#Travelling drabbles
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sayangrafayel · 3 months ago
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Time travel AU where 10 year old Caleb comes to the current timeline. He hates present Caleb. Who has this person become? He always dreamed of being a pilot for DAA, why is he not in DAA now? He also gets super protective of present MC, why doesn't present Caleb let present MC do whatever she wants? Isn't that what he always did since they were little? Putting MC's needs before anything else, including his own?Why is there some negative tension between future him and future MC? Aren't they supposed to be bestfriends, like he is with his MC?
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k0mmari · 6 months ago
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Endless Abyss(kinda)! SY AU
First things first, this is very much inspired by this post by @/rainbowsmagicandshit and @/allpiesforourown, HIGHLY recommend reading that fist just to get a glimpse of where I started off, but do note I have accidentally deviated from the original idea a bit, so uh, oops ig.
This was born out of a mix of different ideas (as usual), so think of this as ‘The AU where SY is a demon, and also the Endless Abyss, and also my excuse to have Binghe possibly make a harem consisting entirely of SY’s’, or, as I like to call it:
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As per usual, Shen Yuan has died. It happens to the best of us, and of course, he died while reading the glittering piece of trash that is Proud Immortal Demon Way.But, as he is in the process of getting snatched away by the System, something goes wrong, and the System has to quickly redirect itself and it causes SY to get knocked out of course.
His soul scrambles to find a new host, and it manages to find someone suitable enough. When SY wakes up though, he isn’t greeted by the sight of a roof, or a forest, or anything remotely familiar; instead, the moment he regains consciousness, he’s senses are flooded with as much information as possible. It’s like a computer with too many tabs open, but in this case, you can see all the tabs at the same time and all of them are playing the most obnoxiously loud videos possible, in fact, everything feels so overwhelming even thinking becomes too much.
What SY doesn’t know is that he has transmigrated into the body of a Titan, an almost extinct godly demon race that only existed in the confines of Airplane’s first drafts, and it turns out shoving a human soul into the body of a deity doesn’t bode so well, since what the human mind is able to process doesn’t even come close to what a Titan is able to feel. So because SY can’t get a hold of his own mind, his control of his own body is also not great, and he is completely unaware as his newly acquired body goes on a rampage.
See, SY is currently in a very old version of the Demon Realm, so old in fact, Heavenly Demons still rule over the Realm. It really is quite a shame that SY wasn’t in his right mind at the time, and instead of being able to observe how ancient Heavenly Demons governed demonic society, he instead accidentally set on a path of destruction, with the casualties being anything that had the bad luck of standing in his way. In fact, the destruction got so bad a few of the Heavenly Demons rulers, who notoriously hated each other, settles on a temporary peace agreement and joined forces to stop the mad Titan.
SY, in his frenzied state, didn’t even notice as hundreds of years went by as the Heavenly Demons tried to stop him, and also barely noticed when they finally managed to chain him down and cast him away to be forever banished to the Endless Abyss. His body, once so tall it grazed the clouds, was torn apart, with each of its different parts sealed away in various locations as an attempt to diminish the Titan’s power. It worked, actually, and unbeknownst to the demons, SY slowly began to get his thoughts in order; the event that finally pushed him to coherency was when a few of those Heavenly Demon rulers got greedy, and while sealing away SY’s body parts, attempted to harness his power for themselves, and tried to create legendary weapons out of his flesh and bone.
Most of them failed, a Titan’s power to overwhelming for even a Heavenly Demon to handle, but one of them succeeded, and created a powerful sword made from the Titan’s own heart: Xin Mo. Unfortunately for the creator of Xin Mo, it didn’t take long for them to fall into madness and eventually succumb to Xin Mo’s power, casting themselves away to hold onto the sword forever in the same valley SY’s hands were sealed; but it is as they say, one man’s trash is another man’s treasure, and while Xin MO’s creator perished, they managed to take enough power away from SY for him to finally be able to think.
It had been a thousand years at this point, and SY’s first coherent thought was that he desperately needed a break, and that in all these years, he hadn’t managed to get a single glimpse into the world of PIDW, and what a waste! Specially since he was now in the most interesting area Airplane had managed to create, he was itching to explore the world. Of course, in his current state he wasn’t exactly able to move (having his limbs cut off certainly didn’t help, but apparently it had been so long since he was imprisoned that his Main Body had started to fuse with the Abyss? Really, more of a slight inconvenience than anything), but he also had become tired of his Titan body with it’s Titan feelings, and so he decided to split his consciousness and create a small army of human sized avatars who were later dubbed his ‘Watchers’, who’s sole purpose was to explore the Endless Abyss and send their findings back to the Main Body (in bite sized, easy to understand thoughts).
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It is the first years of his Watchers wandering about that SY finally understood what had happened to his body, and figured out that Xin Mo was a product of his flesh. He figured that since demons tried to use his body for malicious purposes before, with one even succeeding, he decided that one Xin Mo was enough, and came up with a plan: He was going to piece his Titan body back together as a means to prevent anything of the sort happening again, but he was immediately going to seal the Titan body away again, as to not have to deal with it’s overwhelming power.
As the Watchers were sent to locate his body parts again, one of their first findings were the hands, which also meant the resting place of Xin Mo itself. How lucky, he thought! He could just take the hands away and maybe leave one of the Watchers guarding Xin Mo so when Luo Binghe eventually comes to retrieve his sword, SY at least can catch a glimpse of his favorite protagonist! He wasted no time, and while his avatars tried to unseal his hands, one of them went to move Xin Mo, just so it was out of the way, and in doing so the sword retaliated and ended up disintegrating the poor Watcher. What a rude sword, going against its own body.
Fine! If Xin Mo was going to be difficult so be it, and SY formed a new plan: before reuniting his Titan body back together, SY send his Watchers to keep an eye on as much of the Endless Abyss as possible and the moment Luo Binghe fell in, he would turn to hugging the protagonist’s thigh and help him survive the harsh environment as long as Binghe took Xin Mo. Well, it should be no problem, right? Binghe was fated to get the sword one way or another, and SY is sure his involvement will be small insignificant enough that it won’t be much more of a side quest for the future Demon Emperor!
Now, if he were a half human, half Heavenly Demon teenager who just got pushed into hell by his teacher, where would he land���.
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*
So, as you can see, this is mostly more like SY’s origin story lol, but I’ll probably write Binghe’s first meetings with the Watchers sometime soon (hopefully).In the meantime though, enjoy some more of the bonus sketches I did while figuring out the AU, and of course, if anyone has any questions or thoughts about this, feel free to send them to me!
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Derek opens the door, lets out a shocked exclaim and slams it shut right after. Stiles rushes out the kitchen, face smudged with flour and hands on his hips, pants, "What happened? I've never heard you make a sound like that before."
"There's- there's. Uh-um there's a you outside," Derek whispers, eyes wide and raising a trembling hand to point at the door.
"Huh?" Stiles asked, confused, moving closer to hug Derek. "Sourwolf, I'm right here." Stiles wrapped his arms around Derek's neck, catching his lips in a gentle kiss.
Caught in the moment, they don't notice the door slowly slide open. They jump apart when a disgusted voice exclaims, "Ugh, were you two always this gross?!"
Stiles and Derek gape at the teenager standing in the doorway. With floppy brown hair and similar moles dotting his face, he stood with his face twisted into a frown, clad in a batman t-shirt with a flannel on top.
Stiles moves closer to the boy, ignoring Derek tugging at his t-shirt from behind and gasps, "Holy fuck."
"That's ten dollars in the swear jar right there," the boy says.
"That's a bit steep," Stiles remarks, hand moving to poke at the boy's moles.
"Yeah well, we had to after you wouldn't - wait, I don't think I can tell you that." The boy says, face leaning into Stiles' touch. When Stiles moved his hand into the boy's hair, he whined, eyes flashing gold as he crowded Stiles into a hug, burying his face in his neck.
Stiles eyes widened and he turned his head to look at an equally shocked Derek. Stiles started to stroke the boy's hair as Derek walked towards them. "Tata, I was so scared," the boy whispered.
Derek placed a hand on his back, gently rubbing up and down. The boy twisted a hand back towards Derek, tugging him in, and sandwiched himself between Stiles and Derek.
"Pup," Derek whispered in awe, locking eyes with Stiles again. "Our pup?"
Stiles smiled, tears gathering in his eyes, and nodded.
The boy poked his head up and said, "Fuck, I should have introduced myself-"
"No swearing," Derek and Stiles said at the same time, giggling after.
"What - I'm not even going to address the hypocrisy in that. Anyways, tata, dad, I'm Eli Stilinski-Hale, your future son." He said, flaring his hands out after in a tada gesture.
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occasional-yan-stuff · 6 months ago
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GN!reader
warnings: death, manipulation, deception
Yandere!Time traveler who discovered your existence through records
Yandere!Time traveler who learned all about you before finally coming to meet you
Yandere!Time traveler who uses everything he's learned about you to make himself seem like the perfect guy
Yandere!Time traveler who goes back in time to get failed interactions perfect
Yandere!Time traveler who gauges your reactions to different gifts so he can get you the best ones
Yandere!Time traveler who occasionally redoes days just to replay special moments with you
Yandere!Time traveler who has confessed to you and then erased it more times than he can count.
Yandere!Time traveler who uses trial and error to learn just how to make you say yes to things.
Yandere!Time traveler who describes the deaths of people you hate in oddly specific detail that you think is a joke
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kittykalliarts · 2 years ago
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For decades, the blank vision that Iudex Neuvillette wears near his heart has been subject to much discussion in Fontaine. Nobody remembers who it had once belonged to or why the ancient dragon protected it so jealously. It is said that if the Chief Justice would to stare at it for a long while, it would be sure to rain right after. Oh, how beloved that person must've been.
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shotmrmiller · 1 year ago
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Inspired by @rookiesbookies Capt. MacTavish & Soap fic
So, imagine going to sleep as 09 Ghost's widow only to wake up next to reboot Ghost.
It's agony. The face of your late husband stares at you with a murderous glint in his eye holding a sharp knife to your neck.
"Who the hell are you?"
He digs the knife into your skin when you tell him that you're his wife and try to prove it.
You say his full name. Birthday. What kind of tea he likes, and how he takes it. Favorite food. His shoe size. But he doesn't believe you.
Anyone can find out information like that.
