#like I do think it's annoying to be all haughty about 'um people are only buying books for the aesthetic' cuz usually they are not | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ezlebe · 2 years

Note

If you ever want another request- I thought the bit where Greg is on E in “pins and needles” was pretty fun, I’d love to see more clingy Greg and either disgruntled or entertained Tom depending on the situation

“Why’re you always doing that?”

Tom looks over while furrowing his brow, then glances around before landing back on Greg with a frown. “What?”

“Touching me,” Greg says, dropping his head and peeking down with a fan of lashes against his cheeks to where Tom’s hand is set at his elbow. “See.”

Tom stares too, for a beat, then pulls his hand away with a jerk, consciously taking the other off his hip, and shoves both into his trouser pockets.

“No one else touches me,” Greg says, exhaling a brief, quiet hum while tipping his head back to look at the sparkly ceiling above them. “Except you.”

“They do so,” Tom says, though he can’t really think of a particular instance, not recently, and he twists his fingers into fists in his pockets. “That’s just the E talking.”

“MDMA,” Greg says, quite haughty, but he’s half grinning, too, standing up straighter and squaring his shoulders against the wall that he’s balanced himself on. “It’s actually, like… um.” He breaks into a breathy laugh. “Oh, E is for ecstasy.”

“Such a quick mind, over here – best alert MENSA,” Tom mocks, glancing over when the elevator opens with an almost annoyingly pleasant hum. He steps inside, jerking his chin, and ignores an impulse to more physically grab Greg to pull him in behind him. “Where did you even get it? And you know people dance on it, grind on the floor like horn-dogs, not become big annoying bees that buzz around killing the vibe.”

“It was one of Lukas’ friends, and I, like – I didn’t kill it, Tom,” Greg says, folding himself up and crowding far closer to Tom than the wide car really requires of him. “You said I should – We should leave the casino, so your, um – the so-called vibe was, in fact, entirely self-immolated.”

Tom rolls his eyes, as he pushes the button for the seventeenth floor. It was, perhaps, but only because Greg hovered and interrupted every other statement for a good hour while Tom tried in utter vain to concentrate on speaking rusty Cantonese to a trio of marketers who’s names he cannot recall, even now, but who he met last time he was in Macau. He had been attempting to network in a way that didn’t involve the now-usual mutually assured destruction, so of course his unofficial deputy had somehow found him, among the stirring crowd in tonight’s casino venue of Lukas’ absolutely biased choice, in a low lit corner booth while bumbling and giggly on goddamned E.

The marketers had then consistently referred to Greg as something of a circus act, as far as Tom could translate, and largely because of his height, which hadn’t helped Tom’s mood all that much. He’s not going to admit it, though; at least, not until Greg is sober enough to realize they were even talking about him.

Tom glances down with a start, as Greg’s fingers trail along his arm, flicking at his cuff links and tracing the seam of the sleeve. He looks back to the numbers, spinning up the elevator display, and offers a quiet tut. “You touch, too, Greg.”

“Yeah,” Greg breathes, looking over with one of the wide grins he’s been offering since he popped up at the booth, actually leaning in closer while his long fingers dance up Tom’s arm. “My mom has this friend, like… She would, I think, say you’ve got a good aura.”

Tom raises a brow, as the elevator slows at the selected floor. “That seems highly unbelievable, Gregory. Considering.”

Greg snorts and falls into a wheezy giggle. “Yeah, maybe? It’s just, um... interesting, then? Or maybe only good to me – do you think I have a good aura?”

Tom glances sidelong, as he steps out, feeling a smirk play at the edge of his lips. “Are you serious – you want me to name a color, or something?”

“No, no, it’s like a…” Greg rolls his eyes, as he snickers, rolling his head back and forth along his shoulders. “A sense you get around a person. I guess. Like all my cousins are sort of, like… uncomfortably tacky and sort of car, um – carcinogenic, like fresh road tar, you know, except like Connor, who is more… a-a sticky hand covered in hair.”

“A truly visceral image,” Tom says, peeking at numbers on doors and trying to find the one that had been written on Greg’s keycard holder earlier that day. “So what am I?”

“Oh, um…” Greg hums, then breaks out into a breathy set of unfairly devastating giggles, as he slants hard into Tom’s side. “Gaudy Christmas sweater?”

“Ugly Christmas sweater?” Tom corrects, pointblank, coming to a pause at a door and then looking over at Greg, hesitating a pair of seconds, then reaching out to pat at his jacket. He finds a phone on the inside pocket, yanking it out with a wag in Greg’s face. “Do you even wear those?”

“Not really, but, uh…” Greg pinches his lips together, watching Tom slide the keycard from the back. “I don’t think they’re really, um… that religious? Are they?” He shrugs, looking back up with a lean forward into Tom’s space. “But they’re like warm, and goofy, and… a little itchy.”

“I’m going to find you a really ugly not-Christmassy one, Gregory,” Tom says, flatly, sliding the card into the door with a hard shake of his head; it blips green, thank fuck. “Cheapest wool on the market, feels like the steel kind, and make you wear it.”

“See!” Greg says, overly cheerful at the threat, grabbing high on the back of Tom’s arm to shake him with a pitchy hum. “That’s my – like, totally my point.”

Tom goes for the mini fridge across the room and pulls out an equally mini water, then turns around just in time to take in with a wide blink that Greg is already stripping down. He watches Greg’s long, pasty legs kick off his trousers to settle and wrinkle in a gray puddle on the floor, then sets the water on the bedside table with a flat press of his lips – a dissatisfied moue that just deepens when the jacket joins them.

“Greg, for shits’ sake,” Tom says, rubbing at the inside of one of his brows and concentrating more on the laziness rather than the G-rated nakedness. “You’re not in your own penthouse hovel – pick that up.”

Greg grumbles low and rolls his eyes hard, and he slips into brief, incredulous giggles halfway through, but his suit, somehow, gets largely shaken out and laid across the back of a chair. He forgets to take off his button up, though, or maybe he likes the feel of it, picking up the bottle next to Tom with a contented hum.

“Alright, in you go,” Tom says, throwing the bedclothes and pointing aggressively at the white sheets starched and stretched across the mattress. “I’ll collect you tomorrow for some hungover breakfast and you can tell to me all you got up to tonight that didn’t involve taking candy from strangers. Deal?”

Greg pauses with the bottle, now half-empty, set distractingly on his lower lip. He blinks widely, dropping the bottle while his tongue peek between his lips. “Are you, like… going back downstairs?”

Tom shakes his head, gesturing wider and more emphatically at the bed, until Greg starts to move. He plucks the water from his hands, narrowly saving Greg from spilling it down his front. “I’ve got my own chemical gambling to sleep off, though it’s mostly liquor.”

“So, he-hey, then…” Greg says, an odd grin on his face, as he reaches up grabs at the line of buttons on Tom’s shirt with a wide blink. “Wait.”

“Scared of the dark?” Tom taunts, patting condescendingly around the bony knuckles of Greg’s hand. “The hotel is so new, the only ghosts are of the people who died building it. You’ll be alright.”

He reaches out for the corner of the comforter, as the hand releases him, and doesn’t expect at all for Greg to lurch up from the mattress, let alone kiss him hard. He responds more rashly than rationally, gasping and pressing back while grabbing Greg’s face, as a thousand imagined moments rear from the back of his mind. He gets lost in the kiss for heated seconds, mouth sliding against Greg’s, until he comes back to his senses all at once when Greg’s fingers, again, tug the buttons at his shirt. He shoves away with a harsh breath, quickly shaking his head and holding Greg back from following him .

“Tom?” Greg says, plaintive, brows framing concern around his eyes.

“Look, Greg…” Tom pauses to swallow hard, sweeping his thumb along Greg’s cheek, trespassing and selfish, then forces his hands to drop and grab Greg’s to let go of him. “I get it, you’re so horny you might as well be called Billy and figure I’m up for it, but this would – it might… fuck, ruin me.”

“Ruin you?” Greg repeats, bemused, hands curling into his own chest.

“Just being the closest warm body,” Tom mutters, exhaling a broken laugh while scrubbing at his face. He stands and steps backward, cursing everything he drank, keeping up with the marketers, though really he isn’t sure he’s even past tipsy. “Here’s hoping you’re somehow fucked up enough you won’t remember even trying that.”

Greg’s eyes dart back and forth across Tom’s face, as he slumps into the pillow.

Tom manages to grab the comforter uninterrupted and starts yanking it over Greg, who actually startles at the movement, glancing widely and watching the corner cross his body. “Lay there until you’re off in fucking Oz, buddy. The sheets are nice – that E’s got to make it feel like you’re resting on the prized cushions of a sultan.”

“Um, except…” Greg mumbles, hunching while he grabs the blanket now at his chin. “Tom?”

Tom ignores the implied question and hastily crosses the room, flicking the light off with a heavy smack on the wall. He stays there for a pair of heavy breaths, closing his eyes with a hard swallow, and contemplates fleeing the room entirely, but instead quickly finds himself in the aggressively white-tiled bathroom with a clumsy slide of the pocket door. He inhales deep through his nose, but the exhale falters, and he covers his face with both hands while he tries desperately to make his breathing slow and measured, rather than falling into a humiliating fucking fit.

It doesn’t… What does it matter that Greg kissed him? His head is so stuffed with molly-flavored cotton that he’d have kissed a turnip-headed scarecrow in the same position. It’s not as if – He wouldn’t kiss Tom, if all his marbles were in place, is the broad fact of it.

It really doesn’t even matter.

Or, it shouldn’t, but it does, because Tom wants Greg to want him so bad that a permanent ache has set up under his sternum, and he just accidentally confirmed that Greg might consider him, but it’s when out of his fucking mind. He finally, actually got to kiss Greg, and, yeah, it didn’t even matter, turning it into some ouroboros of collectively no real fucking meaning.

Tom claws his hands across his eyes and accidentally sizes up himself in the mirror, sees his eyes glassy and cheeks splotchy, and barely manages to look away, slapping at the light switch, in time before a choke catches at the back of his throat. He covers his mouth, squeezing his eyes shut, and wills himself, to no avail, to cowboy up or what the fuck ever, rather than fall to pieces in a hotel bathroom. It doesn’t work – it never does, once he’s sunk to this point.

“Tom – ?”

No, fuck. It’s the worst thing that could happen and that’s exactly why Tom is unsurprised that it did.

The bathroom door slides open wider, at a soft thud of knuckles against the panel. “Tommy, are you crying?”

“No, fuck off,” Tom snaps, turning his back to the door and to Greg, scrubbing the best he can at his face, despite the dark, though it doesn’t do a lot for the nasally, croaking quality of his voice. “You’re supposed to be going the fuck to sleep.”

“You are…?” Greg says, fingertips grazing across Tom’s back.

“I’m not,” Tom insists, harshly, as he’s quickly forced into a corner. He tenses up and almost shoves Greg, but the instinct to hide is, for once, stronger, and he gives up wiping at his face to just keep his hands over his eyes. “I’m not.”

“Are you hurt?” Greg says, speaking with careful, earnest concern.

Tom chokes on a laugh mixed with another wet gasp. “No, I - I’m fine, you’re just so fucking high that you’re hallucinating shit.”

Greg touches his shoulder again and Tom flinches, turning around and nearly falling backward into the tub, but Greg easily catches him with his stupid orangutan arms and makes it all worse with a bear hug. If there’s any sort of luck in the world, between the hour and the booze and the drugs, he’ll forget this like a dream.

Tom can’t help but let himself slump at the thought.

“Are you hurt?” Greg asks, again, while his nose digs hard into the side of Tom’s head.

Tom takes one heaving breath after another, giving in and pressing his face fully into Greg’s ugly silk shirt, and shakes his head. “No, buddy,” he lies, voice badly catching in his throat. “I’m… fucking peachy.”

“Are you sure?” Greg asks, painfully sincere in his ear.

“You need...” Tom takes an uneven breath, deciding to forgo another lie, and weakly, awkwardly flapping to press his hands against Greg’s side. “To go to bed. You’re out of your mind… imagining things.”

Greg mumbles a low response, unintelligible but somehow stern, still clutching at Tom despite the attempted jostling; his arms are clasped around Tom to keep him from really moving, like he’s some sort of fussy child. “You, um – you should lay down, too. Okay?”

Tom sighs through his nose. He does, really, feel a bit better, but it’s also in that way just makes him feel even worse in a deeper sense. “Okay,” he echoes, into Greg’s shirt. “…Okay.”

Greg offers another squeeze and a silly sort of rock sideways on his toes, forcing them both one way and the other, then pulls away. It’s seems like he might give Tom a break, until he proceeds to grab, somewhat awfully, at Tom’s hand to tug him back out to the room.

Tom finds himself fully clothed on the other side of the bed, as close to the edge as he can get, and stiffly listening to Greg breathe into the dark a couple feet away while his tacky lashes dry. He thinks he’ll be able to slip out, once Greg is really asleep, and start stage one of his rough plan to gaslight Greg, and himself, into forgetting every major beat of the last half hour or so ever happened.

“Tom,” Greg says, his hand suddenly across the bed and swiping down Tom’s arm in a wide, blind stroke. “I – I… I’m really sorry. I, like – I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Tom says, barely above a mutter, staring up at the faint stream of light through the blackout curtain, where it weakly stretches across the textured ceiling. “I know you didn’t mean it, bud. E makes about anyone look like a ten.”

“I-I didn’t… Wh-what?” Greg sputters, hand sliding up around Tom’s forearm, as he noticeably turns on the mattress, and tightens his grip to painful squeeze. “Anyone?”

It takes everything in Tom not to turn on his side away.

“I like knew you were you, Tom,” Greg says, voice pitching theatrically incredulous, sounding a bit unwelcomingly like he once had in that supposed panic room, but hopefully that means the high is fading, too. “Did you – do you really think I didn’t?”

“Greg –” Tom swallows hard, closing his eyes, as Greg’s other hand abruptly sweeps up clumsily and boldly against his face. He should shove him away, but he… just doesn’t want to, not again.

“That is not true at… at all – that’s awful,” Greg says, as he trespasses entirely across the polite barrier splitting the mattress and bodily curls around Tom, pressing his nose into the hollow of his cheek and mouth turning in close to his ear. “I wasn’t like, uh – like just trying to ki-kiss anyone. Else, I mean. Just you, Tom.”

Tom keeps his eyes closed; for all the room is already dark, he doesn’t want to risk a glimpse.

“So you’re not – um, not a ten, maybe, but you’re like an eight?” Greg says, fingers still rubbing up and down Tom’s arm, trapped now between them, tracing markedly against his wrist bone and then halfway up the center of his forearm along the tendons. “I really like you, but it-it’s hard to sometimes, too, so… that’s a couple off?”

Tom offers a half-hearted attempt at a scoff.

“I swear, it’s not… It wasn’t only the high? I really just think a-a lot about that first night we went out, I guess,” Greg whispers, breath warm and palpable, then he moves his head, so his lips ghost pressure with every spoken word, “And, um, you know, how I went home with you after and you helped me to bed then, too, but… I just – I-I didn’t want the same nothing to happen. Tonight. You know? I am sorry.”

Tom actually doesn’t know, no, because he’s damned sure Greg cannot be fucking serious about wanting anything more intimate than a clap on the shoulder that particular night; he had also, literally that very same day, told Tom he was incredibly mean. He doesn’t think Greg is so fucked in the head. …Probably.

“Tom?”

“Just…” Tom breathes a thin sigh. “Finding you difficult to take seriously, as usual.”

“That’s because you’re sad,” Greg says, sighing into Tom’s cheek, as he cradles the opposite in his palm, thumb sweeping the sensitive skin beneath an eye. “You were crying, because of that… of me.”

Tom thinks he might come close to cracking a tooth, he clenches his jaw so hard.

Greg keeps fondling Tom’s face, up and down, then back again, and his distraction becomes evident in a sudden, winding hum. “Your skin feels nicer than the sheets.”

Tom raises his brows as a laugh breaks weakly from his throat, peeking over in the dark to Greg’s face, visible only by being not even an inch away. He’s staring back, near unblinking, and perhaps has been that way since he reached across the bed. “That is… pretty creepy, bud.”

“True, though,” Greg murmurs, pressing closer with a curve of his fingers down Tom’s jaw to his neck. “Yeah, yeah. Soft.”

Tom takes a careful breath while watching Greg watch him, as fingertips trace down along his neck and throat.

“I think I, uh – I could find you in the dark,” Greg says, humming with a marked self-satisfaction, continuing his maddening human topography mapping with little touches down Tom’s shirt collar and along his collarbone. “I sort of did, I-I guess, but like… real dark. Anywhere. I could just touch you, and – ”

Tom clears his throat, then awkwardly elbows and squirms, rearranging the giant octopus trying to asphyxiate him with feelings, so he can be slightly less lifeless participant. “Fucks’ sake, Greg,” he says, digging his fingers into Greg’s soft, slightly mousse-tacky hair with a scratch. It confirms a months ago, absent admittance from Greg, as he immediately murmurs soft and goes limp on Tom’s shoulder. “Just go the fuck to sleep, you hopped up, second-rate cuddle monster. I’m about to file a complaint somewhere.”

Greg offers a breathy huff, tucking himself even closer, and perhaps cheerfully spiteful, with a knobby knee hooking boldly along Tom’s thigh. It’s not a well-ventilated hotel room, it feels like, all but an outright scam at the price, so it’s going to be a very warm night, but maybe not a bad one.

He moves again, some many minutes later, arm stretching across Tom’s chest while he breathes a heavy, loud sigh straight into his ear. “Will you take it seriously, maybe, if I do it again in the morning?”

“I don’t know,” Tom admits, as heat prickles across his cheeks, yet also suffering a tired flicker of annoyance; he’s warm, and was near sleep, and forgot E is a fucking upper. He wonders, for a ludicrous beat, if he should’ve taken Greg out for walkies.

“What about…?” Greg exhales an uneven, murmuring hum, plainly jumping between thoughts. “You know, near lunch, then. And dinner. As in, a sort of, as well as?”

Tom mumbles through a smack of his lips. “…Maybe.”

#tomgreg #cw dubcon kiss #it's not that dubious they both want it but it's very much a Suprise #cw mdma #greg is clingy and tom is disgruntled but not in a fun way

113 notes · View notes

firstofficerwiggles · 3 years

Text

Interview with the Mandalorian

Pairing: Mandalorian x Female Reader

Rating: T (future parts will be Mature/Explicit)

Warnings: Mild swearing, mentions of prior violence against the reader (not described in detail)

Summary: The Mandalorian has placed a want ad for childcare and you decide to answer it. Despite having a questionable past, he decides to hire you.

Word Count: ~5400

Author’s Note: This is the first chapter in a multi-part story of Mando and childcare reader. I love romance so expect lots of fluff, but there will also be some humor, action, and angst, and eventually smut. I’m going for more of a slow burn here -- or at least trying to if I don’t get too impatient.

Link to Chpt. 2

Gif by @bestintheparsec (Thank you! You're awesome 😁)

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

Wanted: Childcare Professional

Caregiver needed for toddler for all basic baby needs. Single father with demanding job, odd hours. Position requires living on starship. Looking for someone not squeamish and good in a crisis. Preferred skills: cooking, pre-school teaching, and first aid. Bonus skills: combat training or ability to repair pre-Imperial tech. Interviews at Cantina Manolita, ask for the Mandalorian.

You re-read the want ad as you headed out to the cantina. It started out normal enough, not squeamish was a little odd, yet understandable, but then, good in a crisis and combat training as a bonus skill? Exactly what type of toddler does this Mandalorian have? Still, it’s not like you can afford to be picky, what with your past. You’d been bouncing around from odd job to odd job, each one more terrible than the last. Your most recent job had been cleaning rooms at a very seedy no-tell hotel and after that, you’d rather change 1000 poopy diapers than go back there. Despite your education and years of experience, no one wants to hire someone with the stain of the Empire on their resume. Your only hope is that the Mandalorian who placed this ad will be willing to hear you out and with a bit of luck you won’t have too much competition for the job. Many people are wary of Mandalorians, so perhaps that will keep the candidate pool small. You’re secretly intrigued by the idea of working for one, as all you really know is that they are respected warriors who either stick together in tight groups with other Mandalorians or they work alone. You wonder why this Mandalorian is seeking outside help, must be a special circumstance.

Din watches as a woman in a short red cocktail dress, platform heels, and quite a lot of makeup saunters through the cantina. It’s a lot of look for mid-morning and he’s surprised when she heads straight to his table, leans down to give him a generous view of her cleavage, and coos at him, “You must be the Mando who placed the ad.”

“The ad for childcare? Yes.” Din emphasizes the word to be certain she’s answering the correct posting.

“Yep! That’s why I’m here, baby.” She winks at him and plops herself down in his booth, ignoring the chair placed directly across from him. Baby? He’s a bit taken aback, but he figures he should at least ask her some questions about the job.

“Do you have any experience caring for children?” He begins.

“Well, not exactly for children, but I am very, very caring. I’m sure I can take really good care of you… both.” She flutters her eyelashes at Din.

“So, if you don’t have any experience, why are interested in this job?” He feels like this is a fair question, especially since he was hoping to find someone more knowledgeable than he is when it comes to younglings.

“I just have so much love and I want to share it. Especially for someone who needs me, hot stuff.” The woman has been sliding closer to Din as she speaks. He tries to move away from her to keep some space between them, but with the child napping on the end of the booth next to him, he really has nowhere to go.

“Uh, ok, do you have any experience with teaching?” This interview is not off to a good start, but what if she’s the only one who shows up?

“Oh, I’m a real good teacher,” the woman replies, and then drops her hand onto his thigh just above the beskar plate and gives it a squeeze, “I’m sure I could teach you a few things,” she says suggestively.

“We’re done here. I need childcare, not, whatever it is you’re offering.” Din lifts her hand off his leg abruptly, scoops up the child, and quickly moves himself across the cantina to another table. Who shows up to a childcare interview to hit on the father? He’s annoyed at her for wasting his time. He sees the woman pouting and then watches as she gets up with a little stumble, calls out, “Your loss” in his direction and heads to the bar. Under the helmet he rolls his eyes; the next person has to be better than her.

Din has become increasing fatigued and desperate for some help as he takes care of his foundling and searches for information on the Jedi. That alone would be plenty to keep him occupied, but he’s still hunting down bounties too in order to keep them in credits for all the fuel they’re burning up as they traverse the galaxy. Although he’s been able to keep the kid with him all the time so far, it’s not easy to hunt with a baby along for the ride, and he wishes he had someone he could trust to stay with the little one on the ship, keeping him safe and hidden away. After all, they’re still on the run from the ex-Imps and other hunters. Oh, and not to mention, Din is still dodging New Republic officers for that mess on the prison ship. No wonder he’s exhausted.

Sighing lightly, he reminds himself that he’s going to find the help he needs today when he sees a young woman, much more conservatively dressed, giving him furtive glances across the cantina. Din gives her a little nod, and she makes her way over to the table, but she barely takes her eyes off the ground as she does so.

“Are you interested in the childcare job?” Din asks, hopefully.

“Y-yes, I’m h-here to interview.” She seems extremely nervous and can’t seem to bring herself to look at his visor for more than a moment. “I l-like children, um, I have done, um, a lot of b-babysitting.”

“That’s good,” Din says softly, trying to put her at ease, “Can you tell me more about what you did as a babysitter?”

Looking down at the table, she replies shakily, “W-watching them, um oh, I don’t know, uh playing games, making snacks, um just, um, helping, I guess?”

Maker, she’s so uncomfortable, Din wonders what he can say to help her calm down or if it’s worth it to continue the interview. How is she going to handle their situation, if she’s this nervous at the interview? Before he can think of anything to say, the baby pops his head up suddenly to investigate what’s going on, startling the poor woman so badly she jumps up from her chair.

“Aah!” She lets out a little cry and then stammers, “I-I- I think this was a bad idea. I c- can’t do this.” and runs off.

Din sighs; maybe the third time will be the charm, isn’t that what they say?

“Don’t worry, buddy, we’ll find someone.” He says to the child’s inquisitive expression.

Din has the feeling of being watched and turns to see a well-dressed man hovering near the cantina’s entrance. He seems to be in his mid-fifties, with sort-of a schoolteacher aura about him, but he doesn’t look particularly pleased to see Din. The man stares at him for a moment over a pair of owlish spectacles as if assessing the situation and then finally approaches Din’s table.

“I am here to interview for the childcare position, but I want to be very clear that I am an experienced and sought-after professional.” The man declares to Din in a stern voice.

“I’m looking for a childcare professional, please sit down.” At least this one is experienced and looks like he understands the position.

“I must tell you I am a strict believer in order and discipline when it comes to children, and I do not abide any shenanigans.” The way this man speaks makes Din feel like he’s back in school and he’s been caught doing something naughty.

Din clears his throat, “Perhaps you can tell me about your experience.” The man rattles off a list of schools and families where he has worked; stressing certain names as if Din should be impressed, which perhaps he would if he recognized any of them. Din doesn’t care for the fact that this man keeps emphasizing words like prominent or respected as he speaks of his past, it sounds haughty and snobbish. This guy may have a lot of experience, but his frosty demeanor is off-putting. Still, Din can’t deny that he’s the best candidate so far.

“How do you feel about living on a starship?” Din asks him.

“If the ship is in good working order and the facilities are well maintained, I am sure it will be adequate.” He says the last word as if adequate means appalling, indicating that Din’s home is not an ideal living situation. Din feels his optimism dwindle yet again, as this fussy man will likely turn his nose up at the Razor Crest before he even has a look inside.

“What is that?” The man asks brusquely. Din follows his line of sight and realizes the child has climbed up on his chair again wanting to be a part of the conversation. The man’s tone of voice is irritating, but Din restrains himself as he says, “That is the child.”

“That thing is your child?” He has a look of mild disgust on his face. Suddenly this man’s illustrious qualifications don’t matter to Din at all.

“Thank you for coming, but I don’t believe you’re suited for this position.” Din tells the man, trying to match his haughty tone from before. The man lets out a little ‘hmpf’ but then gets up and leaves the table.

