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thiswasinevitableid · 4 years ago

Note

24 for danbrey, nsfw please!

24: i’m absentmindedly making snowflakes in class and you’re the nerd who can’t quit glaring at me every time you hear my scissors. It is NSFW

If they were in one of the big lecture halls, Dani would not be having this problem. But the twenty-odd person room means the snipping of scissors is irritatingly audible. The noise is coming from behind and to the left of her. Turning her head, she spots the culprit; a girl wearing a denim vest under her coat, whose curly black hair is streaked with fiery red.

She’s cute, but Dani is still going to steal her scissors the first chance she gets.

There’s another tell-tale “snipsnip” and she glares over her shoulder, willing the scissors to melt. When that doesn’t happen, she looks up and finds the other girl smirking at her, then sending a wink her way.

Shoot, she’s holding the scissors at a level where it 100% looked like Dani was staring at her chest.

She flips her attention back to the front of the room. A flurry of snips makes her look back again.

The girl has made a heart instead of a snowflake. When Dani notices it, the other girl smiles. She looks even better when she smiles.

Damn it.

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

“Hi!”

The unexpected greeting makes Dani jump. It’s the Thursday lecture, and snowflake girl has sat down right next to her.

“Uh. Hi?”

“You’re Dani, right?”

“Yeeah? How did you know?”

“Um, because Professor Chicane takes role, and you always sit in front of me so I can see you when you respond. I’m Aubrey.”

“Dani.”

“Um, so, I’m sorry if the snowflakes were, like, distracting you on Tuesday. I do better in class when I have something to do with my hands but I can, like, doodle instead if it bugs you.”

“I just get a little on-edge from noise sometimes, it’s no big--wait. If you thought you were bugging me why’d you make a heart?”

“Because I thought there was also a chance you were flirting and I wanted to hedge my bets just in case.”

Dani blushes; she had no idea anyone could see her annoyed face and still hope she was flirting with them.

“Oh, crap, class is gonna start, I’m gonna move to my normal spot. The one with the nice view.” Aubrey winks over her shoulder and Dani impulsively blows her a kiss.

Aubrey sits down next to a short guy in “Monongahela National Forest” sweatshirt and whispers something in his ear. He high fives her.

Dani spends much of the lecture looking over her shoulder, even though Aubrey keeps the snowflakes to a minimum. In fact, she only makes one, which she leaves on Dani’s desk as she’s packing up her laptop. Written in the center of it, in red ink, is a phone number.

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

Ideally, Aubrey would not have asked her out two weeks before the end of the semester, when Dani has to go back home for winter break. But they make the most of it. There are lots of “study” dates that involve more handsy make-outs than flash-cards, nights and afternoons snuggled up against each other in the little coffee shop by Aubrey’s apartment, and a memorable evening during which they discovered Aubrey’s immense, black rabbit, Dr. Harris Bonkers, PhD, ate through the cord on the rechargeable vibrator (luckily before they plugged it in rather than after).

When break came, Aubrey walked her to the train station and kissed her goodbye, using Dr. Harris Bonkers paw to wave farewell as the train pulled away and down the tracks.

They text every day, Facetime or Skype at least once a day, usually when Dani has settled in for bed. She’s more than a little glad her brother is staying with his partner over the holidays; the walls of their rooms are thin and the two of theirs are next to each other. Jake stopped eavesdropping on her around the time he hit twelve years old, but the habit of not being able to quite relax while on the phone in her room remains.

She’s extra glad for it tonight, because she wants to show off a Christmas gift she bought herself (or, more accurately, she bought for the express purpose of riling up her girlfriend). The lace is a little fussier than she tends to buy, but it makes such cool leaf patterns, the pastel green and gold of the bra making her look stunning and the matching underwear hugging the curve of her ass in a way, if she does say so herself, is really flattering. But she’s more interested in what Aubrey thinks.

Fireblossom: Holy shit

Dani: You like it?

Fireblossom: Uh, yeah? Why are you so far away instead of here when I can show you how hot you look?

She laughs at the string of emojis that comes through next; flames, peaches, kissy lips, and…

Fireblossom: Sorry, moth emoji is from texting Duck to tease him about his crush. Did you for real buy that just for me?

Dani: Yep. You deserve some eye candy, cutie.

Fireblossom: I’m gonna fucking combust over here. Dr. HB is gonna be an orphan because of your cute butt.

Dani: I think we can do something about that.

Fireblossom: I’m stuck at family dinner time until nine and it’ll be hella sus if I sneak away to the bathroom for that long.

Shit, she should pull back on the teasing. Aubrey is typing something else, and she manages to get the strappy bra off in the time it takes for it to come through.

Fireblossom: They won’t notice me texting, though.

Dani: You sure? We can totally pick this up later.

Fireblossom: But I wanna make you cum in your fancy underwear ;)

She’s not about to turn that down, texts Aubrey the green light as she rifles through her duffel bag. It’s only a small bullet vibe, but it’s never failed her. Something she’s learned in her twenty years of life is to always have a vibrator on hand when traveling away from your hot girlfriend.

Dani: Ready.

Fireblossom: K. Turn on the vibe, but keep it outside the underwear for now.

The fabric is thin, and she gasps as she rubs the vibe in slow circles over her clit. She flips to voice to text, because now is not the time for an awkward autocorrecting or her one-handed typing.

Dani: what next?

Fireblossom: Feel yourself up for me, honey. Can’t my hands on those cute tits so you’re gonna have to do it for me.

She does as she’s told, massaging her chest and teasing her nipples the way Aubrey always does when they’re tangled up on the couch.

Dani: Fuck that feels good. Still wish they were yours though.

Fireblossom: Soon, beautiful, I promise

She shifts her hold on the vibe, which gets it to just the right angle to curl her toes.

Dani: Can I go under the fabric?

Fireblossom: Aww, you’re remembered to be good and ask first. Yes, you can.

“Thank god.” She slips the vibe under the silk, closes her eyes and imagines it’s Aubrey using it on her, grinning in that unfairly captivating way of hers as she tells Dani how good she’s being, how good she looks, how she’s so lucky they’re together.

She picks up the pace, groans when she sees the next text.

Fireblossom: Cum for me, honey, use both hands

Dani shoves her free hand down and pushes two fingers inside, moaning as she envisions Aubrey kissing her as a reward for doing it. It doesn’t take long, she’s been low-key horny all day and turned on ever since she got that first message back from Aubrey. The orgasm is short and satisfying, bursting out from her and making her feel like every one of her limbs is tingling with exhausted delight.

Dani: Came. Holy fuck. How are you this hot just through a screen?

Fireblossom: A magician never reveals her tricks ;)

Dani: A magician should make an exception for her girlfriend who’s still seeing stars.

Fireblossom: Flatterer.

Dani sighs, rolls onto her stomach so she can text more easily, not sure what’s she’s supposed to say now.

Fireblossom: That was really hot though. And now I miss you even more.

Dani: I miss you too, fireblossom. I can’t wait to come back to you.

Fireblossom: Me neither. Can I Facetime you tonight?

Dani: Totally.

Fireblossom: If I get lucky, will you help let off all the steam I just built up?

Dani: Of course, babe.

Fireblossom: GTG, nephew is bugging Dr HB. Talk to you soon, you make me feel like the luckiest girl in the world <3

Dani: Don’t be silly. That’s obviously me, because I’ve got you <3

#aubrey little/dani #danbrey #winter fills #college au

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seokiloquy · 4 years ago

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Tea and Tuna - Kita Shinsuke

Soulmate AU: First words said to you by your soulmate are written on your wrist

Requested (I changed it up a bit but it still follows)

Word Count: 1.5K

It was a late evening on a school night and the sun was beginning to set, taking the last bit warm weather with it. The sky began to turn various shades of pink and orange. You sat at the back of the classroom with a neat stack of books at your side, waiting to be shelved. Behind you, your friend Hina swayed to the beat of her music pumping through her headset as she swept the floor. Following her rapid steps was Yua, who wiped down the tables to get rid of dirt and doodles left by bored students. Autumn was okay, once the weather started to get cold it meant more layers which you weren’t a big fan of.

At least the colours are pretty. You thought as you watched the sun begin to lower.

As you mindlessly placed the books on their shelf, you were late when reacting to what was going on behind you. Yua’s amused voice broke through.

“Hina, no,” she laughed. “Watch out.” She didn’t sound at all worried.

Something bounced off your head with a hollow thunk and your perfectly stacked books were easily taken down by Hina’s weight. Grabbing the book that landed on your lap you used the stiff cover to pat the forehead of the giggling music enthusiast before stashing it away.

“I swear, Hina, you need a new pair of feet, sweetheart,” you laughed as you picked up the broom that fell.

“My feet are perfectly fine, thank you,” she huffed, grabbing Yua’s hand.

Yua easily picked Hina up, who was almost launched in the other direction from the force, as she replied.

"I could always cut them off? Where's my hack saw?"

Spinning quickly on your knees you stared in horror at the casual grin on her face.

"Yua! No!"

"What?! I was kidding!" She whined, throwing her hand in the air. Narrowly hitting Hina's face.

"Gah! Watch it! You nearly took her head off!"

Throwing her arms down, Yua grabbed the wipe and spray off of the table and got back to cleaning the last few desks. "Why am I getting reprimanded?" She grumbled.

Hina skipped over, picking up all the fallen books as she went, and began to help you finish putting them away. Once she was at your side and had all the books in her arms, you left the work to her so you could face Yua. Yua had her legs spread on either side of the chair she sat on, making her volleyball shorts visible below her grey and black plaid skirt. She ruffled her shortly cropped hair, before stuffing her school bag closed.

Your brow pinched together as you checked the calendar that was pinned up on the classroom’s wall. “Yua, hun,” you called, “Don’t you have a game tomorrow?”

“Yup, sure do,” she yawned.

“And didn’t you have practice this morning?”

“Sure did.”

There was a pause as you watched the two girls finish packing up.

“Yua?”

“Yup?”

“Where’s your sports bag?”

Hina laughed loudly, throwing her head backwards and holding her stomach as she watched Yua spin in circles, searching for her extra bag. Despite Hina being a great singer, her laugh sounded like an emu giving birth to a carburetor. Yua growled as she gripped the roots of her hair tightly.

“I’m so stupid.”

“Did you leave it in the gym?” Hina asked after her laughing fit.

“Probably,” she said, rolling her head over her shoulders.

“Well,” You hummed a bit as you threw on your coat, getting ready to leave, “The gym is on the way and the boys are practicing this evening, so we can drop by to pick up your stuff. Hina put on your coat, it's cold out.”

Hina huffed but followed your suggestion anyway. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow. My family’s going out to dinner, and I don’t want to be late.”

Yua waved Hina goodbye once you all got to the exit. You called out to her once her back was turned.

“Hina, your laces are untied!”

One step too close to the other sent her flying, tripping over her shoes. Luckily she managed to dance out of falling on her face and shot the two of you a wave of her own. She kept walking with her laces undone. Yua hooked her arm around yours, pulling you in the direction of the gym before you could fret over Hina’s shoes.

“Hey, (Y/N). How did you know the boys were practicing today anyways?”

“Oh I asked one of the teachers what the gym’s schedule was so I could keep track of your practises and games. That reminds me, what do you want to eat before your game tomorrow? Ginger rice or miso salmon?”

Pushing open the gym doors, Yua dragged you inside, waving to the coaches as you walked their way. “I’ll stick with the green tea smoothie you make, thank you though.”

“That sounds rather tasty. (Y/N), you’ll have to give me the recipe.” Coach Kurosu was a nice man, teasing at times, and hid the bags under his eyes behind square-framed glasses.

“Mr. Kurosu, it’s been a while. I can write the recipe down and deliver it tomorrow before Yua’s game. It’s rather easy, but great for energy and it's healthy too.”

Yua sighed next to, interrupting the conversation gently, “I hope you don’t mind coach but I left my bag here this morning. Have you seen it?”

The man chuckled and pointed over in the far corner, “must be the one we tucked over there in the corner. Watch your head, though. The boys are practicing serves.”

Yua nodded as she elbowed your side and left you to continue your conversation of healthy foods with the boy’s volleyball coach. A conversation which led to you pulling out your phone to email him a list of meals that are high in protein that he could give to his players and friends.

“Heads!”

You were used to this. After attending Yua’s games and practices you should be. Immediately ducking out of the way of a ball that flew in line with where your head was, you watched as it bounced off of the wall and knocked over the piled water bottles like bowling pins.

You had always thought the word printed on your wrist was about coins. For a while, during middle school, you had gone around asking people to choose heads or tails when flipping a coin. In hindsight, with your wrist burning now, in a gym, without a coin in hand, that might have been a bit ridiculous.

“Atsumu, you need to be more careful, you’ll take someone’s head off.”

Standing up you made a throwaway comment about not having a meal for concussions, which made Kurosu laugh as he picked up the stray ball. He handed off to one of the older players that came your way.