So you tell him that his late older brother was named Tommy. His wife was named Beth. He almost slices your throat when you tell him of his capture and torture.
Simon's vicious, cruel. Literally drags you by your hair across the base, straight to Price's office. You've met him before too, but seeing what giving out too much information got you, you opt to stay quiet instead.
You only answer the questions he asks, never giving anything more.
No, you don't know why you're here.
No, you obviously mean no harm.
Yes, in your time, Simon Ghost is your husband. Was.
When Price asks what you mean by that, you tell him that he was killed in the line of duty, serving his country.
He solemnly gazes at you and gives you a small apology you don't respond to, then looks at Ghost, ordering him to keep you in his room.
You try to hide your quivering lip when Ghost sneers, "I don't want her anywhere near me." It's hard to remember that this isn't your late husband when it's his voice saying those harsh words.
And harsh he is. He forcefully takes you by the arm with a bruising grip, and throws you into his quarters- letting you fall onto the hard floor.
"Look at me," he firmly commands.
Trying to hold back your tears, you do as he says, and he scoffs at your somber countenance.
"You will remember tha' you don't know me." He approaches you and squats down to be at your eye level.
"I am not your husband," he gruffly says, "And I intend to keep it tha' way."
He leaves you on the ground in his cold room, and you finally shed the tears you've been holding back.
You desperately wish to wake up from this nightmare, because your dead Simon is a better alternative to this one.
part 2
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godricgryffinsnore · 3 months ago
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HELLO HELLO HELLO!!!
so I just stumbled on your page and realised that I really like your writing style, kudos to you and I have a request!!!
ahem ahem
so this has been on my mind for a while and idk maybe I just have a thing for time travel fics
yk
so can we do james x femreader where during yk the typical time travel fic, she gets hit and sent bsck to like marauders era!
also background info she’s like bffs with golden trio and stuff
and she’s a slytherin!!! (idk u can use ur creativity to figure out how they become friends or something)
but it’s sorta like forbidden love cuz she becomes friends with narcissa and Bella AND ALSO is bffs with his son, so they can’t exactly be together
ps nobody knows that she’s been sent back in time
YOU CAN FECIDE THE RESTTTT
is it unrequited? does James still like Lily? what happens to HARry?!!!
Splintered In Time ♡ : A James Potter Fan Fiction.
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pairing : James Potter x female!slytherin!reader
summary : When a spell gone wrong sends you hurtling back to the Marauders era, you find yourself entangled in a life you were never meant to live. Torn between the friendships you left behind and the forbidden love you were never meant to have, you must face the impossible choice: to hold on to a borrowed future or fight for the one slipping through your fingers. But time is never kind to those who dare to rewrite it. And love—love is the most reckless magic of all.
warnings : Emotional whiplash, time travelling, poetic language, heavy yearning, Marauders banter, but with a hopeful conclusion, angst with happy ending, slight ‘Snily’ in the ending. Please let me know if I missed any.
author's note : English is not my first language, so please forgive me for any grammatical errors or spelling errors. Re-blogging is completely fine with me, but please don't copy my work. I love you all. Enjoy <3.
word count : 10k {Longest fiction I have ever written}
main master list <3
della's note : Babe! This request made me question and challenge my creativity. Thanks A TON for requesting!!! It felt wonderful to write about time travelling. Oh and btw, originally this was supposed to be a sad ending fiction. But I just can't do this to our James <333 I hope you like it!!!! Oh and it's a super long fiction. Like, I got really carried away while writing!!! I AM SO EXCITED. This is a really long fic, so sit back, grab your popcorn and ENJOYYYYY <33333
banners : @uzmacchiato and @roseschoices
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There are no stars tonight—only the burn of borrowed time.
You didn’t see it coming.
The curse, emerald and vicious, came hissing through the battlefield. You only heard Hermione’s choked scream, Harry’s ragged breath, Ron’s hoarse shout—everything distorted by the thunder of chaos. The three of them were only feet away, desperate and bloodied, backs pressed against stone as the fight splintered around them.
You reached for Harry, fingers outstretched, but the magic hit you square in the chest.
And you were falling— Through time itself.
── .✦
When you opened your eyes, the Forbidden Forest was far younger. The trees were taller, the air less burdened with ghosts. You tasted autumn in your throat. Time had slipped backward, cruel and nameless, and dropped you into a decade where your existence was an error.
But you were alive.
Alone.
You spent the first week haunting the forest’s edge like a ghost, walking its shadowed paths with trembling hands. You whispered Harry’s name into the wind, over and over, as if he might somehow hear you across time. You expected Ron to stumble through the underbrush, muddy and panting, calling you an idiot for getting yourself cursed. You waited for Hermione’s clever hands to grab your wrist and yank you back into the war.
But they never came.
Instead, you stood before the castle doors—haunted and hollow—and walked back into the school you had already left behind.
── .✦
You were sorted into Slytherin. The Hat perched on your head seemed to hum with ancient curiosity, peeling back your layers and tasting the war on your tongue.
“Oh,” it murmured, almost gently. “You’ve already fought your battles, haven’t you?”
You squeezed your eyes shut. Please, just make it quick.
It considered you carefully. Measured the iron and fire in your bones, the loyalty stitched so violently into your chest.
But it placed you in Slytherin, and you didn’t argue. You were already too tired to protest.
── .✦
It started with James. It was always James.
He had a terrible habit of appearing out of nowhere. You’d be walking down the hall, perfectly content to avoid unnecessary attention, when suddenly, his arm would be slung over your shoulders as if it belonged there.
“You’ve got to stop looking so suspicious, snake,” he drawled one day, grinning lazily. “People might start thinking you’re up to something.”
You glanced at him, unimpressed. “I am up to something.”
James’s eyes sparkled mischievously. “Yeah?” he smirked, leaning closer, voice low with mock suspicion. “Planning to kidnap me? Hex me into oblivion? Steal my heart?”
You deadpanned. “I was thinking more along the lines of poisoning your pumpkin juice, but sure.”
He laughed far too loudly for the middle of the corridor, earning glares from passing professors.
“Oh, she’s funny,” he announced loudly to no one in particular, hands over his heart. “Merlin, I think I’m in love.”
You shoved him off, fighting the way your stomach fluttered, but he caught your wrist before you could escape. His grip was firm but gentle, and when you glanced at him over your shoulder, his eyes were far too soft.
“Let me walk you to class,” he murmured, the grin slipping into something warmer.
You should have told him no. But you didn’t.
── .✦
You found yourself tangled with the Marauders far too quickly.
They were impossible to avoid—loud and ungovernable, a storm of mischief and chaos that you had no hope of resisting. You were stolen into their orbit before you could fight it, dragged into their endless schemes and reckless antics.
One morning, you were sitting by the lake, boots kicked off, enjoying the rare sliver of peace. You had foolishly thought you were alone.
Then a shadow fell over you.
“Hello there, Slytherin,” Sirius Black’s voice drawled lazily from above you.
You didn’t bother looking up. “Go away, Black.”
Sirius plopped himself down beside you, entirely ignoring your protest. He stretched out his legs with a contented sigh, as if he belonged there.
Moments later, James appeared, dropping down beside you with a casual grin.
“Morning, love,” he greeted cheerfully, far too pleased with himself.
You narrowed your eyes. “Why do you sound so smug?”
James’s grin widened. “Oh, no reason. I may have just turned McGonagall’s teacup into a toad. But, you know, totally hypothetical.”
You stared at him. “You’re going to die one day, you know that, right?”
“Probably,” James agreed easily, slinging an arm around your shoulders with infuriating charm. “But at least I’ll die with you scolding me. Very romantic.”
Before you could shove him into the lake, Remus strolled over with an exasperated sigh. He paused, taking in the sight of James practically draped over you, and arched a brow.
“Are you bothering her again?” Remus asked, voice dry as parchment.
James beamed. “She likes it.”
You snorted. “I loathe it.”
Sirius, clearly feeling left out, threw himself dramatically into your lap, draping one arm across his forehead with an exaggerated sigh.
“Why,” he drawled dramatically, “why does she only have eyes for James?”
You shoved him half-heartedly, but he only cackled and threw his arms around your waist.
“Get off me, Black!” you spluttered.
James, narrowing his eyes with faux jealousy, nudged Sirius none too gently with his knee. “Oi, off. She’s mine.”
Sirius gasped, clutching his chest. “Yours? Possessive much, Prongs? I knew you were a selfish bastard, but this—this is heartbreaking.”
James rolled his eyes, giving you an exaggerated look of betrayal. “Are you cheating on me with my best mate?”
You snorted. “If I were, you’d deserve it.”
Peter arrived late to the scene, holding a half-eaten pastry, and squinted at the chaos. “Wait—are you two dating?” he asked, blinking between you and James.
“Of course we are,” James said with mock indignation, eyes glinting wickedly. “Didn’t you get the wedding invitation, Wormtail?”
Sirius, still sprawled across your legs, clutched at your hand. “It’s true! She’s only marrying him for his money, you know. I tried to warn him.”
You shoved Sirius off you with a laugh, but James caught your wrist before you could scramble away. His grip was warm, his fingers curling around yours, far gentler than they should have been. When you glanced at him, his eyes were bright with mischief—but there was something softer beneath it. Something you weren’t quite ready to name.
And you hated that you didn’t pull away. Hated how much you liked the way he held on.
── .✦
You should have left. You should have walked away.
But when James kissed you for the first time beneath the clock tower, you let yourself fall.
── .✦
There are no stars tonight—only the burn of borrowed time.
James kissed you in every corner of Hogwarts.
He kissed you by the Black Lake, where the reeds bent with the wind and the water lapped at your boots. He kissed you in the hidden passageways behind the tapestry of Gregory the Smarmy, his fingers fisted in your robes, dragging you against him as if he could anchor you there forever.
And you let him. You let him because he didn’t know the truth.
He didn’t know that when you kissed him, you were tasting borrowed time. That when you clutched at his robes, you were holding on to something already slipping through your fingers.
Because you knew. You knew that one day he would look at you and see nothing but betrayal.
And when the truth finally came—it broke you.
── .✦
It was never meant to slip out.
You had spent months dodging questions, weaving careful half-truths and white lies. James had been curious, of course. He was a Gryffindor, after all—reckless and brash, always needing to know why.
But he trusted you. And it made it too easy to lie.