“I’m sorry, kid, I know he was bad.” Din sighs again, “We’ll keep trying.” He despairs that he’s in for a full day of bad meetings, when he glances across the cantina to see a beautiful woman looking in his direction. He gives her a nod in greeting, but he’s afraid to hope that she might actually be here for him. However, she smiles warmly at him and starts towards their table. He feels his heart skip a beat; damn, she’s pretty. He watches her as she moves confidently through the crowd noting that she appears courteous to the others around her and Din thinks maybe his luck is turning.

“Good morning! Are you the Mandalorian who placed the want ad for childcare?” You ask with what you hope is a winning smile on your face.

“Ah, yes, I am. Are you here to interview?” Din feels a surge of optimism; you seem composed and he already likes you much better than the other people he’s spoken to today.

“Yes, I hope you haven’t filled the position yet?” you ask him.

“No, not yet. Please sit down.” He gestures to the open chair across from him. “Can you tell me a little about yourself and why you’re interested in the job?”

You start to introduce yourself expressing a keen interest in children and briefly mention your training and experience as a teacher, when you notice two little green hands gripping the edge of the table next to the Mandalorian. Slowly a small green head covered in soft white peach fuzz lifts up to reveal two shining dark eyes and a pair of giant pointy ears.

“Oh my goodness,” you breathe out in delight, “aren’t you the most adorable child in all the galaxy?” You cannot control yourself from fussing over this little one. You really are a pushover for cute kids, but this one is beyond precious. The child smiles at your words and lets out a happy cooing sound. Totally entranced, you make goofy smiley faces back at him causing him to giggle while you completely forget that you are supposed to be doing an interview right now.

Din watches your face as it transforms itself from an expression of polite professional interest to a look of absolute adoration. Your eyes are sparkling as you look at the child, your smile is positively beaming, and you’ve clasped your hands together at your chest in utter delight. It’s like watching someone fall in love all in one instance. He feels that he could ask you to do anything for the child and you would. He reaches over and picks up the little one drawing your attention back to himself.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I just, he’s so cute, um, what was I saying?” You quickly turn your head back to look at the Mandalorian, trying to remind yourself that you’re supposed to be impressing him with your childcare skills not going ga-ga over his son.

“It’s ok, he is cute.” Din responds amiably, this interview is already off to a better start than the others. You seem like a genuine person to him, someone who makes friends easily, who would be pleasant to have around. “You were telling me about your teaching experience.”

“Yes, yes, so my most applicable experience is my time as a pre-school assistant teacher. I worked there when I was earning my degree in Linguistics and Language Teaching at the main university on Riosa. I always loved that job so much and have really wanted to work with children again.” Oops, first mistake, mentioning Riosa is risky, he has to know of the Empire’s former presence there.

“So did you work with many toddlers at the pre-school?”

“Oh yes, so many toddlers. I’m very good at keeping them entertained with games and stories. I know how to set limits and help them learn about rules. Oh, and I also know how to make many snacks and meals that little children love.”

“He does seem to always want to eat, so that would be helpful.” The Mandalorian chuckles a little at that and gives the child a pat on his head.

“I also understand that children can be messy and I’m really good at cleaning and doing laundry too.” You try to think of what else you can say to show that you’re a good option for him. But before you can, he changes the topic.

“So Linguistics? That’s an impressive choice of studies.” He nods his head as if he approves.

“Thank you, I specialized in language structure and syntax. I speak Rodian, Naboo, Sy Bisti, and some Ubese too.” You hope you don’t sound like you’re bragging but none of your recent employers have been interested in your language skills in the slightest. It’s nice to hear that he thinks it’s notable and you do want to impress him if you can.

“Also impressive. All languages of commerce or politics. That’s very practical.” Again, he sounds like he values these skills. “But you don’t have a career in linguistics now? I would think someone with that background wouldn’t be interested in taking care of a toddler.”

“I truly do love children, and well, things don’t always go as you plan, do they?” You were really hoping to answer more questions about childcare or first aid or really anything else, but it looks like you’re going to have to get to the touchy part of the interview. The Mandalorian doesn’t say anything, and you can tell he’s waiting for you to explain.

“When I finished my degree, I was invited to join a prestigious research group. I thought it was an incredible opportunity, a chance to work with professors and other academics. I had to take several difficult qualifying exams before they even offered me the position, and when I did so well on them, everyone I knew was very impressed. I really thought I was going to do something fantastic. I found out too late that the research group was just a front and really it was part of Imperial Intelligence. I had been living in my happy academic bubble, I knew the Empire was on Riosa but they never paid any attention to the university, and I was too naïve to realize I had been recruited to be a code-breaker.”

You pause there, internally cringing again at your stupidity, and wondering if you should continue or if he is going to end the interview right now. While he’s sitting more rigidly than before, he gives no indication that he wants you to stop, so you decide to plow ahead with your story.

“For a while, I tried to be terrible at the job, pretending that I couldn’t break the codes, that they were too complex for me. I hoped they would think they made a mistake and let me leave, but they saw through the ruse. They punished me, and I knew I had to start doing better or they would likely kill me. So I did what I was told, but only about a third of the time. The rest of the time, I would purposely leave out crucial information from the messages I broke. Or sometimes I would just change it completely. I tried to be strategic and do it without a pattern so they wouldn’t catch on to what I was doing. Eventually though one of the other code-breakers figured out my secret and he turned me in.”

You pause again at the memory of that betrayal. You had thought that Kerrick cared for you. You quickly look up to avoid any tears springing to your eyes and take a calming breath.

“What happened next?” The Mandalorian asks you.

“I was punished again, more severely than the first time. I suppose I was fortunate though, because they deemed I was too valuable an asset to terminate. They didn’t send me back to code-breaking. Instead, they forced me to teach Sy Bisti to a class of officers. It’s one of the languages their droids couldn’t translate. I didn’t try to make trouble again. I didn’t think they would give me a third chance.”

Din watches you carefully as you tell him of your experience with the Imperials. The expression on your face and the way your shoulders have slumped tell him that you’re ashamed of what happened to you. That you feel responsible and likely blame yourself for having been tricked by them. Din doesn’t see it that way though. From his perspective, you were simply a young woman who was manipulated and then abused by a corrupt system.

“Can you start today?” You snap your head up in surprise.

“What? I- I mean yes, I can, but-” you stumble over your words, “You- you want to hire me?”

“Yes. The child likes you and you’re the best person for the job.” He’s very straightforward about it.

“You’re sure? Even with the Empire stuff?” Your words sound lame to your own ears, but you need to be certain he won’t hold it against you.

He gives you a brisk nod. “You were brave to try to sabotage their intelligence, but also not too much of a fool to get yourself killed.” He’s blunt but his words are a comfort to you in a way.

That seems to be all he is going to say on the matter, as next he tells you about the living conditions on his ship. He explains carefully about his creed and the fact that you can never see him without his helmet. That isn’t a surprise though as it’s one of the only other facts you already knew about the Mandalorians. Besides, after spending time with so many helmeted Imps, it honestly doesn’t seem that odd to you. At least you’ll know this helmet doesn’t plan to kill you. You arrange to meet him in a couple hours at his ship after you’ve had a chance to pack your things. You’re so elated to find someone who wants to hire you for a decent job and who doesn’t loathe you for your past that you completely forget to ask him about the need for combat training.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As you’re packing up your meagre belongings it occurs to you that you didn’t ask him anything about himself or really much about the child at all. You realize you don’t even know their names. Maybe you should slow down and find out more about this Mandalorian and his son, but honestly you’re willing to take the risk. You’re sick of this awful city and the terrible jobs you’ve been forced to take here. At least you know that the Mandalorians were enemies of the Empire, so that’s a bonus in your eyes. Besides from the job description in the ad, it seems like this Mandalorian has to be at work a lot so you’ll probably be alone with the child most of the time. You’ve never seen a species like the child before, but you’re willing to learn all about him so you can be successful at this job. You gather up your bags, leave a few credits for the landlord, and head to the hanger, enthusiastic about a new life.

Din is watching as crates of supplies are loaded onto the Razor Crest, and he thinks about his new hire. From the moment he saw your reaction to the kid, he knew he was going to offer you the job. His only concern is his own attraction to you, and, he has a little nagging guilt that he didn’t explain anything to you about the dangerous aspects of the job. If you knew the Imps were after the child, would you still be willing to take the job? Din knows he’ll have to tell you about that, but maybe he’ll wait until the Crest is in hyperspace before he does. Yeah, it’s underhanded, but he doesn’t have the time or the patience, quite frankly, to try to find other childcare. Plus, there’s a good chance your knowledge of the Empire will be helpful to him. Din hopes you won’t hate him too much for withholding information. He sees you enter the hanger, and once again you smile when you see him. Din’s pleased that you don’t seem intimidated or fearful. So many people look at him with trepidation or dislike, and although he’s learned to ignore it, when someone actually smiles at him, it’s such a pleasant change. Besides, you have a pretty smile.

“Hello again!” You call out to the Mandalorian, as you make your way towards him. Seeing him standing next to his ship, you’re suddenly struck by what an imposing figure he is in all that armor. He’s quite tall and obviously very strong. A whisper of an emotion runs through you, almost like desire, but it’s been so long since you’ve felt anything like that you can’t really place it. You forget all about it though when the little green toddler spies you and immediately runs right for you with a happy face. You drop your bags and crouch down, holding your arms out to him and scoop him up when he reaches you.

“Hello, buddy! Are you excited to have a new nanny? I’m excited to be here.” You tell him cheerfully as you give him a hug. You stand up again to address the Mandalorian, who’s come over to help with your bags. “I’m sorry, I was so happy to get the job earlier, I completely forgot to ask the child’s name.”

“That’s ok.” He tells you. “I don’t, um, I don’t actually know his name.”

“Beg your pardon?” He doesn’t know his son’s name. You try to keep your expression neutral, but you can’t help but give him an odd look.

“He’s a foundling. I rescued him.” The Mandalorian doesn’t elaborate. You remind yourself that you don’t know much about Mandalorian culture, so maybe that is typical for them. He hasn’t told you his name either.

“Well, what do you call him?” You look down at the little one in your arms.

He shrugs as if it isn’t important, “Kid, pal, womp rat,” he supplies, and in anticipation of your next question he says, “You can call me Mando.”

“Alright.” So, no names then, that’s different, but whatever works for him.

“C’mon, I’ll show you around.” Mando offers picking up your bags.

“Oh, you don’t have to carry those, I can get them.” He just gestures with his helmet for you to go ahead, so you head up the ramp into your new home.

The child babbles to you as if explaining things as you look around the hull of the spacecraft. It’s very utilitarian, but you figured it would be, Mandalorians don’t strike you as the types to think of creature comforts as a priority. The little one babbles at you again and extends an arm towards a section of the hull where you can see what looks like a mattress covered with a blanket and pillows that look new and unused. The Mandalorian comes up behind you and says, “Like I said before there’s only one bunk in the ship, but I thought this would work for you?” He sets your bags down next to the bed.

“This will be fine.” You’ve slept in much worse places, your cell in the Imperial Intelligence compound springs to mind. In any case, it’s nice to know that he’s thought to provide this for you. Other employers you’ve had would probably just make you sleep on the floor.

Din takes you on a brief tour of the ship, mostly making sure you know where the essentials are. He keeps waiting for you to make a comment about the ship’s age or make a joke about it being a clunker like everyone else does. But you surprise him, as you simply take it all in with a pleasant expression on your face. Although when he gets to the weapons locker, he sees your eyes widen in surprise. He realizes that he hasn’t told you what he does for a living, “I’m a bounty hunter, and weapons are part of my religion.”

“Ah, I see. Well, it makes sense you’d have a cache like this then.” You give him a nod, as if to say this seems completely normal, even though you’ve never seen so many weapons outside of a military facility. However, if it’s part of his religion the last you thing you want to do is insult him about it.

“Do you know how to shoot?” Mando inquires.

“Yes, I do. I had to take a course on marksmanship at the university.” You wince again at your innocence back then. A college that requires a course on shooting? No wonder it had been a recruitment ground for the Empire.

“Did you pass?” Mando wants to know.

“With high marks,” you reply, ever the top-notch student.

“Good. Do you have a blaster?”

“Uh no.”

Mando turns back to the locker and considers it before choosing one of the smaller guns in there. He hands it to you saying, “Here, this one should be good for you. But let me know if you think something else would be better suited for you.”

“You think I’m going to need a blaster to care for the child?” You try to keep from sounding incredulous as you stare down at the gun that he’s placed in your hand and then back at the sweet toddler who’s currently propped up against your hip.

“No, of course not, but you’ll need to be prepared when we’re off the ship.” He seems very matter-of-fact about it.

“Prepared for what?” Where does this man plan on taking you?

“Just, prepared.” Is all he says in response.

The baby makes grabby hands towards the blaster and you carefully hold it away from him. “Can I keep it in the locker for now?” you ask feeling a little uneasy. You might know how to shoot, but you’ve only ever aimed at targets in a shooting range and the idea of having to use a blaster for protection is frankly terrifying. What have I gotten myself into? Will I never learn?

“Yes, just remember to take it with you whenever you leave the ship.” Din stows the blaster away again and then says, “We should get going now,” and motions for you to head up the ladder to the cockpit. He probably should have waited to give you the blaster until later. He can see the questions and the anxiety in your eyes and he knows he’s going to have to come clean about the danger he’s putting you in. But sticking to his plan, Din says nothing and focuses on taking off and setting coordinates to Dantooine, the last known position of his next quarry.

You try to stay focused on the child in your arms, but you can’t keep yourself from staring back at Mando. The need for a blaster has brought your original question back to the forefront of your mind, and although it’s pretty much too late to ask now, you figure you should.

“So in your ad, you said, combat training was a plus. Why exactly did you put that in there?”

You watch as he puts the ship into hyperspace, before he turns to you. You’re just starting at the black visor in his helmet, waiting for him to speak, when he finally says, “There are Imps after the kid.”

“Excuse me, what?” You hope you heard him wrong.

“I rescued the child from some ex-Imperials. They have a bounty out on him.” Din decides to leave out the part where he originally collected on that bounty, delivering the child right to them. He’s doesn’t want you to despise him so he figures he’ll keep that part of the story to himself.

“What do they want with him?” You’re still holding the little one tight, and you look down into his big, dark eyes and wonder what those terrible people could possible want from this adorable child.

“He has some kind of powers, like uh, like a sorcerer, or something.” He tells you sheepishly.

“Like a sorcerer?” You repeat, o-kay.

“I know it sounds strange. But, have you ever heard of the Jedi?”

“Oh, yes, I know a little about the Jedi. Wait, can the child use the force?”

“You know about the Jedi?” He seems excited to hear that. “What do you know? Do you know any of them?”

“I know the Jedi were once an order of knights and they had the ability to wield the force. Have you ever heard New Republic people say ‘May the force be with you’?” That phrase has been everywhere, so you feel like he must have heard it.

“Yeah, but I really have no idea what they mean by it.” Din feels a little embarrassed to finally admit that to someone. He hopes you don’t think him dumb for not knowing.

“From what I understand the force is like this invisible energy that lets the Jedi manipulate things with their minds. The phrase is meant to give you hope, sort of ‘May the positive energy be with you and bring you good things’. It’s a bit ironic though because for such an optimistic phrase it’s actually how Imperial Intelligence successfully broke several Rebel codes since they put it at the end of so many messages.” As much as your viewpoints aligned with the Rebellion, you had wished someone in their command had been intelligent enough to realize that you shouldn’t put a known saying into your coded messages. You look over to Mando and he gives you a nod in response, so you continue.

“I also know there were some Imperial commanders, very high up, who were pretty obsessed with the Jedi. They were always looking for any information about them. They thought there was a Jedi working with the Rebellion and any messages we decoded about him were supposed to be flagged as extreme priority. But, I never saw anything about him. So, that’s all I know.”

“That’s the most anyone has been able to tell me so far, so it’s very helpful.” Mando replies. He’s silent again for a bit and he seems to be looking down at the child. “It is my task to bring the child to the Jedi, he’s one of their kind. I’ve seen him do things I can’t explain. He- He’s special.”

Looking down at the little toddler in your arms, you remember how the Imperials treated you, and the years of damage, fear, and violence that they rained throughout the galaxy. You can’t possibly let them get their hands on this innocent one. “I’ll do everything I can to keep you safe,” you tell the child. And then you look at Mando, “I promise.”

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

Thank you for reading! If you’d like to be tagged for Chapter 2, please let me know. Link to Chpt. 2

Tag list: @im-the-nerdiest-of-them-a11 @theravenreads @nicotinebirds @boomtownboy @sleepwithacommunist @mackycat11 @som3thingcr3ative

#the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian x female reader #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin fanfic #din djarin x female reader #the mandalorian x f!reader #din djarin x f!reader #the mandalorian

199 notes · View notes

fishfingersandjellybabies · 3 years

Text

The Crown Found in Rose Thorns (Part 2) - fic

Characters: Damian Wayne, Jon Kent, Timothy Drake, bits of Steph, Jason and Dick Summary: Jonathan and Damian go on their first date. A/N: I just think about royal princes jon and damian a lot, mmkay. also, those flowers don’t ever wilt, Damian will find out. maybe it’ll be important later, if I remember that detail.

Ao3

There was a giddy energy around the castle this morning. He felt it as he walked through the halls. The servants were all chattering amongst themselves, smiling in his direction whenever he passed by.

The prince has a date! They were all saying. The prince has chosen a suitor!

Damian could only roll his eyes. Hardly.

He found his hand had drifted to the hilt of the sword on his hip as he entered the courtyard. Perhaps he could challenge that infuriating Jonathan to a duel? It was only appropriate – he tried to mock Damian in front of his court.

But he ended up shaking his head. Knowing what little he did of this prince of Krypton, the simpleton might enjoy that.

As he neared the gates, he felt himself give an involuntary sigh. It must have been loud, as the one waiting there turned and grinned.

Almost as annoying as Jonathan of Krypton – his brother, Timothy.

“Don’t tell me you’re my chaperone for this…event.” Damian called.

Timothy kept his smirk. “Well, since you sound so enthused by the prospect, I can ask to be.”

“Don’t.” Damian scolded as he reached him. “I don’t need protection. Especially against the knight.”

“While I don’t doubt your skills, we don’t know that.” Timothy reminded. “He could be working for Ra’s.”

“He claimed to be the child of Father’s ally. Or did Richard not tell you that?” Damian hummed, staring out into the bustling streets. A small child waved towards them. He smiled and waved back. “Or do you just not believe him?”

“You do?” Timothy raised an eyebrow. “Prince Damian of Gotham, believing people at their word? Surely Father has taught you better than that.”

Damian felt heat in his face. “Of course I don’t. But I also know he doesn’t fit Grandfather’s brand of agent. He’d use someone we wouldn’t expect. A fortune teller or shop keep. An old cook or cleaning woman. A young, strong-looking knight who draws so much attention? Seems…implausible.”

“Strong-looking, hm? And here, Richard told me you only agreed to meet with him today as a barbaric game.” Timothy questioned mischievously. Damian pursed his lips and punched Timothy’s arm. “Ow! Hey!”

“Frankly I trust Sir Jonathan to not be an agent more than I trust the likes of…of Cassandra’s suitor.” Damian mumbled. “Why don’t you spend more time investigating that bard woman? How can you be so sure she’s not an agent? That’s exactly the type of person Grandfather would use. No direct ties to me, and could harm someone else in our family in the process. Exactly what Ra’s al Ghul would want.”

“Stephanie has been vetted. She was vetted long before she and Cassandra were romantically involved.” Timothy explained. He laughed then. “Speaking of her – back to your original question. No, I am not your chaperone today. I’m here waiting for Stephanie.”

“Why?” Damian demanded. “Does Cassandra know?”

“Yes, she does. She’ll be joining us.” Timothy nodded. “Stephanie is a bard, like you said. So she hears the stories. She knows things.” He looked towards Damian. “We’re hoping she knows things about the Kingdom of Krypton and a certain prince.”

Damian crossed his arms. “So…who is my chaperone, then? Surely there is one.”

“Not directly. You and Jonathan will still be alone in general. He’ll just follow in the distance.” Timothy shrugged. “And it’s Jason, I believe.”

Jason, the raunchy brother. He had almost as little manners as Jonathan himself. Always yelling and cussing. No filter, no politeness. A rough man who drank too much.

He’d almost prefer Timothy.

“And I believe Richard will be joining him later in the day, or switching. But I cannot remember.” Timothy suddenly stepped forward. Damian looked into the crowd and saw a blonde woman in a purple travelling cloak gliding towards them. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

The woman came forward, and bowed when she was close enough. Damian gave her a head nod in return as Timothy turned to guide her into the courtyard. They were halfway to the castle when Timothy turned back.

“And Damian, don’t forget!” He called. “If Sir Jonathan does anything untoward,” He pulled his own blade out of its sheath halfway. “You stab to kill.”

Stephanie laughed. Damian grinned in response, and turned towards the town, making his way towards the forest.

He caught sight of Jason a few times on his walk. Riding his gray horse lazily fifty or so yards away. The one time, Jason saw him watching, and gave him a cheeky wink.

Damian had scowled and tried to walk faster, almost hoping to get lost in the crowd. Just because he had to have a chaperone, didn’t mean he couldn’t make the job worth their while.

As he entered the clearing on the edge of the forest – the agreed meeting place – he slowed. Jonathan was already there.

He wasn’t in his armor today, but rather a simple tunic and pants, similar to Damian’s own outfit, just minus the tied vest. He was sitting on a fallen log, fiddling with the flowers popping up around his boots.

Damian did not see a weapon on him.

Along with the change of outfit, his demeanor seemed different from the day before as well. His face was no longer sharp confidence and sunny mischievousness. Now, his eyes were half-lidded as he relaxed, face thoughtful as his head tilted and he examined the flowers.

Damian ignored the sudden feeling in his chest. Because it wasn’t annoyance or haughtiness or even suspiciousness like he expected.

Without warning, a bird swooped down from overhead, cawing as it brushed along Damian’s hair. The noise made Jonathan look up, and once he recognized Damian, he smiled.

“…She sure seems to like you.” Jonathan laughed as he stood. “Hello, Your Highness.”

“Hello.” Damian mumbled, holding his arm out. The bird fluttered down to land on his elbow. “Waiting long?”

“No, not long.” Jonathan scratched awkwardly at his hair. “…I tend to arrive places early when I’m nervous.”

Damian snorted. “You? Nervous? Your showing yesterday implied you didn’t know the meaning of the word.”

Jonathan let out a gentle laugh. “Well…I had to get your attention somehow.” When Damian glanced up at him, he found himself unable to hold the gaze, so looked to the bird. “Is she yours?”

“No, she’s wild.” Damian assured, even as he pet gently at the bird’s head. “I…spend a lot of time out here. Feed them on occasion.” He looked towards the bird and smiled. “She must remember me.”

“Well, you are hard to forget.” Jonathan mumbled. Damian had a feeling he wasn’t supposed to hear it, so didn’t push the issue…yet. Instead, he let Jonathan admire the bird for a moment, then shook his elbow and pushed the bird back into the sky. She flew off with another caw. “…Lead the way?”

Damian nodded and moved down the path. Jonathan stayed behind him for a few moments, before jogging to catch up.

“I…um.” He let out a small cough. “I don’t mean to alarm you.”

Damian glanced at him.

“There’s a man on a horse following us.” Jonathan whispered. “…Would you like me to deal with him?”

Damian stopped walking and turned. In the expanse of trees, he could see the shadow of Jason, chaperoning as promised.

Damian smirked.

“I should.” He called loudly. “I should absolutely let you dispatch of our stalker.” He heard Jason’s horse snort as Jason turned her away.

Jonathan glanced between him and the trees. “I…think I am missing something.”

Damian laughed. “My family is overprotective.” He explained. “With this…situation with my grandfather, they are chaperoning my every movement, including with potential suitors. That’s merely my brother, Jason.”

Jonathan hummed. “I’d heard about that.” He sighed. “I’m…sorry.”

Damian shrugged. “My grandfather has always been ruthless. Apparently tried to kill my father when he and mother agreed to marry. Why anyone is surprised he’s come after me is beyond me.”

Jonathan didn’t respond. They walked in silence for a few moments. Damian’s bird friend let out another cry as she flew above them once more.

“That was why you came, though, isn’t it? For all that glory?” Damian asked. “You know, to be the one to succeed in protecting the youngest prince of Gotham?”

“No.” Jonathan said simply. “I came for you.” When Damian looked at him, he was uncupping his hands, revealing a small flower. He twisted the stem into his fingers and held it out. “Just for you.”

Damian stared between the flower and Jon’s face, then back again.

“…You weren’t holding that before.” Damian whispered. He looked up again. “I know you weren’t.”

“No, I wasn’t.” Jonathan smiled and held the flower out. Damian took it without thinking, cataloguing that the mischievousness was back in Jonathan’s brilliant purple eyes.

Curious.

“I will admit, though, that hearing about your mother’s call for a suitor did spur my action.” Jonathan admitted wistfully. “Gave me a reason to return to Gotham and try my luck.”

“You’ve been here before?”

“Many times. My family travelled often when I was younger. We were in and out of kingdoms all the time.” Jonathan chuckled. “How my father met and befriended your father, I still don’t know. It’s a story he won’t tell.”

“Old men love their secrets.” Damian agreed. He stared down at the flower as they walked, stroked at its pink petals.

Those feelings Damian expected, the pride and suspicion, they weren’t manifesting. In fact, he was finding that it was…surprisingly nice, walking with Sir Jonathan. It didn’t feel awkward or forced. Their conversation was flowing naturally. There was no hint of the bordering animosity from yesterday, or the challenge. And, loathe as he was to admit it, even just to himself, he was easy on the eyes.

He still couldn’t trust him, though. Couldn’t stop assuming there was going to be another shoe to drop. A catch to this seemingly simple situation.

“So…” Damian sighed after a few minutes of silence. “I am to believe you are sincere, then?”

“Hm?”

“You aren’t here for the glory of protecting the prince?” Damian repeated, putting the flower behind his ear so he could clasp his hands behind his back. Jonathan shook his head. “Or for the riches that come with joining a highly respected royal family?” Jonathan smirked and shook his head. “You are here for love and all it entails, truly?”

