel all night and giving her smiles that were a little less innocent. Once Merel would have been sure the redhead was flirting with her, might even have flirted back, but not tonight. Alissa was still on her mind, and the pain had returned to her chest when she started telling Charlotte about how the blue-haired woman had cheated on her. Over and over again, without ever being sorry.

‘So, yeah. That’s when I realized she didn’t love me.’ Merel concluded her story. ‘Lying and cheating and using them, you don’t do those things to someone you love.’

‘I totally agree.’

There it was again. An innocent touch to her hand, a sweet smile to accompany her words. Charlotte had to be aware of what she was doing, but Merel didn’t want to give in to it. Not yet, at least. Not after being reminded how much Alissa had hurt her.

‘You look like you need another drink.’ Charlotte laughed, already raising her hand to order more beer, but Merel stopped her.

‘No, don’t.’ She said, pulling down Charlotte’s arm. ‘I already had enough, I don’t need a hangover tomorrow. I think I want to go home.’

Charlotte smiled once again, taking Merel’s hand in her own while looking her in the eyes. Merel’s heart beat a little bit faster. What was Charlotte doing?

‘Only if you promise me you feel better.’

‘I do. Promise.’

Charlotte let go of her hand after lightly squeezing it, and got up to pay the bill. Merel hadn’t lied. She did feel better than she did that morning, but now she was insecure instead of angry. Charlotte seemed to like her, really like her, and maybe she felt the same. But what if Charlotte was just being a great friend? They’d barely known each other for a few weeks after all. And yet, there was something about the redhead that fascinated her to no end.

The butterflies in Merel’s stomach returned when she got on the back of the motor again and wrapped her arms around Charlotte’s waist. The scent of the leather was so strong, but Charlotte’s natural scent still seemed to get through. The motor started, Merel tightened her grip and felt her heartbeat increasing again. Was this adrenaline? Was this love? Maybe it was a combination, but it was the best Merel had felt all day.

The drive to the apartment was way too short for Merel’s liking. She didn’t want to let go of Charlotte, didn’t want to say goodbye to her. But she did anyway. Carefully she got off the motor, making sure she didn’t leave any marks on the white material. Then she just stood there awkwardly.

‘So, eh, thanks for this evening.’

‘You’re welcome.’ Charlotte answered. ‘Are you still up for that guitar class tomorrow?’

‘Yeah, I am. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

With those words Merel turned around and wanted to make her way towards the door of her apartment. But Charlotte stopped her before she’d even taken her first step.

‘Merel.’

The blonde turned around. Charlotte was still sitting on her motor, smiling like she’d done all evening. Without looking away from Merel, Charlotte raised her hand, still covered in a leather glove, and carefully placed on Merel’s cheek. The girl barely dared to breathe when the leather made its way to her chin, carefully pulling her closer towards the other woman.

Merel knew what was happening, but her heart still skipped a beat when Charlotte slightly kissed her lips. They were so soft and tasted so sweet. She was so overwhelmed by everything she was feeling she could almost cry. It was relief, it was longing, it was trust. She trusted Charlotte, she trusted her so much that she even dared to kiss her back.

#fanfiction #Charmer #Second Chance #chapter 5

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ila9182 · 5 years

Note

Angst/fluff 50 Sharon and Andy?

Thank you, anon, for the ask and forgive me it took me so long to write this one for you. This prompt takes place during Major Crimes, late season 4.

I hope you will enjoy it! ;)

50. “Nothing is wrong with you.”

“We could stay here some more, just like this…” Sharon whispered against Andy’s chest.

They had just finished watching a movie and Sharon didn’t intend to break the comfortable moment they were sharing. At some point during the movie, she had tucked her legs underneath her body and moved closer to him, her head resting on Andy’s chest. He had welcomed her need for closeness by simply tightening his hold on her without saying a word. He had been rather silent the whole evening and Sharon assumed he must have been tired after their eventful day at work. When Andy finally spoke, there was hesitation in his voice, “You’re sure this is a good idea?”