Until one night, when it all came unraveled.
── .✦
It happened in the Gryffindor common room.
The fire had burned low, its light casting long, honeyed shadows across the rug where the Marauders sat sprawled in their usual disarray. Sirius was lounging with his head in Remus’s lap, tossing Bertie Bott’s beans at Peter, who swatted at him with a scowl. James sat on the floor with his back against the couch, legs stretched out, fingers idly playing with the fraying hem of your sleeve.
You had barely noticed. You were too lost in the sound of their laughter, the way their voices filled the room—so young, so unbroken. For a moment, you let yourself forget. You let yourself imagine that this was your world. That you belonged here.
And then Sirius, ever reckless with his sharp-edged tongue, grinned at you through half-lidded eyes.
“So, how’d a Slytherin like you get mixed up with the likes of us?” he teased, lazily twirling his wand between his fingers. “You never did say, y’know.”
You smiled faintly, already preparing a half-hearted lie. “Fate, I suppose.”
But Sirius was grinning now, mischievous and sharp. “Come on,” he pressed. “I want a proper story. Surely you’ve got some deep, dark secret.”
Your breath caught slightly.
James must have felt the way you tensed beneath his touch. His fingers stilled against your sleeve, and he glanced at you, concern flaring subtly in his eyes.
But you forced a laugh, too light, too strained. “I hate to disappoint, Black,” you said, voice tight, “but I’m painfully boring.”
“Liar,” Sirius grinned, poking you in the ribs with his wand.
And then— Without meaning to— Without thinking—
You said his name.
You said it softly, a slip of the tongue, a betrayal on your lips.
“Harry.”
The room fell silent.
For a heartbeat, the only sound was the low crackle of the dying fire.
And then James stilled.
The playful glint in his eyes vanished, his fingers curling slightly in the fabric of your sleeve. You felt the tension flood his limbs—the subtle stiffening of his spine, the sudden sharpness in his breath.
He turned slowly to look at you.
“Who?” His voice was low, almost gentle.
Too gentle. Like the eye of a storm.
Your throat tightened. You opened your mouth, scrambling for a lie, but the name hung between you—raw and damning.
Sirius frowned. “Who’s Harry?”
And James— James was already staring at you, the light in his eyes splintering into something sharp, something disbelieving.
You tried to move, but his hand shot out, gripping your wrist with a force that was far too desperate.
“Wait,” he murmured, voice hoarse. “Wait.”
The others were watching now, their laughter gone, eyes narrowed in confusion. But James—James wasn’t looking at them. He was only looking at you.
“Say it again,” he breathed. His voice cracked. “Who did you just say?”
You opened your mouth. Nothing came.
James’s grip tightened slightly, his knuckles white around your wrist. His voice, usually so steady, shook.
“Please.”
You felt yourself tremble. Because you couldn’t lie anymore. Not to him. Not when he was holding you like that— As if you were already slipping through his fingers.
And so you whispered it. Soft. Barely louder than a breath.
“Harry.”
The color drained from James’s face.
He dropped your wrist like it burned him, his hand falling limply to his side. His mouth opened slightly, but no words came—only a sharp breath, hitched and uneven.
“Harry,” he echoed, voice hollow.
You saw it then— The moment the pieces fit together. The realization in his eyes. The slow, devastating comprehension.
And then he was on his feet.
“James—” you started, reaching for him.
But he stumbled backward, out of reach. His chest was heaving slightly, his hands shaking at his sides.
“Don’t,” he croaked.
Sirius and Remus were on their feet now, eyes wide and confused.
“James, what the bloody hell is going on?” Sirius demanded.
But James only shook his head. He took another step back, looking at you as if he had never seen you before.
And then he turned and left.
── .✦
You found him in the Astronomy Tower.
The night was cold, the stars scattered wide and indifferent. He was leaning against the stone railing, knuckles white where his hands gripped the edge, his back to you.
“James,” you breathed softly.
He didn’t turn around. He didn’t look at you.
“Who is he?” His voice was hoarse, barely louder than a whisper.
You stared at him. The boy you loved. The boy you were going to lose.
You swallowed hard. “He’s your son.”
James stiffened. His knuckles went even whiter against the stone. For a long moment, he didn’t move.
And then he exhaled, sharp and broken.
“My son,” he repeated slowly, voice cracking. “From the future.”
You stepped toward him, cautiously, as if you might scare him off.
“I didn’t mean for you to find out,” you rasped. “I—I didn’t know how to tell you. I—”
But James spun around sharply, and his eyes—oh, his eyes.
They were wide and wild, brimming with too much emotion for one person to hold.
“You lied to me,” he choked.
You shook your head violently. “No, I didn’t—James, I didn’t lie—”
“You knew!” His voice cracked, sharp with anguish. “You knew this whole time. And you let me—” His voice broke, and he dragged a shaking hand through his hair. “You let me love you anyway.”
Your throat tightened, your heart splintering in your chest.
“James,” you whispered.
But he only stared at you, eyes glimmering with disbelief, with heartbreak.
“You’re not mine,” he rasped, voice raw. “You never were.”
You choked on a sob, closing the distance between you. Your hands cupped his face, trembling fingers brushing against his cheeks.
But when you leaned in—when you pressed your mouth against his, desperate and pleading— He didn’t kiss you back.
He only stood there, motionless, as your lips pressed against his. And when you pulled away, he was already slipping through your fingers.
But you didn’t let go. And somehow, impossibly, he didn’t either.
── .✦
There are no stars tonight—only the slow ruin of hearts breaking in real time.
You stood in the Astronomy Tower long after James had gone.
The stone railing was still warm from where his hands had been, but the boy himself—the boy with honey eyes and a wicked grin—was gone. You pressed trembling fingers against the cold stone, the ache splintering in your chest so violently you thought it might hollow you out.
And you stayed there. Even after the stars grew weary. Even after the wind bit cruelly at your skin.
Because the only thing worse than knowing James Potter might never love you again— Was knowing that he once did.
── .✦
You tried everything to make it right.
But he was gone.
He was still there, of course—still James, still a boy with fire in his chest and golden laughter in his throat. But he was no longer your James.
He stopped sitting beside you at breakfast. He stopped brushing against your arm when you walked beside him.
He didn’t meet your eyes when you passed him in the corridor. Didn’t glance at you when Sirius slung an arm around your shoulders in the common room.
It was worse than hatred. Because there was no fire in his eyes. Only distance.
And you were drowning in it.
── .✦
The Marauders noticed. Of course they did.
You were walking beside Remus one morning, heading toward Transfiguration, when he slowed his pace, falling into step beside you. He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, too perceptive by half.
“You look tired,” he murmured softly.
You offered him a weak smile. “I’m fine.”
Remus sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You’re not fine,” he countered gently, his voice low. “And he’s not fine either.”
You didn’t say anything. You only gripped your books tighter.
And Remus—Remus, who had always known how to read you—lowered his voice slightly.
“He still looks at you, you know,” he murmured, so softly it was nearly lost to the crowd.
Your throat tightened.
You didn’t ask who he meant. You didn’t have to.
── .✦
You tried. Merlin, you tried.
You cornered James in the hallway once, days later.
You didn’t think. You just grabbed his wrist as he walked by, gripping him too tightly, too desperate. His breath hitched slightly at the contact, but he didn’t pull away. He didn’t meet your eyes either.
“James,” you rasped, your voice barely louder than a breath. “Please.”
You didn’t even know what you were begging for. But it didn’t matter.
Because James closed his eyes, as if you hurt him just by standing there, and carefully pried your hand from his wrist.
And he walked away without saying a word.
── .✦
You started avoiding him after that.
If he didn’t want you, you wouldn’t force him to see you. You let him have his space. You sat at the Slytherin table for meals again, pretending you didn’t feel his eyes burning into your back.
You stopped walking by the Quidditch pitch in the evenings, unwilling to watch him practice, unwilling to risk seeing him so golden and alive when you were breaking apart.
You no longer reached for him when you were cold. You no longer leaned against him in the common room. You no longer laughed when he tugged at your hair or stole the last of your pumpkin pasty.
And you told yourself it was for the best.
But oh— It hurt.
── .✦
You were going to give up.
You had almost made your peace with it. Almost.
Until that night.
── .✦
It was raining. The sort of rain that slapped against the windows in sheets, a relentless downpour that filled the corridors with a low, mournful hum.
You had been walking back from the library, exhausted and hollow-eyed, your boots heavy against the stone floor. Your hair was damp from the drizzle that had clung to you on your way back from the Owlery.
You didn’t even see him at first.
James was standing by the window at the end of the corridor, his back turned to you. His hands were braced against the sill, shoulders hunched slightly, damp curls clinging to the nape of his neck.
You should have walked away. You should have kept going.
But you didn’t.
You stood there, watching him in the half-light, letting yourself pretend for one final moment that he still belonged to you.
And then you turned. Ready to leave. Ready to walk away.
But then he spoke.
“Don’t.”
His voice was low, hoarse—so quiet you barely heard it over the rain.
You froze, your breath catching in your throat.
And slowly, slowly, James turned around.
You saw his face, and your heart splintered. Because he was staring at you the way he once did. Like he was falling. Like he was still falling.
And then he was moving. Two steps, then three— And suddenly he was right in front of you, too close, his chest heaving slightly.
For a heartbeat, neither of you moved. You only stared at each other— Breathless. Broken.
And then he cupped your face with trembling hands, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks as if memorizing the shape of you.
“I hate you,” he rasped.
Your throat tightened.
“I know,” you whispered brokenly.
But James shook his head sharply, his grip tightening slightly. His voice cracked, raw and uneven.
“No, you don’t,” he choked. “I hate you for making me fall in love with you, knowing you’d leave.” His breath hitched. “I hate you for letting me hold you when you already belonged to a different time.”
You squeezed your eyes shut, a sharp sob splintering in your throat. “James—”
But his hands tightened on your face, trembling slightly, pulling you closer.
“And I hate,” he whispered brokenly, forehead pressed against yours, “that I never stopped loving you.”
You let out a soft, broken sob— And then you were kissing him.
Hard. Furious. Desperate.
Your hands fisted in his robes, dragging him closer, anchoring yourself to him. And James—James was everywhere. His hands slipped into your hair, fingers tangling desperately, as if he could keep you there forever.
When you pulled away, both of you were gasping. His forehead pressed against yours, his breath uneven, his eyes burning.