“Yes.” Jonathan said easily. “At least I hope so.” He looked up into the sky, watching the clouds between the reaching tree branches. “I believe love could happen, but I also know that’s no guarantee. I mean,” Another laugh, this one nervous. “I know you’re not happy with me so far, but I will admit I am fond of you already. But I know that could change.”

He gave out a dreamy sigh.

“I could end up hating you.” He mumbled. “Or I could end up so deeply in love with you I don’t know what I’d do.”

Damian stared at him, specifically at his sparkling purple eyes. “…The former is more likely.”

Jonathan blinked and the sparkle disappeared from his eye as he looked back at Damian. He gave another smile, but it was sadder. “Surely you think better of yourself than that, Your Highness.”

Damian shrugged. “It…has happened before. An occurrence I’m used to. Friends, family…look at my grandfather, after all. Why do you think my mother feels the need to beg for someone to love me?”

“Well then, I will just have to hope to fall even deeper in love with you myself, then. Show them all what they are missing.” Jonathan decided.

But the answer made Damian stop. Jonathan took a few steps further before stopping and turning back himself. Damian watched as he glanced over Damian’s shoulder, no doubt at Jason’s lurking form. “Why?”

Jonathan looked back. “Why what?”

“Why are you so keen?” Damian demanded. “You know nothing about me.”

Jonathan blinked, and that shine in his eye was back. “Of course I do.” Jonathan said simply. “I know a lot about you.”

“How?” Damian asked. “Your father?”

“No. By our own interactions.” Jonathan shook his head. “You don’t remember, and that’s fine. It’s not important, really. Maybe one day you will.”

“When did we interact?” Damian snapped. “When did we meet?”

“As children.” Now Jonathan frowned, glanced at the ground. “But if you don’t mind, I don’t wish to talk about that now. That’s not what today is about.”

Damian crossed his arms. “What is today about then, if not to get to know each other?”

“Get to know each other, yes!” Jonathan agreed. “But as we are now, not as we were.” He took a step towards Damian. “Maybe another day, when you trust me more?”

He almost sounded like he was pleading, and Damian couldn’t help but narrow his eyes. “Who says I ever will?”

Jonathan laughed again, bowing his head in admittance.

“Like I said, who knows how this will turn out. I’m hopeful, but have been wrong before.” He smiled. “But that is neither here nor there, and I won’t bring it up again. The future doesn’t matter, only today does. So let’s get back to it, shall we?”

Damian pursed his lips in thought, vaguely sensed the flower tucked behind his ear.

“Fine. Let’s.” Damian nodded, stepping off. Jonathan’s face lit up as Damian returned to his side and they continued their quiet stroll through the woods.

Jonathan kept his promise, he kept his romantics to himself the rest of the day. Instead, they talked about typical things. Not love and coups and kingdoms, but food, books, battles. Jonathan, it turned out, enjoyed cooking. He spent much of his time in Krypton attempting to recreate the recipes he was taught when they travelled to share with his court. He also loved competing, and learning a skill when it bested him.

Damian asked about the bloody armor he had from the day before. Jonathan admitted is was from an attack on Krypton right after his father had retaken the throne. He didn’t like war, or the constant fighting around the lands, but recognized the need to take part when he had to, especially when it came to protecting the innocent.

Jonathan asked about his own skills, especially by being the son of the notorious Talia al Ghul. Damian explained that was what was so silly about this suitor business – he could protect himself. Always has been able to. Just like his siblings.

He then talked about his family. How his siblings were all adopted, but it’s not like you could tell, since they all looked so alike anyway. Richard was adopted by his father, Jason by his mother, and Timothy and Cassandra after the two were married. Damian had been an accident.

Their rendezvous was supposed to finish by midday, but they were so distracted by their winding conversation that they did another two laps around the forest path, before making their way back into town in the late afternoon. Absently, Damian noticed when Richard joined Jason, but otherwise continued to ignore them.

He could also see the townsfolk all whispering already. Gleefully talking about how handsome Jonathan was, how close the two were walking. He even heard a few talk about how warm his own smile was, and how relaxed he looked.

He ignored them too.

As the sun went down over the hills in the west, he found them nearing one of the castle’s gates and decided to end their meet for the day.

“Shall we see each other again?” Jonathan asked after Damian said so. “Have I proven myself to be worth even a second of your time?”

Damian let himself have a small smile as he crossed the gate threshold and turned back. “I suppose we can. How long are you staying in town?”

Jonathan shrugged. “As long as I need. Unless I get a letter from Krypton or something, I have nothing urgent to return to presently.”

“Alright. Where are you staying, then?”

“The tavern a few streets away.”

“Okay.” Damian smirked. While the day had been pleasant, and Jonathan an interesting companion, that didn’t mean he wasn’t still going to have his fun. “I’ll come find you when I wish to see you again.”

Jonathan gaped for a moment. “And when might that be?!”

Damian just kept his grin. “Whenever I feel like it. So, if you’re actually serious about this. I suppose…well, don’t leave town.”

Jonathan stared for a moment more, then let out a bark of a laugh. “You’re cruel, Your Highness.”

“So I’ve been told.” Damian agreed cheekily. He turned to walk away, but:

“Damian.”

He hesitated and glanced over his shoulder. Jonathan was still there, looking down at his hands as he clasped them together.

“I…would like to apologize, for yesterday.” Jonathan muttered. “I didn’t mean to potentially embarrass you in front of your court. I only wanted to get your attention, by any means necessary, which was selfish of me.” He bowed his head. “That…is not me. Not really. Today, though, that was me. I promise.”

“No, it wasn’t.” Damian countered. Jonathan looked up, confused. “You never explained how you made the flower, how you know me, or why your eyes sparkle – and yes, I noticed that. You’re still hiding something of yourself.”

Jonathan lowered his head once more.

“But we all have secrets, I suppose. Masks we wear on occasion.” Damian relaxed his shoulders, and touched at the flower still behind his ear, still as fresh as the moment Jonathan gave it to him that morning. “So…all is forgiven, Sir Jonathan.”

Jonathan perked at his words. After a moment of silence, he stepped forward again.

“Damian?” He asked softly. Damian hummed in response. Without warning, Jonathan took hold of Damian’s hand and leaned forward, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. He lingered there for a moment, breath brushing Damian’s skin as he whispered, “Thank you for a lovely day.”

As quickly as he approached, he retreated, backing up until he was almost in the street.

“Until next time, Your Highness!” He called as he raised his hand. And in a flash, he was instantly lost to the evening crowd.

Damian was left blinking owlishly at the gate threshold. As he heard Richard and Jason approach on their horses behind him, obviously coming into the courtyard from another entrance, he looked down at his hand, the one Jonathan had held.

A purple rose sat against his fingers.

He looked back into the crowd, looking for even a glimpse of that black hair and violet eyes. There was nothing.

He swallowed thickly. This was supposed to be a game. Damian wanted it to be a game. He wanted to break Jonathan down and send him back to Krypton weeping.

He’d wanted that.

Now…so quickly…he wasn’t so sure. He wasn’t so sure what he wanted. Wasn’t so sure if it was a game. And if it still was, who was winning.

“…Until next time.”

#Damian Wayne #Jon Kent #jondami #crowns au #idk wtf im tagging this au haha

28 notes · View notes

skellebonez · 2 years

Note

i have a lot of trouble writing dialogue it always comes out stiff and not real sounding do you have any tips or can you explain why yours sounds more natural?

Sorry for taking so long to answer this ask, anon! NaNoWriMo has been eating up a lot of my time and I was trying to figure out how to answer this. I don't know if I can really explain how my dialogue comes off the way people says it does... I can try?

When I write I don't really think of scenes written out in book form, I picture them more like a movie or a show or cutscene in my head first and then try to write AROUND that by describing it like a lot of writers do. However, I think what may have informed the way I write dialogue is a three fold set of factors (4 when it comes to fanfiction).

I take in a LOT of different types of entertainment, both heralded as outstanding and absolutely awful guilty pleasure garbage. When you take in so much media you start to recognize what dialogue sounds natural and what people THINK sounds unnatural but isn't really that weird and what is just... completely off the mark. And most of it wasn't books or comics or anything that you have to read that helped me. It was movies, tv shows, documentaries, watching streamers, video games, anything I can listen to instead of reading. Because here's the thing about dialogue...

Things that sound just fine when you read them in your head can sound 100% unnatural and goofy spoken out loud. ESPECIALLY when you're trying to be grammatically correct. Lots of people, most people? Do not speak 100% grammatically correct. Be grammatically fucked up in your dialogue, that is the nature of spoken language.

A more basic but very helpful piece of advice is to not avoid said like the plague. Is it repetitive? Yeah. But when you only use said once in 18 lines of dialogue, even if murmured or coughed out make sense, it gives the illusion of it not sounding natural instead of making it have more variety.

Something else that can hinder dialogue is trying to be too natural and that coming off as forced or annoying to read. People tend to have little vocal quirks that do not translate well into media. Things like "uh..." or "um..." can add some flavor used every once in a while, but as someone who ums a lot in real life it is not fun to read it every 10 words while the character is thinking of what to say. The same goes for things like starting a sentence with "ya know" or something similar. While it's accurate, having too much of these can make your dialogue come off more stilted and awkward than anything else, or like you are trying to up your word count. Knowing how much to add these in is key.

Bonus piece of advice: you can use things like italics and bolding and all caps as a kind of tone indicator. This is much more common in fanfiction but I find it adds a lot of help making things come off properly when you add emphasis on a single word or two.

Finally, and this is the fourth point specifically for fanfiction: whatever you're writing for? Re-watch it, re-read it, re-play it (or watch all the cut scenes). For LMK, a bunch of people made compilation videos on YouTube of every moment a single character is on screen. These are a TREMENDOUS help! Listen to the way a character speaks, take note of the way their sentences are structured, their repetitive phrases and tone (calm and casual or haughty and dignified, etc), and you'll be able to get a character voice down way easier!

For example, when writing a scene between Red Son and Sun Wukong I keep in mind that Red is very full of himself in dialogue to make himself seem important and powerful and in control. Contrastly, SWK is very much a forced kind of casual when he isn't angry or scared. His tone is a controlled laid back and relaxed in comparison. I use this kind of thing to offset them against each other, making dialogue flow a bit better. Like...

"I KNOW what I am doing SIMIAN!"

"Oh, sure, yeah, I trust you completely."

"IS THAT SARCASM!?"

Even without saying who the people talking are I am pretty sure you can tell which of these two is saying what.

I hope this helps like... even a little? I'm not sure if I explained this very well but I gave it my best effort!

8 notes · View notes

thedistrictsleepsalonetonight · 3 years

Text

Always (or Dani, the collector of souls falls in love and Miles keeps passing out during the entire story)

If you were, hypothetically, of course, to visit a place in England called Bly Manor, you would most likely meet an odd group of people. You would see two children, one an absolute angel, the other a teenage, snarky brat of a boy, who are probably being supervised by a stern, yet extremely capable looking woman. You would probably be shown around the house by the sweetest housekeeper in the world, probably be offered lemon cakes by a tall man who looks at the aforementioned housekeeper with all the stars in his eyes. And maybe, just maybe in the middle of it all, you might glance outside and see a woman standing by herself in the garden. At first you would think she’s just moving casually, maybe dancing on her own; and then you would see that her movement has a pattern. It almost seems as though.... no, it couldn’t be.

“Is that woman,” you would ask, hesitantly, not wishing to offend these people and some potential strange ritual of theirs, “talking to herself?”

The housekeeper (Hannah, you think she’s called) glances outside and chuckles. “Oh, that,” she says. “That’s just Jamie. Jaime’s the gardener. She’s just talking to her girlfriend.”

You would resist the urge to rub at your eyes. “Her.... her girlfriend?”

“Well, technically Dani hasn’t asked her yet,” the cook cuts in, smiling. “But it’s on the way, I assure you.”

You would look from the strange, solitary woman, to their frank, open faces, and then back to the solitary woman again, and you would think.

You would think Why, these people are absolutely fucking bonkers.

*****

(They’re really not)

*****

The first time Jamie saw the woman, it was from across the grounds, which is why it took her crossing halfway the distance to realize that she was breakdancing.

Then again, she had also got other things on her mind. Peter Fucking Quint had to go and fall off the parapet while attempting to rob the Wingraves of their old jewelry the night before last, and between helping Hannah communicate with the police, ensuring Owen received an adequate number of head pats every hour to calm him down, and offering Rebecca a listening ear for both murderous rants and angry tears, she had her hands completely full. And that wasn’t even including the kids, although they seemed to be doing fairly alright. Thankfully they had not seen the body. However, that didn’t deter Miles, who was currently going through a bit of a Hannibal phase, from popping up at random intervals to ask her what broken bones looked like, or if the blood had frozen overnight.

All in all, pretty exhausting.

Which is why the sight of the children standing in front of a breakdancing woman didn’t register at first. She was pulling out the weeds, sun high in the sky, sweat tracing an uncomfortable path down her back when something made her look up. One double take, and she was scrambling in their direction.

She reached them, panting, raised her head after her breath was a little more even and looked right at the woman, who was currently doing the robot. “Um,” she started, unsure of where to go from there. “Are — are you quite alright?”

The woman stopped abruptly, her mouth falling open. “You can see me?”

Okay, this woman was clearly mental. “Yes?”

The woman looked even more astounded. “You really can?” she turned to Flora next. “You too?”

Flora blinked. “Yes, we can.”

“But that’s impossible! You shouldn’t be able to see me. In fact—”

“Jaime, darling,” Miles cut in the middle of what seemed to be the beginning of a rapidly delivered monologue. “Could you escort this.... clearly insane lady outside?”

Jaime thwack-ed the side of his head gently. “Wanna try that again? Nicely?”

He looked sheepish. Not really a bad kid, that one, she thought. Just annoying.

“But you really shouldn’t be able to see me. By all calculations, it’s completely—”

“Well, why not?” Miles asked, now having warmed to the idea of possibly talking to someone who was crazy.

The woman brightened up. “Well, because,” she said, “this, I guess.”

And then she snapped her fingers, disappeared and reappeared on the other side of the lake, where she waved at them excitedly.

Flora is the only one who waved back. Jamie was too busy supporting the weight of a now-collapsed Miles.

*****

Jamie thought it was patently unfair that the reaper of souls was just so damn cute.

(They weren’t supposed to be cute! They were supposed to look gaunt and hollow, and angry and sad, not like sunshine wrapped up in a very human looking package. They weren’t supposed to be walking around with bright, blue, gorgeous eyes, and faces that seemed to have been sculpted by some divine power up there, and a voice that was sweet and soothing enough to put Jamie right to sleep.)

“It’s amazing how all of you can see me,” the reaper of souls, or Dani, as she had introduced herself, said, looking wide-eyed at all of them. Rebecca and a recently awakened Miles were the only ones who looked actively concerned, standing in the corner. Owen and Hannah were, as ever, polite and pleasant, if a little curious. Flora was already settled in next to Dani, asking her questions a mile a minute. And Jamie was—

(Very fucking annoyed at how pretty Dani was)

—completely alright.

“And you’re here to get Peter?” Owen asked her, with a sideways look in Rebecca’s direction.

“Oh yes,” Dani replied. “And boy, was that man a pain. Really whiny. Went all Boohoo I can’t be dead, I’m supposed to do so many things, I’m so cool and awesome and. Ugh. Annoying is what he was. I mean, the list says Peter Quint — died while trying to steal from Bly Manor; what am I supposed to do?”

They all nodded, a little dazed.

“And then I saw the kids and I was bored and I thought they couldn’t see me anyways so,” she continued, and then looked down, suddenly a little shy. “I really am sorry about the.... you know, breakdancing. I honestly thought nobody could see me.”

“It’s okay, it was cute,” Jamie found herself saying before she had time to process, and then wanted to stab herself with the fork lying on the table. If that didn’t work, bang her head on the surface until she bled to death. Or—

“Thank you,” Dani said, equally as quiet.

Jamie closed her eyes, willed her body to fall dead right then and there.

(It didn't work, unfortunately)

“Would you like to stay for supper?” he heard Owen ask their guest.

“Supper?” Dani asked. “Wait, is it already that late?”

Jamie looked up a moment later, when she heard everybody scream and then she opened her eyes to see a stranger standing right near the stove.

“Viola!” Dani said, alarmed. “I thought I sent a message I was gonna be late.”

The woman looked very haughty, very angry and (this is something she hated to admit, again, but) very fucking hot. Seriously. What was with these underworld people and ridiculously angelic skin? Her gaze moved past all of them, came to rest on Dani.

“I got your message alright,” she announced, blithely. “Just couldn’t figure out why you were still here.”

Dani chuckled, nervously. “So, funny story, but as it turns out — these people can — uh, see us?”

Viola tilted her head, regarded her. “Are you sure?”

“Hello,” Hannah said, ever the gracious host. “Welcome to Bly Manor.”

Viola looked flabbergasted now, doing a double take to look at all of them more carefully.

“They can see us?”

Dani nodded, gingerly.

“Seriously?”

Another nod.

“But that can’t be—”

“—Viola, I know, but—”

“—it simply cannot be allowed—”

“—absolutely not I know what you’re thinki—”

“—We have to end them!”

There was another whoosh right next to Jamie’s ear, and she took her time, turning around, only to see another pissed-off, hot woman, standing in the kitchen, her arms crossed.

“I didn’t even say kill!” Viola protested.

“You implied it!”

Their standoff was interrupted by a violent, abrupt thud. It seemed Miles had fainted again.

*****

Jamie walked into the greenhouse, paused and smiled.

“You cannot surprise me,” she said, aloud.

There was movement behind her, and then Dani walked into view.

“How do you always know I’m here?”

Jamie stayed quiet. There wasn’t a good, less-embarrassing way to say The air dances when you’re around, or I can feel your presence in the back of my neck, in the way my heart starts skipping steps on whatever treadmill it is currently running on.

“Let me keep my secrets,” she answered.

Dani stayed beside her, as she started on the rose plants, a safe distance away, safe enough for Jamie to not feel like she would combust. “I got you something.”

“You’ve already given me so many things,” Jamie told her, hand rubbing at the back of her neck. It was true. Every time Dani had dropped in the past month, she’d brought little trinkets from her travels all over the world.

(Travels was an excellent way of describing the action of harvesting the grumpy souls of the dead)

One time there had been crepes from Paris, courtesy the tourist guide who passed of a heart attack in a café. Another time it was one of Cerberus’ treats, because Jamie was eternally curious as to what hell dogs actually ate. The bone had been framed and now lay on one of her shelves back at home. One day, she had gotten macarons that Owen had scarfed down before Dani could get around to telling him they were filled with the eternal cries of the dead.

(He’d spent the entire day walking around convinced he was going to die. The doctor said it was indigestion)

She opened the neatly wrapped box and picked up the pomegranate. Turned it around in her hand, examined it.

“Aren’t these supposed to tie me down to the Underworld forever?” she asked, only half-serious.

“Gosh, no,” Dani said, nervously chuckling. “These are not that kind.”

Jamie waited.

“Um, so these,” Dani went on, “these seeds are kind of multi-purpose things? So basically you can eat them, but these seeds, when planted, they can grow any plant in the world. Doesn’t matter what soil they’re on. I mean, I heard you mention that flower you’ve always wanted to grow, but England doesn’t have the climate suited to it and — well. This would work.”

If Jamie could speak, this is what she would have said: I don’t know how to thank you. I don’t know why you’re here, why you give me so much of your precious time, time that you could be walking around the whole world in. I don’t know what to do with myself when I’m around me, how to breathe, how to look, and I’m an utter godforsaken mess, but I’m eternally grateful you barged into our lives a while ago. I don’t know what I was doing before you came. I hope you never leave.

She would have said I know you collect souls, but there’s at least one heart lying in that bag of yours, and there’s a good chance it’s mine.

As it is, all she did was grab onto Dani’s hand, and squeeze.

*****

“You have got to stop doing that!” Owen gasped, hand on his heart.

Dani shrugged from on where she was now perched on top of the table, sitting directly in front of an open-mouthed Miles. “Hannah always knows when I’m here.”

“That’s because I really do have eyes everywhere,” Hannah turned around, smiled brightly at Dani. “Spaghetti?”

“I’ve been asking you for the past five minutes!” Jamie said, indignantly.

“Well, now we know who’s her favorite,” Dani shoots an infuriatingly smug grin in her direction, and pats the top of her head and—

Jamie would feel annoyed if her heart wasn’t racing and there wasn’t a blush fighting to make its way up her cheeks. This love thing was annoying.

(Not that it was love, of course. Certainly not)

“As charming as that sounds, Hannah darling,” Dani continued, “I actually came for a purpose.”

“Is it to set murderers on us again?”

“No, Miles,” Dani replied, patiently. “Plus, Viola and Perdita wouldn’t really have.... killed you. Maimed you, at best.”

Rebecca shuddered delicately on the other side of the table.

“Remember when you said you’d had a bit of a dinosaur phase when you were a kid?” Dani directed this towards Jamie.

“... yes?”

“Well,” Dani snapped her fingers, and to their extreme horror, a parrot sized creature appeared next to her, “meet Battery!”

“—completely house trained,” she heard Dani explaining to Hannah, while she extended a hand towards (what was he called? Right) Battery. He opened his mouth, stepped closer, licked the entire length of her finger with a long, slimy tongue, and then immediately nipped at her nail.

(Jamie may or may not be helplessly charmed)

Before she could say anything, however, Miles fell from his chair onto the kitchen floor.

Rebecca sighed, got up from her chair. “You guys know there’s going to be permanent brain damage if he keeps doing that.”

*****

About three things went wrong the day Jamie decided she was finally going to tell Dani she was in love with her.

The first thing was that she needed to get drunk, and decided to trust Owen and Hannah to deliver. The second was that Battery wasn’t adequately educated in the intricacies of human weirdness and tended to panic at the first sign of strange behavior. Third, lakes weren’t the most romantic places to confess your love, but apparently nobody had told Jamie this.

So when she found herself flailing for breath after having somehow made her way to the middle of the lake in a makeshift lifeboat and then having upturned it in the process, she only had herself to blame.

“What,” Dani started, looking absolutely furious, hair all over the place as she held Jamie up, “the fuck were you doing in the middle of the lake?”

“Hey!” Jamie sang, because the alcohol was making her feel very sing-song-y, “You shouldn’t be here yet! It’s not time!”

“Battery panicked and summoned me,” Dani explained. “Are — are you drunk?”

“No, she’s not!” Hannah called out from where she and Owen had just reached the lake. “We gave her loads of strong bitter soda and convinced her it was watered down whiskey.”

(Now that she was thinking about it, the whiskey had seemed pretty fizzy for her liking)

“Oh,” she Jamie, now sobered up. “But I was drowning.”

“Yeah, in about five feet of water.”

Well, that was anticlimactic.

*****

At midnight, she sat by the lake, covered in a warm, fuzzy blanket Dani had draped all over her. Dani sat beside her, Battery on her lap, smiling at her from time to time.

“You’re such an idiot,” she said, out of nowhere, and Jamie didn’t have the heart to disagree. “What am I even going to do with you?”

“You could,” Jamie started, ponderously, like she hadn’t spent three months of her life thinking this over, like her heart wasn’t an over-excited ping-pong in her chest right now, “you could always take me out on a date, you know?”

“Really?” Dani murmured. “Well, that’s a novel idea.”

“Isn’t it?”

“Depends. Would you be okay dating someone who is almost constantly grumpy from carrying around beleaguered souls all day?”

Jamie pretended to think. “I think so, yes.”

“Someone who regularly hangs out with a murder-friendly woman?”

“.... maybe?”

“How about someone who may have to keep going away for lengths of time?”

Jamie turned to her. “Would that someone come back to me, though?”

Dani’s eyes were shiny and hopeful, and she felt her breath get stuck in her throat like a lovesick little fool. “Always,” Dani whispered.

“Well, then,” Jamie whispered back to her, and then leaned in for the most picture-perfect happy ending of all time.

#the haunting of bly manor #thobm #thobm fanfic #this is a completely crazy au i have no idea where i got the idea from but yeah #basically me not being able to accept that rebecca and hannah and dani died so yeah #some more family feels #but also grim reapers???????#as always #no editing we die like dani clayton #happy reading y'all #dani x jamie #fanfiction

32 notes · View notes

rainbowserenity · 4 years

Text

warning: this is basically pwp. I tried to give it something of a plot, but uh........the smut is just overpowering lmao I’m sorry ahhhhhhhhHHHH

The thing was, they were supposed to hate each other.

It had, naturally, been her manager’s idea, born from a moment Lightning saw as a minor irritation. She’d arrived well before the call time of her shoot, only have to have Fang shove a tablet in her face.

Lightning was used to looking at photos of herself. She was, after all, a model – one of the most sought out ones in the industry, according to her agent, and was the current face of luxury fashion brand LV. It was weird if she thought about it too hard.

This particular photo, however, was a candid shot taken at a party the night before. She hadn’t wanted to go, but apparently the world would have ended if she’d missed it.

Now she wished she’d listened to her gut.

“Look at this!” Fang had exclaimed. “Someone caught you lookin’ all pissed off!”

She wasn’t sure who had taken the photo, but it was a perfectly captured moment after some silver-haired man had spilled red wine on her dress. Lightning admittedly hadn’t paid much attention to who had done it, mostly because she’d finally had a perfect excuse to leave.

Apparently she hadn’t left fast enough.

“So?”

“So? So?” Fang barked out a laugh. “You got any idea who messed up your outfit?”

“I’m sure I don’t care.”

“Hope Estheim!”

The name hadn’t rung a bell at all, but according to Fang, this man – Hope – was an up-and-coming fellow model who was the new face of Pradya, another overpriced luxury brand. It’d been LV’s rival in the industry for years.

“So?” Lightning echoed.

Fang had been completely exasperated with this reaction. “Hello? Face of the opposing brand spilling wine on your expensive outfit? People are gonna see this and think rivalry. We’ll get the whole world talkin’ about you two!”

“And?”

“And in a season or two, LV and Pradya will do a sort of collaboration – with you and Hope as the faces! Public interest will skyrocket. I’m brilliant, yeah?”