“Are you alright?” he asked, taking the ball off his coach’s hands.

“Oh ya. I’ve got eyes at the back of my head,” you said laughing as you started to pick up the bottles. “As I just said, I don’t have a meal for concussions so I need to be able to dodge balls.”

Yua, who had made her way back from the corner of the gym (while expertly dodging every ball that came her way), groaned “You dodge balls by scaring guys away with your overbearing attitude.”

“Yua, please. Watch your language, the coach is here.”

“I didn’t swear, Mom. It’s not my fault you’ve taken a vow of abstinence until you met your soulmate.”

“Yua!”

It was a bit more than embarrassing, you were used to your friends being more than brash in friendly quarters. You can’t say you hadn’t had moments of crude hilarity yourself, but an adult was present, and he didn’t need to know about anything more than your grades and healthy food choices for athletes.

“Well, Yua,” the player spoke up, “I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that for much longer.”

Wait. The burning. You forgot about the burning in your rush to duck out of the way of projectiles flying at your head. You rushed to pull the sleeve of your uniform to see the word printed there.

“Kita! That’s not how you ask a girl out!”

The word on your wrist had changed colour.

“Atsumu, I won’t make you any fatty tuna if you keep yapping!”

You looked up at the player’s light coloured hair that made the black tips stand out as they sit in the open spaces of the boy’s forehead and cheekbones.

“You can make fatty tuna?” You asked, shoulders rising with a smile.

Yua groaned.

“Ya, sort of have to with these guys always asking for food.”

With a bit of a squeal, Kita was easily dragged into a friendly conversation about food with his soulmate. A soulmate who seemed almost a bit overly excited when coach Kurosu gave in his share of ideas on side dishes. Yua waited patiently on the side, texting Hina who seemed bored at dinner but excited about the new development revolving around their friend.

So does that mean we can add a dad to our friend group?

Yua swallowed a thick gag but replied with a flat, ‘yes’.

Just a fluff, that's it. - Bacon

Posted: 03/07/2020

#Haikyuu x reader #kita shinsuke #kita x reader #Haikyuu #x reader #oneshot #oneshots #haikyuu oneshots #haikyuu reader insert #reader insert #aus #haikyuu aus #fluff #haikyu #anime x reader #anime #manga x reader #manga

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galxcs · 5 years ago

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Drunken Nights | Wolfstar

Link to AO3

Chapter Eleven (Ten) (Nine) (Eight) (Seven) (Six) (Five) (Four) (Three) (Two) (One)

Hogwarts smelled like hot chocolate.

The scent drifted out of the Great Hall, wafted down the hallways, and lingered in the common rooms. It clung to students who had pink cheeks and were bundled in coats and mittens.

Snow was drifting down slowly like it wanted to linger in the chilly arms of the winter breeze. It was the type of snow that nobody wanted to ruin because it was so soft and pretty to look at, and the type of snow that everybody wanted to ruin because they couldn’t help but barrel through its untouched flakes, carving paths and building snowmen.

Christmas was coming, and it was getting to the point where no one could pay attention in class because they knew they were so close to being done, and things really didn’t seem to matter as much as they usually did.

Of course, with the long break ahead of them, professors were scheduling all of their last minute tests and assignments right when students couldn’t focus the most, so the common room was in a silent state of studying students, all fidgeting with their pencils and rubbing their eyes.

Everyone was waiting out the trip to Hogsmeade that was happening in about an hour, but their minds were so focused on the fact that they would be going to Hogsmeade soon, that nothing was getting done, despite how quiet the room was.

Remus had his nose stuck in his own book, and luckily he was not in the same debacle that the other students were experiencing, finding it quite easy to focus on the task at hand. He was just jotting down a few notes when a soft weight settled into the cushion next to him. Remus frowned to himself. James never sat down gently, Sirius never sat so far away from Remus, and Peter had a much heavier presence.

Remus looked up, expecting to see Lily but was instead shocked to find Amanda with a Gryffindor scarf slung around her neck instead of her usual Hufflepuff one.

“Amanda? You know you can’t be in here,” Remus whispered urgently.

Amanda smiled her bright smile and leaned in a little closer. “Don’t worry. Lily let me in.”

Remus lifted his head, glancing around the room. He spotted Lily sitting at a chair next to James who was doodling something on her hand. Lily caught Remus’ eye and winked at him. Remus turned back towards Amanda.

“That doesn’t mean you’re allowed to be here.”

“Well, I figure you and Lily are the only ones who could really get me in trouble, so…” Amanda explained quietly.

Remus finally let himself smile, leaning back against the couch. “I guess, you’re right.” Remus was going to say something else, but out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Peter and Sirius coming their way to the grouping of couches Remus was at.

He pulled away quickly, realizing him and Amanda had been leaning close to each other so that they could hear one another better. He was too late, though, because he looked up just in time to see Sirius narrowing his eyes the moment he spotted Remus and Amanda whispering to each other.

Amanda rose an eyebrow at Remus, but when she saw Sirius and Peter, Remus almost thought that he saw a smile come and go on her face. He didn’t know what it meant.

Sirius and Peter sat across from them and pulled their chairs up closer so that they could talk better with Remus and Amanda.

“How’d you get in here?” Peter asked Amanda quietly.

“Lily,” she responded.

Sirius gave her a cool glance and kicked his leg up to balance on his knee. “You know you aren’t supposed to be in here.”

Amanda laughed, either unaware of the coldness in Sirius’ voice, or choosing to ignore it. “Yeah Remus already warned me.”

Remus heard Sirius mutter, “Should have listened to him,” under his breath, and he hoped that only he could hear it because of his werewolf hearing.

Things had been weird between Remus and Sirius for the past week. At least, they had been weird for Remus. Sirius seemed completely fine despite the fact that Remus had been more or less ignoring him. He hadn’t tried to ignore him, but it had been his temporary solution for the time being. Once he was on break, back at the farm, he could have time to think away from Sirius, and he hoped the feelings he had been dealing with these last days might be settled a bit.

“Are you coming to Hogsmeade with us?” Peter asked, sounding like an offer.

“Sure!” Amanda said at the same time that Sirius deadpanned, “No.”

Remus shot Sirius a glare, and Sirius gave him one of his smirks that he did when he was pretending that he didn’t do anything wrong. Remus rolled his eyes.

“Yes,” Remus said, turning his eyes to Peter. “She is.”

While Remus had made it his mission to avoid being alone and talking with Sirius this week, Sirius had made it his mission to be as passive aggressive as possible towards Amanda. Remus always watched Amanda to see how she would respond to Sirius, but she never seemed phased by it in the least, which was good but also confusing.

The rest of the conversation steered towards Peter asking Amanda questions because she was, after all, a pretty girl. Sirius sat brooding next to Peter, his arms crossed, and his eyes the color of river stones. Remus added comments in here and there, trying to join in conversation for Amanda’s sake.

An hour must have passed of the group quietly whispering to each other because soon enough, the students began closing their books, standing up, and chatting quietly among each other as everyone began to finish up their work.

“Hogsmeade time,” James said too loudly (like usual) as he strolled towards them, his arm wrapped around Lily’s shoulders.

Lily looked embarrassed and somewhat annoyed, but she didn’t make a move to push James off of her. Remus rose his eyebrow at her subtly, and her face turned bright red. She smiled softly and ducked her head, letting her orange hair fall into her face.

The group made their way to the school grounds, watching as Professor McGonagall struggled to make sure everyone leaving had their permission slips. Remus shivered even with his big coat on. Someone behind him grabbed onto the hat he was wearing and pulled it down over his face. He heard Sirius’ laugh brush past him and continue further ahead of him.

“Sirius!” Remus yelled, pulling his hat up so that he could see.

Sirius had stopped behind James and Lily, but in front of Remus, Amanda, and Peter. He had his hands on his hips and a look in his eyes that said what are you going to do now? Remus thought about casting a spell to pull on Sirius’ scarf, but after the week of having not much interaction with him, Remus just shook his head softly at Sirius, hoping he looked jokingly exasperated.

Remus turned back towards Peter who was talking excitedly about the candy he was going to buy at Hogsmeade. If Sirius looked disappointed, Remus wouldn’t know because he chose not to look back up.

When Peter was done, Amanda pulled Remus aside from the group. He looked at her questioningly.

“Is something up with you and Sirius?” she asked.

“What? No,” Remus lied. “Why do you say that?”

“Well, it just seems like you’ve been avoiding him or something.”

“No, I haven’t. He sat with us in the common room, didn’t he? Also, he just pulled my hat down like he always does, so nothing is up.”

Amanda looked like she was thinking about what she was going to say next, and started hesitantly. “Yeah, that’s just it. He sat with us, and you didn’t say one word to him. I mean, usually you two are practically attached at the hip.”

“Are not,” Remus argued.

“You are!” Amanda said, laughing. “And just then, when Sirius pulled your hat down, usually you would go after him or something. You two are always teasing each other, but lately it seems like it’s just Sirius teasing you.”

“I didn’t realize that you paid so much attention to me and Sirius,” Remus joked, avoiding commenting on Amanda’s words.

Amanda punched Remus playfully in the shoulder, and ducked her head. “I don’t. I’m just a very observant person.”

Remus nodded but didn’t say anything. He watched his feet as they cut through the snow that had fallen on the path. He could feel Amanda’s eyes watching him. He felt like he did when Lily was scolding him or something.

Looking back up at Amanda, Remus sighed. “Nothing’s wrong. Things have just been a little weird between us lately.”

“Why?” Amanda asked.

Remus watched Sirius from way up on the path. He had his arm hooked with James’, and they were skipping around each other, singing some made up song about Hogsmeade. He had a smile plastered on his face; the one he got when him and James were being reckless and dumb, with no cares in the world. He thought about how in less than a week, Sirius would have to go back to his house with his family.

“Because Sirius has a lot to deal with, and he deserves to be happy, and there’s this part of me that thinks that he can’t possibly be happy with me. I guess I’m just scared of losing him.”

Remus knew that Amanda didn’t exactly understand what Remus was saying. She didn’t know that Remus was a werewolf, and she didn’t know that Remus wasn’t really talking about just their friendship, but he supposed it was all he could really say.

From up ahead, Lily was calling Amanda’s name. James had thrown Lily over his shoulder and she was giggling for help. Before Amanda ran up to join her friend, she turned to Remus, her eyes looking thoughtful.

“I think that it’s up to Sirius to decide what makes him happy,” she said.

Remus watched her jog up to Lily and James, jokingly taking Lily’s hand and calling out, “Let her go!”

James laughed, dropping Lily in a big bank of snow.

“James Potter!” Lily squealed, struggling to get out of the snow.

Sirius and Peter were chucking snowballs at each other, and Remus smiled to himself, thinking about what Amanda had said to him. Even after he joined the group, helping Lily gang up on James with some snowballs, the words never really left Remus’ head, and he let them circle around and around until he knew what needed to be done.

Remus looked at Sirius, and it took every inch of his control to not run into his arms and kiss him right there in front of everybody. He smiled to himself, knowing that the second he could get Sirius alone for a moment, he was going to tell him that he wanted to be his.

#wolfstar #Sirius Black #Remus Lupin #Sirius x Remus #remus x sirius #harry potter #the marauders #marauders era fanfiction #marauders era #fanfic

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 6 years ago

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Superheroes By Day (Queen fic)

Summary: Queen are rock stars by night, superheroes by day. Each member has his own exceptional powers. They assemble for an important mission cerca 1986. Also, cellphones exist.

Inspiration: Totally random, pure ridiculousness, plz enjoy.

Warnings: Language.

Link to all my writing HERE

My burner phone rings. They always call me. I’m the only one who can be trusted to pick up.

“This is John.”

Freddie always loses his phone; he would lose his moustache if it wasn’t attached. Brian spends too much time frolicking with and rehabilitating forest creatures, so his phone goes dead and he can never charge it because surprise surprise, there are no wall sockets in the fucking woods. Rog is hopeless, hopeless. Last time they gave him a phone it ended up at the bottom of a jacuzzi tub in Morocco. I’ll let you try to figure that one out.

I listen to our latest mission, jotting down a few notes with the pen and notepad I keep in my fanny pack. Yes, I use a fanny pack. You would too if you had four kids. Shut up about it.

“You are tasked with assembling the others.”

I sigh, quite dramatically. “Can’t you...I don’t know, send limos or something?”

“Complete the mission, John.” They hang up. Superheroes get a lot less fanfare than rock stars.

I sprint outside and jump into my Mercedes-Benz 190E. I turn the key in the ignition. Nothing.

“No!” I gasp. I try again. Nothing. “No no no!”

I rush back inside the house. Veronica is taking fish sticks out of the oven and forking them onto plates for the kids.

“Babe, there’s something wrong with the Benz!”

“Oh,” she replies, unbothered. “Well I can take it to the shop tomorrow.”