“You idiot,” you whispered softly, trembling against him. “You absolute idiot. I was never going to leave you.”
James let out a low, choked sound, half-sob, half-laugh, and then he was kissing you again.
And this time— When he held you, He didn’t let go.
── .✦
You stayed. Time bent for you.
The war came. You fought beside him. You saved them all—James, Lily, Harry. The future was rewritten, the grief undone.
And when you stood with James beneath the canopy of a thousand stars, his hands holding yours, you pressed your lips to his knuckles and whispered,
“I would have loved you in every timeline, you know.”
And he smiled. Because he already knew.
── .✦
Time is not linear. It bends for love. It always does.
── .✦
You never thought you’d get to see it—the future you were fighting for.
But somehow, impossibly, you did. And it was beautiful.
── .✦
The war ended differently this time.
Voldemort fell. Not in the ruins of Godric’s Hollow or the halls of Hogwarts, but in a forest clearing, far from the children who should never have had to bleed for a future that should have been theirs.
You were there beside James. You fought with him—back to back, his voice hoarse with spells and shouted warnings, his hand reaching for yours even in the chaos.
And when it was over—when the last curse had been cast and the world stood still—James found you in the crowd.
His hands were shaking when he grabbed you. His knuckles bloodied, his robes torn, his hair damp with sweat. But his eyes were bright and wild and alive.
And he kissed you like you were oxygen. Like he had spent a lifetime holding his breath. Like he had been waiting for you across a thousand timelines.
── .✦
You stood beside him when the world was rebuilt.
You were there when Sirius was declared innocent, when he was free to walk into the sun with his head held high, grinning like a boy unburdened by ghosts.
You were there when Remus spoke softly in the quiet hours of the morning, voice trembling with hope, confessing that he had always wanted more than to simply survive.
You were there when Harry was born—alive and safe. When James held his son in his arms and cried without shame, his tears falling into the wild tufts of black hair on the baby’s head.
And you were there when James placed a trembling kiss against your temple, Harry cradled between you, and whispered,
“We did it.”
── .✦
Two years later, you were standing beside James at Lily and Severus’s wedding.
You had almost laughed when the invitation arrived. The ornate script, written in Lily’s elegant hand, had carried far too much smugness for a simple piece of parchment. The words had been formal and lovely, but you could still hear her voice in them—sweet and knowing, the subtext far too clear.
Told you so.
And now, standing in the evening glow of the wedding canopy, you watched as the girl with fire-bright hair clasped her hands with the boy who had once nearly lost her forever.
Severus stood at the altar, tall and lean, still a little stoic, still a little brooding—but there was softness in his eyes. A gentleness in the way he held Lily’s hands, his thumb brushing over her knuckles with quiet reverence.
And Lily—oh, she was radiant. Her hair was loose and wild, tumbling down her back in copper curls, adorned with tiny white flowers that twined through the strands. Her smile was bright enough to soften even Snape’s sharp edges, her eyes crinkling slightly at the corners as she gazed at him with unguarded adoration.
You glanced at James, who was watching them with a boyish grin, his arms folded lazily across his chest. His hair was windswept and unruly as always, the golden sunset catching the edges and turning them molten.
“They’re going to be insufferable about this, you know,” James murmured with a grin, leaning slightly into your side.
You hummed softly, tilting your head toward him. “Oh, absolutely. Lily will probably gloat about being right for the next decade.”
James smirked, dark eyes glinting with mischief. “Ten galleons says Snivellus cries during the vows.”
You shot him a deadpan look. “James, you can’t bet on their wedding.”
But he only grinned wider. “What, afraid you’ll lose?”
You rolled your eyes but fought a smile, elbowing him lightly in the ribs.
And when Lily walked down the aisle—when Severus turned toward her with something painfully soft in his eyes—James slipped his hand into yours.
His fingers wove between yours, warm and steady. His thumb brushed slow circles against your palm, as if he were trying to memorize the shape of your hand.
And when you glanced at him— He was already looking at you.
His eyes were dark and golden and entirely too soft, shining with something far too raw for a wedding.
And you knew. Right then. That he was thinking about every version of you he had ever lost. Every version of you he had loved.
And so you leaned over slightly, your voice barely louder than a breath.
“Stop looking at me like that, Potter,” you murmured teasingly.
James’s lips curved slightly, but his eyes didn’t soften. They only burned brighter.
“Like what?” he whispered, his voice barely louder than the breeze, laced with unmistakable reverence.
“Like you’re in love with me,” you teased softly, arching a playful brow.
And James—James smiled softly, eyes molten with warmth, voice rough with emotion.
“I am in love with you,” he whispered simply.
And then he was leaning down, brushing his lips against yours—slow and gentle, as if the whole world had slowed just for you.
── .✦
Later, when the sun had dipped below the horizon and the stars spilled carelessly across the sky, you stood in the garden with James, Harry fast asleep in his arms.
The evening was warm, the wind gentle, carrying the faint sound of music from the reception. The canopy was still aglow with golden lights, casting everything in soft, honeyed hues.
You watched as James shifted Harry carefully in his arms, his hand splayed protectively across his son’s back. The baby snuffled softly against his chest, tiny hands curled into fists, his breathing slow and steady.
You reached out, brushing a soft lock of hair from Harry’s forehead, and James glanced at you.
For a moment, neither of you spoke. You only stood there, bathed in the amber glow of the evening, watching the stars blink sleepily overhead.
And then James, voice barely louder than a whisper, murmured,
“Marry me.”
You froze.
Your eyes flicked to him, searching his face—certain you had misheard. But James was only looking at you softly, his eyes wide and unguarded, his voice steady despite the slight tremor in his hand.
You stared at him, your heart stuttering violently.
“James,” you breathed softly, barely able to say his name.
But he only smiled. Soft and slow and so achingly sincere.
“Marry me,” he whispered again. His voice was hoarse, barely louder than a breath. “I—I know it’s sudden. I know we’ve already stolen so much time. But—” He exhaled sharply, his voice breaking slightly. “I want this. With you. Always.”
You stared at him, your throat tightening, your eyes burning with tears you couldn’t hold back.
And when you reached for him—when your hand pressed against his cheek and you nodded, unable to speak through the lump in your throat—James let out a shaky, disbelieving breath.
And he kissed you.
Soft and trembling and impossibly tender, tasting of hope and home and every version of you he had ever loved.
And you kissed him back— Knowing that this time, In this life, You were his forever.
── .✦
Love is timeless. It does not belong to one lifetime. It exists across all of them.
── .✦
You were trembling.
Not with fear, not exactly. But with something bigger. Something heavier.
The morning sun spilled through the enormous windows of the bridal suite, bathing everything in soft, golden hues. You stood barefoot on the cool stone floor, wrapped in a silk dressing gown, staring at your reflection in the floor-length mirror.
Your fingers were cold. Your knees felt a little weak.
You were getting married. To James Potter.
And somehow, the thought made it harder to breathe.
Not because you were afraid. But because the weight of happiness pressed so fiercely against your chest, you thought it might shatter you.
── .✦
“Are you trying to hyperventilate, or does that just come naturally?”
You glanced over your shoulder to find Bellatrix standing in the doorway, one dark brow arched, her lips curled into a smirk.
She was stunning, as always, dressed in elegant silver robes that caught the morning light, the fabric shimmering faintly as she stepped into the room. Her black curls tumbled in perfect, wicked waves down her back, and her eyes glimmered with mischief.
But when she saw the trembling in your hands, the playful glint softened slightly.
“Hey,” she murmured, striding over, her voice low and surprisingly gentle. She took your hands in hers, squeezing them slightly. “You’re all right.”
You let out a shaky breath, laughing weakly. “I feel like I might pass out.”
Bellatrix’s lips twitched faintly. “I mean, if you want to cause a scene at your own wedding, be my guest. Would be pretty dramatic. Very on brand.”
You let out a watery laugh, squeezing her hands.
And then you felt a soft hand on your shoulder.
Narcissa appeared beside you, her pale blonde hair cascading in soft waves over her shoulders. She was elegant and ethereal, dressed in ice-blue robes that brought out the sharp cut of her eyes. But her voice, as always, was soft.
“You look beautiful,” she murmured, reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair from your face.
You swallowed thickly, your throat tightening.
And then there was Lily.
She stepped into the room, her auburn hair glimmering with tiny pearls woven into the braid that circled her crown. Her smile was impossibly bright, her eyes warm with too much emotion.
She held up a handkerchief dramatically. “Don’t even think about crying yet,” she teased, her voice trembling slightly despite her playful tone. “Save it for the aisle, or I swear, I’ll hex you.”
You let out a strangled laugh, already blinking back tears.
And when the three of them crowded around you—Bellatrix playfully poking at your hair, Narcissa fastening the delicate bracelet around your wrist, and Lily brushing a bit of gloss onto your lips—you felt the trembling in your hands finally still.
── .✦
The music began to play.
You stood at the edge of the garden, your hands trembling slightly around the bouquet of white lilies and wildflowers. The sun was warm against your face, the sky a soft, cloudless blue, the air perfumed with the scent of roses and honeysuckle.
And then— Harry, your precious little ring bearer, toddled out onto the stone pathway.
He was dressed in a tiny, perfectly tailored black suit, with his wild black hair sticking up in every possible direction. He held the little velvet pillow in his small hands, his bright green eyes wide with delight as the crowd let out a collective coo.
When he spotted you standing in the archway, his face split into a gap-toothed grin, and he squealed,
“Mummy!”
You let out a watery laugh, your chest tightening painfully.
But when you finally took that first step— When you slowly made your way down the aisle, surrounded by the people you loved— Your eyes found only one person.
James.
And oh, he was already crying.
You saw him before he saw you. Standing there at the end of the aisle, dressed in tailored black dress robes, the collar slightly askew, his hair hopelessly messy in that perfectly disheveled way. His hands were trembling faintly at his sides, his lips parted slightly as he stared at you.
And when his eyes finally met yours— His breath caught audibly in his throat.
You saw the moment it hit him. The moment he realized that this was real. That he wasn’t dreaming. That you were walking toward him— To be his. Forever.
And then he let out a sharp, uneven breath, his eyes glimmering with unshed tears. He dragged a hand roughly through his hair, laughing wetly through the emotion clogging his throat.