Lightning had been trying to follow, but it was difficult. “So he’s supposed to be my...rival?” She rolled her eyes. “Do you have any idea how stupid that sounds?”

“You’ll be thankin’ me later. Just do what I say.”

“Right.”

–

So Lightning did what she was told.

The ‘rivalry’ was set up during the next few months. She was forbidden to interact with Hope in any way – not that their paths crossed at all – and when asked about the photo of him spilling wine on her during interviews, she was supposed to act haughty and annoyed while somehow implying that LV was superior.

It was ridiculous, but considering she didn’t know the guy at all, it was easy to just go about her day and not think about it too much, though she did wonder if Hope found the whole thing as stupid as she did.

And then came the end-of-season party.

It was huge, as usual, with tons of her fellow models and lots of important people in attendance. Lightning only went because she was obligated to and wore a deep red dress that wouldn’t show any wine stains if someone decided to try something funny.

She hated this part of the job. Modeling was fine – she could use her image to bring awareness to issues important to her, and the money didn’t hurt either. But all of the schmoozing and parties and dealing with people?

No thanks.

When she’d made small talk for the last time she could stand to that night, Lightning quickly excused herself to try and find a place to breathe. She thought this would have been easy, since the party was being held at a huge, ritzy hotel this year. Surely there was a janitor’s closet or something she could sneak into.

But no – everywhere she looked, there were either locked door or too many people. She was fairly sure they were guests or staff since no one asked for an autograph or a selfie, but it was insane that she couldn’t find anywhere to take a breather. Was it too much to ask for a minute alone?

Finally, in a huff of annoyance, she stomped – quite a feat in heels – over to the elevator, which was blessedly empty. She’d ride it to the top and back down again, or maybe just get off at a random floor. She didn’t really care, as long as she could be alone for five minutes.

“Hold the elevator please!”

Apparently even that was too much to ask.

Lightning couldn’t help but scowl a little, extremely tempted to hit the ‘door close’ button, but she relented with a huge sigh and held the door, staring at the buttons with a frown, not wanting to give who was interrupting her peace the time of day.

“Tha….nks.”

The weird pause got to her, and she looked up just as the doors slid shut.

“...Hope?”

There he was, in the flesh, mere inches away from her. His eyes were wide with – fear? Panic? She couldn’t tell, but she was more intrigued by how his cheeks grew pink when she’d said his name.

“You’re, um – Lightning.”

“Yes.” She raised an eyebrow. “Are you under the same stupid obligation not to interact with me until that collaboration?”

He cleared his throat and nodded. “Sorry.”

“What?”

“For spilling that wine on you. We never would’ve been forced to do this if I’d just been watching where I was going.”

Of all the things he could have said to her, she had not expected that. Lightning turned and stared at him in obvious surprise. His cheeks grew even more pink, which was strangely mesmerizing.

“It’s…” She trailed off as she stared at him some more. Though they, of course, had not been near each other since the wine incident, there was something about him that felt weirdly comfortable. She felt like she could tell him everything – how she felt about their stupid ‘rivalry,’ her thoughts on the industry, things about her personal life – and he’d actually listen instead of it going in one ear and out the other.

But of course, she said nothing except, “It’s fine.”

He finally met her stare, the tiniest hint of a smile quirking the corners of his lips. Was that the kind of stare he used during shoots? She didn’t know – she didn’t follow his work or anything, but in that gaze, she could very easily see how he’d rose to stardom.

“I tried to apologize that night, but you walked off before I could.” He seemed a little more confident now, talking to her. Could he hear the way her heart was pounding, just from the look in his eyes? “Was that dress ruined?”

“No.” Her tone came out much lower than anticipated and she cleared her throat. What the hell was wrong with her? “No. I got the stain out.”

He raised his eyebrows. “You did?”

“I’m pretty good at housework.”

He smiled again, about to say something else, but the elevator suddenly lurched. Lightning was caught off-balance and she stumbled, her heels not keeping her upright.

Quick as a wink, Hope reached out and steadied her, one hand awkwardly gripping her arm and the other on her waist. For a heart-stopping moment, they stood there, afraid to move in case they both fell in a heap.

When the elevator didn’t budge, Lightning glanced up at the display. “Top floor.”

“I’m amazed it didn’t stop.”

“I know.” Her eyes slid back to his face, realizing at that second he was still holding onto her. If he was anyone else, she would have torn herself away the moment she was steady, but she felt frozen to the spot.

Hope’s arm slowly – almost too slowly – slid down her arm, his fingers leaving a tingling sensation on her skin. His hand loosely gripped her wrist and his other one curled in the fabric at her waist.

It was getting difficult to think. She needed to get back to the party or leave or something, but he had her pinned to the spot with that gaze. She couldn’t help but wonder if she was doing the same to him, somehow, but how was she supposed to look away from those eyes? They were such an unusual shade of green that complimented his silver hair perfectly – hair that she suddenly wanted to run her fingers through and tug -

As though she’d been waiting for it the moment their eyes met, it was such a sweet relief when he pulled her against him and crashed their mouths together.

Lightning had been in relationships before. She’d kissed her fair share of people, and it’d always been nice.

But it was nothing compared to how Hope’s lips made her feel.

There was nothing soft and sweet about it, just pure lust that thrummed through her core, sending fire through her veins and waking up sensations in her body she had no idea she’d been capable of feeling until now. A low moan escaped her as she scrambled for dominance, always one to take the lead, but Hope slammed her against the wall of the elevator with a groan, pinning her there with his body as he cupped her neck, seeking more of her lips.

It was dizzying and strange and so much, but she already couldn’t get enough. Vaguely, she wondered if it was the allure of forbidden fruit, considering she was supposed to stay away from him.

But no – it wasn’t just that, not by a long shot. No one else had ever made her lose her head with just a kiss; a kiss she hadn’t even known she’d wanted until he’d touched her.

She already felt so far gone. The elevator could open right now with all the industry professionals in the world on the other side, catching them in the act, and she wouldn’t have been able to stop. His tongue, his lips, his body – everything in her screamed for all of it.

When she hooked a leg around his waist, pushing his groin closer to her, Hope pulled away with a whimper. The sound literally made her tremble with desire – to think that she could make a grown man so far gone so easily, especially someone who likely had to keep his composure most of the time.

He leaned again, his teeth grazing the skin under her ear and gasping at the sound she made. “I have a room here at the hotel,” he whispered. “Would you care to join me?” He punctuated his question by rolling his hips against her, letting her know exactly what his intentions were.

Lightning knew there was only one answer.

“Please.”

That simple plea got another whimper from him and he looked away long enough to press the button for his floor before their lips met again, desperation growing in every kiss. She could hardly breathe for it and she couldn’t help but grind her hips against his, which got twin moans from both of them. The absolute need for his touch was getting alarming and if they had to wait any longer, she was going to go completely crazy.

By some miracle, nobody else needed the elevator and they made it to his floor. He grabbed her hand when the doors opened and they practically raced down the hall, stumbling from their shaky legs and empty lungs. How he actually managed to pull out his room key and open the door on the first try, she had no idea, but the second the door was shut behind him, their lips immediately met again in a clash of tongues and teeth.

“Bed,” she gasped out of the corner of her mouth, her leg lifting around his waist again.

Somehow he knew what to do and grasped her thighs, lifting as she hopped up and wrapped both legs around his waist, kicking off her stupid heels in the meantime. They groaned as their hips moved together with the motion and Hope carried her with a surprising deftness towards the huge bed. He set her down and practically fell on top of her, apparently needing to be as close as she did.

This wasn’t enough.

Naturally, being a model, she did tend to give a lot of thought to clothes, but right now they were such a damn nuisance. Hope was wearing a button down and slacks, which wasn’t much, but at the same time it was far too much. Even her cocktail dress suddenly felt way too confining.

She managed to pull her lips away and pressed them to his neck instead, taking immense pleasure at the sound he rewarded her with. Her shaky fingers clumsily undid the buttons of his shirt and she couldn’t help but kiss down the path of skin she created, her desperation clear with every movement.

To her momentary disappointment, he pulled away, but thankfully it was to pull his damn shirt off the rest of the way. It was likely an overpriced designer garment, but he tossed it aside like it was nothing but a piece of paper, his focus entirely on her instead.

She took the momentary pause to scoot up on the bed a bit more and he follow suit, straddling her as his lips trailed fire on her neck. Lightning’s head fell back a little with a shaky gasp, giving him room to explore. Her neck had always been sensitive and nobody else she’d been with had ever really bothered to find that out.

Clearly Hope was different.

She could actually feel the bruises blossoming on her skin, but she didn’t give a damn. Let him mark her, she thought. Anything, anything for this feeling. She never wanted it to stop.

While he lavished her skin, he also found a moment to unzip her dress. Lightning hurriedly tossed it aside with the same care he had with his shirt, leaving her in just her bra and panties...which, considering how tight the dress had been, left very little to the imagination.

Hope pulled his head away for a moment and

stared,

his eyes lingering on her chest and slowly tracing every inch of her body before his gaze met hers. The sheer lust burning in his eyes made her throb with need.

And yet, instead of the frenzied kiss and touch she was expecting, he simply stared some more and sat back a little, a tiny smirk on his face as his fingertips traced the inside of her thighs in an agonizingly slow manner. Her legs fell open of their own accord, so slick with desire that she could feel it. All she wanted – needed – was for him to touch her.

Apparently he was in no rush all of a sudden, however. He ignored the way her skin visibly shivered under his fingers, how her breath caught in her throat, the sheets twisted in her grasp. It was ridiculous how they hadn’t even really done anything and she already felt like such a mess. How could one person drive her into this state with hardly any effort?

Just as she was about to ask if something was wrong, Hope grinned wickedly and shoved her panties aside with one hand, the other slipping his fingers inside her.

Lightning immediately cried out, her back arching off the bed as she scrambled to touch him, just needing to feel him. He seemed to rightly take that as a good sign and moved his hand into an easy rhythm, her hips rocking as she continued to gasp with pleasure. It was like she couldn’t feel her body at all and it had disappeared to mere sensation.

He lowered his head, kissing her breasts through the sheer fabric of her bra and she didn’t even care that she was still wearing it, she didn’t give a damn about anything except the way he was making her feel. His fingers moved so easily and it was so good, so damn good…

She gripped his hair, tugging on it slightly and gasped at his moan. It was too much and not enough, she didn’t know because her vocabulary had dwindled down to a plea. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, please - ”

And then he moved his thumb just so.

Lightning let out a sound she had no idea she’d been capable of – a kind of cry that was a moan and a little scream, or maybe she gasped. Her hips jerked against his hand, completely out of control, and all that kept her rooted to earth was her hand gripping his hair.

Hope sucked at her neck as she writhed against him, groaning when she pulled his hair. As though he knew she was breathless anyway, he lifted his head and kissed her in the middle of everything. Her body was so alight with pleasure that she barely had the mind to kiss back, a sharp gasp escaping her when he pulled away and stared.

If she’d thought there was lust in his eyes before, that was nothing compared to the stare he was giving her now. Honestly, she wouldn’t have been surprised if singe her with that gaze - fire burned in his eyes, so desperate and needy and longing.

He slowly slid his fingers from her, his eyes on hers the whole time. Then, quick as a flash, he straddled her and rocked their hips together, both of them groaning in unison at the sensation. “I want you,” he practically growled, still moving his hips in that tantalizing motion as he slipped his hands under her bra to grope her breasts. “Please Lightning, I want you so damn bad...”

She almost wanted to laugh. Apparently it wasn’t crystal clear that she was putty in his hands, and somehow, he demand for permission just made her even more desperate.

With a sharp tug, she brought his face up to hers, initiating a kiss that fanned the flames sizzling through her veins. Out of the corner of her mouth, when she dared to pull away, she managed to murmur her answer.

“You have me.”

The noise Hope made in response made her toes curl in anticipation. He tugged her up just enough to fumble with her bra hooks for a minute. She eagerly tossed it aside and her hands immediately went to his pants, trembling so hard as she undid them that it was a wonder she didn’t nick herself on the zipper. He kicked them away like he was offended by them and their underwear quickly followed suit.

Finally they were as naked as the day they were born. It was almost a relief to fully feel him against her, their mouths and hands groping, kissing, touching – god, she loved the way he touched her; so deliberate and sure of himself like they’d done this hundreds of times before.

She wanted him. She needed him.

Eagerly, Lightning pushed at Hope’s shoulder and flipped them over in a tangle of limbs, scrambling up his body so she was the one straddling him. He looked momentarily surprised, but definitely pleased, his breath visibly hitching in anticipation.

They’d already gotten each others' permission and she didn’t want to wait any longer. She was already throbbing with need again, and therefore had no hesitation as she lowered herself onto him, sheathing him inside of her.

The feel of his fingers was nothing compared to this.

They didn’t even give each other a second to adjust, which was just fine with her. He immediately thrust into her and she met him perfectly, wondering how the hell it could be this damn good with someone she barely even knew.

Her hands wandered over his lean chest, scratching into his skin every time his thrust was just right. Likewise, his nails dug into her hips, gripping her like a lifeline and tightening his hold every time he gasped. When she started getting particularly vigorous, he hooked his legs around hers and flipped them over, barely losing momentum in the process.

She didn’t even care. She was chasing that desperate high and wanted it so damn badly, but she also never wanted this to stop. Her nails dug into his back and left trails on his skin and she couldn’t resist sucking at his chest and neck. Let the makeup artists find them, damnit.

Lightning could tell that he was struggling to hold on, that his release was so close but he didn’t want this to end, either. It wasn’t just her who had never felt this kind of pleasure before, so intense and perfect with her skin tingling and her toes curling and everything in the whole world dwindling down to how he was making her feel. It was fast and hard and overwhelming and amazing -

Her hips suddenly jerked again, practically thrashing against him as pleasure consumed her in a way that she’d never experienced. Her very being was no longer skin and bones, but nerves of fire that took over everything. She cried out his name over and over, babbling in a way that was completely unlike her.

Hope groaned at her reaction and he thrust into her so hard that all she could do was hold on. Vaguely she heard the headboard bang against the wall as he moved, and any other time she might have been embarrassed, but now she didn’t care if the whole damn world heard them.

“Light - “ he cried out in a strangled tone, his hands groping her body desperately. “I need - ”

“Do it.”

When he came, she saw fireworks behind her eyes, the aftershocks still coursing through her. Their lips frantically crashed together as they both rode it out, though Lightning had no idea how she would ever come down from this high.

It seemed like a long time before they finally stopped moving, sheer exhaustion taking over. She could still hardly breathe and her heart was pounding so hard it made her dizzy. Their lips brushed together and it was so damn good that tendrils of desire were already curling within her.

Hope moved his head a little and kissed her neck again, lazily trailing his lips to her ear. “I’ve been wanting to do that since I spilled that wine on you.”

Lightning raised an eyebrow, though of course he couldn’t see it. Any other time she might have brushed off such a comment, but after the way he’d made her feel, she was stupidly glad that he’d had such a desire at all. “Was it worth the wait?”

“Yes,” he answered immediately, lifting his head. He stared at her, the lust in his eyes still there as a gentle flame rather than blazing. “Oh yes. In fact...” He kissed her, his tongue slightly against hers as he rocked his hips teasingly. She moaned into his mouth, already gasping when he pulled his lips away. “I have a late call time tomorrow, if you wanted to spend the night.”

She raised her eyebrow again, trying to look stern, but it was difficult when his hands were wandering again, one slipping teasingly in between her legs. All she wanted was more. The idea that she was supposed to hate him seemed so ridiculous.

There was no doubt in her mind that they’d be able to break the headboard tonight.

“With pleasure.”

43 notes · View notes

k7l4d4 · 3 years

Text

Midnight Striga: Fairy Tail/Owl House Cross Fic Episode 6 Part 5

Hello all, and welcome back to another exciting rendition of Midnight Striga! Everybody Clap Your Hands!!

Eda grumbled, shifting her weight as she hunkered through the crowds, King prowling along beside her. She despised the Night Market, as it was basically a physical embodiment of justification for Bonehead’s rule; hard to stand up against the person who’s keeping you and your family safe from scummy criminals selling shady and dangerous stuff, even by the standards of the Isles!! She snorted. If only those same people knew that Bonehead’s goons were perfectly aware of the Night Market and could shut it down and round up its proprietors whenever they liked, and kept it around BECAUSE it was a convenient, tangible justification.

“Ugh! This place smells like failure and backstabbing.” King complained, warily scanning the surroundings, a spell prepped and ready to deploy at a moment’s notice.

Eda huffed. “Yeah, but if this ‘Grimm Hammer’ guy has Curse-Suppression potions, I can’t afford to stay away.” And didn’t it burn that she had to deal with scum like this for her health? She liked Morton, he was a good kid, but DAMN if his habit of testing his products, particularly the dangerous ones, on himself wasn’t grating at times like this. At least when he did it before he still had something in stock for her to use until he got back in shape.

King nodded solemnly, by his standards at any rate. He glanced around, idly taking note of the various comers and goers wandering the market, all doing their best to stay at least partially inconspicuous; it was probably pointless, considering just how unique and diverse appearances could get on the Isles, but at least they were putting in the effort. ‘I wonder if this is how Lilith got that curse.’ King wondered, his temper boiling at the thought of Eda’s sister stabbing her in the back like that. Aloud, he said, “You think this guy will try and screw us over?”

Eda laughed bitterly. “Oh absolutely! But,” She added with a feral grin, “If he does, we can always wreck the place.” She and King cheered at the thought of destroying private property.

With a snort, Eda glanced over the directions Mort had given her, comparing it to the shop before her. It wasn’t anything really special, just a stand aiming to draw the eye and lighten suckers’ wallets, but it had the signs of wear and tear you only got from long-term use and dedication. The owner was probably a scumbag, true, but they were a scumbag with pride in their business and property. Raising an eye at King, and getting a raised eyebrow in return, the two headed inside. A tall figure landed onto the ground in a crouch behind them.

Odalia marched down the halls, burying her worry under maternal fury. This was absolutely unacceptable!! She could not believe Amity was acting so disgracefully, cutting her off like that! With a huff, she finally crossed into the room, primed and ready to start shouting, heedless of the damage her outburst would do to her daughter’s social standing, only to blink in numb surprise at the sight of the humans, Amity’s guard notwithstanding, now in the room. “Um, Mittens? What is going on?” She asked as diplomatically as she could.

Amity sighed, and what proceeded was another rapid-fire round of introductions between the group and Odalia. Odalia’s eyes sharpened at several key points, namely that Neon was an heiress, and had been granted guards as a result of her magic, important details. “So,” Odalia drawled, a calculating gleam in her eyes, “You mentioned that you gave predictions, Miss Nostrade?” She stated more than asked; as annoyed as she was at Amity’s antics (and it was definitely annoyance, absolutely nothing more), this was admittedly an opportune moment to gain a better look into Human Magic, particularly in an area of overlap such as Oracle magic and predictions.

“Yeah, it sounds super interesting!” Selena piped up, engaging in the conversation. “I LOVE Oracle Magic, so seeing how Humans do it is like Oracle Magic times two!” She cheered, scooching close.

“Okay, if you really want!” Neon agreed, oblivious to the sudden tensing of her guards. She quickly pulled out a sheet of paper and a cat-themed pen. “I just need your names, date of birth, and your blood type!” She hummed, a blissful grin on her face. Odalia and Selena blinked, but both complied, much to the interest of the others, save Luz who’d seen what was coming in action before. The group reared back, startled at the deep blue aura that surged up around Neon, her normally bright and clear eyes fading and turning glassy, like a doll. Her hand pulled back, a winged thing manifesting around it, intoning “Lovely Ghostwriter.” In a blur, Neon rapidly inscribed a series of poems upon the paper, her hand blurring across the page that they couldn’t make out the actual words she was writing down. Suddenly, her hand stopped, a total of eight stanzas composed before her on two seperate sheets, which she promptly handed over to the correct recipient. “And there you go!” She beamed.

“Wow, what do they say?” Skara asked, powering through the confusion and shock that had come over her at the sight of Neon’s spell.

“No idea!” Neon blithely replied, causing all the Witches to blink in shock, save Odalia and Selena, who were busy going over their poems.

Luz snorted at their surprise. “Yeah, Neon’s magic is totally involuntary after the activation point. She has no clue what she writes, isn’t aware that she was even writing until after the fact, and is physically incapable of reading whatever prediction she gives.” Luz clarified, admittedly relishing the looks of confusion she got in response.

“How does that even work!?” Amity asked, utterly bewildered. It was completely outside any known form of Oracle Magic, and she couldn’t help but notice the blanching faces of her mother and Selena.

Neon gave a pout, trying not to feel insulted at the slight at her skills. “Predictions are for the people, not for the predictor!” She childishly stated, huffing in displeasure.

They turned to Luz, a look screaming for an explanation upon their faces. “Hey, it makes as much sense to me as it does for you all.” She lightly protested. Seeing they weren’t convinced, she ultimately relented, clarifying, “I’m not sure why it turned out like that, but Neon is completely self-taught, but no one has ever said she’s not good at what she does.” She fixed them with a strong stare, almost daring them to question her. “Neon’s predictions always cover the month of when she gives them, offering insight as to what will happen later, with advice being given for dangerous or difficult moments coming up, and clarity as to what led to events that have already happened. And Neon’s predictions are always perfectly accurate to boot.” She sat back, letting that sink in.

Willow was the first to recover. “B-But that goes outside any known example of Oracle Magic!” She stammered, shock coloring her eyes. “Even the best Oracles have some level of failure or inaccuracy!”

Luz shrugged. “I don’t know what to say, but that’s never really applied to Neon.” The girl in question merely beamed in pride at that, puffing out her chest.

“Neon is the greatest! Ohohohohoho!” She cheerfully laughed, pulling one hand to her mouth in a look of haughty delight, only for Luz to playfully chop her on the head. “Ouchie!”

“Please don’t strike my charge again, Miss Noceda.” Kurapika sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, even as his fellow guards just snorted at the by-play between the two mages.

“Yeah, the lassy needs her brain intact, you know?” Basho called out, a cheerful smile on his face. He winced at the swift jab to his rib Baise gave him.

Baise snorted. “Maybe don’t insult our boss, idiot.” She drolly stated, arms crossed.

“I’ve honestly been wondering, but if you guys are guards for a mage, are you mages yourselves?” Gus asked, tone casual, if you discounted the notebook primed for writing held before him that is.

“Well, as a matter of fact, we are.” Kurapika cordially replied, showing the chains affixed to his hand, small steel rings linking a separate chain to each finger. “I myself employ Chain Magic, allowing me to manipulate and command my chains for a variety of effects.” He gave a mysterious grin. “Though, some of my best spells are unfortunately kept rather limited.”

“Huh, why is that?” Gus asked, furiously scrawling down the enigmatic blonde’s answer.

“Well, I won’t go into the specifics, but it is possible to augment one’s spells, particularly complex or unusual ones, by infusing them with limitations as to how and when you can use them, or giving them conditions as to when they can be activated.” Kurapika explained. “A solid example would be, say, creating a spell that would allow you to defeat a specific foe, and then altering the spell so it literally cannot be used on anyone but that foe. Doing so would make that spell all the more powerful and flexible to use, but only when it’s conditions are fulfilled.”

The Witches paused, staring in shock at Kurapika, whereas his fellow guards and Luz just looked at him in amusement. Luz shrugged. “He’s not wrong, but most mages don’t usually do that, unless their magic works best under specific circumstances to start with. It’s usually something found in more exotic forms of magic, or with people who are self-trained.” All the Witches carefully took note of that for later.

Willow cleared her throat. “And what about the rest of you?” She asked politely.

Tolico puffed out his chest, grinning. “Well my magic is almost ideal for bodyguard duties, and just for messing with people. Observe!” He cried, swinging his arm up, before clapping it against the ground. “Thankless Soldiers!” From the point of contact, a dark purple aura billowed up off the floor, flexing and morphing into the image of 12 dark figures in robes, standing at attention. “Now, you guys go outside and patrol the area, we don’t want any intruders, alright?” He stated, and the constructs moved out, silently and without issue.

“Wow! You can create soldiers to fight for you!?” Gus exclaimed, stars in his eyes.

“Yeah, but they’re fragile to any trained mage, can’t move very fast, and their only solid advantage is numbers.” Baise said, instantly taking the wind out of Tolico’s sails. Baise smirked at the pouting glare Tolico shot her. “As for myself… my magic isn’t something kiddies like you should learn about until you’re older.” She stated, the aimless leer on her face sending nervous shivers down the group’s collective spine.

“HA! My Haiku Magic allows me to compose poetry, and gain effects based on those poems by sacrificing them!” Basho proudly stated, crushing a tablet of paper in his fist, causing it to erupt in flames, to the awe of the crowd.

“My magic isn’t really anything special,” Squala stated bashfully, rubbing his head. “I can manipulate and command dogs, but not a whole lot else.”

“And I can create effects by playing my flute.” Melody added in a soft tone. The Witches pondered that briefly, but accepted it, not every form of magic was going to be out there and radically different from what they knew.

“W-What is this!?” Odalia whispered, drawing the group’s attention to her and Selena, who were both shuddering over the predictions Neon had given them. She whipped around, wild eyes staring at Neon, who cocked her head in confusion. She marched over, oblivious to the stares her actions were garnering from the group, and the level glares of Neon’s bodyguards, all prepped to intercept her. “Are you certain this is accurate!?” She demanded, almost rabid fear in her eyes, waving her prediction in emphasis.

“Hmm?” Neon made a questioning noise, uncomprehending? “What do you mean? Neon’s predictions are always right!” She huffed, confused and annoyed at the idea of her predictions being wrong. Didn’t this old lady know anything!? Whatever was written would happen, completely true! Silly old lady! ...Why was she still getting closer?