“But I need it now! I have a mission!”

She peers out the kitchen window and into the driveway. “What’s wrong with the minivan?”

I follow her gaze, horrified. “Babe, love of my life, I cannot pick up the band in a Plymouth Voyager.”

“Why not?” she replies innocently. “Kids, lunch is ready!” I hear the stampede beginning upstairs. Veronica looks at me with her eyebrows raised. “Do you want the van or not?”

I tug at my permed hair in exasperation. “Okay, okay, I’ll take the van!”

She tosses me the keys and I’m out the door like a bolt of lightning. The Voyager roars to life without any hesitation.

I arrive at Brian’s house first. I honk precisely six times: the secret honk, the we-have-a-mission honk. A neighbor lady leans out her window, shakes her fist menacingly, and calls me a barmy wanker. Thanks, lady.

Brian toddles out of his house looking very sensible: button-up shirt, slim white trousers, general demeanor of a brooding academic. And then there are the clogs.

“You, ah, you’re not going to trip in those?” I venture.

He glares at me and slips wordlessly into the passenger’s seat. The Plymouth Voyager pulls out of his driveway. I fumble with the radio, and eventually find a good song. It’s disco. I bop my head and sing along, entirely offkey. Brian stares sullenly out the window and presumably wishes for death.

Roger is next. Six honks.

“Good god, there must be a more practical way to communicate in this day and age!” Brian says.

“I could try turning up the disco,” I suggest. He is not amused.

Rog is wearing all black, including his prescription sunglasses. He climbs into the back seat. “Good morning, gentlemen!” he announces cheerfully. He reaches into the pocket of his sweatpants and produces an entire bottle of tequila.

“It’s 2:37 p.m., Rog,” Brian informs him.

Rog recoils, bewildered, then shrugs. He knocks back a few swallows of tequila and glances around the minivan. “Ooo, there are cupholders!”

I return to singing disco. Brian peers back at Rog. “Give me a swig of that.”

Freddie is waiting at the curb with a lit cigarette between his fingers. I roll up beside him. He appraises the Plymouth Voyager.

“Um, excuse me, but what the fuck.”

“I know, I know, the Benz wouldn’t start. Why are you out here already? Did someone call you? Did you actually know where your phone was?”

“Oh no, darling, the cats just don’t like me smoking indoors.”

“Whatever you say, Fred.”

“Miko sneezes terribly!”

He crawls into the back seat with Rog. They immediately begin giggling and shoving each other and inventing drinking games.

“Okay,” Freddie instructs, “every time Bri says something pretentious you have to take a shot.”

“Fred, I’ll fucking die!”

Brian buries his head in his hands. I clear my throat as I speed through traffic. “Um, is anyone actually interested in the mission?”

They settle down. “Oh yeah,” Roger says. “Go ahead, Deaks.”

“There is a family in Ealing whose dog, Mr. Doodles, has been stolen, probably to be held for ransom. We’re in pursuit of the burglar.”

“Wait, isn’t he going to be, like, way ahead of us by now?” Bri asks, ever the skeptic.

Roger rolls his eyes. “Fortunately, we happen to have...” He does jazz hands. “Superpowers!”

“Right. I’ll find him.” Freddie rubs his temples and closes his eyes in concentration. He has a dash of telepathy, but it only works on bad guys. Thank god for that, or the constant bombardment of space nonsense and disjointed basslines and naked women and car engine revs from us would completely drown out anything useful. “He’s heading west on Warwick Road!”

I put the pedal to the metal and within a few minutes we’ve spotted him. The Plymouth Voyager squeals to a halt along the sidewalk. All four of us dive out of the van and into the street.

The burglar is tall and burly and wearing a black ski mask, how original. He’s also cloaked in a tremendously tacky mustard yellow coat and carrying a satchel that likely contains the aforementioned Mr. Doodles. He sees us and pulls a gun out of his international fashion crime of a coat.

Roger unleashes a sonic scream—“aaaaaAAAAAAAhhhhAAAAAAAAAA!”—and the gun flies out of the burglar’s hand. He curses in frustration.

“Avian friends, attack!” Brian calls out. A flock of ducks descend upon the burglar, swooping and pecking at him. He attempts to smack them away clumsily.

Freddie flies to the burglar’s side. Did I mention Freddie can fly? Well, he can fly. Short distances, anyway. “That coat is awful and you should feel bad about it.”

Now it’s my turn: snark so savage it can incapacitate a wrongdoer in seconds.

Freddie, reading the burglar’s deepest thoughts and darkest fears, gives me the information I need. “Deaky, he’s still traumatized from middle school algebra! Talk about algebra!”

“Quadratic equations! Polynomials!”

“Ahh!” the burglar screams, crumpling to the ground. He loses his grip on the satchel, and a small white ball of fluff tumbles out. Mr. Doodles barks, panicked and disoriented, and Brian rushes over to comfort him.

I shout: “If x times seven equals 49, what is the value of x?!”

“Please stop! I’ll do anything!” The burglar writhes helplessly, vanquished.

Brian laughs, cradling Mr. Doodles in his arms. “Pathetic!”

I unzip my fanny pack and sift through the stationary and toast crumbs. “Oh dammit, I forgot the handcuffs!”

“I got it,” Rog says. He reaches into the pocket of his sweatpants and pulls out a pair of fuzzy pink handcuffs. He clicks them around the burglar’s wrists and flashes a grin. Oh my god. Did I really just see that? Oh my god. “Do you need a blindfold too—?”

“No, Roger.”

The police arrive to take the thwarted burglar away and return Mr. Doodles to his rightful owners. Brian thanks the ducks kindly and feeds them cracked corn from his outstretched palm. Roger argues with the police because he wants to be sure he gets his fuzzy handcuffs back.

“Alright, darlings.” Freddie claps his hands together. “Job well done. Back to Garden Lodge. I’ll have Jim put some cookies in the oven for us.”

Roger raises his tequila bottle into the air and winks. “I’ll make the tea.”

#queen #queen fanfic #queen fanfiction #freddie mercury #brian may #john deacon #roger taylor #queen imagine

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undiscoverable-words · 5 years ago

Text

The New Receptionist Pt. 11

Pt 11.

Alice: Things are finally starting to feel normal around here. With Jim and Pam gone it got weird around here, and Dwight got power hungry. He’s tried everything I can think of to get Jim demoted back to salesman. I’ve tried to talk him out of it, but he’s not easily swayed.

Dwight: Oh, I have a plan

Dwight shows the cameras the mallard and the pen, both bugged with microphones to record things inside Jim’s office. The cameras pan to catch Dwight talking with Jim and placing the bugs. Dwight looks back, grinning at the cameras.

“What are you up to?” I challenge, watching Dwight sit back at his desk.

“Oh, me? Nothing…” Dwight lies, still grinning.

While on my break, I hear yelling from the kitchen:

“I could give a f–– about your happiness, stop dating my mother!” I peer in, worried for Pam, and who looks to be Michael.

“Oh, my god…”

The cameras follow me into the kitchen, and I pretend to not hear anything, fixing myself coffee and looking for a snack. Pam storms out and Michael looks like a hurt puppy. I try to ignore his mumbling before he starts to head back to his office.

Almost immediately, I leave the kitchen and head to Pam’s desk.

“Hey,” I whisper.

The cameras catch Dwight listening in.

“I heard something between you and Michael, are you okay?”

Pam scoffs, “absolutely not.”

She gets up and leaves the office, and Jim quickly follows after her. Dwight looks between me and the cameras and I go back to my desk. In between transferring calls and doodling on post-it notes, I catch the drama going down between Jim, Pam, and Michael.

“What’s going on?” Dwight asks me, leaning over my desk.

“I’m surprised you don’t know– you’re Michael’s wingman.”

“I haven’t gotten anything from the bug…” Dwight mumbles, but I catch it.

“What bug?”

“There’s no bug, Al. It’s a figure of speech.” He laughs nervously before walking away.

I find something in Jim’s office that has a recording device attached, and decide to help him out.

“Hey, Kelly! I saw this cool duck and thought it would look adorable on your desk!”

“Oh, my god, Alice! I love it! Super cute! Thank you so much! You know Ryan loves ducks? He’ll say he prefers flightless birds, but he loves ducks!”

At 5 o’clock, I head down to the parking lot to find Dwight washing Jim’s car.

“Dwight, what’s going on? I want to go home!”

He turns around, ashamed, spraying the car with a hose.

“I bugged Jim’s office, so he’s making me wash his car…”

“I know, I just want you to feel bad about it.” I tease him, watching him rinse the suds off of their windows.

“How–”

“You’re a terrible liar, Dwight. I’ll be in the car.”

. . .

“I’m ashamed of my small nose.” Dwight admits, looking around the room clearly embarrassed.

I grab his hand and kiss his face quickly.

“I like your nose,” I whisper.

Angela scoffs and rolls her eyes. Michael writes ‘nose too small’ on the white board.

The rest of the day goes by slightly hostile with everyone making fun of each other and Michael in particular. It drags on without having Pam around but I understand that she needs to raise her sales.

Alice: Pam is like my best friend here at the office, of course I want her to succeed! It just gets super boring around here. Plus, I feel bad that she has to spend the day with Andy…

Pam and Jim come in the next morning looking happier than I’ve seen them since they came back from their honeymoon.

Pam: Today is my mom’s birthday, and Michael is coming to lunch with us! I’m pretty nervous…

Jim: But I’ve been doing my best to keep her calm. I made her breakfast in bed this morning–

Pam: It was great, I’m just hoping this all goes smoothly. Michael can be a bit much

“Good luck!” I say as the the two pairs walk out the door.

Dwight walks up to my desk and leans over the top nearly knocking over the candy dish.

“Remember when you said you wished the office had… a place?” He whispers.

The cameras are on us, catching everything.

“Uh… Yes?” I say, trying to brush it off.

I don’t need the cameras knowing this much about us, or catching anything I don’t want them to.

I glance towards the coat rack, avoiding Dwight’s eye.

“Well, I know a place. Meet me in the warehouse in five minutes.” He pecks my lips and walks back to his desk, giving the cameras a smug look.

Alice: Look, I may have mentioned it one night a while back… I don’t actually want to do anything at the office… Do you guys know where this place is? Are you going to, like, film stuff? That has to be illegal… Wait, how does Dwight know about this place?

I meet Dwight where he instructed strictly to ask him about it. He greets me with a grin and pulls me in a supply room in the warehouse. He starts kissing my face and neck, holding me close by my hips.

“Dwight?”

“Yes?”

“How do you know about this?”

He freezes.

“Dwight?” I repeat.

He stays silent, obviously not wanting to tell me. I can tell he wants to lie, but he knows I can tell when he’s lying.

“I’ve been here before,” he explains vaguely and curtly before reattaching his lips to my neck.

I refuse to let this go, and he notices my lack of affection.

“C’mon, Al, don’t you ever get bored and want to… find something entertaining?”

I cross my arms to create space between us, and he sighs.

“I… Used to come down here…”

“Oh, my god, with Angela?”

He nods, not looking at me.

“That’s disgusting Dwight. I’m not just some office shag. If that’s what you thought this was…” I can’t help the tears brimming in my eyes.

I love Dwight. I’ve never told him, but that’s how I feel. And if he feels significantly less for me, then this isn’t what I thought it was.

“No, no, no, Al…” Dwight holds me by my shoulders, then moves his hands up to wipe my tears. “I just thought… I don’t know. I’m sorry you took it that way, that’s not at all what I intended.”

“We’re so much more than that to me, Dwight.”

“I know,” he whispers, pulling me to his chest and kissing the top of my head.

#dwight schrute #dwight x reader #dwight schrute x reader #dwight schrute fanfiction #the office #the office fanfiction #Michael Scott #Pam Beesly #pam x jim #dunder mifflin

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crayonwriting · 6 years ago

Text

Irreplaceable You: 4 (Bucky Barnes)

Summary: Unexpectedly diagnosed with a terminal disease, you embark on a mission to find a new love for your fiancé and childhood best friend, Bucky Barnes.

Disclaimer: This story is a rewrite of the movie of the same title on Netflix. Directed by Stephanie Laing and written by Bess Wohl. Go check it out!

— CHAPTER FOUR —

Six Weeks Later...

You were alone in the apartment, still recovering from your surgery. You had the masses removed in an attempt to rid and cure yourself of cancer. The doctors said it was a long shot but it was worth the try.

You lay on the soft carpeted floor in just your sweats and a hoodie you borrowed—more like stole—from Bucky’s wardrobe. They say after surgery you're going to experience some minor discomfort. It's Stage 4 cancer. Nothing is minor. Nothing is comfortable.

You were curled up in a fetal position, biting your lips in an attempt to ease the numbing pain and soreness you were currently feeling. Panic! At The Disco was blasting through your earphones and you did your best to focus on that.