Sirius, standing beside him, smirked and clapped him roughly on the back, grinning smugly. “Told you you’d cry, mate.”
James sniffled, his voice breaking slightly. “Shut up, Pads.”
And then his eyes were back on you.
And he was beaming. Like he was seeing the sun for the first time. Like he was falling in love with you all over again.
You barely remembered walking the rest of the way. All you could see was him.
And when you finally reached him—when he took your trembling hands in his—you felt your whole chest constrict.
Because he was crying so softly, his thumbs brushing over your knuckles as if he were trying to memorize the shape of you. His hands were warm and trembling, his voice rough with emotion.
“You’re so beautiful,” he choked, voice barely louder than a breath. His eyes burned fiercely, glassy and golden. “You’re—you’re so beautiful, love.”
You let out a watery laugh, squeezing his hands.
And then the vows came.
James was shaking slightly when he slipped the ring onto your finger. His voice cracked halfway through the words, and he let out a shaky, breathless laugh, blinking rapidly.
His hands were warm, his eyes glassy and reverent as he whispered the words against your knuckles.
“I choose you,” he murmured, his voice trembling. “I’ll always choose you. In every time, in every life. It’s you.”
And when you pressed your trembling lips to his—when you felt his hands tighten desperately at your waist, holding you as though you might slip away—you knew.
That you had never belonged to just one lifetime. You had belonged to all of them. To him. Always.
── .✦
Later, when the sun was low and the garden was alight with golden lanterns, you stood with James in the orchard.
The reception carried on behind you—the clinking of glasses and soft laughter drifting through the night—but James didn’t seem to care.
He had abandoned his tie long ago, and his hair was a mess of unruly curls, golden in the lantern glow. His arms were wrapped around you, holding you too tightly, as if he was still afraid you might disappear.
“You’re mine now,” he whispered playfully against your ear, his voice low and honeyed, pressing soft kisses against your neck.
You smiled against his shoulder. “I was always yours.”
James pulled back slightly, eyes dark and molten. His voice softened, barely louder than a breath.
“You’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” he whispered hoarsely.
And when you kissed him beneath the canopy of golden lights, with the stars spilling wide and endless above you, James Potter held you like he had loved you across a thousand timelines.
Because he had. And he always would.
── .✦
Time had bent for you. It had splintered and unraveled and stitched itself back together just to bring you here— Into his arms. Where you were always meant to be.
── .✦
The stars were burning softly above the orchard, spilling across the inky blackness in glimmering constellations, as if the entire universe had come to witness the ending of your story.
Or rather, the beginning of it.
Because you weren’t running anymore. You weren’t slipping between timelines or losing yourself to fate. You were here—rooted firmly in this life, this time, with James Potter’s hands tangled in yours.
And Merlin, he was still looking at you like he couldn’t quite believe you were real.
── .✦
The reception was still alive behind you—laughter and music floating lazily through the orchard. Golden lanterns swung gently from the low branches, casting honeyed light over the dark grass.
But James didn’t seem to notice any of it.
You were his whole world.
His tie was long discarded, and his robes hung loosely around him, a few buttons undone at his collar. His hair—already unruly from the hours of dancing—was an utter mess, windswept and falling into his eyes in hopeless curls.
He was absolutely breathtaking.
And he was holding you too tightly, like he still wasn’t entirely convinced you were real.
“Merlin, I can’t stop looking at you,” he murmured, his voice rough with something deeper than reverence. His thumb brushed slowly over the back of your hand. “You’re so—bloody hell, look at you.”
You let out a breathless laugh, warmth blooming in your chest. “You’re making me sound like some divine vision, Potter,” you teased softly.
James’s lips curved slightly, but his eyes softened with something almost dangerous—something entirely too raw and reverent.
“Because you are,” he murmured, his voice so low it made your skin flush.
Your breath caught slightly at the weight of his words. At the warmth in his eyes. At the softness in his touch.
And then—because you were helpless against him—you reached up, brushing your fingers softly through his windswept hair. You let the tips of your fingers trail down the side of his face, tracing the sharp edge of his jaw.
James’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment. His breath stuttered slightly, the warmth of it fanning against your wrist.
And when he opened them again— His eyes were dark. Molten. Utterly ruined by you.
── .✦
You didn’t know how long you stood there, swaying slightly in the golden lamplight. You didn’t know how many times James pressed his lips to your knuckles, as if trying to memorize the feel of you in his hands.
But you knew that you weren’t in a hurry.
You let him pull you close, let him bury his face against your neck, breathing you in like you were air. His arms were loose around your waist, his thumbs slipping beneath the fabric of your dress, brushing slow, idle circles against the small of your back.
And when you shifted slightly in his arms, leaning into him— James let out a low, breathless sound that made your skin flush beneath the fabric of your dress.
── .✦
“Dance with me,” he murmured against your ear, his breath warm against your throat.
You let out a breathless laugh. “James, there’s no music out here.”
But he only pulled back slightly, his eyes glimmering with boyish mischief. “Since when do I need music to dance with my wife?”
The word wife sent a shiver down your spine, settling warm and heavy in your chest. And he must have seen it in your eyes. Because James’s lips curled into a wicked grin.
“Oh, you like that, don’t you?” he murmured, voice low and teasing, his nose brushing lightly against yours. “You like being my wife.”
You let out a soft, breathless laugh, rolling your eyes. “I suppose it has its perks,” you teased lightly.
James’s grin widened, his voice a low, playful rasp. “Oh, does it?”
And then he was spinning you in the dim light of the orchard, twirling you beneath the canopy of golden lanterns, his hands warm and steady in yours.
You laughed breathlessly as he tugged you close, arms winding securely around you. You pressed your face against his chest, letting the steady rhythm of his heartbeat settle against your cheek.
And James— James pressed his lips against your temple, his voice a low, lazy drawl.
“You’re stuck with me now,” he murmured playfully against your hair, his hands sliding slowly, reverently over your back. “No take-backs. You married me. It’s legally binding and everything.”
You let out a soft, breathless laugh, tilting your head back to meet his eyes. And Merlin, he was still looking at you with so much love it made your knees weak.
“Oh, I think I’ll manage,” you teased lightly, brushing your fingertips over the back of his neck.
James’s eyes glimmered with warmth, but his voice softened, barely louder than a breath.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered reverently, as if saying it too loudly would shatter you. His thumb traced along your cheekbone, eyes dark with awe. “You’re—you’re so bloody beautiful, love.”
You leaned into his touch, your lips parting softly.
And then he was kissing you.
Softly at first. Slow and reverent, his lips barely brushing over yours— As if he were still tasting the promise of forever on your mouth.
But then— Then the kiss deepened.
James’s hands slid lower, gripping your waist tightly, pulling you flush against him. You let out a soft, surprised gasp, and James swallowed the sound with a low, breathless hum, his lips dragging over yours with slow, teasing purpose.
His fingers splayed over the small of your back, slipping just beneath the fabric of your dress, his touch impossibly warm. He pressed you closer, as if he could make you a part of him— As if he were still afraid you might slip through his fingers.
“Merlin, I love you,” he rasped against your lips, his voice low and uneven, hoarse with longing. His teeth grazed your bottom lip slightly, sending a delicious shiver down your spine.
And oh— You were trembling slightly in his arms. Not with nervousness. But with want.
And James— James, who had always been golden and mischievous and utterly smitten— Noticed immediately.
His eyes darkened slightly. His lips parted faintly, breath uneven.
“Love,” he murmured lowly, his voice rough around the edges, “if you keep looking at me like that, I might do something utterly indecent at our wedding reception.”
You let out a breathless laugh, cheeks flushing faintly. “Oh? That’s unlike you, Potter,” you teased, your voice barely louder than a murmur.
And James— Oh, he grinned wickedly, lowering his mouth to your ear.
“You have no idea, Mrs. Potter.”
His voice was a low rasp, his lips grazing the shell of your ear with slow, torturous reverence. His breath was warm against your skin, and his fingers—Merlin, his fingers were dangerously slow as they traced teasing circles along your spine.
Your breath caught slightly, your heart hammering violently in your chest. And James—James only grinned wider.
“Shall we sneak away, love?” he murmured silkily, brushing a teasing kiss against your throat, lips warm and deliberate. “Or do I have to suffer through another hour of dancing with respectable people before I get you all to myself?”
You laughed softly, breathless, your cheeks warm and flushed.
And when you leaned up on your toes, brushing your lips teasingly against his, you whispered,
“Take me home, Mr. Potter.”
And James— James smiled against your lips, utterly ruined by you. Because you already were. You always had been. His home.
── .✦
The universe had been cruel. It had torn you from your timeline, stripped you from the arms of the people you loved, and scattered you across history. But in return— It gave you this. Him. Them. A future you had never dared to dream of.
── .✦
The cottage was small, but it was yours.
Tucked away in the countryside, hidden behind sprawling fields of wildflowers and enchanted thickets, it stood like something out of a dream. The stone walls were weathered but sturdy, honey-gold in the morning sun. The windows were always open, letting in the scent of lavender and fresh-cut grass, and the chimney was forever puffing lazy ribbons of smoke into the sky.
It wasn’t grand. It wasn’t a manor. But it was warm and worn and safe. And it was home.
── .✦
You awoke slowly to the feel of warm, slightly chapped lips pressing soft, lazy kisses along your shoulder.
You let out a drowsy sigh, rolling over slightly to meet James’s half-lidded gaze. His hair was an absolute mess—dark and rumpled and deliciously wild against the pillows. His eyes were still heavy with sleep, golden in the morning light, and he was looking at you like you were the first sunrise he had ever seen.
“Morning, Mrs. Potter,” he murmured hoarsely, voice thick with sleep, his lips brushing lightly over the tip of your nose.
You smiled faintly, brushing a hand through his hair. “Morning, Mr. Potter.”
James let out a soft, contented hum, burying his face into the curve of your neck. His arms tightened slightly around your waist, pulling you closer, as if the entire bed were too big without you in his arms.
“Mmm, don’t move,” he grumbled drowsily, his voice muffled against your skin. “You’re warm. Stay right here. Forever.”
You let out a sleepy laugh, running your fingers lazily through the thick curls at the nape of his neck.
But then— A loud crash echoed from the hallway, followed by the unmistakable sound of something heavy hitting the floor.
You and James froze.
Then— The distinct sound of tiny, gleeful giggles.