With a scowl, Odalia drew level with the childish girl, her temper and fear mixing into a recklessness-inducing cocktail. “Now listen here!” Odalia hissed, reaching out towards the girl, oblivious to the mounting anger of her guards, as well as the fear flickering in Neon’s eyes. “Do you have any idea-”

“Miss Blight.” Luz called out sharply, drawing the woman’s attention. Glancing around, she blanched at the scene; her daughter’s guests were staring at her in a mix of fear and disgust, while Amity and the Park girl were glaring at her in a mixture of disappointment and rage. Her daughter’s guard, the human girl, Luz, was watching her with a carefully blank face, idly flipping a glowing knife in between her hands. The Neon girl’s guards were preparing to attack her, she noted with dread, and when she turned her gaze back to Neon, she finally noticed the way she was trembling, along with the faint tears in her eyes. Flushing, Odalia quickly pulled away. “Oh my dear, I am so sorry, child! I-I have no idea what came over me-” Odalia hastily explained, twitching slightly.

“Save it.” Luz said flatly, subtly moving in between Neon and Odalia, and also between Odalia and Neon’s guards. “Don’t worry, people have reacted a lot worse to Neon’s predictions in the past, they just usually aren’t in the same room as her when they do so. I would recommend heading back to your husband for the night.” She ‘suggested,’ idly cocking her head to the still upset group surrounding them.

Odalia flushed, but didn’t argue. “I believe you are correct in that respect.” She gave a shaky bow. “I bid you all a good evening, and I hope the Conjuring goes well.” And with that, Odalia beat a hasty retreat, mind swirling over what to tell Alador.

Skara cleared her throat, wanting to dispel the tension in the air. “Well then! Unless I’m wrong, the Moon should be in position for the conjuring to start!” She said, forcing a note of cheer into her voice. The Witches grumbled, still tense after Odalia’s little scene, but no one argued, wanting to move on from the uncomfortable moment. Amity sent a worried glance towards Neon, who quickly waved it off after noticing the attention.

“Oh, go have fun! I’m fine!” She said, a shaky grin on her face. With a scowl, Amity relented, heading over to the others. Amity, Cat, Amelia, and Selena formed a circle of four, while Gus, Willow, Bo, and Skara formed another, each surrounding one of Amity’s old dolls. As they started chanting, the guards, Neon, and Luz watched on.

Kurapika turned an inquiring gaze towards Luz. “Do you know what’s going on?” He asked, a note of genuine curiosity in his voice.

Luz snorted. “Apparently, this is supposed to be a Lunar Ritual that animates an object through the magical power of the Moon.” She explained flatly, her blank face showing how good of an idea she considered that.

Tolico stared, his dumbfounded expression mirrored by his fellow guards. “Are… they insane?” He croaked out, even as Neon cocked her head, not understanding.

“From what I’ve seen, the Isles has a very loose understanding of safety and wellbeing, beyond healthcare.” Luz replied, staring off into the distance. She leaned up against the wall. “Plus, from what I can tell, the Ritual is pretty minor stuff, and some cultural drift has more or less shot it in the foot.”

Kurapika raised an eyebrow, perplexed. “Hmm? What do you mean by that?” He asked.

Luz jerked a thumb at the ceiling, a smirk on her face. “The Ritual works by calling the power of the moon into the target through its Light, or at least that’s my understanding of how it works.” She gestured around. “Kind of hard to draw light into a target when all but a fraction of it ends up colliding with a building first.” Her smirk shifted into a thoughtful expression. “Although, it would probably be a different story if the house was possessed or merged with an animate existence; then the spell would probably just use the house itself as the target instead.”

Kurapika gave a wry grin. “I imagine you won’t be telling them until after they fail, correct?” He asked rhetorically, Luz’s mischievous laugh being all the confirmation he needed.

Luz, growing serious, sidled up next to Neon. “Hey, NeNe, you feeling okay?” She asked softly.

“Huh? Of course I am, LuLu!! She just got a little m-mad is all.” Neon said in what she must’ve thought was a reassuring tone of voice, a few alarms starting to go off in the heads of her guards.

Luz arched an eyebrow. “Oh? But you flinched when she reached for you.” She said, slowly sliding closer.

“T-That’s because I’m not used to people t-trying to hurt me ‘cause of my predictions!” Neon blustered, eyes shifting back and forth.

Luz eyes glistened. “Neon, show me your arm.” She said softly.

“Nono! I don’t wanna!” She cried, yanking away from Luz. Her guards glanced between themselves. Technically, they were required to do something, but if their and Luz’s suspicions were correct…

“NeNe, please. I can’t help if you don’t let me.” Luz said in as kind but as firm a voice as she could manage, gently trying to coax Neon close, worried she might scare her.

Hesitantly, fearful tears in her eyes, Neon allowed Luz to creep closer, and slowly pull back her sleeve. Luz did her best to keep from hissing at the sight. Neon’s arm was coated in bruises, blotchy and smeared, running the length of it, with a few looking as if they were cuts! Luz had a sinking feeling that Neon had many, MANY more all across her body. The tears flowing now, Luz glanced up to Neon’s sorrow-filled face, the image of burning rage branded across her guards’ faces in the background. “How long has this been going on?” She said softly, trying to keep Neon calm.

“S-Since *Hic!* m-my-y 11th birthday.” Neon confused, hiccups breaking up her words as tears started spilling out. “I-I d-don’t know-w w-why he *Hic!* keeps getting m-m-mad! I try to b-be a g-good-d girl, b-but he k-keeps getting angry!” Neon cried, her tears staining hers and Luz’s shirts. “I-I just want P-papa to be happy, but I can’t! A-and he gets mad, and hurts me… is something wrong with me?” She asked, almost begged, as snot started bubbling up from her nose, her face covered in red blotches of tears.

“No.” Luz stated firmly, tightly pulling Neon into a fierce hug, pressing the sweet girl’s face into the crook of her neck, uncaring of the snot and tears that would end up staining the outfit. It didn’t matter nearly as much as the hurt girl in her arms. “You did NOTHING wrong. He’s your father, the man who’s supposed to raise you, to protect you, and he betrayed that. He’s the one with something wrong with him. Not you… never you.” With that, what little self-control Neon had kept vanished, and she pulled fully into Luz’s embrace, tears surging as she silently wailed into her friend’s clothing.

‘She feels… like Mama’s hugs.’ Neon thought to herself.

‘She feels… so fragile.’ Luz wondered at the feeling of the delicate girl clinging to her, previously in joy… but this time in sadness and heartbreak. Luz’s thoughts shifted into rage. ‘If I EVER see her bastard father again… he’s not walking away.’

As Neon cried, Luz turned to her guards, mindful of supporting Neon’s weight while she did so. “So… what’s the plan?” She asked, fully prepared to rip the group apart if they were even considering bringing Neon back to that man.

The guards exchanged glances, before nodding in unison. Kurapika stepped forward. “We are not letting Mr. Nostrade getting his hands back on Miss Neon.” He said gravely, his voice brooking no argument. “We all accepted this job knowing it would bring us into contact with unsavory individuals, and that we may end up being required to do rather horrible things. But we all have lines we will never cross; enabling an abuser is one of them.” He stated, the other guards nodding in agreement behind him.

“The fact that our contract states that we’re supposed to be protecting the lassy from anything wanting to harm her just adds extra incentive.” Basho said, giving a humorless laugh. “We never expected that meant keeping her safe from her own father!” His grin shifted, showing all teeth. “We let the little miss down, ignoring the signs. If that piece of trash even comes near her, he dies.”

“Good.” Luz said flatly, turning a tender look towards Neon, who peaked her head up. “Hey, NeNe? You mind answering a question?”

“Okay.” Neon said timidly, cuddling up against Luz’s side. “What do you want to know?”

“Well, why did you come to the Isles?” Luz broached.

“Because… I didn’t want Papa to find me. I wanted to go somewhere he could never take me back.” Neon said softly, glancing away. “I wanna live like a normal girl. I wanna have friends.” Tears started pricking her eyes again. “I want to wake up, and see sunshine.”

Luz gave a heartbroken smile, clutching the girl tighter. “Don’t worry, you will.” She pulled Neon tight again. “I swear it.” She whispered to herself.

5 notes · View notes

slasherkisss · 4 years

Text

Best Friends Are For [Carrie White/Reader]

[A commission for @space-and-sea, featuring a platonic relationship between Carrie White and the reader! This was such a fun, cathartic one to write for me since I relate so much to Carrie ;w; If you’re interested in a commission please DM me!]

---

To say that Carrie White had a hard life was a little bit of an understatement, that was certain.

Carrie would have preferred the concept that her life was a little bit of a Hell, had her momma not beaten her for even considering such foul language in her home. Life wasn’t Hell, she would scold her through the door of her closet as she clawed at the wood of the overly-confining space, and she should pray that it never would be! She should repent those words so that God might not take her up on that statement and truly send her to hell in order to make her regret every sinning in such a manner. So, Carrie often did not refer to her life as Hell. Rather she decided it was… hard. As little justice as that word did for her emotions at any given moment, it was enough to satiate the general pain of loneliness and annoyance that bubbled up under the base of her skin like salt on a slug. It was a sort of sting that she had grown used to though.

How sad was it, she couldn’t help but think, that she had grown used to it?

She thought on her life for only a few moments before the echo of her teacher’s word finally reached her ears. They once sounded drowned out, hidden behind a wall of water like she was inside of a fish tank, distorted and cold against the sun that shimmered through the classroom from the windows. Now she could hear it more clear, though, and behind the long locks of mousy hair, Carrie could only feel a sense of dread at the words that were spoken forward with mock sincerity towards the group of students before her.

“Alright class! For this next project, I’ll be assigning you to work in pairs! So please choose your partner quick as you can and then we’ll go over the details of the assignment.”

That was all it took. That was the whirlwind starting noise that pushed all of the bustling bodies forward. Carrie winced and cringed in her seat at the force of the students around her as they scrambled to find their friends, fingertips linked with laughs as girls located their best friend. Huffing tones of jocks arguing over the nerd of the class as they tried to be his partner for an easy A. The nerd looking semi-irritated but mostly uncomfortable as he was pushed around like a rag doll between basketball and football players the entire length of the choosing process, only to be bid like a horse to the captain of the lacrosse team who offered ten bucks and not to let him get beat up every day after lunch. She simply observed each movement with curious eyes, never making her own move to get up. To find someone new or old to pair up with.

Why would she? She knew what they thought of her. Sitting and staying quiet was bette than risking the humiliation of their laughs and ‘hell nos’ in front of other classmates.

Well, that was what she thought anyways.

Carrie blinked in surprise at the form that obfuscated her desk from the front and looked upwards at the face of the body. E/C eyes watched her with curiosity, a tilt of their head brushing hair along the back of their neck as they smiled politely, the curve of their mouth neat against their face. Carrie blushed at their closeness, her back hitting the very edge of her chair as she leaned away in surprise, eyes wide with shock.

You had seen her sitting alone, as she always seemed to do for most of her classes, and your heart was curious. Though a new student, having just transferred from a city miles away with no real important name, you weren’t unaware of the bias that seemed to surround the poor girl. The way people laughed and teased at her with mocking eyes and annoyed furrows of brows made your heart fill with rage as they all but bullied her into some form of quiet submission. That wouldn’t do, you decided as the group project was announced and you spent your time watching her carefully as students ran around and over her as though she were invisible, and you wanted to see if you could change that.

Not out of pity, of course, who wanted a friendship built out of pity? No, yours was curiosity. Yours was genuine interest.

Yours was determination.

“Hi,” You greeted with your best smile as you moved back slightly, aware of her shift in discomfort as she watched you with doe-like eyes, “I’m Y/N. New student here… You’re… ?”

“Oh… Carrie White.” She managed out, her voice so soft you had to strain your ears against the loud mocking noises of the students around the two of you. Still, she offered you her name. That was progress if you had ever seen it, you decided, and your smile grew more genuine as you reached out your hand with polite intent.

“Well, Carrie White,” You hummed in general greeting, “I need a partner for this assignment. You want to be mine?”

The phrase came out a little strange, more like a confession than an actual request for a simple school project partnership. It wasn’t lost on Carrie as her face, pale behind that long hair of hers, turned red at her cheeks as she watched your fingertips with baffled confusion. You wanted to be her partner? Willingly? She wondered if the teacher had put you up to this for a moment. She could imagine him giving a pleading look and begging you gently in the back of his lips with a whisper to just take pity on her and pair up with her, so that she wouldn’t feel bad about having to work alone or be pushed out of a group, even if it was just two people. It was enough to bring a sense of annoyance to her stomach. Of anger as she let her brows furrow at your hand before looking back up at your face.

Her gaze softened when she saw your genuine smile hold itself with patience against your lips as you waited for her answer, never pressuring her to give it right away as you stood there with that same soft look on your face.

Were you really being serious?

Taking a breath, Carrie reached out and took your hand in hers with a weak willed shake of it. And, for a brief moment, she dared to smile.

“Um, yes, I’d like that a lot.”

That was all the two of you needed to seal your friendship, the pact made in the work of a class rather than blood or tears like any other pact might be made.

Carrie was a sweet girl, her interests limited but bright as she talked about them with you between studious notes written in the sides of books as the two of you researched for your projects. The discussions in the libraries often led to fits of giggles that would make the librarian snap at the two of you with a fierce ‘shush’, which in turn only made you stifle more giggles together as you tried (and usually failed) to focus back on work. It was the most well you had ever worked with someone, you realized in awe as the assignment both of you handed in garnered a beautiful ‘A’ circled on the researched front page.

Both you and Carrie could only look at one another with a mixture of awe and pride as you gazed up at your teacher, whose smile only indicated that he was pleased at how well the both of you had got on together during your work. The pride in your heart matched with the pride you had over your new friend. Over the effort she had put into the research and into knowing you so that the both of you would operate with perfect unison alongside one another. So neither of you would be left in the dust because, well, that simply wasn’t what friends did to one another. As you gazed at Carrie, who stared all but adoringly back at you, you couldn’t help but continue the smile that warmed your lips.

“We make a great team.”

A team you did make with her. One that lasted the entirety of the school year as the both of you spent time alongside one another. Her bullies were pushed away as you slid to her side, taking whatever crap they gave you and flinging it back at their own faces when they threatened to sneer at her. When one snarked at you, you would simply return the comment with a haughty tone and a biting look that threatened, no, DARED them to try something with you. The one who really did try in the middle of the year regretted it and, though you were sent to a week of detention after class, the slight bruise to your cheek and the bloody nose you got for defending Carrie was all but worth it despite her constant protests.

“You don’t have to stick up for me like that,” Carrie would whimper as she touched your sore face, “I can’t stand to see you hurt… Because of me, Y/N.”

To it, of course, you only smiled at her and pulled her into a hug.

“And miss a chance to tell those assholes what for? Trust me, I enjoy it.” So when you saw her running out of the lockers one day, her body shaking and refusing to look you in the eyes as she was escorted by one of the teachers amongst a chaos of laughter and yells, you knew something horrible had likely happened. Heads popped out after her to watch her form scurry away, their smiles fading only when they noticed you before them. Your fists were clenched and your teeth pulled themselves together in a grimace of anger, a look so terrifying that, if they could kill, the girls before you would be dead ten times over.

You felt rage bubble up in your stomach as you hissed the words of anger through your bared teeth:

“What did you DO TO HER?”

No one answered. Of course they didn’t. Taking a breath, you turned on your heels and sprinted down the hallway, ignoring warning calls about running in the halls in favor of finding Carrie. That was all that mattered now, not those sneering cheerleaders who would rather make fun of your best friend and do their makeup then dare to listen to reason. You felt your breath fall in shaky, nervous gasps as you caught up with your PE teacher and your best friend, your hands flinging themselves forward to touch Carrie, who flinched for a moment at your advance.

“Y/N,” Miss Collins voice was sharp but understanding as she knew it was you, “It’s not the time. You’ll be able to see her soon, just please go back to class.”

“But I-!” You tried to protest but were shooed away, forcing yourself to a stop as the two disappeared down the hall.

You heard whispers behind you. Sharp murmurs that echoed with burning heat in the back of your ears, causing you to turn your head around so fast that you almost gave yourself whiplash. Your brows narrowed, sharp and full of succinct anger at the students who talked around you with so little regard to the situation that it was downright disgusting. Your gaze must have reflected your opinion. One by one the group was stunned into silence as they met your heated glare, slowly dissipating and averting their eyes so that they didn’t have to stare into the fierce flame you had acquired. Clenching and unclenching your hands as tight as you could, you tried to find your breaths to make them more even. In and out, you tried to repeat, in and out.

Carrie would need you to be calm, after all. You had to do it for her.

Sure enough she was released from the principal's office a little over half an hour later. Your discovery of her location had led you to wait patiently outside of the door with growing anxiety biting at the tips of your toes as they tapped relentlessly against the linoleum of the school hallway. Your fingers fiddled with one another, nails punching into skin and teeth sinking into lips as you tried not to count every second that passed that you were without your best friend. Yet they still echoed in your mind like clockwork, a tick of each one making your foot beat faster on the floor as you pushed the thoughts away. One two… Three four five… Six, seven! Eight nine and-

“Y… Y/N?”

Carrie’s voice snapped you out of your reverie as your head shot upwards, staring at the girl to your side who watched you with those beautifully wide, doe-like eyes she always seemed to have on her. Her fingertips clung to the books covering the front of her body like it was a life line, desperate to hide herself from the world. To hide herself from even you. The thought made your hurt burn, but you understood the reasoning behind it. After all, the experience had been traumatic.

Your pain must have registered on your face because Carrie averted her eyes, biting her lip as she tried to push her hair further in front of her face. To hide from your gaze as you finally pulled yourself from it, reaching out and touching her shoulder with light fingers, more asking permission than initiating a touch fully. You felt her flinch, but she didn’t pull away or give another indication that it was refused. You let your hand hold her steady then, bringing yourself closer to her as you bit your lip with worry.

“How are you doing?” You couldn’t help but ask with worry lacing your tone, “What did they say in there?”

She didn’t answer for a long time, but you waited patiently for her to find the words. You knew that, sometimes, words came hard to her through her mind of frustrated phrases and bible verses her mother pushed upon her. When she did, at last, there was a slight twist to her smile that you recognized as her slightly sarcastic, annoyed look. The gaze that was saved only for you and her when she was sure no one was looking. When she was sure she could get away with such a face as she muttered low into your ear.

“He kept calling me Cassie.”

To this you couldn’t help but snort, covering your mouth as a small fit of giggles left you. Carrie smiled, your laughter infectious as you rolled your eyes and let your hand find her free one instead, taking it and lacing your fingers together with a sigh and another quick snort.

“Cassie! What a fucking joke of an ass,” You couldn’t help but cackle as you gazed at her softly, “Hey, did they still say you have to go to class?”

She shook her head.

“I can go home early…”

“Cool… Do you want to spend some time at the park before you head home?”

“O-Oh,” Carrie’s eyes widened in surprise, “But your classes-.”

You shrugged in response with a light chuff, “One day of hooky won’t kill me. Besides, you’re more important to me than some book or teacher’s lecture. I’d skip a thousand classes for you!”

“I wouldn’t want that!” Carrie laughed, squeezing your hand in hers and accepting your offer, the both of you sliding out of the door to the school fully and into the sunlight of the mid afternoon in Maine.

The walk to the nearby park was quiet, your only comments on the weather as the two of you enjoyed the fresh air. At your side, Carrie clung to you with the desperation of a lost child, hiding her form behind your own as she watched others pass by. As her eyes followed them with worry to their intentions before relaxing as they walked away. She hadn’t skipped school like this before, nor did she ever not go home straight to her Momma. The entirety of the experience was new and moderately terrifying, yet your hand in her own made her all the more confident as the two of you found a shady bench beneath a massive acorn tree, sliding into it with a sigh as your aching knees enjoyed a momentary reprieve.

Carrie sat at your side, her books placed gingerly on the bench next to her as the two of you watched the ongoings of the park with quiet interest. Old couples walking dogs and chatting with one another filled your peripheral. Families of children who were not yet old enough to go to school decorated themselves amongst picnic tables and frisbee games, screaming and shrieking their enjoyment as the weather warmed their skins and hearts.

Your gaze turned to Carrie again, a frown painted on your lips for a moment as you watched her space out. Her gaze focused languidly on the floor before her, her fingertips fiddling with one another as she seemed to try and remember how to breathe. Taking a breath yourself, you reached out and cupped her hands with your own, giving your friend a gentle squeeze to startle her momentarily out of her reverie. You mustered up the best serious look you could manage before her as she gazed at you with curiosity against her otherwise exhausted looking appearance.

“Whatever those fuckers did,” You began with a sharp annoyance to your tone as you referred to her classmates, “Was stupid and cruel. No matter what they said or what anyone tells you, Care-Bear, you didn’t fucking deserve any of it. If I was allowed to I’d give every last one of them a piece of my mind-! The shit they pulled… You don’t deserve it and don’t EVER think that you do, okay? I promise that if they ever try shit again-” You gave a lopsided smile at her, “-I’ll be there to chase them out of the room myself, okay? So… Please, don’t let it get you down so bad, alright? You got me in the end, I promise.”

Your words hit something within Carrie that seemed to break her. Her gaze held yours, searching hard through it for any sign that you might be lying… Any reasoning as to why, just why, you would say all of those kind things to her. Why you would spend so much time with her and why, oh God why, you would even consider being this close to her after all that had happened. Her stomach churned with something between delight, care, and excitement as she watched your genuine expression with shock. You meant every word you said, she had realized with awe to the slight slack of her jaw, and you wouldn’t take it back. When you said something, she had learned, you meant it. Each word spoken from your lips in the months she had known you had meaning. Had purpose behind each syllable and that alone was enough to amaze her.

Amaze her that you were you… That you were her friend.

All at once tears fell from Carrie’s eyes as she leaned forward, engulfing you in the most delicate of hugs that had you gasping as the wet of her tears lit up your shoulder. You suppress a smile of amusement as you hugged her back, sighing as you were encompassed in the warmth and scent of your best friend. She seemed to cling to you more as you accepted her movement. The two of you must have been quite a sight, you mused, with her sobbing into your shoulder and you clinging to her as though she might turn to mist and disappear.

It felt warm, though. It felt right.

“I-I appreciate you, Y/N,” Carrie whimpered into your ear as she pulled away, wiping her face as it grew splotchy and red with her tears, “I… I never thought i’d have such a good friend in my life. I really am blessed to have you in it and I-I… I don’t ever want to have another one. Just you.”

You laughed, leaning closer to her and sighing as you touched your shoulders together with a smile.

“More friends are okay, Carrie, we’ll just have to find people who can hang with us both! I… appreciate you too, though, yeah? You’re amazing and beautiful and creative and… Well, I think we make a pretty good team, don’t you?”

You used the same words you had done when you first met. When you first completed something together and shared that same feeling of accomplishment with one another. This seemed to mimic that same feeling for the both of you, the touch of your shoulders and glint in your eyes nostalgic as she smiled at you, her tears steadying into nothing as she gave only a swift nod of confirmation and squeezed your hand tight to hers. Tilting your head for a moment, another idea seemed to instinctively come into your mind, your heart beating as you smiled and sat up straighter than you usually did, the eagerness of your question causing it to nearly stumble off of your tongue as you bounced in your seat.

“Say, Carrie,” You whispered in excitement, “How about we go to the Prom? Togther?”

It seemed to take her a minute to process just what you had said to her, the words in one ear and out the other, only to boomerang perfectly back into her as she startled, her face red with blush now as she stuttered something you couldn’t quite catch and brushed her hair behind her ear as she bit her lip. Realizing your words may have been misconstrued, you found yourself back tracking as you held both of your hands up with wide eyes of your own, a nervous laugh bubbling in your throat as you stuttered out your explanation with extreme honesty:

“N-No-wait- fuck shit- I didn’t mean-! As friends, right? I mean, if you find a date for yourself and want to go with him then, for sure, you should go with him! Whoever goes with you is a lucky guy, after all but… If you just wanted to go with no pressure or anything, sometimes going with friends can be just as fun! We could both wear really nice outfits, I’ll help you pick out your makeup if you want to try and wear some! Oh and we could do it together before we come in and when we’re here we can drink punch and dance and-!”

“I’d love to!”

She blurted her answer out as fast as possible in the middle of your words, making you both stumble over them and erupt into a fit of friendly giggles as she reclaimed her status in the situation with a nod.

“I’d love to go with you, Y/N… I think that sounds like the most fun thing ever, a-actually! Yeah, let’s do it! Let’s go to the prom together!”

You cheered, all but tackling her into a hug as the two of you giggled with excitement, drawing gazes curiously over to you as older folks hummed in amusement, murmuring something about ‘the good ol days’ as they continued to walk their dogs. You couldn’t care, though. You didn’t want to. All you wanted to focus on was the fact that you had made Carrie White, your best friend in the entire world, the happiest girl on earth in that very moment.

“That’s the spirit! Carrie and Y/N, on an adventure in high school! It’ll be AWESOME.”

You laughed as she clung to you, smiling through her beautiful hair and giving a confirming nod, biting her lip before she spoke out, eager in her tone:

“I can’t wait!”

Carrie White supposed that, yes, her life was truly hard. The hardest it had ever been at her age… but… She had you now, didn’t she? Perfect, loud, amazing you at her side for as long as she stayed your friend.

That alone? It was enough to make her life ten times brighter than if it existed without you. And that enough was to make her the most grateful person on earth.

#carrie white #carrie white x reader #carrie white imagine #carrie #carrie 1976 #commission work #writing commission

177 notes · View notes

abysssanctum · 4 years

Text

So about this prologue update. I understand why devs did that (though again, I think it is quite cheating when you change your story in hindsight), but I am sad that they decided to make balance between LIs not only by adding new scenes but also by removing old and loved ones (yes, I'm about The Pat Down scene, you're right. It was so vivid and we'll miss it so much T__T). And I really feel sorry about them replacing "sister's letter" scene with that new one with not-so-new joke (srsly, I'm sure that I saw that someone in fandom used that reference in their work, and I'm not sure saw that only once). But! I must admit that the whole Rowdy Raven scene looks more full, completed and sensible now. (And I headcanon now that Julian wrote his note to MC while he was quite drunk, like you know, people start to phone or text their ex when they are sotted? This it is. Except Julian is unique and accost not his ex (hmhmhm) but his future lmao. And after he send Malak he is like "I did whaaaat?? how the hell can I undo this? ugh. hope they will not come. hope this raven will lose his way. I need time machine, whatever it is") Julian really enlights his side of the story, and that looks much more pertinent in the displayed situation than abstract talks we saw in previous prologues.