—

Bucky sat by his desk, his hand covering his face as he tried to dry up the tears in his eyes that were threatening to fall. He shuddered lightly and scoffed to compose himself. He re-adjusted his glasses, reading his notes once again. He stood up in a firm manner and started writing on the whiteboard.

“So, let's, uhm, let's take another look at the proposed model for auto-associative memory and its constituent neural network.” He finished a diagram—rather slowly to his liking—and turned to his students. Like him, their minds were elsewhere: two students were staring out the window; some were doodling mindlessly on their desks or notebooks; others were already half-lidded and were seconds away from dreamland.

“Or not. Let's not and say we did. Class dismissed.” Bucky almost slammed the marker against his desk. He was out of it. He kept thinking about how you were alone at home and was probably in pain. He was worried about you. He always was. He hastily shoved his things in his messenger bag and rushed out of the classroom. His class followed soon after.

—

You tapped your foot to a silent melody against the white-tiled floor. You looked around the hospital waiting room clutching your coat and purse tight in your fists. Today was the first day of your chemotherapy and you were beyond scared. Luckily, your mom had accompanied you and has been coming back to and fro every other week to check up on you.

"Ms. Y/L/N?" The receptionist called out. You raised your hand automatically. You stood up and approached her desk. She smiled at you and handed you a piece of paper. “Please fill out this form and a nurse will come and assist you shortly.” You did as she told you and as soon as you signed at the bottom of the page, a nurse in a blue scrub suit approached you with a clipboard.

“Hi! My name’s Scott. How’s it going?” He held out his hand in greeting. Scott was tall, had hair that was a bit messy and a contagious smile. You shook his hand and mirrored his grin.

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Y/N and this is my mother, Y/M/N.” He shook your mother’s hand and smiled to her too.

“I’m gonna be running your treatment suite. If you could please follow me.” He turned his back to you and started walking down the hall. You and your mother trailed after him.

“Uh, treatment suite?” You asked.

“Oh, yeah, don't get excited. It doesn't even have four walls.” He replied, nonchalantly. You looked at your mother and raised your eyebrow at her in question. Scott looked at you and smiled. He approached a room, two doors from the end of the hall and opened it. “You go ahead and grab a seat right there.” He pointed to a complicated-looking chair in the middle.

True to his word, your ‘suite’ didn’t really have four walls. The room was cut into small cubicles with thin, opaque, glass dividers—a chair in each one. You passed by an elderly man who has fallen asleep and a woman who had several snacks and books propped on her lap—you gave her a small, awkward smile when she looked up. Finally reaching an empty chair, you did as Scott said, putting your bag beside you on the floor. Your mother pulled up a chair and sat on your left.

“There, so you can relax.” He grabbed his own chair, pulling with him a small cart of what looked like needles and various bags of medicine. “For the next time, you're probably gonna want to bring your own pillow in from home. You're also gonna need your cell phone with headphones and a magazine.” He put on a pair of blue latex gloves and a matching face mask. “Some of these guys tend to hoard ‘em. You're gonna end up reading an old ripped up copy of Duck Enthusiast.”

“Oh. It's okay, I don't read…Duck Enthusiast.”

“Yeah, well,” he shrugged, “You will. All right, feet up.” He pulled the lever on the right side of your chair, making a foot rest pop up, elevating your feet. “Yep, there you go.” He pulled down his mask to his chin and looked at you. “Okay, so uhm, before we start yes, you will feel like shit after this, but it's different for everybody.” You stared at him wide-eyed, thinking how he must’ve done this a thousand times being so cool and calm about it. Your mother opened her mouth, about to ask something but Scott raised his finger and said,

“And no, your hair isn't gonna fall out right away. And besides, it looks like you have plenty of it, so you're doing good. Uh, and if you need snacks, you got to bring them from home.” He finished and flashed the both of you another smile. “Any more questions?”

An old man in a fancy suit and tie, complete with shiny black shoes and a top hat to match passed by your cubicle, raising his hat in greeting to the three of you. He walked slowly until he was out of sight.

“I feel underdressed.” You said, amused by the old man.

“Oh, that guy?” Scott leaned over to look at the man. “Yeah, I don't know why he does that.” He looked up, putting his fingers to his chin in thinking. “I think he thinks it helps.” He pursed his lips.

“Does it?” Your mother asked, holding your hand tight in hers.

“I don't know. He's not dead yet, so it's got to be doing something, right?” Scott joked. He put his mask back on. “Well, shall we get started?”

—

You sipped your smoothie slowly as the elevator you were on rattled upwards. ‘Seventh floor of the Prime Tower on Baker Street’ your doctor instructed. During a check-up, he suggested joining a support group that could help with your emotional health. You rolled your eyes at him, not caring that he could see you. Dr. Kessler just sighed and wrote the address on paper ‘if you ever change your mind.’

You didn’t really want to go. The thought of sitting around in a circle with a bunch of people who also has cancer and talking about it doesn’t quite fit your idea of fun. And yet, here you were.

The elevator doors open to a clear room. A few art materials and empty easels sat on your right by the corner. On your far left, cabinets, drawers and a long island stood with rolls of cloth, string, pins and other sewing materials atop. In the middle was a group of what looked like six people, sat in a circle.

The man who was facing you, saw you immediately when you stepped out of the elevator. He was wearing a green shirt with a brown coat over it. His hair was peppered with a mix of gray and white. He looked to be the leader of the group.

“Hey.” He raised his hand to you. “Come on in. We're just getting started. Go grab yourself a hook and yarn.” He pointed to the island you saw earlier and went to it. As you passed by the group, you overheard one of them talking.

“Have you heard of Catholic yoga? It's a full Latin Mass with vinyasa yoga positions, and I come out…”

“You serious?” The man in the green shirt asked.

“Yeah! I feel like I'm in touch with the beyond. So, that's… that’s neat.”

“Whatever... Whatever works.”

You picked up a ball of blue yarn and a hook beside it before approaching the circle. You saw an empty chair amongst three of them who were huddled together.

“Last month? Twelve thousand dollars on treatments. Plus, I'm currently unemployed.” A girl with a shaved head and brown eyes stated, looking down at her clasped hands.

“Cancer is your job.” Another man, this time with dark hair and eyes. He seemed to have an accent too. He was pale and was sitting rather poshly on the small plastic chair.

“Well, I'd rather be unemployed.” The red-headed girl argued.

“I wouldn't sit there.” You turned to the man beside you. He looked like he was in his late thirties and he had well maintained facial hair. “This is the VIP Section.”

“Yeah, we don't listen to the pretenders.” The Posh Man said, gesturing to the other three members of the small group.

“We don't listen to each other, really.” Facial Hair Man beside you spoke.

“Hey, guys, c’mon. Make her feel welcome.” Green Shirt Man said. The Posh Man moved his seat so that you all were sitting in a complete circle.

“Yeah, come on. Only kidding.” Facial Hair Man adjusted his own seat beside you so that you could come closer to the circle.

“Welcome to the last group you ever wanted to be a member of. What's your name?” Green Shirt Man asked.

You exhaled loudly and wiggled uncomfortably on your chair. You brushed a stray hair away from your face and said your name.

“Hi Y/N.” The girl in front of you whispered. She had long red hair with a charming smile. Green Shirt Man, who was sat beside her on her left nodded and smiled at you too. Everyone was looking at you which made you feel a little self-conscious.

“But, you know, don't get attached.” You added, chuckling half-heartedly. Green Shirt Man raised his eyebrows and nodded

“Got it.” He answered. He looked at the person on the left of the red-haired woman. “You okay, there, Thor?”

Thor, had blonde shoulder-length blonde hair—which was tied up in a low bun—and steel blue eyes. He was staring at you with a sad smile on his face and eyes spilling with tears. His grip on his yarn work was tight.

“She's so pretty.” He whispered.

“You don't even know her.” Posh Man bickered. Thor’s expression immediately changed into an annoyed one.

"Well, I... I like the name Y/N." Thor tried to defend.

"Okay, let's…all let Thor have his process.” Green Shirt Man then turned to you, his hand placed on his chest. "Let me introduce myself. My name's Bruce. Bruce Banner."

“My name’s Wanda.” The red-headed girl in front of you smiled and gave a small wave.

“You already know, Thor.” Bruce gestured to Thor, who was still teary-eyed smiling at you. “Beside him is his brother, Loki.” He referred to Posh Man. “This is Nebula.” The bald girl. “And this is—”

“Tony.” The guy beside you held out his hand and you carefully shook it. Tony pointed his finger to the bundle of yarn in your lap. “Here. Just find the end.” He lifted the ball into his hands and handed you the end of it. You awkwardly took it and did your best to ‘knit.’

“Thor, that's so pretty. What is that?” Wanda asked, pointing to what Thor was working on. The man smiled lovingly at his work.

"Well, it's gonna be a teddy bear." He answered

"Ah. Is that for your nephew?" Wanda questioned, crossing her legs.

"No. It's, uh, for me to be buried with." Thor smiled. Wanda's eyes grew a bit wide before biting her bottom lip and glanced to the rest of the group—mostly you and Bruce.

"Ah. Well, I like that you're thinking ahead. Smart man." Wanda carefully nudged Thor with her elbow, chuckling slightly. She shifted her position so that she was facing the inside of the circle.

"Hey, Tony, your doily is really coming along." Bruce praised.

"Yeah. I... I wish I could say the same for the rest of my life." You looked down at your hands as Tony continued. "Every morning I wake up, new lease on life, lasts about 20 minutes." he paused for a moment, eyeing each one of us. "Then I remember…the Mets suck, there's construction on the F train, I got a leak in my roof that's gonna cost $3,500. Apparently, I still sweat the small stuff." He shrugged, leaning back on his chair. He crossed his arms over his chest and sat tall.

"Hard not to." Bruce agreed, nodding solemnly. "How is Pepper holding up?" Tony's lips lifted into a small smile.

"She's good. There's a new hawk in Central Park. Every morning we go out there and watch the little guy. I hope she keeps up the bird-watching after I'm gone. You know…," Tony shrugged once again. "With whatever new guy she's banging." Tony bit his lip and thrusted his hips playfully.

You widen your eyes at how nonchalant he is about the idea of his partner, ‘banging’ someone else. The rest of the group just laughed and chuckled for a bit like it was a normal thing. How could they think like that?

"Welcome to group." Wanda said, seeing your uneasy expression. "It's the way we roll." She motioned with her hands, trying to make you relax which really did nothing.

"We have fun." Tony piped up beside you, softly patting his hand against your shoulder. You looked at him and to the rest of the group who were all staring at you, waiting for your reaction. You laughed uncomfortably

"Yeah, yeah. That's cool." You managed to blurt out.

—

Tags: @blueskiesbleakeyes / @justanothergirlwithdemons / @butteryoptimisticpeanut / @likes-to-smell-books / @hennessy0274-blog

#b writes #irreplaceable you series #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #sebastian stan #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan x reader

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mischiefandspirits · 5 years ago

Text

Iron Legion (18/?)

Never let it be said that Tony Stark ever does things by half. He might have grown up with little family, but he wasn’t about to keep it that way.

Tony Stark was seventeen when his first child was born, and that was just the beginning.

For Masterpost, Timeline, AO3, and Fanfiction

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

Arachne Mark II, Part 1

Tony Stark was forty when Spider-Man was born.

“Hey Petey, how was your first week of school?” Tony asked as Peter came into the living room.

“Great!” he chirped, dropping his backpack before flopping onto the couch next to Tony.

“That’s wonderful,” Pepper said, leaning over to press a kiss to his forehead before heading towards the elevator. “I’ll be back for dinner and then we can hear all about it.”

“Okay, Mom.”

Tony waited until he heard the elevator doors close before giving his son a look. “So, how’d it actually go?”

Peter gave him a confused look.

“Don’t give me that. You know you can’t lie to me.”

Peter groaned and set his head in Tony’s lap. “It was fine.”

“But?”

“It’s nothing, just… Everyone seems to already know each other, either from middle school or because their parents all know each other. And I’m just some weird random homeschool kid who's there on a scholarship and changes in the bathroom stalls instead of the locker room.”

If only they knew, Tony thought as he ruffled his kid’s hair. “Just give it time for that winning personality of yours to kick in. You’ll have tons of friends soon enough.”

“You think so?” Peter asked, looking unconvinced.

“Sure, maybe try joining a club or… I don’t know. I’m not the making friends type. Still not sure why Rhodey’s stuck around this long. He and Pepper would be better at this. Just make sure to be yourself. If they don’t like the real you, then they’re not worth your time. Starks don’t change themselves for anyone.” He could hear Rhodey, Happy, and Pepper calling him a hypocrite in his head, but ignored it. Being a dad was all about do as I say, not as I do.

“Alright, Dad.” Peter sat up and hugged him. “Thanks.”

“Anytime, Kiddo. Now, how about you go put your stuff away and then we test out that new drone I’m making for Wilson?”

Peter perked up. “The bird bot?”