“I’m not sleepy yet and I’m definitely enjoying this…” she added with a smile, her hand playing with a button of his shirt. “I really needed this after today…” she added briefly closing her eyes before focusing on the button of his shirt again.

“This is not what I’m talking about…” He softly replied.

The seriousness of his tone made her stop and lift her head from his chest to look at him in the eyes. Suddenly she could tell it wasn’t only tiredness. There was something different this time in those hazel eyes; something that looked more like pain or fear, she couldn’t exactly tell. Her gut was hinting that something was off. She didn’t want to get nervous, but her voice gave her away once she was finally able to ask, “What are you talking about, Andy?”

“Today’s case got me thinking…”

Andy didn’t need to say more. Sharon knew what he was talking about. She closed her eyes and sighed. She should have known better, she should have known that the case would have hit close to home. A woman killed in a hit-and-run. They had closed the case pretty fast, finding the hit-and-run driver as he was trying to get rid of his damaged car. It could have been an ordinary case if it wasn’t for the background story that explained why the victim, Paula Williams was driving with a suitcase in her car in the middle of the night. She had found out that her husband Travis had once again relapsed into alcohol. They had argued and she had run away, sick of his empty promises and incessant lies. She had told him that this would have been the last time he would see her. Both had no clue of how tragic those words would have sounded. Travis Williams didn’t kill his wife, a distracted driver did, but in his mind, he would always be the reason she was out in the middle of the night, driving to God knows where. The guilt over his wife’s death would haunt him for the rest of his life.

Sharon reached for Andy’s cheek and cupped it. He closed his eyes as he leaned into her touch, memories of what happened at the courthouse and the words exchanged with Jack Raydor coming back to Andy’s mind.

“You really think you’re what’s better for my wife, Flynn?” Jack asked Andy, once he was close enough for the other man to hear.

Andy turned around and tried to hide the irritation that started creeping inside him when he corrected him, “Ex-wife, Jack. I’d like to remind you that you two are divorced.”

Jack scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest, silently studying Andy before answering, “Oh Flynn, don’t pretend to be better than me. I know who you are, we were drinking buddies, remember? As much as you try to get rid of that part of your life, it’s still here and it’s only a matter of time before you screw everything up again…” A satisfied smirk appeared on Jack’s face as he added, “and I’ll be here waiting for it to happen and to enjoy the show.”

Had it been a couple of years ago, Andy would have punched him in the face right away. Instead, he clenched his fists and took a deep breath, trying to calm down. He knew the last thing Sharon wanted was for her ex-husband and boyfriend to fight in the courthouse. She wouldn’t have tolerated any of it. So, Andy simply shrugged and shot back with a half smile, “Hate to disappoint you, Jack, but you may have to wait forever for that to happen.”

“Ha ha ha, funny Flynn. That’s what you tell Sharon to reassure her? Does she really believe that crap?” Jack asked as he rolled his eyes. “Thought she was more clever than that… too bad for her, she’s just making the same mistake all over again.” He said, shaking his head, falsely exasperated. “You’re no better than me or Travis Williams, Flynn. Keep that in mind.” Jack added as he walked past Andy, patting his shoulder.

Sharon had walked out of the restroom just in time to see Jack pat Andy’s shoulder and leave. When she had come across him in the hallway of the courthouse, her ex-husband had merely nodded at her and she had done the same. Now she started to wonder if the two men had really only exchanged a greeting as Andy had told her. She knew her ex-husband too well; he wouldn’t have kept quiet in such a situation. There was obviously something Jack had told Andy that had him suddenly growing so insecure and silent. Sharon didn’t have to think too much about it because Andy finally spoke again, “You’re just the most remarkable woman I’ve ever met, Sharon…”

His sudden admission drew a smile to her face and she felt her eyes glistening. Her hand still on his cheek, she stroked it with her thumb, when she noticed he was looking down, avoiding eye contact. She frowned. She could tell there was more, but she didn’t want to pressure him. She kept stroking his cheek when she saw his lips moving, “And you deserve the best… you deserve so much better than me.”