On the other hand, Julians's first appearance in the shop became absolutelly illogical - he, fugitive accused for murder, secretly returned to the city, why the fuck does he need some random apprentice he never met before (not quite so, yeah, but a_m_n_e_s_i_a) to read his fortune in the middle of the night?? Not to speak about his attitude to all this magic shit and that he even not interested in listening the reading to the end after all (that was more or less expainable earlier, as it was not the thing he came for, but now it looks lame). The version "broke into the shop searching for the answers from Asra" seems more fitting to me. (Also I will be missing that underestimated pearl from dialog in *Negotiate* option in response of Julian's greetings. Something about "Master Asra is not here" - "Master? um.. *heavy blushing* ugh, well.. ok. I don't want to get into your personal affairs..." Oh sweet boy, do you have any other associations in your curly head?)

What I definetelly like in changings that is Muriel's part. Now his love line looks more vindicable (well for me at least). Because previously I always felt that MC is annoying him, he strongly doesn't want to interact with them and show it in a rather harsh way. So I was totally misguided by his personality and even didn't want to play his route (now it is my second favorite after Julian's). And now it is clear that he is tsundere withdrawn and shy and just cinnamonroll (but - unpopular opinion - I find his new CG too too much cute, it's a bit over the edge, looks sort of weird, sorry). Scenes with him is so warm and soft, you can feel what he cares and wants to protect MC, though he still doesn't want to let them get to close.

Also like how they made Nadia more soft and humane? I think that makes her route also more attractive to play. We can see her feelings and emotions now, not only her "wantings". And that previous payed choice "spoil me with riches"? Ugh, that was very uncomfortable. I wonder if someone chose it willingly, and not only for filling gaps in narration. For me, she is much more pleasable character to interacte now, and I am very glad with it.

And as said, I just love new Lucio's scenes. I so desperately needed them, lol. Well, I'm totally not impartial in this point, I just need more Lucio so I suppose I would be happy almost with every his appearance, but when I try to think with my brains and not my other parts, I still find his episodes very impressive. I like this haunted nightmarish dreams atmosphere that created (love that trope so much, right in kokoro!), I definetelly like this switching-between-forms flowing conversation, and I'm really glad that they left that moment with MC falling in his deathbed and breathing his ash (I'm sick bastard, but I find that very... thrilling and intimating), yet I know many people think that it is odd scene.

I feel a little strange that I can say about Portia's changings almost nothing. I just... feel that I know nothing new about her now? Unfortunately :( I even can say that her previous payed scene revealed us more details - for example about her interractions with other palace stuff that unveiled her personality. Now I feel that we have less such things. But we have new scene with Portia and Nadia, which is super nice and cozy and feelf almost like girls’ night out uwu (but I'm not sure whom that scene unveils more - Portia or Nadia)

Sorry Asra, but even less changes for you :( Almost only cutted scenes. But new warm domestic conversations in the very begining and the fact that Asra now speaks about Julian more kindly makes me pleased.

Aaaand. A small thing and may be just my imagination and wishful thinking but. Albeit Valerius is still the haughty asshole, he looks like... less humiliating to MC? I mean even the scene with him pouring his wine seems like an accident and not an offencive act. Maaaaaaybe just maybe that means that devs trying to make him more suitable as potential LI and we'll see his route one day? pretty please? *shrek_cat_eyes.jpg*

#the arcana #the arcana game #julian devorak #portia devorak #nadia satrinava #asra alnazar #muriel #count lucio #the arcana prologue #valerius #idk why i wrote this #what author wants to say #sorry for my english

88 notes · View notes

rootbeergoddess · 3 years

Text

Don’t Mess with Oli

@omg-whydidimakethisaccount asked for another fan fic and this time, it featured her really cute OC Oli defending Mammon from some shitty witches.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Mammon stared at the necklace inside the case before it closed it and sighed. He felt a bit pathetic. All he had to do was give Oliva the necklace and explain his feelings. That wasn’t too hard. If it was such a simple task, Mammon didn’t understand why he felt like it was moving a mountain. He sighed again, looking at the closed box. He was the Great Mammon; how come he couldn’t do this?

Mammon wanted to ask his brothers for help, but he didn’t want to endure their ridicule. The only person who would offer up useful advice was most likely Asmo, but that wasn’t saying much. Asmo had been in so many relationships, he probably had lost track of them all. The others were more interested in their own lives, so asking them would be no use. He had considered asking Simeon, but he didn’t even know if angels dated. He didn’t even consider Diavolo or Barbatos.

He felt like he was on his own for now. He didn’t know how he was going to tell Oliva that he liked her.

Oliva was pretty cool for a human. In fact, she was the coolest human Mammon had ever met. When she had come to the Devildom, Mammon never thought she’d end up being so cool. He thought she’d be this mousy, scared little girl who was afraid of her shadow. Instead, Oli was the most confident person he had ever met. Yes, she had even more confidence than Asmo. She wore her huge, black witch hat with pride and ignored any comments about it.

Oli also had a good head on her shoulders. While she joined in on the shenanigans brothers got themselves into, she was able to figure out solutions and get them out of trouble. Lucifer liked that there was another level head beside him, but Oli wasn’t all serious like he was. Her wit was sharp, she had a great sense of humor, and she had a smart mouth. The best thing about her was that she enjoyed spending time with Mammon.

Being considered the scummy secondborn got real boring fast. Yeah, Mammon didn’t have the best reputation, but it was nice to be with someone who wasn’t going to tear him down constantly. Oli teased him, but it was all in good fun. He never felt like she was being cruel or actually hated him. In fact, she was one of the few people Mammon trusted. He told her secrets, and Oli never spilled any of them. Mammon couldn’t remember the last time he had someone he could trust so well.

“I can do this, “Mammon told himself. “I know I can. I just need to find Oli, and everything will be fine.”

Mammon pocketed the necklace and started to head back to the House of Lamentation. He whistled to himself, trying to think of the perfect words to say to Oli when he saw her. Maybe he should have asked Asmo for some advice.

“Did you see her? Belladonna Blackwood is here at RAD!” A nearby demon said.

The name sent shivers up Mammon’s spine and caused him to stop walking. Belladonna Blackwood was a woman he didn’t want to see today. She and her witchy companions were not his favorite people. The last thing he wanted to do was run into her today. What were they doing at RAD anyway? How did they get on campus?

“I saw Eglantine and Clotilda with her too,” One of the other demons whispered. “They looked angry.”

“I saw them talking to Oli. They seemed annoyed with her.”

Mammon felt his blood go cold. God no. Please, anything but this. He stopped and turned to the group of demons who had been talking.

“Where? Where did you see them?” He demanded.

“I---um----” The demon stammered.

“Spit it out! Where did you see them go?” Mammon said, getting in the lesser demon’s face.

“I saw them head to the pool,” The demon finally managed to speak.

Mammon tossed the stranger aside and started running towards the pool. He had no idea why the three witches were here, and he didn’t know why Oli was spending time with them. But he did know that those three women were dangerous, and if anything happened to Oli, he didn’t know what he’d do. Oli had learned many things from being a witch. Learning magic had helped her become less reckless, and in a way, she felt like it had helped her mature. She also realized that many witches didn’t outgrow that highschool clique nature. Hell, Belladona could have been Regina George. Eglantine and Clotilda did everything she said, just like George’s cronies in the movie.

Oli still couldn’t believe Belladonna had agreed to meet her. She had jumped through so many hoops to get her phone number. Then, Oli had to go through her secretary. What kind of witch was so busy she needed a secretary? Either way, Oli was happy she had finally gotten the famous Belladonna in front of her. She was hoping that this meeting would go well.

“What do you want, Oliva?” Belladonna asked arms crossed and an eyebrow raised.

“It’s Oli,” Oliva smiled. “First, can I conjure anything up for you ladies? A snack? Maybe a drink.”

“Cut to chase deary, we don’t have all day,” Belladonna sighed. “We’re very important witches, you know.”

Who the hell calls people deary in this day and age? No, Oli focus on what is important.

“Right, right, right,” Oliva’s smile cracked slightly. “Down to business. First, a gift.”

Oli reached into her pocket and pulled out a thick envelope. She handed it to Belladonna, who eyed it suspiciously. Eglantine and Clotilda joined her as she opened it up. Inside was a large amount of Grimm. The three witches stared at the money before Belladonna looked back at Oli. Oli tried to keep her smile, wanting to appear friendly.

“What is this?” Belladonna asked.

“Grimm. Fifty thousand grimm, all counted for,” Oli replied. “I know Mammon owed you, so I decided to pay off his debt.”

“Seriously?” It was Eglantine’s turn to be suspicious of Oli. “How did you manage to earn all this?”

“A professional never reveals her secrets,” Oli shrugged. “So I want you to take this money and stop hounding Mammon to pay you back.”

Belladonna put the money into her purse.

“Accepted,” Belladonna said. “Is there something else?”

“Yes, there is, actually,” Oli said. “I would like you ladies to stop harassing Mammon, completely. With his debit paid, there is no reason for the three of you to pester him.”

There was a pause before Belladonna started laughing. Eglantine and Clotilda followed suit, their laughs haughty. Oli twitched, her hands forming fists.

“Why should we?” Clotilda asked. “Mammon was our plaything first. You wait your turn.”

“Excuse me?” Oli asked, twitching again.

“If you want a toy, find someone else,” Eglantine said. “You can torture Levi if you’d like.”

“Are you kidding me?” Oli shouted. “Who the hell do you think bimbos think you are?”

Oli’s brown eyes turned dark pink. The three witches stopped laughing as Oli started to float. Belladonna looked amused while her cliche looked a bit worried. Oli’s long, pink braids became darker as electrically sparked from her fingers. Unimpressed, Belladonna rolled her eyes and raised her hands. She muttered a spell under her breath, and fire sprouted from her fingertips. Oli brought her hands up, catching the fireball. Belladonna’s smile disappeared.

“How did you----”

Oli pushed the fireball towards the three women. They screamed and jumped out of the way. Using her electricity, Oli created three large snakes that wrapped around Belladonna and her crew. Their sizzling skin burned the witches, making them scream out in pain.

“I came here, being polite and offering you a gift,” Oli glared at the three of them. “Then, I made a request. A simple one. I made the request very politely too. And you laugh in my face?”

Eglantine whimpered as the snake squeezed her tighter, the electricity burning her skin.

“Not only do you laugh in my face,” Oli continued. “But you proceed, you talk about Mammon like he’s an object, a toy! Who in the hell does that?”

The three snakes barred their fangs as they hissed. Clotilda cried out, trying to get free. Oli eyed her and had the snake released her. Clotilda collapsed to the ground and scrambled to get up. The snake that had held her morphed into a large scorpion and plopped down in front of her. She screamed as it snapped its claws at her.

“And you know what? I felt bad for you, Clotilda,” Oli continued. “You and Eglantine just do whatever Belladonna says, I used to think you two were just brainwashed, but I see you’re just as bad as her. You suggested I use Levi. Are you kidding me?”

“Please, I hate scorpions!” Clotilda got on her knees.

“That’s right. You hate scorpions,” Oli looked at Eglantine. “And Eglantine hates----”

Eglantine started to squirm, but it was no use. Oli snapped her fingers, and the snake let her go. Eglantine watched as wings sprouted out of the snake’s back and saw its tail became sharp. She screamed when she realized the snake was turning into a massive, angry wasp. Once it was done changing, it flew towards her.

“No, no, no, no! Not a wasp, anything but a wasp!” She babbled.

“Wasps for Eglantine and scorpions for Clotilda,” Oli glared at Belladonna. “Now, that leaves you.”

Oli cracked her knuckles before she started muttering an incantation. The snake began to change, becoming blocky and thick. Belladonna screamed as the snake became a coffin, locking her inside. Oli grinned as Belladonna started hitting on the inside of the box, her screams muffled. But Belladonna was the ringleader. Playing on her claustrophobia wasn’t enough. Oli shot electricity out of her fingers, and six large bolts of lightning appeared before her. They morphed into large, black rats that crawled to the coffin and squirmed their way into the coffin.

“Please, you’ve done enough,” Clotilda was holding onto Eglantine.

“We won’t come back, we promise,” Eglantine whimpered.

“You two can leave,” Oli didn’t look at them. “I’m not done with your queen bitch.”

The two witches didn’t have to be told twice. They ran away, leaving Belladonna to be tortured. They passed Mammon on their way but didn’t stop to say anything. Mammon stared at them, shocked; he had never seen the two of them look so scared before. Wait, where was Belladonna? Mammon turned the corner and saw Oli, floating in the air, magic gathering around her. He spotted the coffin and instantly realized where Belladonna was.

“Oli!” He ran towards her. “Oli, what are you doing?”

Mammon shook her gently, and Oli’s eyes went back to brown. The coffin she had created burst, and the rats dispersed. Belladonna sat on the ground, rocking back and forth. Mammon stared at the once-powerful, classy witch. This was a woman he had been terrified of, and she looked so pathetic now. Oli winced as she held her head.

“Hey, are you okay?” Mammon made Oli look at him.

“I think so,” Oli replied. “But I may have overdone it on the magic. Ow.”

“Jeez, are you stupid or what?” Mammon said. “What kind of idiot goes against three witches? Do you have any idea how worried I was? What if I hadn’t got here in time?”

“What? I can handle myself!” Oli said. “What makes you think---”

“That doesn’t matter. What if I didn’t get a chance to say---” Mammon faltered. “I---damnit, I’m bad at this. I heard what was going on, and I felt like my blood went cold. If those witches had done anything to you, I never would forgive myself. They can hurt me, but they better not lay a single finger on you. Anyone who hurts you has to answer to me.”

Oli stared at Mammon, her cheeks feeling warm.

“Mammon?”

Mammon couldn’t take this anymore. He grabbed Oli and kissed her. Oli froze, but she soon closed her eyes and kissed him back. Belladonna crawled away, not wanting to interrupt the two and afraid of what else Oli would do to her. Mammon pulled back and pressed his forehead against Oli’s.

“Don’t do that again,” Mammon begged. “Why would you do that?”

“I wanted them to leave you alone,” Oli said, caressing his cheek. “I paid off your debt too.”

“What? You didn’t need to do that,” Mammon reached into his pocket and took out the box. “Now I feel like I should have gotten a nicer necklace. This doesn’t feel classy enough.”

“Necklace?” Oli looked at the box. “Let me see!”

Mammon was going to protest, but Oli grabbed the box and opened it. She gasped when she saw it; a glittering silver necklace with a pink jewel sat before her in velvet. Oli tackled Mammon and kissed him again, shocking the demon. They ended on the ground.

“Hey, careful!”

“I love it!” Oli said. “I’ve never owned something so gorgeous.”

“You don’t think it’s cheap? It was only 20,000 grimm.”

“You spent that much on me?”

“I would have spent more,” Mammon blushed a bit. “I mean, you deserve it. Do you really like it?”

“No, I love it,” Oli kissed him again. “There is a difference. This is the prettiest thing I’ve ever owned. No one has ever gotten me such a gorgeous necklace. I want to wear it now. Help me put it on.”

Oli got up and pulled Mammon to his feet. Mammon clipped the necklace on, and Oli turned to face him, a proud smile on her face.

“How do I look?” She asked, posing.

“Perfect,” Mammon answered, pulling Oli close. “But seriously, please don’t mess with those witches again.”

“I don’t think they’ll come back,” Oli wrapped her arms around his neck. “I made it clear that they’re not welcome back here. Not now, not ever.”

“You’re the coolest woman in the world, do you know that?” Mammon smiled at her. “I can’t believe you did that for me.”

“Why not?” Oli asked. “Mammon, I don’t like it when people use others. I know you owned Belladonna money, but there was no reason for her to treat you the way she did. I protect my own.” “And I’ll protect you,” Mammon said. “I love you. I know I’m scum, and I’m bad at money, but I can’t change how I feel about you. I’ll do my best to be worthy of you.”

“You’re already worthy of me,” Oli smiled at him. “Come on, I’m a bit tired after using all that power, and I could use something to eat.”

“Whatever you want, I’ll get for you,” Mammon scooped Oli up into his arms.

“I can walk, you know,” Oli giggled. “Although I could get used to this. Now give me another kiss.”

Mammon obliged.

#Rootbeer Writes #Obey Me #Shall We Date: Obey Me #Obey Me: Shall We Date #Mammon #OC

10 notes · View notes

stillchaoticlogic · 4 years

Text

Such a Tease: Chapter 2

Pairing: (Aged) Gary/Blue Oak x Reader

Summary: After a tragedy, you make the decision to quit your career as a trainer and focus on breeding Pokemon for the general population. You are one of the best in the region. You aren’t expecting the have to deal with your childhood rival and crush suddenly popping back into your life. After all, Gary Oak broke your heart and now you are determined to break his… or are you?

NOTES:*This is my very first pokemon story written many many years ago. I’ve decided to revamp it and see what happens! I hope you enjoy a little Gary / Blue love! I will kinda be combing the anime and game versions and I may or may not have just bought the manga to read… It will kinda be my take on these characters. Ash may become more like Red, but I haven’t really decided yet… I’m just having fun with this!*

You glare into hardened ‘innocent’ eyes.

“You are going to listen to me, you know that don’t you?” you question the baby Buneary before you.

It merely blinks up at you with a stubborn look on its adorable face, before it crosses its arms and turns its nose the other way. You know for an esteemed trainer you sure get snubbed a lot.

“UGH! LOLA! Do something with your child! She is just like you were!” you yell angrily at Lola your Lopunny.

She merely gives you a, ‘what do you want me to do about it?’ look and hops away.

“Some help you are-” you mutter as you watch her go.

“Hey (Name)!” you hear someone yell from across the yard. Looking up you notice Ash Ketchum running across the yard followed closely by a guy a little older than him and a girl no older than sixteen. As they get closer you vaguely recognize the guy as a gym leader, but you can’t place his name.

“Hey Ash!” you say when they get close enough to hear you, “Who are your friends? My help, I hope?”

“You got that right! This is Brock and his little sister Raine.”

“I prefer the term ‘younger’ thank you,” She corrects.

“Right… Younger….”

“Now be nice Raine,” Scolds Brock gently.

“Hi! I’m (Name),” you say introducing yourself to the newcomers.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, have we ever battled?” questions Brock.

“Probably! I think you gave me my first badge way back when,” you say with a laugh.

“What really?!” exclaims Raine from beside the two of you.

“Yeah, it’s been a while but I remember a Geodude and an Onyx.”

“That was my team a long time ago. Geodude is now a Gollum and Onyx is a Steelix.”

“Very cool! My little Eevee is now an Espeon, it suits her well.”

He chuckles, “I can’t wait to meet her.”

“Soon enough! Now tell what experience you both have!”

“My brother has a lot of experience. Not only did he travel with Ash on his journey but he also worked at a breeding center for several months. And he is still the Pewter city gym leader,” Supplies Raine in a, dare you say, haughty voice.

“Well that’s fantastic for your brother, but I really would like to know about your own experience with Pokémon.”

“I… well…Um… I don’t really have a whole lot…” she mutters while looking down.

“But she is a fast learner and a hard worker!” interjects Brock on her behalf.

“Good! Then she should have no problem getting this baby Buneary into its poke ball.”

“Oh! That’s easy! I’ll have that done in no time flat!” she says confidently.

“Ok then. Why don’t you give a whirl?” you say as you throw the ball to her.

She catches it easily and advances toward the Buneary.

“Pokeball go!”

You hold back a laugh as the Buneary leaps up and kicks the ball back to her.

“Why you little…”

“Bun! Bun-ariii!” it says before running off.

“Hey get back here you little twerp!” Raine says giving chase.

“Well, that should tone down that attitude a little. This might take a while guys why don’t we go in and talk about things?” you say turning to the boys. They look on in shock before following you toward the center.

“Wow (Name) this place is really impressive!” Ash exclaims as he follows you through the gardens to the house.

“Thank you! I have a feeling that it is going to be quite the hand full, but I promised my grass and water Pokémon that I would make a garden for them.”

“But I thought that you only trained psychic, dark and ghost type Pokémon,” Ash said in confusion.

“I do, but I didn’t always.”

“Yeah, I guess you wouldn’t be able to get through the leagues without a little variety.”

“That’s right.”

By this time you have reached the door to your center and you open it up to let them in. Lady wakes up from her nap on the counter and looks inquiringly at your visitors. She jumps down and walks over to you and sits beside your feet.

“Brock this is Lady,” You introduce.

Lady inclines her head as regal as ever.

You turn to the boys and motion them further into the house where the lounge is situated. You place yourself on a chair while the boys find themselves on a couch.

“Now Brock, Raine said that you have experience with the ways of Pokémon Breeding? And you are interested in a job?” you question hopefully, you really do need some more people with experience.

“That’s right. I would only be able to help out part-time I do have a gym to take care of. I’ve decided to stay in Pewter but the commute isn’t too far.”

“And what about Raine?”

“She goes to Viridian Private Academy and lives on campus. I’m afraid that is why I need another job, to pay for her tuition.”

“I see.”

“She wants to be a breeder so she wants a job here for the experience. She wants to be full time but I won’t let her because of school unless it is summer of course.”

“Well I have a deal in the works with the Academy she attends, so I shall see what I can do to help.”

“OH NO! We’re not that bad off!”

“No, I was asked to do this anyway. It was their idea. It seems that my breeding center and status as a trainer are quite valuable. I had to disconnect the phone lines just to get anything done today!”

“Oh is that so?”

“What kind of deal do you have with the academy?” pipes up Ash for the first time.

“They asked me to do a few classes there and allow a few field trips here. I’m being paid for the classes and field trips but I can’t do it all alone, so any students there that work for me will be assisting me during the classes and help with the supervision and demonstrations on the field trips since they are doing that the school agreed to take their tuition down a little. The exact amount is still in the air but besides that, it’s all concrete.”

“Wow! That is really great!” Brock says with relief.

“Oh...don’t thank me yet.”

“Huh? Why? That’s a great cause!”

“Yeah, but I only did it because I need the money for the maintenance of this place. I put my savings into this, so I’m kind of broke right now. So, I really can’t pay you a whole lot to start out with but I promise that when things pick up and I get more established you’ll get a raise!”

“Haha don’t worry about that! I’ll help out here for free; you’ll be helping enough if you can get her tuition reduced.”

“No way! You are getting paid and so is Raine, unfortunately since she has no experience she will get paid even less-“

“I GOT IT!!!!” yells Raine as she comes bursting into the room making everyone jump.

“Got what?” exclaims Ash.

“Don’t do that!” yells Brock in surprise.

“I think I just had a heart attack….” You mutter while clutching at your heart.

“I finally got the Buneary in the Pokeball!!” She says while proudly displaying the Pokeball for all to see. “That means I get to work here right!?”

“Haha that’s right,” you chuckle at her excitement.

“YES!!!” she yells happily while leaping into the air.

“But not if you keep yelling….”

“Right….” she mutters looking away, “Oh! Here is your Buneary back,” she says while handing you the ball.

“No,” you say pushing it back to her, “you’re going to need some help dealing with all of the pokemon here, not to mention taking care of one of your own is the best part of being a breeder.”

“Oh wow!!! You’re serious, aren’t you?!?! Thank yo- wait… is there any way I could have a different one? This one is really annoying!”

“Raine!” Yells Brock.

“I mean… Thank you….”

“You’re welcome.”

“So!”

“Yes?”

“What level does it evolve?!”

“Raine!”

“Wha-at?”

“It depends,” you mutter with a hidden smile on your face.

“On what?” she asks with wide eyes.

“….You.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you.”

“Oh!!! So it needs a stone! Right?”

“No.”

“Well, then how?!?!”

“It depends on your bond with her, of course. Your training will be complete when your Buneary evolves into a Lopunny.”

“How long will that take?!?! Years?”

“It just takes as long as it takes, and yes in some cases it is years.”

“Awww man!!!”

“Now Raine.”

“I know... I know…”

“Oh, I almost forgot to tell you! Since you work here now, if you wish to stay here I have more than enough room here and it would be cheaper and nicer than the academy dorm…”

“ARE YOU SERIOUS?!?! THIS IS SOOO COOL! IT’S LIKE THE BEST JOB EVER!!”

“Yelling!”

“Right! Sorry….”

‘Maybe this is a bad idea,’ you think while rubbing your head.

“So! When can I move in?”

“You can as early as tomorrow if you wish.”

“Sweet! No more cramp dorms, no more cold showers, no more smelly laundry that isn’t mine and especially no more Autumn!!”

“Well, in that case, we better get going if we are going to start packing,” says Brock getting up.

“Ok, how about we settle all the paperwork and such tomorrow?”

“That’s fine, thanks so much (Name).”

“Haha don’t mention it!”

You lead the three of them out and as you open the door the girl from the coffee shop is standing in the doorway posed to knock, full work attire stains and all.

“Oh hi! I know you said tomorrow but is it okay if…. YOU!!!! What are you doing here?!?!” she yells pointing at Raine.

“Autumn!!! I could ask you the same thing!” Raine yells back.

Standing between the two you look wide-eyed, back and forth, “Wait! You two know each other?” you ask in confusion.

“That’s right! She is one of my worst rivals!!” states Raine.

“Is that right…” you mutter to yourself a small smirk on your face.

“Oh! Oh! Don’t make me into the bad guy here! You’re the awful one!” Autumn defends.

At this, they both burst into a sporadic yelling contest. Apparently they are trying to see who can get the loudest.

“YELLING!!!” you yell out.

They both stop simultaneously and glance rather sheepishly over at you before muttering a small ‘sorry’ in reply.

“OK! Well, we need to go! Goodbye and thank you (Name)! It was a pleasure. See you tomorrow!” interrupts Brock while pushing a struggling Raine down the drive.

“Yeah see ya later (Name)! Don’t forget about our battle!” yells Ash running after the bickering pair.

“I am so sorry!” Exclaims Autumn with wide eyes.

“It’s ok,” you say with a gentle smile, “you couldn’t wait could you?”

“Haha nope, sure couldn’t.”

“Well, I’m impressed by your eagerness. Now if you don’t mind following me we can conduct your interview while I check on some of my Pokémon.”