“The bird bot.”

“Yes!”

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

Peter was doodling ideas for improvements on the bird bot when someone tapped his shoulder.

He flipped his notebook closed quickly and looked up to see a pretty older girl standing over him.

“You’re Peter Parker, right?” she asked.

“Uh, yeah, that’s me.”

She smiled and held out her hand. “My name’s Elizabeth Toomes, but everyone calls me Liz. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you,” Peter said, bemused, as he took her hand.

“Can I talk to you for a second? If you’re busy with your project, then we can do it later.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine,” he said, pushing his notebook aside. “I’m just messing around. I finished the project we’re supposed to be working on last week. My last school was a little ahead.” A lie, technically. The Tomorrow Academy hadn’t gone over what the project covered, but Dr. Banner had during one of their science sessions.

His teacher had seemed a little annoyed when he’d told her he’d finished ahead of schedule, as had some of his classmates, but Liz just seemed excited and dropped into the empty seat next to him. “I’m a member of the school’s academic decathlon team. Our captain asked me to invite a few promising freshmen to try out while he’s getting our practices ready and a couple of your teachers recommended you.”

Blushing, he ducked his head. “Th-thank you, but I don’t know anything about academic decathlons.”

She shrugged. “That’s okay, we can teach you how it works as long as you’re smart enough to compete.”

Peter wasn’t sure about the competition part, but his dad and Uncle Rhodey had both suggested he join a school club or team to try to make friends so he nodded. “Uh, sure then. How do I try out?”

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

“Yeah, Ned, I’ll ask Nebs as soon as she gets home,” Peter was saying as he came into the workshop. “Yeah, that sounds great… Uh-huh… Okay, bye!” Peter dropped into a chair and rolled up next to Tony. “Hey, Dad! Guess what happened at school today!”

Tony adjusted the power levels and reran the simulation for the engine he was working on.

“Dad?”

“Jay, save these results.”

“Right away.”

“Dad, what’s wrong?”

“Did you hear something, Jay?”

“I believe it was Master Peter.”

“Who?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Peter pout. “Nebs told you.”

Tony continued to ignore him.

“She promised she wouldn’t say anything!”

“Say anything about what? You betraying the entire family?”

Peter rolled his eyes and nudged Tony’s arm. “It’s just a field trip.”

“To Oscorp,” Tony spat, putting as much disgust into the word as he could.

“The entire robotics lab is going. I’d look weird if I don’t go.”

“No, you’d look smart. Oscorp is garbage.”

“Compared to us, sure,” Peter agreed easily, leaning against Tony to see his work. “But they’re still one of the best companies in the world and it’s a big deal to the others that we’re able to tour some of their labs.”

“Osborn’s probably just trying to scrounge up some good PR to combat whatever scandal he’s apart of this time.”

“Yeah,” Peter hummed, reaching out to turn the diagram.

Tony shoved the hand away. “Uh-uh, traitors don’t get to help out in the lab.”

“Dad!”

“There you are,” Nebula said, walking in. “Why were you asking Uncle Happy when I was off?”

Peter spun his chair around to point at her. “You promised you wouldn’t tell him!”

Nebula gave him an unimpressed look. “What does it matter? It’s just some stupid field trip.”

“The triplets would never spew such blasphemy,” Tony muttered.

Nebula shook her head. “Is that all you wanted or can I -”

“Wait!” Peter called as she started to leave. “Ned wants to know if I can come over to his house tomorrow!”

“Ned?” Tony and Nebula asked together.

“He’s in AcaDec and robotics lab with me. He’s a freshman too and last practice we were talking about those old Star Wars movies. He invited me over to watch them.”

Old Star Wars movies, Tony mouthed as Nebula asked, “And why does this concern me?”

“His mom wants to talk to you to make sure it’s okay.”

Tony laughed as his daughter scowled. “You wanted to be responsible for him.”

“Please, Nebs!”

She groaned and turned to leave. “Just give her my number.”

“Thanks, Nebs! You’re the best older sister ever!” F.R.I.D.A.Y. made a sound and Peter said, “Older! You’re still the best sister altogether.”

“Thanks, Baby-Bro!”

“So you’re making friends, then?” Tony asked.

“Well, friend. It’s just Ned. At least, I think he’s my friend.”

Tony shrugged and ruffled his hair. “Barely two months and you’ve already got a maybe friend? Way better than me at your age. Knew you could do it. I’m proud of you.”

Peter beamed. “Even though I’m going on the field trip?”

Tony dropped his hand and turned away. “Jay, did you hear that? It almost sounded like someone was talking.”

Peter pressed his face into Tony’s shoulder with a whine.

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

Two hours into the tour and Peter was honestly just bored.

Nothing Oscorp was working on, or at least nothing they were willing to show his class, was cutting edge. His class was mostly just interested in the equipment the labs were using, but Peter had worked with better while helping his dad or Dr. Banner.

“Dad was right, I should have just bailed,” he sighed, hanging back while his classmates all crowded around the tanks of spiders Oscorp was using for a breeding experiment.

He shivered at just the idea of being that close to the arachnids, behind glass or not.

He glanced around the lab in search of something to focus on before his brain just started tuning everything out and his eyes landed on a display hidden off to the side next to a tank.

Giving the tank a wide berth, he walked over and read off the formula. It seemed to be part of the breeding experiment, but something was familiar about it.

“Please stay with your class.”

Peter jerked to the side, tripping and barely managing to catch himself on the workbench holding the tank. Blushing, he pulled himself upright and turned to see Dr. Connors, Oscorp’s lead genetic biologist. The man had been the one to give them their lecture when they’d reached the bio labs and was now staring down at Peter with a forced smile.

“S-sorry, I was just looking at this formula.”

“It’s beyond you, very advanced. Come back over with the others.”

Peter shook his head. He hated when adults looked down on him. His teachers did it, some of his classmates did it, the Avengers had done it whenever they visited Dr. Banner’s lab while he was there, even Dr. Banner had done it at first. His dad had never done it, though, and he didn’t stand for anyone doing it to Peter or his siblings.

Well, except the twins, sometimes. But only Dad was allowed to tease them, and they knew he was just joking.

“My… uncle taught me about formulas like these years ago.” He pointed at a portion of the formula as he realized what was familiar about it. “Why is Extremis incorporated here?”

Dr. Connors dropped the smile for an annoyed expression. “It isn’t.”

“But I recognize it. My uncle taught me about it.”

“Your uncle must have been mistaken.”

Peter scowled. Dr. Banner was above and beyond Dr. Connors’ level.

“Please return to your class. Now.”

Peter marched over to Ned’s side as the class began to leave for the next part of the tour.

Just as the doors closed behind him, he felt a pinch at the back of his neck. His hand slapped at it reflexively.

“You okay?” Ned asked.

“Yeah, just an itch.”

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

“Peter!” Nebula called as she strapped her gun to her hip. “You’re going to be late if you don’t get out here.” She grabbed her badge and jacket, then turned to Peter’s door. “Peter?”

A bit of worry dug at her when she didn’t get a response. She hadn’t seen Peter the night before, but his backpack was on the coat rack so she had assumed he’d gone to bed early for some reason. What if…

Nebula threw open his door and sighed when she saw the fluffy brown hair poking out from under his Iron Man comforter (a gag gift from Uncle Rhodey, Peter had made her swear not to tell Father he actually used it). “Peter?”

He groaned and peaked out of the covers. “Nebs?”

She frowned at his raspy voice, bleary eyes, and flushed face. “You okay?” she asked, coming to his side.

“Tired.” He leaned into her cold skin when she set her hand on his forehead. “Everything’s bright and loud.”

She nodded as her sensors listed a temperature. “You’re running a low fever.”

He flinched and pulled his comforter back over his head.

Considering what he’d said, she quietly moved over to the window and shut the blinds and curtains. Then she went to the bathroom and grabbed some Tylenol and earplugs out of the first aid kit. She brought them into his room with a glass of water and offered them with a small, “Here.”

He peaked out again then took the Tylenol and water.

“I’ll call your school and let them know you’re staying home. Just rest. If I can’t make it back for lunch, I’ll send someone to check on you. Call me or Father if you start feeling nauseous or if anything else starts feeling off.”

He nodded and put the earplugs in before slipping back into his chrysalis.

She gave his side a pat and left for work.

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

A car honked, a baby cried, someone knocked on a door, someone dropped a glass, another car honked.

So much. Too much.

Peter reached up to make sure the earplugs hadn’t fallen out while he was asleep, but they were still in. They really weren’t helping much, but he figured something was better than nothing.

He pulled his blanket down and squinted as the light hit his eyes. He wanted to tug it back up, but his stomach was killing him. Maybe Nebs would be back soon?

Sitting up a little, he reached out for his glasses so he could check the time. He paused when he spotted his glasses next to the alarm clock.

The alarm clock that he could easily read.

He looked around his room and was shocked to find he could see everything perfectly, once he pushed past how bright everything was. For so long he’d never been able to see more than a foot in front of his face, yet now everything was crystal clear. Better than, really. Even his glasses had never let him see everything with such detail.

He rubbed his eyes, but the only thing that did was help his eyes adjust to the light a little.

His stomach gave a loud gurgle and cramped, reminding him of his hunger.

Shoving aside his weird eye thing for now, he checked the time and pouted when it showed it was only half-past ten.

Hissing, he slipped out of bed. The ache throbbing through his body briefly grew in his legs as they took his weight and rippled through the rest of him. Once it dulled, he shuffled over to his desk and grabbed his sunglasses. They made everything blurry as his miraculously healed eyes tried to focus through them, but he knew the living area was going to be even brighter than his room.

Sure enough, it was blinding and he barely opened his eyes as he searched the kitchen. He ended up pulling out an orange and some leftover pasta from the fridge. He tossed the pasta into the microwave and moved to the sink to peel the orange.

However, as soon as he broke the skin, he was hit with a strong citrus smell that sent a shiver down his spine and he dropped the orange out of instinct. He stared at the fruit until the microwave timer went off. With another shiver, he carefully grabbed it by the unbroken portion and tossed it in the trash. He then washed his hands thoroughly until all he could smell on them was mixed berry hand soap.

It was only when he was back in his room, halfway through his leftovers and a party-sized bag of chips, that he realized something was up with his behavior. He stared down at his hand, lost. Why had he reacted like that? He’d never had a problem with oranges before, especially not to such an extreme. Maybe the fever was messing with his head.

Resigned to more bed rest, he finished off his food then cocooned himself back on the bed, leaving the container and bag on his desk since he didn’t want to face the bright light again. He dozed until he was woken up by Uncle Happy coming into the apartment.

“Kid, you still in bed?” he yelled, shutting the door and locking it.

“Yeah,” Peter groaned, clenching his fists around his comforter. “Not so loud, please. Why is everyone yelling today?”

“Kid?” Uncle Happy stomped down the hall and opened Peter’s door. “Peter?”

Peter shushed him.

Uncle Happy stomped up to his bed and sat down on the edge, reaching over to rub up and down his side. “How are you feeling, kid?” he asked. He wasn’t yelling anymore, but he was still a little loud.

Why couldn’t anyone whisper?

“A little better,” Peter sighed. “Still hurts and tired.”

“I see you got up to eat.”

“Mm-hm. Really hungry.”

“Clearly. You ate enough to satisfy Cap. Feeling nauseous at all?”

“No.”

“That’s good. When was the last time you took any medicine?”

“Nebs gave me some Tylenol before she left.” He considered mentioning that it hadn’t seemed to help, but kept quiet, figuring he must have just fallen asleep before it kicked in and woken up after it wore off.

“Alright. I’m going to go grab the thermometer and some more Tylenol, okay?”

“Mm-hm.”

He quickly did as he said and Peter swallowed the pills while Uncle Happy held the thermometer in his ear.

“Well, your fever’s gone down some. That’s good. Must just be a bug or something,” Uncle Happy said, rubbing his shoulder. “You need anything else?”

“‘M okay.”

“Alright. I’ll get you some more water before I leave. Give one of us a call if anything happens before Nebula gets home, alright?”

“Okay,” Peter agreed, burrowing back into his cocoon. “Can you also grab me some jerky?”

“Still hungry?”

“A little.”

“An appetite’s good, right? Yeah, probably. That it?”

“Yes, please.”

Uncle Happy ruffled his hair. “Get some rest. I’ll leave your snacks on your bedside table.”

Peter groaned and ducked further into the chrysalis.

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

By the next morning, his fever was gone, but everything still seemed too loud and bright. The body pains were still there too, though they’d faded to a muted ache. And then there was his vision…

“Hey Peter, how are you feeling?” Nebs asked as he came into the -- thankfully darkened -- living area. “Why aren’t you wearing your glasses?”

“I’m okay, just a bit of a headache. I -” His nose twisted up and he took a step back. “What are you drinking?”

“Peppermint tea. Vision recommended it. Want some? It’s supposed to be good for headaches.”