James groaned dramatically, his face still buried against your throat. “Your son is a menace,” he mumbled, voice muffled with mock exhaustion.
You smiled, brushing your lips lightly against the crown of his head. “Our son,” you corrected softly, but there was nothing but adoration in your voice.
James let out a low, exaggerated groan, flopping onto his back. “Merlin help me.”
And then the bedroom door burst open.
“Da!! Mummy!!”
Harry, still in his little blue pajamas, came sprinting into the room, clutching a suspiciously bent toy broom in one hand. His wild black hair was an absolute disaster—sticking up in every possible direction, an adorable replica of his father’s morning mess. His green eyes were wide with childish delight, a bright, mischievous grin tugging at his tiny lips.
He launched himself onto the bed with absolutely no regard for either of you.
James let out a low oof as Harry pounced onto his chest, sprawling over him with all the elegance of a baby thestral.
“Merlin’s beard, Prongs Junior!” James groaned dramatically, mock-gasping for air. “You’re going to break my ribs, you absolute menace.”
But Harry only grinned wider, clearly unimpressed with his father’s suffering, and bounced gleefully on James’s chest.
James made a loud, strangled, dying-man sort of sound, throwing his head back with mock agony. “Darling!! Help me! Our son is trying to murder me!”
You arched a brow, lips twitching. “Oh no,” you deadpanned flatly. “How tragic.”
James shot you an utterly betrayed look, gaping at you like you had personally destroyed his soul.
“You betrayed me, wife?” he gasped, clutching his chest dramatically.
Harry squealed with delight at his father’s theatrics, utterly oblivious to James’s Oscar-worthy performance of a man meeting his untimely end.
You simply shook your head with mock solemnity, rolling your eyes. “Potter, you’re being outwitted by a four-year-old.”
James stared at you, lips twitching with mock indignation, then turned his attention back to the tiny boy currently using him as a human trampoline.
“Oi, you,” he gasped weakly at Harry, voice hoarse with false agony. “Don’t you want to save your dear old dad? Be my hero? My knight in shining armor?”
Harry only giggled maniacally, gripping his bent broomstick and declaring with great importance, “I’m gonna be a seeker!”
James let out a soft, incredulous laugh, eyes bright with warmth.
“Merlin, you’re going to give me a heart attack,” he muttered, ruffling his son’s hair fondly. But he was grinning like a fool, eyes glimmering with a ridiculous amount of pride.
You watched them quietly for a moment. James. Harry. Your entire world pressed into the same bed, giggling beneath the golden morning light.
And just for a moment— You allowed yourself to pretend you had always belonged here.
── .✦
The fireplace roared suddenly with green flames, and in strolled Sirius Black, entirely uninvited.
“Prongs!” Sirius barked cheerfully, arms flung wide as if announcing his arrival to a crowd of thousands. “I come bearing whiskey, terrible advice, and absolutely no concept of personal boundaries!”
James’s grin widened immediately. “Now there’s my responsible fatherhood role model.”
You groaned softly, covering your face with one hand. “Oh no.”
But it was already too late.
Sirius strolled into the living room like he owned the place, his black hair tousled in artful disarray, a cocky grin tugging at his lips. He bent down dramatically, ruffling Harry’s hair with enough force to make the boy squeal with delighted laughter.
“Look at you, little menace!” Sirius crowed, plucking Harry off the ground with exaggerated flair, tossing him lightly in the air. “Merlin, you’re almost as big as your old man.”
Harry squealed gleefully, grabbing at Sirius’s hair with tiny fists.
James’s eyes widened slightly. “Oi, gently, Padfoot!” he barked, though he was grinning far too widely to be genuinely concerned.
But before James could intervene, Remus strolled in through the front door, already exuding the aura of the only sane person in the room.
He shook his head fondly, running a hand through his sandy hair. “Honestly, I don’t know why I still expect you lot to act like responsible adults.”
Sirius snorted loudly, tossing Harry lightly onto the couch with a dramatic flourish.
“Responsible adults?” he sneered with mock outrage, planting a hand on his chest. “I’ll have you know, Moony, I once drank half a bottle of Fire whiskey, dueled a goblin, and convinced a centaur to let me ride him through the Forbidden Forest—all in the same night.”
Remus arched a brow, utterly unimpressed. “You also got a month’s detention and lost two teeth, if I recall correctly.”
Sirius’s eyes narrowed slightly. “That’s slander, Lupin. Absolute slander.”
You let out a soft, breathless laugh, watching them fondly. And for a moment— Just for a moment— You forgot that they had once been nothing but memories. Phantom faces in a future you could no longer reach. For now, they were here. They were real. And Merlin, you held on to them like they might slip through your fingers.
── .✦
The cottage was silent that evening—Harry long since tucked into bed, his tiny hands clutching the worn stag plush James had gifted him.
You stood by the window, staring out at the endless black, your breath fogging the glass.
And when you closed your eyes, you could see them.
Ron, throwing his head back in laughter, eyes glinting with boyish mischief. Hermione’s soft, steady voice as she carefully unwound the impossible knots of the world with quiet brilliance. And Harry—your Harry— Older. Burdened. Carrying too much weight for one boy.
You pressed your palm lightly to the windowpane, as if you could reach through the glass and touch the life you left behind.
But it was James who found you. Always.
You didn’t hear him enter the room. But you felt his arms slip around you from behind, warm and familiar. Without a word, he pressed his lips softly to your shoulder.
“Can’t sleep, darling?” he murmured softly, voice low and sleep-rough.
You swallowed thickly, leaning back into him, your fingers tangling loosely with his.
“Just thinking,” you whispered faintly.
James was quiet for a moment. And then— He squeezed you a little tighter.
“About them?” he asked softly, no accusation in his voice. Only understanding.
You nodded, your breath hitching slightly. And James— He pressed his lips against the curve of your jaw, his voice barely louder than a breath.
“You don’t have to forget them, my love,” he murmured, softly, reverently. “You just have to keep living.”
And you let him hold you. Because somehow, James knew how to make the grief feel a little softer. A little quieter. Like something you could carry, rather than be crushed beneath.
── .✦
The evening was soft and golden, the fire crackling faintly in the hearth. James was slouched in the armchair, legs dangling lazily over the side, a book balanced haphazardly on his chest. His hair was a complete mess, dark curls tumbling over his forehead.
You sat on the couch with your legs tucked beneath you, an old quilt draped over your lap, fingers absentmindedly running over the worn fabric.
The room was quiet, save for the occasional flutter of parchment as James absentmindedly flipped a page.
Then— Without warning, James’s voice broke the silence.
“Do you ever regret it?” he asked softly, his voice barely louder than a whisper.
You blinked, looking over at him, your breath catching slightly at the softness in his eyes.
“Regret what?” you asked faintly, though you already knew.
James’s eyes didn’t leave yours. “Staying,” he murmured, voice quiet and earnest. “Choosing me. Choosing this life.”
Your chest tightened slightly at the rawness in his voice—the quiet, vulnerable plea behind his words.
You were silent for a long moment. And then— You rose slowly from the couch, padding across the room and climbing into his lap.
James’s arms wound around you immediately, pulling you closer, holding you like he was still afraid you might slip away.
You pressed your lips softly to his temple, voice low and trembling with certainty.
“Never,” you whispered fiercely. “Not for a second.”
James let out a breathless sound, somewhere between a laugh and a sob, burying his face into the crook of your neck.
And he held you. And you held him back. And the life you left behind—the one you would always carry with you—felt a little lighter, a little softer.
Because here, in this time, In this life, You were home.
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into-fiction · 5 months ago
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time travel wip
in case anyone was wondering: "glinda time travels but it's from a clueless elphie's POV" was the winner for next fic to write!
---
“Hi,” Galinda whispers, her soft voice impossibly loud in Elphaba’s ears as she steps right up in front of the girl.
“Um,” Elphaba starts, thrown off balance by the way Galinda’s looking at her. Not like she’s something disgusting or even something intriguing. But like she’s something wonderful. “Hi.”
“I’m Gli- uh, Galinda,” the blonde introduces. “Galinda Upland.”
There is some sort of unreadable emotion swimming through the shimmering depths of this girl’s brown eyes, something Elphaba could drown in if given the chance. She has to visibly shake herself and take the offered hand carefully in her own. Galinda doesn’t even flinch at the touch of green skin. 
“Elphaba Thropp.”
The students are starting to whisper amongst themselves, clearly just as confused as Elphaba. Galinda doesn’t even seem to notice. She just smiles, the force of it etching a single dimple into her cheek and leaving her eyes sparkling bright. 
Pretty, Elphaba thinks. It shocks her, how easily it comes to her, but there’s really no other word for it. No one, in all her life, has ever looked at Elphaba like Galinda is right now. No one, in all her life, has ever looked this happy to see her. 
“Welcome to Shiz University, Elphaba Thropp. I have a feeling we’re going to be very good friends.”
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twst-drabbles · 5 months ago
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Lilia and Malleus 2
Summary: All that effort to send you back to the right timeline, only to be placed a few days right after Malleus was born. Well, at least you still have your neat tree house. And now you're watching his little dragon doing weird dragon things.
(Who doesn't like to think about a chubby dragon Malleus skittering across the floor the best way a dragon can? It's cute.)
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There was the sound of clawed scurrying on the floor. A small, chubby, black-scaled dragon ran across the room, or at least was attempting to. Wood floors don't exactly give him much traction, but boy was he trying. Piercing green eyes were trained on you, filled with that same kind of focused curiosity you've seen in babies that don't have much brain space for many things beyond what's in front of them. Didn't help that his pupils were wide, so clearly something about you flooded his brain.
You should probably scoop him up, but honestly, it's way funnier just to let him scurry. The struggle was endearing and you couldn't help but snort as he tried so hard to get to you faster.
"Can't even use flying magic yet." It's a little weird to think that there was a time Malleus didn't know a thing about magic. The most he could do at the moment was that reckless casting whenever he's having a tantrum, but that's about the most of it. Flying was a little more complicated, not all that difficult by all means, but very much out of the realm of possibility for a literal baby.
Finally, his little claws reached you. He attempted to scale up your legs, but was too young and too chubby, he slide right down and landed flat on his butt. His eyes were still wide and tilted his head as he stared at your face. The newborn dragon was practically sparkling in the morning sun.