“Yeah, of course!!”

The two of you make your way down toward the barn where you keep the Pokémon that you are breeding and training. Although it is mostly empty except for the select few you have chosen to get started. The building is indeed built like most barns with stalls for the larger Pokémon on the bottom and pins of various sizes on the upper floors. Of course, there is a floor dedicated to the eggs the Pokémon lay and a floor for the newly hatched Pokémon. You show her around a bit, and when you get to the ‘nursery’ you hear a shrill ringing.

“What on earth is that?!” Autumn yells while covering her ears.

“It’s a baby Chingling, she is far too curious for her own good. She keeps trying to find her way out of the pin.”

“Oh…”

“Hey, I’m going to calm these babies down, while I do that could you go get her out of whatever mess she’s gotten herself into?”

“Yeah sure, you can count on me!”

Autumn then runs off to help the curious Chingling. You watch her closely while she soothes her then gently pry her from the bars she has gotten herself stuck between. You walk up happy with your instincts on this girl. ‘She is going to do just fine,’ you think as she cradles the Chingling in her arms.

“So…. What are you going to name her?”

“I was thinking that Melody would be…wait… seriously?”

“Of course.”

“No way no way no way no way!! She squeals while jumping up and down holding the Chingling in her arms. “This is the best day ever! Did you hear that?!?! You’re my Pokémon!”

“Bbbrrriinnggg!” exclaims the happy Chingling.

You laugh along with Autumn as she celebrates her good fortune when all of a sudden you hear a different kind of ringing. Quickly you grab your cell phone from your pocket and check the I.D. It says it is professor Oak so you answer it.

“Hello, Professor.”

“Hey (Name)? This is Gary Oak, you know Professor Oak’s grandson, it’s been a while hasn’t it?” answers the ever-confident Gary Oak the one person you never wanted to talk to ever again.

“It sure has Gary,” you say the frigidness in your voice could freeze over the ocean and then some.

“Uhh… yeah, I was just calling to confirm that you are picking up your Pokémon tomorrow,” he says with discomfort creeping into his voice.

“I sure am.”

“Well if you want I could give you-“

“That won’t be necessary; I have plenty of help, but thank you for the offer. Good-bye now,” you then hang up.

“You know Gary Oak?!?!”

“We grew up together.”

“It sounds like you don’t like him very much.”

“Then you hear right.”

“Sooo…. Who’s helping you tomorrow?”

“Why you and Raine of course, after you get settled in that is.”

“What do you mean settled in?”

“Oh, I didn’t tell you? The second floor of the house is used as quarters for my employees, and since you are one of my employees you get a room if you want. Unfortunately, you’ll have to pay but it is a whole lot less than those horrible dorms and much nicer too.”

“Can this get any more awesome?!?!”

“Maybe?”

“Oh, I can’t wait for tomorrow! This is going to be so cool! Oh, and speaking of dorms! I have to get back to mine or I’m going to get in trouble! Thanks so much (Name)! See you tomorrow!”

“Bye!” you call out waving to her as she scurries off down the stairs.

Jingle who has been floating nearby makes a noise of exhaustion.

“I hear ya Jingle… She is going to be a hand full but this is why she got your baby….”

Jingle makes a noise of agreement and follows you out the door, knowing that tomorrow is going to be a long one for you, so she sings you a soothing song.

#pokemon #pokemon fanfiction #pokemon scenarios #pokemon imagines #blue oak #blue oak x reader #blue oak x you #green oak #green x reader #green oak x reader #green oak x you

113 notes · View notes

cyborgsquirrel · 4 years

Text

Sanctuary: Chapter 4

Pairing: Wolfstar

Summary: The epic tale of Remus Lupin and Sirius Black, from their first meeting until their happily ever after.

Link to Prologue

Link to All Chapters

September 1st, 1971

Remus had checked his trunk four times that morning, but he checked it again, just to be sure everything was there. He couldn't quite believe it was true. He was going to Hogwarts. To learn magic. With other people his age. Like a normal person. He glanced around his room, looking for anything he might have left out, but saw nothing. It was unlikely he would have forgotten anything if he were honest; he'd been making lists for weeks.

'Remus, are you ready? It's time to go,' his mum shouted.

His heart leapt with excitement. Grabbing onto the end of the heavy trunk, he dragged it into the living room where his mum was waiting for him by the fireplace. When he reached her, he bent over with his hands on his knees to catch his breath before returning to his room for his owl. She was already perched in her travel cage, and she whistled at him softly when he picked her up.

'Don't worry, Rieka. You won't be in there for long. You'll have the whole owlery at Hogwarts and the freedom to go for a fly whenever you like.'

She whistled again, and he assumed she understood and wasn't mad at him. He carefully carried the cage out to where his mum was waiting for him, trying not to jostle her.

They were taking the floo to Platform Nine and Three Quarters, much to Remus' dismay, but nothing could spoil his mood today. He placed the cage down and grinned up at his mum.

'Ready!'

The two of them travelled through the floo and emerged on the platform at quarter past ten. It had been Remus' suggestion to arrive early to avoid the crowds, and his plan had worked out well. The platform was almost empty. There were only a few early arrivals dotted about, and it was close to silent, so his mum crouched down to speak to him.

'Now, remember, you need to be careful. Try to eat your meals when there are fewer people in the hall and avoid crowded places.'

'I know, Mum. Don't worry.'

He was getting annoyed with the constant reminders. He knew what he had to do to stay safe. It was his life on the line if he messed up, not hers. Yet she kept telling him again and again like he was stupid.

'Good. But try to have fun too, sweetheart, and don't forget to write.'

Remus nodded.

'I'll owl you tonight.'

'I'll look forward to hearing all about it then. You better get on the train before more people arrive. I love you, and I'm so happy for you.'

She stood up and smiled at Remus, clasping her hands to her chest. He smiled back, feeling a tad guilty for his uncharitable thoughts a moment ago and wishing he was allowed to hug her. But knowing it was impossible, he turned and grabbed his trunk and his owl instead, hauling them onto the train in search of a secluded compartment.

-o-o-o-o-

Sirius was running late. Kreacher had apparated him to the platform at 10:55 am, despite Sirius having been ready since ten o'clock. The crotchety house-elf had deposited Sirius' trunk next to him and disapparated without a word, leaving him alone on the platform.

The place was crowded, people swarmed the platform in groups, talking loudly and pushing trolleys full of belongings. Sirius couldn't see anything. He didn't know which direction the train was in, and he only had five minutes to board. He panicked.

'Don't I know you?' a female voice said close to his ear.

Sirius whipped his head around in surprise and saw an old woman with grey hair. She was bent low to speak to him. He didn't recognise her, but she might be able to help him.

He gave her his most charming smile and said, 'I don't think so, ma'am, but if you would point me in the direction of the train, I'd be grateful.'

She stared at him, her eyes roaming his face.

'Yes. I do,' she said thoughtfully. 'You're Walburga's boy, aren't you? The train is this way, dear. Is that your trunk?'

He nodded to both questions, and she shrank his trunk down to the size of a small suitcase with a quick Reducio. He picked up the now miniature trunk and followed her to the train, grateful that at least some people were kind and helpful. Unlike his bitch of a mother who had purposefully made him late to the station "so he wouldn't have time to disgrace himself."

'Oh look, there's my James. Why don't you go with him? James!' she shouted, waving at the messy-haired boy with glasses who stood near the train.

He was dressed in muggle clothes, which looked very comfortable to Sirius, and was standing next to a much older version of himself, most likely his father. Next to him was a very expensive-looking mahogany trunk. Sirius sized him up in a moment and was left confused. He had the air of a wealthy pureblood about him, but his muggle attire didn't fit. Blood-traitors, then? Excellent, his mother would be furious.

'There you are, Mum. We thought you got lost,' James said with a grin. Spotting Sirius next to her, James turned his attention on him. 'Hi there. I'm James Potter. Who are you?'

Ah, a Potter, that explained everything. They were wealthier even than the Blacks, but they were muggle-lovers, a disgrace to their name if you asked his mother. Which he didn't. Ever. He couldn't let a Potter outdo him in confidence though, so he stepped towards the boy.

'My name's Sirius,' he said, purposefully leaving out his surname.

He flashed his trademark grin and held out his hand to shake.

James shook his hand and leant forward.

'Do you like pranks?' he asked, in a whisper.

Sirius thought back to the dungbomb at his mother's party. All the guests had been stinking like dragon dung when they left. It was brilliant. He smirked at James.

'Who doesn't?'

'Excellent!' James said, clapping his hands.

He grabbed Sirius' arm and dragged him towards the train.

'Let's go to school,' he said, and then much quieter, and for Sirius' ears only, he added, 'and become pranking legends!'

Sirius laughed. James' exuberance was a little overwhelming and not the kind of behaviour he was used to. The people in his family were all sedate and dignified. Passion was not a trait the Blacks were known for, not in public at least. But it also pleased him to have found a potential friend so fast, and a Potter no less. That would piss his mother off more than anything. Well, not as much as if he befriended a mudblood or some filthy half-breed, but it was a close second, and the best part was she couldn't object because the Potter's were higher up the social ladder than the Blacks.

Mrs Potter waylaid them in their quest to board the train, grabbing James by his arm and pulling him in for a hug.

'How dare you try to leave without saying goodbye,' she said, showering kisses down on his head.

James struggled in her arms.

'Mum! Not in front of Sirius,' he whined.

Sirius would prefer it if she stopped too. Not because he thought James had anything to be embarrassed about, but because the display of affection reminded him how little of it he received in his own life, and the pang of jealousy didn't sit well with him. He was the Black heir; he shouldn't be jealous of anyone.

'Oh, don't be silly. Why should you care if your friend knows I love you?' she asked, laughing. 'Go on then. You can leave. Don't forget to write!'

She unshrunk Sirius' trunk, and they both dragged the heavy boxes onto the train and into an empty compartment.

The train ride passed uneventfully, mostly. There was an argument with a greasy, dark-haired kid and his red-headed girlfriend about Slytherin. It seemed like James really hated Slytherins, and that knowledge made Sirius' gut ache. He didn't think he would be placed in Slytherin, but if he was, would James still want to be his friend? From what he'd seen, he doubted it. They had only known each other for a few hours, but already he felt a deep bond with the other boy. A fellow heir to a high-ranking house and a sizable fortune even bigger than his own. He didn't want to lose his friendship so soon.

There was also a minor incident with a firecracker in the bathroom, but that had nothing to do with them, honest.

When they were roaming the corridors, Sirius had kept a look-out for Remus, the boy from the apothecary. But he didn't see anyone who resembled him in any of the carriages they explored. Maybe at the welcome feast, he thought hopefully.

They disembarked from the train at Hogsmeade Station and joined the other first years gathering around a giant man covered in more hair than any animal Sirius had ever seen. He introduced himself as Hagrid and led them to the edge of the Black Lake. Apparently, they were expected to get to Hogwarts by crossing the water in rickety old boats that looked ready to sink.

Sirius boarded a boat with James and gingerly took a seat, hoping it was clean and dry. How embarrassing would it be to arrive at the feast with a dirty wet patch on his ass? He scanned the bank and the other boats for anyone who resembled Remus but came up empty. It wasn't long before they were joined in their boat by a plump boy with a round face. He said his name was Peter, and he was dressed decently, even if his robes weren't quite the quality of James' and his own.

A few minutes later, a small boy with long tawny hair and robes that were two sizes too big approached them. His face was gaunt, and he had dark circles under his eyes. He looked like a strong wind might blow him away. Sirius put on his best haughty expression and spoke with the perfect enunciation of a pureblood who had received speech tutoring since the age of two.

'Can we help you?'

He even managed to look down his nose at the strange boy despite being at a lower elevation. His mother would be proud.

The boy seemed to quake a little, but then gathered courage from somewhere and spoke in a soft, clear voice, 'Oh, um, I was hoping I could ride with you?'

'I'm afraid not. This seat is taken,' Sirius said, before turning away in dismissal.

He watched out of the corner of his eye as the boy's shoulders drooped and he wandered off to find another boat. Sirius felt a little bad for being so rude to him, but he needed to save the seat for Remus in case he was here.

'Who are we keeping the seat for?' James asked.

'Someone I met when I was younger. I was hoping he'd be here, but I don't see him. His name's Remus,' Sirius said.

A few minutes later, the bank was clear of students, and the boats moved off across the lake. He scanned the boats again and caught the eye of the strange boy from before. He was in the same boat as Hagrid, and he looked terrified. His knees were pulled up to his chest, and he appeared to be trying to make himself as small as possible. A flash of guilt shot through him, and he looked away.

The boats took them to a docking area on the other side of the lake, and Hagrid led them into a compact waiting room, told them to wait and left. Sirius and James made their way to the back of the room with Peter following like a lost puppy. Sirius noticed the sickly boy had huddled himself into the back corner of the room. With the better lighting inside, he looked even more unwell, and he was watching his surroundings in a way that felt familiar. He was scanning for danger.

The door to the little room opened, and a severe-looking woman walked in. She had her dark-brown hair secured in a bun at the back of her head, and she peered at them over her glasses. The story of her life was mapped onto her face in wrinkles, and her hair had streaks of grey. Her appearance was so unlike that of Sirius' family. He liked her immediately; she looked so real.

She introduced herself as Professor McGonagall, gave a speech about the houses and said something about rule-breaking and house points that Sirius didn't catch. When the tedious speech was over, she took them through to the Great Hall for the sorting ceremony. James and Sirius stayed together as they entered the hall, and Peter continued to trail in their wake. They waited while a decrepit-looking hat on a stool sang a song about the four houses and what they stood for, and then McGonagall started talking again.

'When I call your name, you will sit on the stool and place the sorting hat on your head. When it calls out your house, you will join your housemates at their table.'

Sirius cringed at the thought of putting that ancient thing on his beautiful hair. How many other students had it touched in all the years since the school opened? How many of those people had had dirty, greasy hair? He shuddered. Professor McGonagall started reading out the names, and the hat sorted each one. It took longer with some than others, but each one brought Sirius closer to his fate. He was so nervous now that he was sweating in his robes.

'Black, Sirius,' she called.

'Good luck, mate,' James said, patting him on the shoulder.

Sirius glanced at his friend, keeping his expression smooth and free of the anxiety he was feeling inside. He ran a hand through his hair, stuck his chin in the air, and with all the pretend confidence he could muster, he strode up to the stool, picked up the hat, sat down and placed the disgusting thing on his head. Not Slytherin, he thought, please not Slytherin.

'Not Slytherin?' a voice said in his head. 'Well, isn't that unusual for a Black? Let's take a look at you then. No ambition as such, unless you count a desire to cause trouble. But plenty of cunning. You would do well in Slytherin.'

No, anywhere but Slytherin, please, Sirius thought.

'Well, if you're sure. Let's see where else you could go. Ravenclaw would not suit you. You certainly have the intelligence but not the desire for knowledge. And Hufflepuff is definitely out. But maybe Gryffindor. You have bravery in abundance, that much is clear from your request. Going against your entire family takes courage, and might also be considered rather reckless. I think you're right, young man. You're not a Slytherin at all. You're one hundred percent GRYFFINDOR!'

The hat screamed the last word, and Sirius sat there for a moment in shock. His heart leapt; he wasn't in Slytherin. School might be even better than he thought. Not just a brief reprieve from his parents, but an actual pleasure. He yanked the hat from his head to stunned silence in the Great Hall. There was a smattering of applause from the teachers' table, and a few students were clapping, but the majority just stared at him. All except for a lone voice coming from the group of waiting first years. James was at the back of the crowd, and he was jumping up and down, whooping and clapping enough for the entire hall. Sirius grinned at his friend, hoping James was right to believe himself a Gryffindor.

He stood up and walked to the Gryffindor table, head held high despite the silence of the hall. There were a few calls of 'traitor,' from the Slytherins, but that just made his grin bigger. He glanced over to the snake's end of the hall and caught the eye of Lucius Malfoy. The Slytherin prefect shook his head at him and averted his gaze. He was no longer welcome there then. Shrugging off the rejection, Sirius found a seat near the middle of the table and waited for James.

The sorting continued, and he was thoroughly bored. And hungry. It was taking forever. Name after name, child after child, was called and sorted. It all blurred together. Then he heard a name that made him sit up and pay attention.

'Lupin, Remus.'

Sirius craned his neck to see the stage and waited impatiently for someone to step forward. For the longest moment, no one moved, and Sirius' heart sank. He wasn't here; he hadn't come. His heart sank even further when a boy finally did move. He walked up to the Sorting Hat in his far too long robes, tripping on the way, and sat down. Well shit, Sirius thought, if this isn't the most stupendous fuck up of my life.

-o-o-o-o-

Remus had been terrified when Hagrid said he could ride with him. The man was humongous, and Remus had to curl himself into a ball to make sure he didn't touch him. He had made a very uncomfortable journey across the lake, catching the eye of the horrid boy who had been rude to him before. They still had an empty seat in their boat. They hadn't been waiting for anyone. It had been a lie. They just didn't want to ride with him, and he couldn't blame them.

He was relieved to reach the other side and escape the cramped confines of the boat. The relief was short-lived though. When he saw the size of the waiting room, he groaned. Why was everything so small? It was a castle for goodness' sake. Shouldn't everything be big? He crammed himself into one of the back corners out of the way and hoped no one would come too close.

Thankfully, they weren't there for long and were soon led through to the Great Hall for the sorting. Remus was glad to see the size of the hall but eyed the tables nervously. The bench seating would make things difficult. He would need to sit at the end so he could quickly slide off if someone sat too close, he decided.

The rude boy from the boat was sorted into Gryffindor, and Remus hoped he would be placed somewhere else. Anywhere else. Unfortunately, he had already deduced Gryffindor to be his probable destination. He was smart enough for Ravenclaw, but it would be dangerous to be surrounded by people with too much intelligence. Slytherin was out since he was a half-blood and a dark creature to boot. Hufflepuff was unlikely because, again, dark creature and that all left Gryffindor. Although he didn't really consider himself to be brave or reckless either. Maybe the hat would just send him home.

The professor continued calling out names, and the closer she got to the Ls, the more nervous Remus became. Would the hat know he was a werewolf? Maybe it would refuse to sort him. Horrific visions flew through his mind. The hat screaming out, 'werewolf,' repeatedly while Remus was chased from the hall by students shooting spells at him. Remus sitting for minutes on end, surrounded by whispering students as the hat stubbornly refused to speak his house until Dumbledore came and led him away. Oh, Merlin, this was a mistake. He should never have come.

'Lupin, Remus,' McGonagall called, tearing him from his anxious thoughts.

Remus didn't move at first; he was frozen with fear. He took several deep and calming breaths before taking a step towards this fate. Once he had taken the first step, the second was easier, and he approached the stool and took his seat. He placed the hat on his head and waited.

'Well, well, well, what do we have here?'

The hat spoke in his head, making Remus jump. He hadn't expected it to talk to him.

'A young werewolf, coming to school to learn magic. This is new.'

Don't tell, please don't tell, Remus thought frantically, tears burning his eyes.

'Don't worry, little cub, I couldn't even if I wanted to. And I don't. You're a brave little cub, aren't you? I can see that, the way you walked to your first transformation, and your efforts not to scream. If I had eyes, it would be enough to make me cry. I have no problem sorting you. You're a GRYFFINDOR!'

The hat shouted the last word, and Remus pulled it off; he tried to wipe his eyes discreetly, but he was sure everyone saw. He put the hat down on the stool and hurried to the Gryffindor table, hating the sensation of everyone staring at him. The rude boy from earlier seemed to be beckoning him. Sirius Black he was called, Remus ignored him. There was no way he could sit in the middle of the bench even if he did want to sit with him, which he didn't. Remus took a seat right at the end as he had planned and turned his attention to the stage.

A few more students were sorted into Gryffindor, including Black's friends, James Potter and Peter Pettigrew, before it was over. Dumbledore stood and welcomed them to the school before announcing the feast. At his words, the tables filled with overflowing dishes and Remus' belly growled at the sight. He had never seen so much food in his life.

Remus eyed the food as he waited for the flurry of reaching hands to die down. What he really wanted was the roast beef he could see further down the table, but there was no way to get to it without risking contact with other students. So he settled for the mushroom and rice dish nearest him, wrinkling his nose at the taste. He hated mushrooms.

Dessert was a vast improvement. He was able to snag a piece of chocolate cake, and he ate it slowly, savouring every bite of its heavenly flavour. When everyone had finished eating, the prefects of each house led the first years to their common rooms. Gryffindor's was located on the seventh floor behind a portrait of an overweight lady in a pink dress. They were led inside, Remus waiting until last, and given a lecture about curfews and other rules and pointed towards their dormitories. Remus watched Black and Potter racing each other up the stairs, Pettigrew trailing behind, and decided to wait a while before going up himself, finding a quiet corner to curl up in.

When his eyes began to droop, he decided it was time to find out where he would be sleeping and headed for the stairs. He soon found the door with his name on it and groaned when he saw he would be sharing it with Black, Potter and Pettigrew. He was disappointed, but not surprised. It was typical of his luck.

He took a deep breath and gripped the door handle. He turned it and pushed. As the door swung open, he heard the unmistakable voice of Black proclaim, 'Ugh, this is a nightmare!' and his face warmed. The boy could only be referring to having to share a room with him. He decided the best course of action would be to keep his head down and stay out of the way. He didn't want any trouble.

-o-o-o-o-

Over dinner, Sirius had told James the story of how he met Remus. James was a pureblood and well aware of the Black family's reputation, so he had no trouble believing the tale regarding how vile his mother was. What he struggled to believe was Remus' part in the story.

'That sickly looking kid? He kicked your mum and shouted at her?' he had asked, looking at Sirius as if he'd said dragons were no more dangerous than a fluffy kitten.

'Well, he didn't look sick back then,' he'd replied.

Now they were in their new dorm room, which they would share along with Peter the excited puppy and Remus, who probably now hated him.

'I've screwed everything up, James. What am I going to do? He hates me now!' Sirius said, pacing the room like a caged hippogriff.

'You'll just have to show him you're not really a cold, upper-class dickhead,' James said with a shrug. Which was extremely unhelpful in Sirius' opinion. 'Unless you are a cold, upper-class dickhead, of course. Are you a cold, upper-class dickhead, Sirius?'

He looked up at Sirius from where he sat, cross-legged on his bed, with an expression of genuine curiosity on his face.

'No more than you, you wanker,' Sirius said before flopping dramatically onto his own bed. 'Ugh, this is a nightmare!'

At that very moment, the door opened, and the object of his distress tripped into the room. Remus' face was flushed crimson, and his gaze darted around frantically until he spotted his trunk at the end of one of the beds. He stumbled over to it, rooted through the contents and pulled out a wad of blue material before climbing onto the bed and drawing the surrounding curtains without saying a word to any of them.

Sirius glanced at James and flung his hands in the air in the universal sign language of, 'What the fuck do I do?' James just shrugged and started getting ready for bed. Sirius scowled at him and stared at the closed curtains for a minute, trying to decide whether to try talking to Remus now or wait until morning. Deciding to wait, he changed into his pyjamas and climbed into bed.

Chapter 5

#fanfiction #harrypotter #marauders #wolfstar

7 notes · View notes

coll2mitts · 4 years

Text

#88 Tommy (1975)

The Who’s well-loved 1969 rock opera album Tommy has been adapted for the screen, and is almost the furthest thing from a feel-good picture that you can get. Who knew that the sound of childhood trauma could be so goddamn catchy?

When I was a young girl, my father would play the album Tommy, he really liked the band. Tommy was one of those albums I played on repeat when I was elementary school-aged. My dad had copied the album to a cassette, and me and my yellow Walkman would head to the bus stop every morning blasting “The Acid Queen”. I’ve mentioned before I was an obnoxious kid, and one memory that has unfortunately stuck with me for like 25 years is this guy on the bus asking my sister to tell me to stop singing out loud to “Pinball Wizard” because it was annoying. I sunk into my seat as if he had punched me straight in the gut.

Being young, my understanding of the plot was pretty basic, and oh boy, the movie translation of this was um... I was not prepared for the ride I had boarded. Even as someone who is unbelievably familiar with the source material, this was a rough watch.

Tommy begins during World War 2, and England is getting bombed by Nazis. Tommy’s mom and dad are on their honeymoon, and when they return, Tommy’s father is sent off to war and is presumably killed in action. Tommy is born on V.E. Day and never knows his biological father. His mother (Ann-Margret) hooks up with a dude she met on vacation, Uncle Frank, and when Tommy’s father returns unannounced 6 years later, her lover kills him by hitting him with a lamp. Dude lived through a plane crash, and its the bedside lamp that finally gets him. Tommy witnesses the murder, and Uncle Frank and his mom plead with him not to tell anybody. The trauma of this event triggers psychosomatic deafness and blindness in Tommy. His parents are understandably concerned about him, even though they are the whole reason this happened in the first place.

youtube

His mom is weirdly fixated with his salvation, and takes Tommy to church to see if a supremely uncharismatic Eric Clapton and statue of Marilyn Monroe can heal him. The congregation, in a very classy move that is not at all disparaging to Marilyn Monroe’s legacy, downs alcohol and prescription medication as communion. The healing goes about as well as expected.

youtube

After this, his Uncle Frank takes Tommy to a prostitute, who drugs and presumably rapes him, thinking it might snap him out of it. When that doesn’t work, his parents then leave him with one babysitter that beats and tortures him, and another that sexually molests him, so... fun times. My notes perfectly illustrate how glad I was to watch this series of events unfold.

Realizing Tommy can entertain himself just by looking in a mirror, his parents get loaded on the couch, leaving him alone to wander out of the house. He stumbles upon a pinball machine in a junkyard. His parents discover he’s really fucking good at it, and introduce him into the very financially lucrative world of pinball competitions.

youtube

My favorite scene in this movie is watching Elton John play a keyboard attached to a pinball machine while wearing the largest shoes I’ve ever seen on a human. They hinder his movement so much he can only point with his left arm over and over again to show his enthusiasm. When Tommy wins the Pinball championship, a pack of Waldos haul away Elton’s defeated body.