Sharon froze, her hand on his cheek stopping and unceremoniously falling to her lap as her smile progressively disappeared from her face. She hadn’t seen that coming. She wondered if it was one of those lame excuses people used when they wanted to break up. Something like it’s not you, it’s me or you deserve so much better. Her throat tightened as she felt a lump forming. If he was leaving her, she wasn’t going to cry in front of him, she wasn’t going to let him show how much he was hurting her. She couldn’t speak, she wasn’t even sure she could breathe properly. She wanted to ask him to explain himself, but she didn’t have to because he went on, “I mean… I just feel like the luckiest idiot in the world to have such a wonderful woman by my side… and I don’t think I deserve this, I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve someone like you. Possibly nothing good, I’m an alcoholic and will always be one… and you deserve so much better than having to deal with another jerk fighting alcoholism…”

Sharon would have slapped him if he weren’t already beating himself up. How could he be so stupid to think such a thing?! She needed to stop his rambling. She straightened and took a deep breath as she firmly said, “Andrew Flynn, stop this nonsense immediately.”

Andy sat with his mouth wide open and he frowned. It took him a few seconds to recompose himself as he answered in a barely audible voice, “Sharon, this is serious.”

“And I’m serious too, Andy.” She replied, shaking her head. “How can you possibly believe that I am better off without you? You are what I need, Andy.”

“I am so screwed up, Sharon.” He whispered, looking down once again. “And you…”

“Andy.” She firmly called to him, cutting him short and lifting his chin with her thumb. “Remember what I told you not long ago? That I’ve been looking out for my own interest all my life and that I don’t need you for that?” She saw him nod and she added, “Well, I’m telling you this again. I’m grown up enough to make my own decisions and I chose you.” She paused and looked at him right in the eyes as she repeated, “I will always choose you, Andy.”

“You don’t deserve someone so wrong.” Andy reasoned, as he kept repeating the things he had told himself during the whole afternoon.

“Andy, will you please listen to me?” Sharon replied, a hint of irritation in her voice. He was the most stubborn man in the world. Her voice went back soft when she moved her hand from his chin to his cheek, stroking it as she slowly told him, “Nothing is wrong with you.” She paused, making sure the words sank in, “There is not a single thing wrong with you, you hear that, Andrew Flynn?” She repeated. She saw him opening his mouth to protest, but she raised her hand to stop him. “You’re an alcoholic, that’s true, but you’re also the man who hasn’t had a drink in twenty years. You’re the man I admire for the strength, the integrity, and the passion you put in everything you do. You’re the man I’m proud of every single day, because you could have chosen the easy way out, but you didn’t. You’ve decided to fight every day and to fix all the things that you did wrong in your life instead of drowning your sorrows inside a bottle.” She paused as she studied him. He was looking at her and she noticed his eyes were glistening with unshed tears. She took a deep breath as she added, “You’re the man I love…” Her voice trailed off as she whispered, “What you are is who I love, Andy. Every part of you, even your stupid stubbornness.” She added with a smirk.

A lone tear escaped Andy’s left eye. She caught it and brushed it away with her thumb before it reached the crook of his neck. He offered her a smile and she answered with one of her brightest. He covered the hand she had on his face with his before taking it and squeezing it. Their fingers naturally intertwined and he stared at them silently for a few seconds before gently pulling her toward him. He let go of her hand and slid an arm around her as his lips met hers in a passionate kiss. They broke off for air and he whispered, his lips still touching hers, “I love you, Sharon, so so much.”

Sharon beamed at him before a small chuckle escaped her lips. “Good to know.” She answered with another chuckle. He looked at her with a questioning stare, a little taken aback by her reaction as she admitted, “When you started saying all that nonsense… I thought you were making up some lame excuse to break up with me because you were tired of me.”

“I could never…” He whispered, drawing her close again as they rested forehead against forehead. “As long as you know what you signed up for…”

“Oh, I sure do.” Sharon replied with a grin. “You know me, I love deals and I pay attention to every condition in them.”

#Major Crimes #Sharon Raydor #Andy Flynn #Jack Raydor #Sharon x Andy #Shandy #nothing is wrong with you #fanfiction #prompt #anon #ilariawrites

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