He took a few more steps back when she held her mug out to him. “Pass.”

She raised an eyebrow before shrugging it off. She came up to him and he forced himself to stay in place, shivering at the smell. She placed her hand on his forehead and said, “Are you feeling up for school today? You don’t have a fever anymore.”

He shook his head, thinking about crowded halls and loud bells.

“Alright. You might as well come with me to the tower then.”

He nodded. He didn’t want to have to go outside, but it would be worth it to see Dad and hide away in his soundproof room with the windows blacked out.

“Go get dressed then. Don’t forget your glasses.”

Peter quickly dressed, but paused when he picked up his glasses. He put them on and everything went blurry.

What is going on?

“You almost done?” Nebs called.

“Yeah.” He put his glasses away and dug out the sunglasses he kept for the rare occasions he decided to wear his contacts.

He picked up his jacket and nearly jumped out of his skin when a spider fell out of the hood. Not taking his eyes off the bug, he reached back to grab a petri dish and its lid off his desk. It was only after it was safely trapped inside -- and held as far from him as possible -- that he realized the spider was dead. Relieved, he looked closer at it, curious about the bright red, blue, and black coloring. He’d never seen a spider like it before.

“Peter?”

“Coming.” He set the dish down and shook his jacket out. Once he was sure there were no more hidden spiders, he tried to put it on, only to find his hand stuck to the fabric. He shook his hand and tried to pull it off with his other hand, both to no avail.

“Peter hurry up.”

He spun around as his door opened.

His jacket fluttered to the ground.

“What are you doing?”

“Just putting on my jacket,” he chuckled nervously.

“Right,” she said, looking unconvinced. “Well, let’s go. I need to get to work.

“Yep, sorry,” he sighed as Nebs left. He glanced at his jacket on the ground, then grabbed another out of his closet. He pocketed his phone and put on his sunglasses before pausing. He glanced at the spider, then his door, before slipping some rubber bands around the dish and pocketing it as well.

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

For the record, since I've gotten a comment about this, Harley is not Reed Richards. That's on the right track though.

Just finished writing down the Infinity War part of this and I've got to say, I cried while writing it. Why does Infinity War have to exist?

Also, place your bets now on who bites the bullet!

An update on something I mentioned in the past: Riri, Miles, Gwen, and Kamala won't be appearing in this story, unfortunately. I just don't have enough information on Riri and the Inhumans to include her or Kamala and Peter's just too early in his superhero gig for Alchemax to be trying to recreate him so two spider-powered-people will have to do for now. There are two kid heroes that don't show up in canon that will be appearing though. One who was already planned and I might have mentioned already, can't remember, while the other will be taking Riri's spot... and all that implies

#iron family #tony stark #peter parker #nebula #oscorp

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islareeveswriting · 6 years ago

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Everyone has a weakness.

For Molly she found her weakness was cheese twists. Buttery, flakey, warm, freshly made cheese twists. Maybe a cheese scone if she didn’t have any other option, but she simply couldn’t say no to a cheese twist. It had started as a child, with a mild addiction to the shop bought ones her mum used to get from the supermarket, four single twists wrapped in foil and lying in a plastic tray. They were salty and crumbly and far too moreish for Molly’s own good. But then she’d discovered the freshly made ones at the bakery with her grandfather one day, and there’d really been no going back. It felt to Molly like someone had answered a prayer she didn’t know she’d made, but the cheese twists from Pattersons certainly felt like a gift from the Gods.

Yes Molly’s weakness was cheese twists, more than a new pair of trainers, or new jeans, and Molly wasn’t ashamed to admit how far she’d go for a good, warm, cheese twist.

As she sat in Harry’s kitchen, flicking through the photos of Harry dressed up in her designs, Lola giggling as her godfather looked back through the iPad straight at her, it seemed to Molly that Lola might be Harry’s weakness, his achilles heel, the thing he’d go above and beyond for, and suddenly her cheese twist weakness felt completely ridiculous. Mainly, Molly knew, because it was. Harry hadn’t seen the photos yet, and Molly was sure if anyone other than Lola was looking at them before he was, he’d be pouting and grumbling, but as it was he just smiled on as together Molly and Lola swiped through the collection of photos that Molly had spent the past three days tirelessly editing.

It had been as many days since Harry had asked Molly to go over to his, and look after Lola with him. They’d finished up at the shoot, the photography student Molly had hired had left, the space was empty, it was just him and her, Molly zipping the clothes back up in the suit bag to take home. Once she’d done her final presentation, she planned on giving them to Harry to keep, but for the time being she still needed them, she had a critical analysis to face yet, and that was always the hardest part. Her mind was occupied with the idea of standing in front of three of the course lecturers, when Harry had wandered over and asked her what she was doing on Sunday.

When he’d asked Molly couldn’t help but be a little taken back. Obviously it had registered on her face, because Harry was quick to retract, tell her it was fine, she didn’t have to if she didn’t want to. But that wasn’t it. It was more that she was getting used to Harry taking things slowly, letting her in slowly, inviting her in step at a time and not all at once. She was learning to be comfortable with that and go at his pace. And asking her to look after his goddaughter with him, felt a little faster than what she was learning to be used to.

Something deep inside Molly had stirred. It was warm and comfortable, and something she could get used to. It was brand new, something she was sure she’d never felt before, but it felt as natural as anything she did know, and it didn’t frighten her at all. She smiled, and nodded, not really saying a lot, but reassuring Harry, in more than just her words, that she’d love to look after Lola with him. Since then the photos had been her main priority, but whenever her mind had a second to wander, it wandered straight to Harry and Lola, straight to spending the day with both of them and what that might look like.

“I like that one the best,” Lola smiled, pointing at the photo of Harry standing tall, looking down into the barrel of the camera lens. His chest was bare, and the butterfly over his tummy was just peeking out from under the long line black coat Molly had adorned with gold badges and embroidery. The red and black trousers took the eye, before anyone noticed the beaten and well worn pink converse on Harry’s feet that Molly had spotted under his bed the first time she’d stayed in it. She knew they had to feature the second the ideas had started to come to her mind. “Can see butterfly,” Lola pointed out, raising her eyes from Molly’s ipad screen to her godfather. Harry just smiled and nodded. “I’m gon’ have butterfly on my tummy when I’m big,” Lola grinned, turning to Molly.

“Yeah?” Molly asked, with a smile that didn’t even nearly match the brightness or wideness of Lola’s. Lola simply nodded, as Molly chuckled quietly, the toddler focused back on the screen.

“Does Uncle Harry get to look now?” Harry asked, across the table from them. When Molly had arrived, Lola had been sat at the table, scribbling over reams of paper, Harry happily watching on, sipping on a coffee and letting Lola chatter away to him. Molly almost wished she hadn’t disturbed them, when she wandered into the flat, using the spare key as instructed, to the sight of Harry so enamoured and Lola happily creating doodles. It hadn’t taken long for Lola to find her way onto Molly’s lap and for her to get out of Molly the photos she was nervous to let Harry see. The nerves quickly ebbed as Lola became enthralled in them, and it wasn’t showing Harry photos of him in her designs, it was letting a child find joy in her work.

“You sit here, look together,” Lola suggested. Harry chuckled, and rolled his eyes, but Molly only smiled, somehow happy that Lola wanted to look through the collection of photos again. They’d taken quite a few, and Molly had edited a lot. She knew the hard part came in deciding which ones to get printed and add into her portfolio. She was hoping Harry’s reactions would help her with that part, though Lola’s had already had started doing so on their own.

Harry moved to take the seat next to Lola and Molly, and Lola pushed the iPad closer to him. Harry glanced towards Molly, almost as if asking for permission, Molly simply offered a slight smile in response and Harry tapped away to get to the beginning of the collection before slowly flicking through each photo, hesitating over them, some for longer than others. It was silent, Harry didn’t say a word, and where before Lola and chattered and giggled and gurgled, she didn’t make a noise either. Molly’s nerves were back with a vengeance, eating away at her stomach and starting to make her feel nauseous. Lola’s hand was on hers, laid gently over Molly’s fingers, playing with the stone in one of Molly’s rings. It was as if Lola could feel her nerves, and was responding as Molly normally would had Lola’s little, chubby, digits not been toying with the ring.

“That one your favourite?” Harry asked, glancing down at Lola, who had moved slightly and was leaning mostly over the table, her feet digging into Molly’s thighs but not painfully. Molly glanced up from where she found herself staring at nothing as the silence persisted, Harry’s voice finally breaking it and her stare. Lola hummed as she nodded quickly, leaning on her hand and tilting her head slightly as she looked at the photo of Harry in the long black coat again. “Me too,” Harry smiled, eyes flicking to Molly for a second.

“Yeah?” Molly asked quietly, and Harry nodded, before flicking to the next one. There were photos of him shirtless, in just the trousers, some of them in black and white, edited as if for a magazine spread as was part of the brief, a couple of close ups of details on the clothing, different poses as directed by both Molly and the photographer. Molly was struggling to find her favorite because she found she loved them all for different reasons, some for very different reasons.

“And this one,” Harry added, flicking back quickly to a photo of him sat nearly cross legged in the patch work suit, hand embroidered with little flowers. It had taken hours, hours and hours, but it was worth it, especially when Molly saw it on Harry, and again when he said the photo was one of his favourites. It was one of hers too, she realised as she looked at it again and the honestly amused smile on his face that had come as a result of a joke Molly had made about him being careful not to rip the trousers as he moved to cross his legs. “I was looking at you,” Harry added, and Molly just nodded, smiling to herself and staring back at Harry in the photo. It was almost as if he was a different man to the one who had moved his hand to Lola’s back in case she should slip from Molly’s lap and fall. They were both endearing, and both made Molly’s heart skip a beat, but in quite a different way, and for quite different reasons. Just another nod to how many layers there were to Harry, how he was able to be both soft and cutting all at once, both deep and heavy, but light as a feather. He was a man of many faces, and Molly found herself falling for every single one of them, harder and faster with each day that passed.

“Where’sa photo of you and mummy?” Lola asked suddenly, as if from nowhere, but Molly supposed that was just because she’d been so lost in the photos of Harry, and her trailing thoughts.

“Me and Mummy?” Harry asked, a small crease between his eyebrows as he looked down to Lola, retreating back onto Molly’s lap. Lola just nodded. “Not today angel, we can look at them another day,” Harry bargained, locking the iPad and shutting it back up, sliding it across the table to Molly.

“But I wanna show Lolly,” Lola whined, and Molly could hear the pout in her voice without seeing her bottom lip down turned and protruding.

“Lola Belle I said not today.” Harry’s voice had a sternness to it then, and even Molly found herself biting her lip and swallowing on nothing. “We’ll show Lolly another day, we’re going to feed the ducks remember, need to show Lolly how good you are at putting your shoes on,” Harry suggested, his voice lifting again. Lola clambered down from Molly’s lap, but Molly could tell by the way she seemed to drag her little body towards the door that she was still sulking about it.

“I’d quite like to see the photo,” Molly whispered scooting closer to Harry. Even in Nancy’s house, the only photos of Harry were toddler photos, so young he still had blonde hair, and big doey eyes. Molly had never seen photos of Harry as a teenager or a young adult, and she was intrigued.

“Another time,” Harry told her. “The album’s packed away under my bed,” He explained and Molly nodded. “I will show you, but if I get them out Lola will sit looking at them all day, we’ll never get her out of the house, she loves them,” Harry chuckled

“There’s a whole album?” Molly asked, a little taken back. There were no photos in Harry’s house, a few art prints hung from walls, but no photos of anyone in his life, not even Lola. Molly simply took him for someone who wasn’t interested in capturing moments and holding onto them more firmly than memories.

“Yeah, used to take photos all the time when we were younger,” Harry sighed looking past Molly to the door where Lola was padding back from quickly, a small pair of pink converse in her hands. Molly had to chuckle to herself, before responding sweetly, turning her eyes to Harry again.

“That’s cool,” Molly breathed, and Harry simply nodded, turning his attention to Lola who he picked up onto his lap and took the shoes from her hands. “You should get back into it,” Molly suggested with a shrug.

“Maybe,” Harry smiled, quickly glancing at Molly with a smile. “Right then, Lola Belle, you gotta remind me, which one goes on which foot?” Molly watched on as Harry made a game of getting Lola’s little shoes on the right feet, Lola squealing with humour all the while. Molly’s cheeks were aching from how wide her smile was as she watched. Clearly it was something of routine, but Lola still laughed loudly every time Harry tried to put the wrong shoe on the wrong foot, before finally he tied them up around her ankles, and sent her off to find her coat.

Molly couldn’t remember the last time she’d been to feed any ducks, and she knew she’d never been to feed the ducks at Swanbourne Lake since she’d moved for university. She’d had a couple of picnics at the top of one of the hills that surrounded the lake, getting the bus out to the little village and wandering up to the park with a backpack full of food. But she’d never fed the ducks. With Lola chattering excitement about all the ducks and birds she was going to see though, Molly felt as thrilled about it as she might have done at Lola’s age.