"Do you really find the sight of a human, fascinating?" Lilia pushed the beaded curtain to the side as he walked in, "I suppose that's understandable, being surrounded by faeries since birth. Though, if I remember right, did you used to read to him when he was but an egg? Perhaps Malleus recognizes you. Wouldn't that be sweet?"
You carefully sat on the floor, guiding the little baby dragon's feet onto the ground so he doesn't stumble. "Would be, though I doubt it." Immediately, Malleus stood up as tall as he could, stretching himself up so his small face would be level with yours. You blinked, then blew a sharp breath aimed at his nose. He fell back as if you flicked him and landed on a soft carpet.
"Ah, are you okay?" This fussy version of Lilia is one you're familiar with, but not with the current appearance that he has. He still has his long hair, his eyes still sharp and a bit paranoid, but he has significantly mellowed out in the time you were gone.
Ha… all that work to send you back to your timeline, only for the magic to plop you right after Malleus was born… many, many, many years later.
Malleus shook off Lilia's hand and stood right back up. He's glaring at you as bratty kids do and all you could do was grin.
"Nice to see you've been born safely, Hornton."
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catsoupki · 1 year ago
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bakugou, who’s now well into his early thirties, has collected enough hero of the year awards, so he goes vacationing a lot; his favourite places would be rural areas that offer good food and are usually on the hotter and more humid side
you meet him in a five-star hotel in malaysia, it was 6 pm, the sun is setting and you’re alone in the pool, having been sent here for a business trip, it’s the last few days and you get to have them to yourself, it’s cool and quiet, kids who splash around in the shallow areas have gone back to their hotel rooms and families have started looking to tourist spots for food
the sun is golden and gentle on your countenance with your face still dripping with water, you hear someone swim up next to you to land themselves onto the swim-up bar next to the infinity pool, you give them a glance while moving your cocktail glass farther to give them space, and holy fucking shit he’s blonde, he’s ripped and his face rests so pretty
‘hey, i’m y/n, where’re you from?’ you smile as nicely as you can, timid in nature from his intimidating glow, ‘i’m bakugou, i’m from japan,’ the way he speaks has a nice accent to it, fluent but not entirely native, it makes his otherwise rough voice soft.
‘you travelling alone?’ he asks after a moment of silence passes, you don’t look at him but continue gazing at the now purple clouds, the sun is slowly dipping behind the islands from afar, it looks majestic.
‘mhm, i probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but i have some faith,’ you hum, the way you finish your sentence is a gateway and an invitation for him to continue speaking, and he takes the bait with enlightenment, ‘you drink yeah? there’s a bar on the rooftop that i’ve been meaning to go to, so come with me?’
you look away from the mesmerising sky and at the mouth-watering sight next to you, the way he looks at you makes you uncharacteristically shy, you blush and head towards the ladders, ‘i’m staying in room 106, see you there at 7 pm.’
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letmegrabyourcuteass · 3 months ago
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I'd like to see it as a series finale, after coping with Bobby's death, everyone moving on with their lives. Chim officially takes over the Captain role, and he and Maddie are expecting a third child. Athena is following her career and being there for her kids. Hen and Karen move, Karen wanting to follow her dreams and having a big chance at it, and Hen follows right after her. Buck feels out of place. He usually gets this feeling when he travels. When it's time to go.
He doesn't want to be captain at all after being offered the position at another firehouse. Everyone is shocked, but he feels like he's still trying to heal from everything. He doesn't really get over losing Bobby.
Eddie and Chris eventually move back, Chris growing up the rest of his teenage years in LA, and Buck making good memories with the Diaz boys.
Christopher is moving to college. He's grown, and he has great close friends. He hears that Buck is leaving LA as well, a day after Christopher sets out for college. He's probably helping with Chris' move-in and taking off after. Eddie eventually finds out.
"Is this your last bag?" Eddie asks. Both he and Buck had been helping Chris move into his dorm.
"It's yours, actually," Chris says. Eddie jerks his head, giving his son a confused look.
"What?"
"Dad," Chris sighs. "Thank you for everything. No matter what you think, or Abuela and Abuelo think, you've been a great dad, and I love you for always being there for me." Chris blinks, glances away from his dad, and towards Buck leaning against the jeep. "But I think Buck needs you more than I do right now."
Eddie looks over to Buck longingly.
"You chased after me when I left for Texas. I think...Buck needs someone chasing after him."
"Christopher..." Eddie blinks the tears back.
"You deserve to be happy." They hug for a long while, Eddie making sure his son is all set. Chris gives him an exasperated look before shooing him off.
The day after, when both Buck and Eddie make it back in LA, Buck is up early in the morning, packing stuff. He had been slowly getting rid of things, although he didn't have a lot to begin with. Many of his belongings he donated to Maddie when she moved into a larger house.
He's at a gas station, filling up his gas and checking under his hood to make sure everything in his jeep is set for a road trip. He shouts when he slams the hood to see Eddie there in his jeep. The man laughs, sliding out of the vehicle.
"Eddie," Buck hisses as he clutches his heart. "Christ, you scared the hell outta me. What are you even doing?"
Eddie makes a confused face. "What do you mean?"
"In my jeep?" Buck scrunches his face. "How did you even get here?"
"This is your favorite gas station to stop by when we have roadtrips with Christopher for so many years, Buck." He leans against the front of the jeep.
"I'm still confused. Why aren't you at home? Don't you have a shift?"
"Rude, Christopher even packed my bag and everything," Eddie huffs.
Buck blinks. "Your what?"
"My bag?" Eddie points to the jeep with his thumb, "Threw it in the back seat."
"Y-your bag?"
"Yeah?"
Buck got quiet, staring at Eddie, eyes big and vulnerable.
"Eddie, what are you saying?"
Eddie's eyes soften. "I can't come with you?"
"Y-you want--" Buck swallows. "You wanna come with me?"
"Well, yeah. How--oompf!" Eddie doesn't get a chance to finish his sentence before Buck gathers him in a huge hug, one that lifts Eddie off his feet.
"You sure?" Buck mumbles, head buried in the crook of his neck.
"Yes."
"You sure, you sure? Y-you can't back out of this." Buck sniffles.
"Wouldn't want to," Eddie whispers. "I love you too much."
Buck squeezes even tighter. He backs away slightly, taking a chance to cup Eddie's jaw.
"One last chance," Buck offers. Eddie surges forward and kisses him.
They both leave LA, and travel. Buck doesn't know why, but he can't deny the feeling that it was time for him to go. LA has been great, but his heart needs to venture and heal. This time, though, he's not alone.
Buck holds Eddie's hand, interlocking their fingers as Eddie chatters, smiling widely.
They post numerous photos online, with Eddie participating in odd jobs alongside Buck. Eddie has never been happier, and Buck never gets to feel the sense of loneliness again.
They update a recent photo, and their precious found family spots a matching pair of rings on their left finger.
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kittywillcutyou · 16 days ago
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Prompt 1
Prompt 2
Hey, remember that 'Rooster got into a car crash a few years after he stormed out on Mav at 18' Time Travel thing I had rattling around in my head?
Yeah...so here's a WIP.
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–Crash and Burn–
He made it just in time to save Mav.
It was all he could think of as the missiles locked on.
Trembling.
His hands had a deathgrip on the control stick of the F/A-18 he was currently still flying, the tone screaming in his ears. 
“No one to mourn you when you burn in–”
He'd said to Maverick so callously, knowing damn well that he himself would be the one mourning the hardest even if Rooster had still hated Mav by the end.
And he didn’t.
Couldn't.
Not anymore.
Not now.
Rooster knew death was coming and he accepted it even before he actually made the decision to disobey direct orders and go back for Maverick.
He'd made his choice and now all the hurt and pain and regret…none of it mattered anymore.
In the end, Rooster couldn’t leave Mav to die.
He just couldn’t.
Mav was all he had left.
His eyes grew hot as he stared into the sky through the glass of the cockpit.
Even after all the anger and heartache, and confusion. All of the thoughts of why.
Why?
Why did Mav do it?
Didn’t you believe in me?
Rooster closed his eyes.
Why did you stand in my way?
How angry he had been all those years ago, rage burning starbright in his chest and flames spilling from his lips. But now the anger was all snuffed out of him.
Little more than a faded ember in the cavern of his aching chest.
A memory bathed in regret for time wasted.
Rooster chuckled bitterly.
He should have guessed.
It wasnt like he deserved any other outcome, but it looked like he and Maverick wouldn’t get to have that conversation that they’d been needing to have for all these years after all. 
Just to add salt to the wound, Rooster was assaulted with the image of golden hair tinted by the light of the descending sun. Sun-kissed skin flashed through his mind and Rooster’s heart ached because it was just another promise he wouldn’t get to keep.
A sharp grin and warm, smooth skin brushing against his lips made his eyes grow hazy with unshed tears. The taste of the cigarette he and Handman shared for the final time on the carrier still lingered on his tongue.
“Later.”
Jake said, lips quirked in that infuriating smile...but later would never come.
That smile was the last thing on Rooster's mind as the flames and the heat took him all at once.
.
.
.
…Mayday!
…..Mayday!!
…….Mayday!!!
Rooster came awake with a scream.
Something was wrong.
He should be dead.
His mind flashed with old memories, scenes from a time long past, before Dagger Squad, before the academy…
Before the academy.
A trip down the road.
An old cellphone in his hand, heavy like a cinderblock despite its insubstantial size.
He didn’t even see them coming.
Rooster woke up screaming...bleeding..a horn blaring in his ears so hard his head started to pound like a drum and that was before he came to the realization that he was laying sideways against the driver's side window of a car, glass cutting into his arm.
Not his car.
Not anymore.
An old rental that he'd used while his was in the shop.
Rooster took a breath and immediately cried out. His chest felt too tight and he groaned as he blinked blood out of his eyes.
He was still strapped in.
Moving was agony and Rooster learned this first hand when he tried push himself a bit more upright.
Fire ran up his side and all along his throat. He could feel the hot trails of blood cascading down skin. His hand slipped when he tried to unclip the seatbelt.
He was stuck. He couldn’t get out. He might have panicked if not for the realization that he had been here before.
Years ago, in his early twenties,not long after he’d stormed out of Maverick and Iceman’s lives in a fit of heartbreak and pure rage for what he thought would be forever.
He should be dead.
The car horn was still blaring.
Why wasn't he dead?