Now that Tommy’s family is rolling in dough, his parents buy a mansion and a yacht, and Ann-Margret tries to bury her guilt surrounding Tommy’s condition through retail therapy, and literally smothering her grief with chocolate pudding.

youtube

I swear to god, Ann-Margret is the only person who actually knew what kind of movie she was filming. She’s crazed, dramatic, and her voice is so fucking awesome (unlike some of the other actors they cast...). Still, the disservice of making her swim in a sea of baked beans... which, FUN FACT: sent her into the ER because part of the broken champagne bottle rocketed out of the television when they were pelting bubbles at her and cut her hand large enough that she needed 27 stitches to close it. She came back to film the next day because she is a fucking queen.

Tommy’s parents take him to Jack Nicholson putting on an haughty accent to see if he can fix Tommy, and all he succeeds in doing is putting the moves on Ann-Margret. She takes Tommy back to the house and dances him into the mirror, which sets him free to swim and run shirtless across the country without shoes on.

It’s around this point of the movie that I realize Ann-Margret and I have *a thing* for young Roger Daltrey, and I don’t know what to do with this knowledge.

Seriously, she’s only like 3 years older than him and she’s supposed to be playing his mother. The film industry is so fucked up.

Tommy tells his mother than she needs to relinquish all her material possessions, baptizes her in the ocean, and forms his own pinball-based religion. His followers treat him like a messiah, looking for him to provide the path to salvation. He invites them onto his compound, puts his child molester Uncle Ernie in charge of a bunch of children, and Uncle Frank in charge of recruitment and merchandising.

His campers are fairly pissed they’re being milked for every dime they have, but Tommy is all, “I haven’t handed out my syllabus yet, wait until you hear what the curriculum is going to be!” When they discover it’s about turning off all distractions and only playing pinball, his congregation are all like, “Fuck that!” and riot, murdering both of Tommy’s parents. Now that his oppressors are dead, Tommy is truly free. He runs through literal fire, jumps into a lake in jeans, and climbs a slippery waterfall AND a mountain in bare feet, making me wonder what kind of insurance they had on this picture that they allowed Roger Daltrey to do all of that and hang glide into a sea of bikers. The 1970s were an unencumbered time.

youtube

I watched several interviews with Peter Townshend to understand where the idea of this rock opera came about, and holy shit, this story is just based in his own traumatic childhood experiences. From his perspective, after WW2, the people in England who had lived with the constant fear of sudden death internalized all of their associated trauma. They had children they weren’t emotionally equip to parent, leaving them to be vulnerable to people who wanted to exploit them.

Tommy’s constant plea in the movie was to be seen and heard by those who were supposed to protect and care for him, only for them to be ignorant to the affect their negligence was having on him. Tommy tries to save other broken people who need to feel safe, only for them to revolt, take the only family he’s ever known away from him, and abandon him. This is an unbelievably depressing movie, and the fact it resonated with so many people, I just... I don’t know how to process that, because it’s heartbreaking.

So, yeah, this movie is weird as shit, but it does try to impart that people who are exposed to repeated stressful events will only hurt themselves and those around them if they try to repress those experiences. I’m not sure the movie effectively communicated what The Who was trying to convey in the original album, however. I think the message is overshadowed by the strong aesthetic.

I suffered with intense anxiety as a child (still do, although I have mechanisms now as an adult to help manage it) and my parents didn’t know what the fuck to do with me. I would say 90% of the time they’d treat my anxiety like I was personally trying to inconvenience them, and the other 10% they’d make fun of me for it. So there I’d be, trying to hide my anxiety attacks and feeling like I was going to die (or if I was lucky, just vomit) because they’d get angry or tell me to suck it up if they knew what was going on. I did not have a happy childhood. I, like Tommy, just wanted them to understand me and show any amount of compassion. However, watching this movie, I somehow did not find myself relating to his story at all. I was too distracted by Marilyn Monroe-dressed nuns, a 2-story tall Elton John, child abuse and molestation played off as a joke, and Ann-Margret drowning in bean syrup that I completely missed the intention. I also think 1970s religious movements had a tendency to be rather exploitative, and I have listened to far too many My Favorite Murders to not see Tommy’s fans and think, “You’re in a cult, call your dad.” It’s hard to be automatically empathetic to the abused when they lead others to be victimized by their abusers.

I would 1000% recommend Tommy the album. This movie is worth a watch if you like The Who, but even as someone who loves the original music, I’m probably not going to put it in my constant rotation.

That concludes rock band movie musical week! The orchestra nerd inside of me is excited to move on to Carmen Jones next.

#unwarranted opinion #100 best musical movies of all time rotten tomatoes

3 notes · View notes

dididrawsblog · 5 years

Text

Mr. Perfect // slow burn

Part V

Summary: Steve Harrington was the coolest guy at school and now he’s working with you at the rental store. Very complicated story about complicated feelings.

Pairing: Steve Harrington/ You

Warning: language

A/N: IM ALIVE! Yeah..This chapter is big so make some tea and prepare yourself. Btw, if you guys have any suggestions about the plot you can write them in the comments.

Sunday 1 am. You were sitting on the ground with your back placed to a cold wall of an old building. Your knees were covered with scratches and blood and the hem of your dress was torn. It was a cold night. The light of the sign ‘Family video’ painted your face red. You were barely crying and you didn’t even know why. Was it because of knee pain or because of Steve? You shivered because of wind and pulled your knees to chest. You felt betrayed. Betrayed and lonely. You picked up a bottle of tequila and took a big swallow. You’d been drinking the whole way here and now the bottle was half empty. Or half full. You giggled. Hot tears went down your cheek.

Let’s get back to the start.

Saturday evening; 7pm.

You were helping a very annoying man who didn’t know what he wanted. You had been standing in front of shelves with movies for thirty minutes. He touched his unshaved chin and looked at your exhausted face one more time.

“So, will you help me or not?” He asked you with that disdainful and haughty expression. His enormous belly was falling over the edge of his pants, he had a greasy spot on his t-shirt and yellow teeth. Jesus. He smelled like shit.

“Sure. Let’s repeat. What kind of film do you want?” You said with your teeth clenched.

“Jesus Christ. It’s very simple! I need a horror movie with a complicated romantic relationship and sprinkles of comedy”

“And?”

“Right! It’s very important - NUNS!” Like he forgot about that long discussion.

“Sir” You took a deep breath. “I’m telling you one more time: we don’t have movies like that. We either have horrors with shitty love story or comedies with shitty love story AND none of them have NUNS” You didn’t know what was wrong with that man but he pissed you out. You look at his red face that matched his t-shirt and suddenly caught Steve’s eyes behind him. Harrington was standing five feet away from you.

“Listen to me-“ Red face made a step to you and almost grabbed your hand. He was furious about a fucking movie. Man, get a life! You were getting not just exhausted but mad as hell. Before any word came out of your mouth, Steve placed his hand on mans’s shoulder.

“What about ‘Sister Gertrude’? It’s a horror with a nun and it is hilarious sometimes. I mean have you ever seen a possessed nun?” Steve gave him a tape and winked at you. You smiled unconsciously.

“But what about love line?” The man kept looking at the tape, he wasn’t that red anymore.

“It’s hard not to fall in love with Gertrude, isn’t it?” Steve’s gaze was still fixed on you and you rolled your eyes. The man thanked Steve for his help and went to the counter. Right. Thanks, Steve.

“Asshole.” Said Steve and came closer.

“Did you see his huge hairy wart on his neck?” He laughed.

“No...but I can see it from here. God” He brushed his hair with a hand, looking at Robin. “Do you- I mean... If you want... of course..”

“What? Did you forget how to use words?” That was a bit harsh. Sometimes you say something but you don’t really mean it. You made a small cough and looked away.

“I’m having a party this Sunday which is tomorrow. So, I’m asking you if you wanna come.” He rubbed his neck awkwardly. Sun went down behind him and the sunlight turned his hair gold. He is a tall and well built guy. Like a statue in a museum. Steve was looking at his hands waiting for an answer. “Robin will be there too”

“Yeah...um. Okay” that’s all you could say.

“Really?” He smiled widely. Such a child.

“Of course. Why not?”

“Okay. Cool...ugh. See you tomorrow then” He started to back up still looking in your eyes. He accidentally hit a rack with films and it fell down covering the floor with romcoms. You heard Robin laughing hard and you joined her.

“Dingus!” She said to him. “Clean everything up and come to me. I need to tell you something”

You came to the poor boy and sit next to him grabbing a pale of movies. You were so close you almost hear him breathing. His hair brushed your cheek and your shoulders touched. You quickly stood up and went to the storage room. You just needed to hide your rose face. You are too overeating. Like, it’s just Steve Harrington. Calm down.

Next day you spent with your mom watching movies and doing nothing. You were relaxing after a hard day at work. You couldn’t stop thinking about the party though. You were too concerned about it. At eight pm you took a shower and waited for Robin to come. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been preparing for the party with a friend. All those dresses and shoes and rock music and talks about getting drunk tonight.

Robin came to you fully prepared. She looked stunning and bitchin at the same time. She helped you to choose a dress and did you a makeover. You felt so great spending that time with Robin. She was so funny and supportive and cool. Like you have a real friend. Maybe she is your friend.

You were standing in front of wooden doors of Harrington house. It was a large two-storey building with a brown roof. You felt exited standing next to the blue-eyed girl who knocked on the door. Five minutes later the party boy opened to you. He was standing right in front of you holding a red cup with liquid. Just like the last time you’d visited his house. There was a difference though. Now he was looking at you. He noticed you. He knew you are here. And he smiled.

“Hello, ladies. I’m glad you’re here” he grabbed both of you and pulled in. House was full of teens and booze. You saw some people from high school but they weren’t there at the first party. They were ghost at school just like you. Then you realised that most of them was Robin’s friends. The crowd of people tugged you into the living room. Right to the dance floor. You couldn’t find Steve or Robin in that mess so you just danced. You had a chat with some classmates, moved your body a little and as party went by you realised you didn’t drink yet.

You went to the kitchen to grab something . Nobody was there. Just a table with snacks and a bowl with cherry punch. You didn’t bother about finding Robin anymore. You lost her as you came in. The wave of people devoured her. You were wondering was she having fun out there or looking for you? Guess she just forgot about you. Standing there drinking sweet-n-sour drink you listened to the sounds of music from the next room. You just needed a second to relax when Steve came. There was a bottle in his hand and he was rather tipsy.

“Here’s Y/N! How ar ya?” He sat on the couch in front of the table.

“I’m good. Yeah, it’s a pretty nice party” you came to him with a cup of punch, taking a bottle from him and adding some alcohol there. It wasn’t a nice party. You felt forgotten. Again. But now he’s here right?

“Jesus, I’m so happy you’re here. C’mon. Sit next to me” he pulled you closer on the sofa and placed his head on your shoulder. He’s not just tipsy. He’s drunk. You can smell it now.

“I can’t find Robin out there. She’s just disappeared” you looked in your cup and then at Steve. He was so close now. His eyes was fixed on you, his soft hair tickled your cheek and god... You liked it. You made a sip and burning liquid went down your throat.

“What?” You finally asked that dork who kept looking at you.

“What ‘what’?”

“You are an idiot, Steve Harrington” You smiled softly taking another drink.

“And you are beautiful, Y/N Y/L/N” your cheeks turned red and you turned your head away.

Robin with a couple of people interrupted your moment of awkwardness. There she is. She seemed busy talking and laughing and drinking. You stood up and went to the bathroom to fresh up as fast as you could. Your face were burning when you washed it with cold water. No, no, no. Not Harrington. Anyway, he didn’t mean it. He is drunk. You sat down on the corner of the bathtub and took a deep breath. This party sucks. Steve and Robin...That’s so messed up. You fixed your makeup a little bit and looked at yourself in the mirror. You never considered yourself as ‘beautiful’. Pretty, funny, smart but not...beautiful. To be logical, you didn’t have the perfect body from magazines and your hair and face. It just didn’t make any sense.

Sound of breaking glass pulled you out of your thoughts. Your opened the door and heard screaming. It was scary. The loud and angry voice cut the air. Sounded like a fight. Probably a serious one. The only thing you could think about now was to find a weapon. Yeah..weird. But it wasn’t your first party-fight. You came out of the bathroom and went into the closest room you saw. Presumably Steve’s room. You hadn’t got enough time to examine it so you just grabbed the barbed bat near his bed. By the time you went downstairs right into the living room, Steve was already fighting with...Um, you couldn’t see through the crowd. You jumped but still nothing. BAM! The crowd dispersed and you saw Harrington on the ground. His back was placed to the coffee table. Blood was dripping down from the corner of his mouth and from the scratch on the cheek. Tommy H. stood in front of him. He wanted to attack again.

“GET AWAY FROM HIM!” You screamed and hit the floor with the bat. Tommy turned around and looked at you. Actually, everyone was looking at you. The girl who nobody knew was standing in a small dress and a big bat in front of the king of assholes.

“Hey, look who’s here. Sorry, I don’t remember your name. Steve, do you- No, I don’t think you remember her” Tommy smiled at you and you almost threw up. He took a step closer. This jerk knows who are you.

“One more step and I’ll beat the shit out of you” he didn’t listen. He just came closer when you hit the floor with the bat again. It was very close to his feet. He jumped back.

“Bitch” Tommy slowly turned around and went away. You dropped the bat and came to Steve.

“Jesus, Harrington. Why did you invite him?” Robin brought up a wet towel and placed it to his cheek.

“He didn’t” she looked at you. Where was she by the way? “I..um. I’ve invited his sister” Robin looked sad and disappointed. Steve couldn’t think or do anything cause he was drunk and beaten. His head was lying on her lap.

“And why did you do that?” You asked her as calm as you could. You actually wanted to shout at her.

“I didn’t know she’ll bring her brother and...boyfriend” It didn’t make any sense. It wasn’t even an answer to your question.

“Robin, what the hell? I came here because of you and I thought we could have some good time. And you just left me for an asshole’s sister. You left me all alone in the house full of strangers” She looked away.

“Sorry, but you won’t understand” she whispered.

“Clearly, I don’t understand anything” you stood up. “What’s wrong with you?” Robin looked scared and ashamed. You suddenly felt bad for your words. There was something you didn’t know. Something very bad.

Steve opened his eyes...well an eye actually. He looked at Robin who was barely crying and you. Furious.

“Out” he whispered.

“What?” You finally noticed him.

“I said get the hell out of my house” he said it so simple. Like he wasn’t throwing you out. Like it was a small talk about weather. But it hit you hard.

You left. With no words. You just grabbed a bottle from the ground near the exit and left. While you were coming down the stairs, you tripped and fell, tearing your tights. It was painful but you stood up, took down your shoes and leaded down the street.

And now we are here.

You wiped your tears and pressed your head to the wall. Your eyes were closed. Silence. Sounds of footsteps.

“Hey” said very familiar voice.

Taglist:

@sergeantjbbarnes-archive-blog

@somethingdawn

@christinawxxx

@hearteyesmotherclucker

@avadakedavrabitxh

@choconat-chip

@softtfinn

@tootimetootime7

@sydzygy

@the-pixie-with-seven-faces

@janieavalos

@sadhwstudent

@hellolonelydreamer

@maggierheegreene

@whatthefuckkrichard

@anolddayslover

@fromneverwonderland

@spiderpiggie8

#stranger things robin #stranger thing imagine #imagine stranger things #imagine steve harrington #stranger things steve #steve harrington slowburn #steve x reader #imagine steve #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x y/n

135 notes · View notes

purpleplatypusbear21 · 5 years

Text

Azula Week Day 7: Tea Shop AU

“Azula!” Iroh greeted upon seeing his niece enter his esteemed tea shop. “What a wonderful surprise!”

“Speak for yourself,” Zuko muttered, crossing to the kitchen.

Azula scowled at him.

“Does this mean you’re all moved in?” Iroh asked.

“I am.” Azula took a deep, satisfied breath. After hours of unpacking and decorating her dorm room at Ba Sing Se University, the incoming freshman was badly in need of some rest and relaxation. “My room’s about a third as big as my bedroom at home, but it will have to do.”

Iroh chuckled, clearing some empty mugs from a table of boisterous upperclassmen. “So what brings you to my humble tea shop?”

Teeming with customers, the Jasmine Dragon was far from humble.

Azula shrugged. “Now that I’m all unpacked, I thought I’d explore the city.”

“You’ll be conquering Ba Sing Se in no time,” Iroh laughed.

“That’s the plan,” the firebender said with a haughty smirk.

“Speaking of plans…”

Azula sighed, knowing exactly where this conversation was headed.

“…have you reconsidered my offer? We could really use the help around here – ”

“Uncle, we’ve been over this. I’m going to be a first-year. I haven’t established a reputation yet, and, nothing personal, but I really don’t want to be known as the tea shop girl. Besides, if I’m ever going to become valedictorian, I need to devote my free time to my studies.”

“There’s more to life than scholarly pursuits,” he said, walking back toward the kitchen.

Azula followed him.

“These years will go by quickly. Enjoy them. Make sure you take some time for yourself. Discover who you truly are. Meet new people, make some friends…”

“Well I did take the time to grace you with my presence, didn’t I?” she asked.

Zuko came out of the kitchen holding a tray full of teas, bumping into his sister on the way out and nearly spilling the hot beverages all over himself. “Ugh!” the third-year groaned. “Can’t you grace us with your presence some other time? We’re swamped!”

“I can take a hint,” Azula spat, rolling her eyes. “I’ll see myself out.”

“Order’s up!” Iroh called from the kitchen.

Zuko huffed in frustration. “Azula, wait.” He abruptly handed her his tray. “Take these to the table in the front by the window on your way out, okay?”

“Are you kidding me, Zuzu?” she asked in vain. Her brother had already dashed back to the kitchen to pick up the next order. “Hmph.” She walked up to the front table and placed the tray down in front of the customers. “I don’t know who ordered what or what’s what, but here you go.” She turned to the door while the confused customers thanked her. But just as she was about to make her exit, she heard someone call for her.

“Miss? Excuse me, miss? Do you work here?”

As she turned toward the voice, ready to answer no, she was met with a pair of deep blue eyes that left her speechless. The young man sitting alone in the corner was quite the looker. She swallowed. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I do,” she smiled, walking toward him. “How can I help you?”

“Do you have anything that could mend a broken heart?”

Not only was this blue-eyed boy handsome, it appeared he was single as well. Azula did everything in her power to keep from widening her grin. “I’ll see what I can do,” she said softly before walking off into the kitchen.

Iroh was pouring some jasmine tea into a mug, singing to himself.

“Uncle… is there a tea for, let’s say, relieving heartache?”

“Why of course! There’s a tea for everything!” The old firebender began preparing a concoction of lemon balm, rose petals, and lavender. “This ancient remedy works every time.” He placed the herbal mixture in a strainer over a mug and began to pour a kettle of boiling water over it. As the tea steeped, he turned to his niece. “You don’t have to wait here. I know you have a city to explore. I’ll have Zuko bring out the tea when it’s ready.”

“That’s alright, Uncle. I… I’d like to deliver it.” Azula could feel her cheeks reddening. She hated it.

“I see,” Iroh hummed, all-knowingly. “You know what else I hear is good for a broken heart?”

Azula raised an eyebrow.

“Some company.”

She scoffed, though she appreciated the idea. After the tea was finished brewing to perfection, Azula placed the mug on a small plate and began to carry it to the boy with blue eyes, thanking her uncle on the way out. “This ought to do the trick,” she said, serving the handsome stranger.

“Thank you.” He blew on the hot liquid before taking a sip. “What’s in it?”

“If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”

“I see,” he laughed. “Well, if it gets the job done, I guess it doesn’t much matter what I’m drinking.”

“I hope you enjoy it,” she smiled before turning her back toward him. She almost walked away from him, but then she remembered what her uncle said. She turned back around. “You know what else I hear is good for a broken heart?”

“What?”

“Some company.” Her voice wavered a bit. She despised how insecure she sounded when she was otherwise such a confident person. Everything always came easily to her. Everything except talking to boys.

“Don’t you have to work?” he asked.

Her jaw clenched. So it seemed he didn’t want her company. “Y-Yes, I suppose I should get back to – ”

“I mean,” he interrupted, “I-I’m sorry how that came out. I just didn’t want to get you in trouble. I-I’d love some company.” He smiled warmly. “Please.” He gestured to the chair in front of him.

She took a seat.

“The name’s Sokka, by the way.”

“Azula,” she smiled.

“Are you new here?” he asked. “I’ve never seen you around before.”

“Yes. I’m an incoming first-year at BSSU.”

“Oh, that’s great! I’m a second-year.”

“What are you studying?”

“Engineering,” he answered. “Do you know what you’d like to study? I know it’s early…”

“Probably political science, but I’m keeping an open mind.”

Sokka paused for a moment. “Hey… can I ask you something?”

“I suppose…?”

He turned his head over his shoulder and then looked back at Azula. “Are you related to the other server? You look so much alike.”

“Unfortunately,” she muttered, shaking her head. “He’s my brother. We don’t get along.”

“I get it,” he chuckled. “My sister and I fight sometimes too. She can be pretty annoying.”

“Siblings,” Azula laughed.

“Yeah,” Sokka nodded. It was uncomfortably quiet for a few seconds.

“So…” The firebender wasn’t sure the best way to broach the subject. “Tell me about this… ex of yours.” The statement came out more like a question.

“Y-Yeah, Suki,” he started, awkwardly running a hand over his hair. “We were together a couple of years. We actually broke up in the beginning of the summer since she didn’t get in to BSSU and the distance was already a struggle. I really thought I was over her and the break up, but… I just found out some news today that really threw me for a loop.”

“Oh, and what was that?”

“She’s starting at Gaoling College this fall and started her freshmen orientation about a week ago.” Sokka averted his gaze. “She’s already met someone. They’re dating now.”

“I’m… sorry to hear that.” Although Azula was sympathetic, she also had some competing interests.

“The real kicker is… the person she’s seeing now is a girl.” He looked back at the firebender to gauge her reaction.

She lowered her head, looking at Sokka with wide golden eyes.

“Some Fire Nation dancer apparently.”

“Fire Nation ladies can be quite compelling,” she teased.

“It would seem that way!” Sokka laughed.

“Do you have a problem with her dating another woman?”

“No.” He shook his head. “There’s just some part of me that makes me think maybe she was never really that into me.”

“I really doubt that’s the case,” she blurted with instant regret, her cheeks reddening with embarrassment.

He grinned. “You don’t have to say nice things to me to get a better tip, you know,” he joked. “You’re already getting a good one.”

“I’m not!”

“I know, I know. I was just teasing you.” He sat back in his chair with a more relaxed posture, chuckling lightly to himself. “Maybe it’s the tea or something else, but… this was exactly what I needed tonight. You’ve honestly made me feel a thousand times better.”

“What can I say, I’m pretty amazing,” she shrugged nonchalantly.

“Modest too.”

“The most modest.”

He snickered. “I think I was just feeling bummed out because the semester’s about the start and Suki said she’d come out to visit me this fall. And obviously that isn’t going to happen.” He sighed. “I was really looking forward to showing her my favorite place in the city.”

“Well…” Azula looked down at the table, clearing her throat. “I just moved here, and I’d love to see more of the city. I know it’s not the same, but… maybe you could show me sometime?” She brought her gaze back up to meet his.

Sokka smiled warmly at her. “When would you like to go?”

“There’s no time like the present,” she said, returning the smile.

“But, um… what about – ”

“The crowd’s starting to die down. I’m sure my idiot brother can handle things for the rest of the night.”

“Great!” He stood up from the table and offered the firebender his arm. “Then shall we?”

Azula took the gentleman’s arm and allowed him to escort her through the winding streets of Ba Sing Se. It had grown quite dark. Residents were meandering their way back home.

“I’m so excited to show you the Firelight Fountain,” Sokka said, grinning. “It’s one of the most beautiful sites in the entire city.”

She followed Sokka into a modest-sized clearing with a large fountain in the center. Several posts with candles on top surrounded the fountain. However, the candles were not lit.

“I can’t believe it! They aren’t lit,” Sokka groaned, looking defeated. “Just my luck. Seriously, they’re always lit at sundown – ”

She interrupted his rant by standing in front of him and placing her hands on his shoulders. “Close your eyes. And no peeking.”

He eyed her suspiciously for a second but ultimately covered his eyes with his hands.

Azula walked closer to the fountain and took a deep breath. Using her index and middle fingers, she proceeded to shoot small bursts of flame in a circular pattern, lighting all the candles. Then she resumed her position standing in front of the blue-eyed student. “Okay. Open.”

“Wow,” he breathed, the sight nearly rendering him speechless. He had seen the Firelight Fountain alit so many times, but he had never seen it sparkling with blue fire. “I’ve never seen anything like this before. It’s beautiful.” He turned to look back at Azula. “You’re beautiful.”

Her heart started beating a mile a minute as she felt him place a hand gently on her cheek. The next thing she knew, she felt his nose brush against hers. And then their lips met in a soft yet passionate kiss.

He was smiling affectionately at her when they finally separated. “Look… I don’t want to rush into anything here, for obvious reasons, but…” He took her hands in his. “I had an incredible time with you tonight, and I really want to see you again.”

“I’d like that,” she whispered, blushing. “Well… you know where to find me.”

“I do.” He raised one of her hands to his mouth and gave it a soft kiss. “Good night, Azula.”

“Good night, Sokka.” Azula felt like she was floating as she found her way back to the Jasmine Dragon. A few lingering customers remained. Her brother was sweeping and her uncle was washing some dishes. She knew the smile plastered to her face probably looked absurd, but she couldn’t care less. She walked over to the kitchen and threw on an apron.

Zuko and Iroh stopped cleaning and looked perplexingly at Azula.

“I decided I’m going to work here part-time.” Her brother and uncle opened their mouths to speak but Azula raised a finger to stop them. “No one say anything.”

Zuko and Iroh shrugged and went back to cleaning, one scowling and the other grinning.

With a soft smile spread across her cheeks, Azula grabbed a dishtowel and began scrubbing one of the tables, wondering the next time the handsome boy with blue eyes would set foot into the tea shop.

#azulaweek2019 #azula #azula week #azula week 2019 #tea shop au #sokka #sokkla #atla

50 notes · View notes