The drive out to the lake was filled with Lola asking questions and talking at Molly and Harry. It felt relaxed and easy, and Molly found any impending university work or gradings were far from her mind when Lola was asking beautifully innocent questions about the trees and the clouds and the spring flowers that beginning to bloom and spatter colour across the countryside. Molly found herself as intrigued by the things Lola was talking about as Lola seemed to be as Harry answered her questions about where the flowers went in winter, and if the animals were all awake now. Since she’d moved to university Molly found herself so stuck in the bubble of the centre of town, that she forgot how much she loved the countryside and how peaceful she found it. Even though it was a short bus trip out of town, it was one Molly rarely made. As Harry drove further out town, down narrower lanes, closer to the lake, Molly relaxed further into the seat of the car, eyes taking in all the natural beauty around her.

Sundays had come to mean a day on the sofa with a movie until Harry had strolled into Molly’s life quite happily. Molly and her housemates were quite content to waste the day away doing not a lot, really enjoying a Sunday for what it was before the storm of a fresh week. However, with Harry, Sundays had come to mean getting out of the house and getting some fresh air in their lungs, enjoying some good food and good coffee, and Molly had forgotten how much she enjoyed those kind of Sundays. Even though Molly was used to spending her Sundays with Harry, that particular Sunday, with Lola in the back seat tapping her legs and kicking them around excitedly as Harry got the pushchair ready and Molly pulled her coat on out of the boot, felt even more like Molly’s perfect sort of Sunday.

“Come on then trouble,” Harry said, opening Lola’s door as she unclipped the belt of her car seat and, with Harry’s steadying hand, hopped down onto the step and onto the ground.

“Don’t want my chair Uncle Harry, wanna walk with you, am a big girl,” Lola told Harry at the sight of the unfolded pushchair Molly was stood beside. Molly smiled to herself, looking down at Lola who was giving the pushchair the sort of look Molly gave a pile of essays she didn’t want to start on.

“If you walk, you have to hold my hand,” Harry told Lola with a warning tone in his voice.

“I hold Lolly’s hand?” Lola asked with a tilt of her head, looking up at her godfather with doey eyes.

“Ok, but you musn’t let go, you hold onto Lolly’s hand tight until we’re in the park ok?” Lola nodded and trotted over to Molly quickly all at once with a big beaming smile on her face. Once at Molly’s feet, she extended her small hand up to Molly, which Molly took with a friendly smile, wrapping the tiny hand up in her own. “Are you going to walk the whole way, cause I’m not going to carry you, and neither is Lolly,” Harry added, raising an eyebrow at Lola.

“I walk the whole way, I promise,” Lola nodded, and so Harry gave in, folding the pushchair that he’d deftly set up, obviously something well practiced, and put it back in the boot of the car.

“You warm enough?” Harry asked once the boot was shut, and Lola just nodded, the three of them beginning to head for the park. “And you?” Harry asked a little quieter, taking Molly’s spare hand in his own as he fell into place on other side of her, perfectly content with Molly holding onto Lola, every faith nothing would happen to the little girl when Molly had her hand.

“I’m fine,” Molly giggled. “Are you?” She asked and Harry nodded.

It was a busy Sunday, the sunshine calling people out of their homes and into the world. The lake was surrounded by children, and families, some feeding the large congregation of ducks that called the lake home, some just admiring, others setting off on the path that circled the lake. The water glistened under the sun like it was coated in stars, and the warmth on Molly’s skin did nothing but draw a contented smile on her face. Once they were through the large gates of the park, Lola’s pace picked up, dragging Molly closer to the water and the ducks, it pulled her other hand from Harry’s, and Molly looked back over her shoulder to him as Lola pulled her quickly away. Harry just chuckled, and shoved his hands in the pockets of his jacket, following slowly behind happily.

The three of them stood at the edge of the pond, Molly crouching beside Lola and holding gently onto the bottom of her jacket to keep her from getting too close to the water. Harry slowly handed Lola pieces of bread to throw for the birds that were slowly beginning to crowd around the water in front of them, chunks of bread floating between the birds, a few fighting over them. Lola giggled happily every time a duck caught the bread she threw, and turned to Molly as if to ask if she’d seen, Molly nodding happily and continuing to watch Lola feed the ducks the way she had done as a child.

It felt a little strange to Molly. She’d never really been around children, she was the youngest in her family and no babies had been born into the family since her. A part of her had wondered if she even really wanted children, it wasn’t something she spent any great deal of time thinking about. She was only just twenty and there were far more pressing things on her mind than whether one day she might have a family of her own. She always thought she wouldn’t, it just didn’t overly interest her. But as she squatted at the edge of the lake holding cautiously onto Lola to keep her from any danger, it was surprising to Molly how easy she felt being around Lola, and how natural looking after her seemed to come. Whether she could see herself with a child of her own one day was another matter, but she thought she felt her predispositions shift a little as Lola once again looked to her for something Molly didn’t know she could give.

“Shall we walk a bit Lola?” Harry asked, and Molly stretched back up onto her feet. “You walk nicely and don’t go too near the water ok?” Harry told Lola, who nodded before trundling up the path around the lake. “You ok?” Harry asked again, once it was just him and Molly, though his eyes were firmly focused on Lola a few paces ahead. If he needed to he’d be by her side in seconds, Molly knew that for certain.

“I’m fine,” Molly smiled, quickly glancing to Harry. “Why do you keep asking?”

“I’m just making sure, I know this probably isn’t how you’d like to spend a Sunday really,” Harry sighed, and swallowed on nothing, his tongue flicking out against folded in lips.

“Don’t be daft, I’m having a great day, it’s lovely,” Molly told Harry happily, a sing song quality to her voice as she grinned at him.

“You’re really good with her,” Harry told Molly, one corner of his mouth lifting a little. “Makes me happy,” Harry added, glancing to Molly quickly before his eyes found Lola again, at just the same speed, making sure she was still trotting along just ahead of them, far from the water or anything else that might cause her trouble.

“Well that’s good,” Molly giggled, her hand wrapping around Harry’s arm and letting her head fall nearly onto his shoulder, but not quite meeting it. Molly heard Harry hum a smile, and felt a kiss on her head, through her hair.

“I’m sorry,” Harry whispered straight into Molly’s hair, his breath tickling her scalp. It pulled Molly’s head up to meet his eyes though, a frown pulling her eyebrows down.

“What on earth for?” Molly quizzed, the space between her eyebrows creasing deeply as Harry seemed to think over what he was saying. Molly saw the bump in his throat hitch and knock around under his neck, before he glanced, just for a second to Molly and sighed.

“Putting all this on you like I did,” Harry breathed, mouth twisting, eyes locked on the little girl ahead of them again, though Molly didn’t doubt that even if Lola wasn’t in front of them, Harry’s eyes would still have been avoiding her.

“Harry it’s fine, we’ve moved on from that and it’s fine, I’m not exactly innocent in all of it, I didn’t behave brilliantly either, can we just, have a good day?” Molly asked, wished. She didn’t want Harry hanging onto all the wrong moves they’d made, Molly was trying to let go of them, and she knew she’d made enough of them herself, but she also knew replaying them in her head only left her full of guilt and dread. It served no purpose.

“You gonna stay tonight yeah?” Harry asked with a hopeful, almost, smirk, eyes dropping to her again.

“If you want me to,” Molly shrugged, standing straighter but still holding onto Harry’s arm. It wasn’t even something they had to put much thought into anymore. Molly had a collection of clothes at Harry’s house, and vice versa, that meant if they decided to stay at one another’s place, they could, without anything getting in the way. Maybe it was a bit forward and a bit soon to have enough things at Harry’s house to mean she could stay there for a few nights and not even have to worry about her flat, but she was finding she quite liked it that way.

“Of course,” Harry nodded, eyes dancing over her face for a few seconds, taking in each feature as quickly as he could, though he never liked rushing over Molly. “Drop Lola home, make food, cuddle and watch a movie,” Harry suggested, and Molly nodded.

“Perfect.” Molly smiled with a little nod.

And it did sound perfect. There was nothing Molly enjoyed more than curling up on Harry’s sofa, or in her bed, and watching a movie they both normally fell asleep too, waking up hours later once the film had finished, one of them getting up to turn it off before Molly rolled over and Harry moved in close behind her, pulling her tight to his body and molding so closely to her that she could feel his breath on her shoulder as she slept. But more than that, the afternoon was perfect.

The sun stayed high and bright in the sky as the three of walked slowly around the perimeter of the lake. They found a spot in the park to lay out the blanket Harry had packed, and enjoy the picnic he’d put together. Lola didn’t really sit still until she had a small plate of snacks in front of her, but even then she got up and toddled around, picking up flowers and sticks and feathers to add to a small collection she’d made of things, piled up by the bag Harry had been carrying. All of them were to be taken home, all of them were to be put in her ‘red box’ in her bedroom. Harry explained it was a small case where she kept things she collected, and she had a scrapbook filled with leaves and flowers and all sorts of things Lola had collected on adventures out and about. It was clear the little girl loved the outdoors, and Molly found herself enamoured with her, entranced by her enthusiasm for all the wild things she stumbled upon.

Watching Lola like that filled Molly with inspiration. Suddenly she was seeing clothes detailed in wild floral patterns, no rhyme or reason, lost in a childhood innocence where structure didn’t make sense, where eating a strawberry followed by a lump of cheese followed by another strawberry, before running off with sticky red juice around her mouth to find something else to add to her wild collection, was perfectly fine. The smile Molly was wearing was fired from the pit of her stomach, and as Harry’s eyes chased Lola around the park she felt his came from something even more raw than that.

Molly didn’t really know what the time was when they stood up from the picnic blanket, but when she got back in the passenger seat of Harry’s car, after securing Lola in her car seat while Harry sorted a few grapes into a tub for her, the dashboard flashed with four thirty two PM. It didn’t feel like they’d been out that long, but the deep yawn that came from Lola in the backseat was only more proof they had.

They drove to Ellie’s quietly. The only sound that of the whirring of Harry’s car, and eventually Lola’s little puffy breaths as she fell asleep to the rocking movements of the car. Molly checked over her shoulder to see Lola’s head fallen, her eyes closed softly, long lashes nearly brushing the tops of her rounded cheeks, peaceful and gentle, compared to the little girl who had torn around the park in hunt for ladybugs and woodlice and flowers with petals, and twigs with leaves. Harry had told her she had to put the live things back, they couldn’t live in her red case, or in the cage with Friday the stick insect, so named because Lola took the pet home on a Friday. Molly didn’t really know any children, but she certainly didn’t know any as endeared by the natural world as Lola, and it warmed Molly in a way she hadn’t been familiar with before.

As Harry drew to a halt in a cul de sac of neatly arranged houses, each one a seeming carbon copy of the one next door, at least on the outside, Lola stirred. Out of the corner of her eye Molly saw Harry turn to Lola, as he switched the car engine off. A soft, barely there smile pulled at the corners of Harry’s mouth, it was endearing and if Molly didn’t know what it was he was looking at, she’d have been drawn to find out what, who, it was that was making him smile like that. It was a smile Molly wasn’t sure she’d seen before. It was far more delicate than anything she’d come to know from Harry, and far more discreet, almost as if he wanted to keep something down, but not as if he was necessarily hiding something.

“Shall we get you indoors then miss Lola Belle?” Harry asked gently, unclipping his seatbelt, Lola still coming too, looking around, frowning, as cogs turned inside her head to place where she was. Lola didn’t say a word though, just stared back at Harry sleepily, making Harry chuckle a little. “Come on then.”

“I’ll give you a hand,” Molly told Harry, unclipping her own seatbelt and shuffling to get out of the car.

“No it’s ok, I’ll be fine,” Harry insisted, and the smile changed. It was wider, rounding and dimpling his cheeks far more obviously as he tried to tell Molly to stay put.

“There’s heaps of stuff, let me help you,” Molly told Harry, not really letting a question form. Before Harry could say anything else, Molly hopped out of the car and wandered around to the boot to grab Lola’s things that they’d packed in earlier. Molly didn’t want it to seem like she was simply barging in where she wasn’t wanted, but she was beginning to learn that Harry seemed to find letting her in easier if she was the one to open the door, rather than standing there waiting for him to do it.

Molly had meant it when she’d said she wasn’t completely innocent, she knew she wasn’t. When it came to how she’d responded to the situation with Ryan it was obvious, but it took a little longer for her to realise how she’d put a lot on Harry without taking any blame. Deep down she’d always known Harry wasn’t the most open of souls, he kept himself back, guarded, at arm's length, and she was beginning to learn why. But even so, she’d expected Harry to open up to her, because that was what she knew, and then held it against him when he didn’t. When she asked, he let her in, when she made the move, he let her in, but Molly was beginning to realise he might never be the person who opened up without provocation, and Molly was learning how to get her head around that, as much as Harry was learning not to close himself off so much. There was nothing to be scared of.