Rooster coughed, hacking until his lungs bloomed with agony.
His head hurt so bad.
Why didn't his airbags deploy?
Rooster's mouth tasted like it was full of cotton and pennies.
This was all so familiar.
He remembered a time when he’d been more or less roaming the states with everything he owned confined to his car.
He’d been lonely and homesick and hating himself because even though he was still angry, even though he was still hurt, he missed his Godfather and his Pops. He missed his parents.
Both sets.
He missed his family.
He’d been so angry at himself too at the time, absolutely livid that he couldn’t just stop thinking about them.
Rooster couldn’t help it.
He tried time and time again, but he couldn’t seem to let the memory of them go and so when he’d flipped his phone open to stare at Maverick’s number instead of the road…
Well…
“They ran the light.”
Blood on his tongue.
A cough tore from red-spattered lips.
The horn was still blaring and Rooster trembled as he realized that there were bits of glass shards embedded in his throat.
His face was wet.
He was crying.
He wanted to go home.
Then he noticed something small and dark laying near his head.
The phone.
Somehow, by the grace of god, the phone was still near enough to grab and the screen was still glowing.
One name highlighted in white.
'Traitor' it read.
Dad?
“Mav…” Rooster sobbed.
He hadn’t gotten to really just talk to them in so long.
And then you went and died, dumbass.
Rooster's eyes filled with tears of pain, burning from the mix of sweat and blood running into them, and yet it did nothing to stop him from pressing the call button and listening to the dial tone echo into the cabin around him.
Trembling.
The sound of the dial tone shrill in his aching ears.
It rang and rang and rang and then…
“Hello?...Bradley?...Baby Goose?”
It was the best thing Rooster had heard in years.
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nikkento-writes · 10 months ago
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Nanami likes to go with the flow when he's on vacation. He's not huge on planning out every single hour of his day with some activity or event. Sure, he'll book something here or there, mark certain places to eat, major landmarks he should probably visit. But he's isn't always go go go. Some days, most days really, he just wants to relax on the beach, feel the breeze on his face, listen to the soothing sound of waves crashing on the shore. He wants to dig his feet into the sand, feel the coarseness of it between his toes, bask in the heat of the sun until vitamin D is surging through his veins.
Most of all, he wants to enjoy all of this with you right beside him. You'd smear sunscreen on his back, a spot he always used to neglect until he met you. He'd hold your hand gently during a little stroll on the beach, waiting for the sun to seep into the distant horizon. The two of you would cheers each other at a cute little cabana bar, cocktails with tiny umbrellas in hand, sharing a tasty appetizer together.
He always loved to travel, but getting to do it with you has made it all the more special. To be able to share his bliss with somebody else, someone who understands him down to his very core...well, nothing can be better than that.
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archived-owned · 4 months ago
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A Time-Travel idea I can't get out of my head
Before he can think more on it, before he can open his mouth to ask Carol what she would do if she woke up four decades younger-- a tiny voice calls out, clear and eager.
“Unc’a Mav!”
Pete’s heart stops in his chest, his breath catching painfully in his throat. A small form appears at the end of the hallway, sleepy and stumbling, but instantly recognizable. A toddler in his pajamas, with sleepy eyes that snap wide awake when they land on Pete.
Bradley.
Without thinking, Pete’s legs give out beneath him. He falls to his knees in an instant, his hands reaching out, and without hesitation, Bradley throws himself at him. The weight of the little boy in his arms is like a spark to his soul. The way Bradley clings to him, his small arms wrapping around Pete’s neck, is so familiar it nearly knocks the breath out of him.
“Oh, Baby Goose,” Pete chokes out, his voice raw with emotion he hasn’t felt in a long time. “I’ve missed you so much.”
Bradley’s small body wiggles in his embrace, giggling.
Pete holds him so tightly, afraid that if he lets go, this moment will slip away, that this little boy—the one who’s still innocent, still whole—will disappear.
This is a Bradley who he didn’t lose. A Bradley who hadn’t stopped talking to him at 18, who hadn’t shut him out as he grew older. A Bradley who didn’t grow up without him.
Pete kisses the top of his head, his tears wetting the little boy’s messy hair, and he pulls him closer. Bradley doesn’t even notice the tears in his eyes, too busy wrapping his arms tighter around Pete’s neck.
This was it. The one thing he never thought he could have again. The one thing that had slipped through his fingers so painfully—but now, now it’s here. And Pete can’t let it go.
“I’m here, Baby Goose,” Pete whispers, his voice shaking.
Damn it I'm going to write an entire fic on this, aren't I
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ghost-bxrd · 2 years ago
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“This is where you live?”
Jason drops the duffle bag on the counter, “Yeah. It’s no manor, kid. I told you.”
He’s not self conscious. He’s not. This apartment is fuckin’ nice ok? He spent a lot of money on decor and proper kitchenware and furniture and shit.
But Jason also knows that, objectively speaking, it doesn’t hold a candle to Wayne manor and its fifty-something bedrooms. That place is basically its own country.
Bruce nods.
“I like it,” he says solemnly, walking over towards the window to peek through the blinds. The view from up here isn’t exactly panorama level but the building is one of the tallest in Crime Alley and Jason’s apartment is on the top floor, so it does provide a pretty good view of a good portion of the Alley. “It doesn’t feel as empty.”
Jason pauses where he’s resetting the traps and alarms by the door, glancing over his shoulder to where Bruce is starting to tentatively explore the living space and is struck by how violently out of place the boy looks with his rigid posture and elegantly curved eyebrows. Even the plain hoodie, faded hand-me-down jeans and ridiculous wool cap aren’t enough to hide how utterly not Crime Alley born-and-bred he is. Everything about Bruce is basically screaming rich-Bristol-trust-fund-kid.
Which, yeah. Checks out.
Jason clears his throat and clicks the security on, waiting for the small light at the side to switch from green to red.
“Your room’s the one down the hall to the left. Right one is mine. Door at the end of the hall is the bathroom.”
Bruce hikes his backpack up higher on his shoulder, eyes eerily vacant as always, but Jason wants to think that there’s a sliver of curiosity behind that steely gaze anyways as he inclines his head and makes his way down the hall.
As soon as the kid vanishes around the corner Jason allows himself a moment to exhale and run a hand down his face tiredly.
Jesus fucking Christ.
What was he thinking.
How the fuck is he supposed to raise a tiny Bruce Wayne with his older furry counterpart running around Gotham at night hunting criminals? Criminals like Jason?
Nothing. He was thinking nothing. And it’s about to bite him in the ass.
No way can he build a criminal empire and take over the drugs and weapons trade with a traumatized nine year old dependent on him.
God dammit.
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eeriepromis · 4 months ago
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| Characters: Genderbent!Caleb & Zayne | Prompt: Chrono Rewrite | Premise: Caleb and the Love Interests traveled back in time after failing to prevent the world from becoming Philos. Caleb woke up with his body transformed into a females one. || Note: MC is called Mei.
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The One Where MC Walks in at the Worst Possible Moment
Caleb was done with this.
The past was already a nightmare to navigate, time travel had screwed with his body, and to top it all off, Zayne was being a stubborn, insufferable pain in the ass.
"Zayne, I swear to God, just give it back!" Caleb growled, his voice sharper than usual - but that wasn’t the problem. The problem was that his voice was higher-pitched now, thanks to the whole "waking up in a woman’s body" situation.
Zayne, as always, remained completely unfazed, holding the stolen device high above his head like a schoolyard bully hoarding a toy. His expression was impassive, his glasses reflecting the dim light of the room, but Caleb could see the amusement lurking beneath his usual deadpan demeanor.
“No.”
Caleb’s eye twitched.
“Zayne, I’m warning you-”
Zayne tilted his head, his grip tightening around the small cylindrical device. “You’re in no position to make threats.”
Oh, that was it.
Caleb lunged.
It wasn’t his best move, considering his new center of gravity was still a pain in the ass to adjust to, but he was not going to let this arrogant doctor win.
Zayne, of course, had been expecting the attack. He sidestepped at the last second, letting Caleb’s momentum carry him forward-
Which resulted in both of them crashing into the bed behind them.
Caleb’s legs tangled awkwardly with Zayne’s, their bodies colliding, the device clattering to the side. He barely had time to curse before Zayne - the smug bastard - twisted, flipping their positions so that Caleb was pinned beneath him.
The weight of him was solid, firm, and way too damn close.
Caleb froze.
Zayne did not.
He still had one arm braced above Caleb’s head, the other gripping Caleb’s wrist to keep him from scrambling up. His face was inches away, cool breath fanning against Caleb’s cheek.
And that was the exact moment Caleb decided to make things worse.
"Give it to me!"
He bucked against Zayne’s hold, frustrated and completely unaware of how bad the phrasing was.
Zayne’s eyebrow arched.
And then-
The door swung open.
Silence.
A very long, painful silence.
Then-
“Oh.”
Both Caleb and Zayne’s heads snapped toward the door.
Standing there, holding a plate of snacks, was Mei.
She blinked. Slowly.
Took in the scene.
Zayne half on top of Caleb, pinning her to the bed. Caleb’s wrists caught, legs tangled. Caleb’s flushed, struggling expression. Zayne’s blank but dangerously close posture.
And- Caleb’s words, echoing back at her.
'Give it to me!'
Mei's lips twitched.
She tilted her head. “Am I interrupting?”
Caleb made a strangled noise.
Zayne remained as still as a corpse, likely debating whether clearing things up was even worth the effort.
Mei’s eyes gleamed.
“Oh, don’t mind me~,” she chirped, already turning back toward the door with a suspiciously amused sway in her step. “You two carry on. Have fun!”
“MEI, WAIT-”
The door slammed shut.
Caleb laid there for a solid five seconds, staring at the ceiling, absolutely mortified.
Zayne was the first to break the silence.
“…I’m not explaining that.”
Caleb let out a very, very long sigh.
“…Kill me.”
Zayne adjusted his glasses. “Not in my job description.”
Caleb groaned, wrestling himself free. He sat up, glaring at Zayne. “This is your fault.”
Zayne, completely unbothered, picked up the device and handed it to Caleb.
Caleb stared at it.
Then back at Zayne.
Zayne blinked. “You didn’t specify when I should give it to you.”
Caleb was going to kill him.
But first, he had to fix this mess with Mei.
If she hadn’t already told the entire damn city.
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