“You ok with that baby?” Harry asked, stepping around the back of the car as Molly lifted the pram, and a bag of Lola’s things from the boot. Molly looked up to Harry’s voice, no matter how many times he called her that, she was never really expecting it, and it took her back, a couple of seconds for her to remember that was her to him. The softness of his voice only it made it tickle more, though Molly expected that was more for the benefit of the drowsy Lola resting on his hip, her head lying on his shoulder comfortably, eyes only half open, heavy lids hiding the bright green orbs underneath as she fought to stay awake for a few moments more.

“All good,” Molly smiled, in a similarly quiet voice, swinging the satchel onto her shoulder and carrying the folded pushchair slightly awkwardly up onto the curb.

“Here, let me,” Harry offered with a slightly amused smile as Molly’s small frame tried her best with the oversized, cumbersome pushchair.

“You’ve got Lola,” Molly pointed out with a cocked eyebrow. For a few seconds Harry hesitated, his throat constricting slightly, staring down at the pram. But then he just looked up and caught Molly’s eyes.

“Swap,” He suggested, reaching for the pram and taking it easily from Molly’s hands, turning to make it easier for Molly to take Lola from Harry’s other arm without disturbing her too much. Steadily Molly took Lola, hands resting under her arms. Lola groaned quietly, more out of surprise than discomfort though. Just as comfortably as she had with Harry, Lola rested on Molly’s hip, one hand moving behind her, fingers instantly finding Molly’s long soft hair and twisting it around her hand. The thumb of her other hand moved to her mouth, and her head fell to rest on Molly’s shoulder. It wasn’t the first time Lola had rested on Molly and found comfort, but something felt different as they headed for one of the identical houses, up the path towards the front door.

Harry knocked against the frosted glass a couple of times before looking back over his shoulder to Molly and Lola, who was beginning to once again fall asleep, curled up against Molly’s body. There was something in the air that Molly could feel was holding Harry tight, and it was making her feel nervous for no discernible reason. Instead of standing back and letting her head runaway with her though, Molly took a step closer to Harry and reached down for his free hand, wrapping her fingers up in it.

“Everything ok?” Molly asked quietly.

“Yeah, just, look-” The door opening cut Harry off, and suddenly she got it. Whatever she’d been expecting, and she wasn’t really sure she’d been expecting anything, because she didn’t feel like there was anything to really expect until they were stood at the front door of a house she didn’t know, she hadn’t been expecting it to be Shane who opened the door. She felt Harry hold himself tighter still, everything going stiff, and she almost thought she heard a whispered sorry, but Molly just squeezed his hand. There were questions, of course, but in that moment Molly just smiled up at Shane and pretended like what she was greeted with was the only thing she could have expected.

“Alright guys?” Shane asked, and Harry just nodded, but Molly smiled.

“All good, you?” Molly asked, and Shane took his turn to nod. From her shoulder Molly felt Lola lift her head.

“Hey baby,” Shane grinned, and the big hulking man that Molly had once been a little tentative off, seemed to soften and ease. Anything that had made Molly wary before wandered off quicker than it ever had. “Did you have a good day with Uncle Harry, and Molly?” Shane asked, as Molly moved Lola to hand her over to Shane.

“Daddy it’s Lolly,” Lola grumbled sleepily.

“Oh Lolly, I’m sorry, silly daddy,” Shane chuckled, tucking a loose dark curl back behind Lola’s ear. “Someone’s a little sleepy,” Shane cooed, moving Lola, and holding her tight to him, letting her cosy up against his body and begin to close her eyes again. “Thanks for having her mate,” Shane started again, looking back up from the little girl falling asleep on his shoulder to Harry, and Molly.

“Anytime, you know that.” It sounded like a common reassurance, one that implied no one need feel guilty for the favour that had been done. But the way Harry said it, told Molly there was more to it than that. It wasn’t just a common courtesy, the way someone might say that’s ok after a thank you, or I’m well after an how are you? It was a highlight of something Shane truly did know, like Harry quite literally meant anytime, and it wasn’t a polite over exaggeration. “See you Tuesday?” Harry asked, moving the conversation on, Shane nodded.

“Yeah, I’ll pick you up, thinking we’re training in the park,” Shane groaned, and Molly glanced to Harry to see him rolling his eyes. “Oh also, El told me to remind you about Saturday,” Shane added quickly.

“Saturday?” Harry asked.

“BBQ,” Shane told Harry, and then Harry nodded. “And you’re welcome to come too Mo-Lolly,” Shane quickly corrected with a smirk, glancing down at Lola. Molly just widened her eyes at Shane, lifting her eyebrows a little and turning her head towards Harry, and back to Shane, look for some kind of explanation. “Just a BBQ here, few friends and family,” Shane explained, “Would be good if you could come too, make a change for Harry to show up with someone,” Shane winked back at Harry, but Harry didn’t rise to the bait, just rolled his eyes and shook his head with a slightly amused smile on his lips.

“Sure,” Molly nodded, only briefly glancing to Harry to ensure he didn’t mind her accepting the invitation. It wasn’t as if she was expecting him to not want her there, but also she didn’t want to stand on any toes.

“Cool,” Harry grinned, offering Molly a wink. “Well we’ll see you later then mate, have a nice evening,” Harry grinned, reaching down for Molly’s hand and stepping back away from the door, Shane having taken the pushchair and bag from him.

“Oh I’m sure it won’t be as good as yours.” There was a wink in Shane’s tone, but the literal wink he offered made sure it didn’t go missed. Molly chuckled quietly, but Harry just tugged at her hand, turning them round and heading for the car.

“Don’t, he’s only messing,” Molly sighed, squeezing Harry’s hand as he marched them to the car. Harry’s jaw was set tight, and his hand was rigid around Molly’s, heavy rings biting her skin.

“Well I wish he wouldn’t,” Harry practically hissed, reaching into his pocket for his keys with such a force it was a wonder his fist didn’t make it all the way through his jeans. “He knows it bothers me,” Harry breathed, his voice softening quickly as he unlocked the car and glanced to Molly, letting go of her hand so they could both get in the car.

“And so does he, that’s why he does it,” Molly told Harry. It was obvious he heard her, but he didn’t say anything just sighed quietly to himself. “Don’t let it get to you, it doesn’t m-”

“It does though Lolly,” Harry bit in quickly. “To me it does matter,” Harry told her, quieter than how he’d interrupted. Molly watched his throat tighten and his eyes fall soft. Molly just nodded, knowing how it felt to have someone tell you something you were concerned about didn’t matter, knowing how daft and stupid it made her feel when anyone told her something she was worried about wasn’t something to worry about.

“Ok,” Molly nodded. “What we gonna have for dinner?” Molly asked, moving the conversation on, not letting it drag into the hours they had left of the day, and pull them down.

“I don’t know, what do you fancy?” Harry asked, and for a moment Molly thought about it, looking out of the window for any kind of inspiration as Harry pulled back out of the cul de sac onto the main road, heading back for his flat.

Eventually they settled on roast chicken, something they could rustle up together in Harry’s kitchen. And they did just that. They bought all the ingredients in the small Tesco’s just around the corner from Harry’s place. The chicken, the veg and all the trimmings, even apples and custard for them to make a crumble with for pudding. They stood opposite one another, Molly sat at one of the stools peeling vegetables, Harry taking them from her and chopping them and plopping them into pans of water. When they got home Harry had changed into shorts and they hit just lower of where Molly now knew there was a deep scar gauged into his leg.

When Molly had noticed it for the first time it had taken her breath away. She had never seen a scar like it. On her knee there was an almost round, shiny pink bit of skin, that she could even barely see let alone anyone else. She’d fallen down the concrete steps in her grandparents garden and somehow come away with only a scabbed knee to show for it, a scab she later picked at, and a scab that left an indiscreet scar. Harry’s scar was very different. There were small marks on his chest she’d noticed before, almost like permanent scratches across his chest, and one bigger one across his belly, but they were different too. The scar on his leg was consuming, it appeared as if the flesh was folding in on itself, eating him from the inside out and dragging the skin into the muscle and bone. It was untidy and bright pink, tinged with red. It looked as if it had never really healed properly, as if the cut that had been there had never been stitched. It was jagged and rough.

In the moment Molly had taken it from her mind, focused on Harry, even more so when he seemed to freeze with all consuming nerves. But as he stood there in shorts that just about covered the scar, Molly wondered if that was a calculated decision, if he bought shorts based on whether or not they kept his scar out of view, if he would wander around in something shorter when he was alone. Of course they weren’t the most pressing questions, and of course Molly wondered how Harry had come to have such a deep slice in his leg, but she didn’t ask. As much as she was learning to be comfortable with letting herself in, she also knew there were things that were better left for him to come to her about. And something was telling her, the scar was one of those things, so she pushed it from her mind and refocused on the vegetables and the music they had playing in the background.

It felt like a pretty perfect end to a wholesome day in the grand scheme of things. Molly felt warm from more than just Harry’s underfloor heating or the hoodie of his Harry had given her to put on when they’d gotten home. There was still a question in Molly’s mind though, one that didn’t seem like something she couldn’t let herself into, mainly because she was already halfway there.

“So Shane is Lola’s dad?” Molly asked suddenly, a potato half peeled in her hand. She kept her eyes on it until a silence lingered on and she felt herself forced to look up at Harry. The space between his eyebrows was dented and his bottom lip was pouty and plump. “Harry?” Molly asked, wondering if he’d even heard her, if he was really that caught up in making sure the potato chunks were even.

“Yes,” Harry blurted suddenly, quickly, eyes not lifting from the potato. “Sorry, should have told you,” Harry admitted just as quickly.

“No it’s fine, I didn’t mean...I was just making sure I’d got the right end of the stick,” Molly explained.

“What would the other end be?” Harry asked with half a smirk.

“Well you never know, I just kinda got the impression Lola’s dad wasn’t around,” Molly told Harry. “It’s nice he is though,” Molly smiled looking back down at her own potato, Harry’s eyes still glued to her. “It’s nice she’s got so many people that clearly adore her,” Molly mused, beginning to peel again.

“Yeah,” Harry sighed contentedly. “That’s the most important thing,” Harry said, but Molly wasn’t entirely sure he was telling her that, or just letting out a thought that was ringing in his head. When Molly looked up again, there was a quiet contemplative smile on his face. One similar to how he’d looked at Lola earlier, only it looked more satisfied, more content, not quite as laced with something brimming on sadness. And Molly thought maybe whatever was the most important thing, was more important than she could comprehend.

Because it’s Valentine’s Day, and because I love you all dearly, I decided to post this one a little earlier than normal. I hope you all enjoy it, and I hope you all have a fabulous day today however you’re spending it. (If you want to spending it chatting to me about these pair I am totally ok with that)

All the love <3

#dive #TALK TO ME #let me know your thoughts #and your theories #harry and kids #harry styles fan fic #1dff #harry styles #harry styles fic #harry fic #harry fluff

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icemintfreeze · 6 years ago

Text

Mist on the Plane (Part 5)

AAAAA before I go off to study some more, here’s the next part for the collab me and the lovely Yummycrummy are doing! Enjoy!

——————————

“Listen to your heart! Listen to the rain! Listen to the voices in your brain!”

She leaped onto the table, and raised her pencil in joy.

“Come on guys, let’s GET CREATIVE!”

She began to spin happily as the three students began to work on their crafts and creations. She grinned as she began to dance with the happy, jubilant music that was playing with her song.

But the yellow boy didn’t seem to move...he simply stared at her, his eyes staring into hers. She slowly came to a halt, before she cleared her throat.

“I-I said, let’s get creative!” Her smile began to falter.

The red fellow and the bird began to work more as they muttered their favorite colors, their muttering becoming louder and louder. But the yellow boy did not react. He simply sat, lifelessly. His eyes, still fixated on her.

She began to walk towards him, before the yellow boy slowly raised his arm and pointed his finger directly towards her. She froze, as she could no longer hear the colorful music that was playing; not the voices of the other two students. She looked back, and saw that they were pointing directly at her too. And they looked, awful.

The duck, had a hospital gown, which exposed his chest and innards. His intestine was hanging out from his stomach as his heart slowly thumped, blood squirting and oozing down his gown.

The red man, had pieces of confetti entangled in his yarned hair. His neck oozed out a combination of blood and glitter, and he now had a coat, which was disheveled and stained with blood and glitter.

“What...What are you..-“ her voice was becoming faint with fear, as she began to scuttle away from the students.

But, as she looked down from the table she stood, there was nothing. Simply a dark, dark abyss, that seemed to be never ending.

She looked up in fear, and to her horror, discovered that the students eyes were now black, and crying tears of..Ink..?She felt her heart race as she saw the yellow boy’s mouth open at a alarming size, still pointing directly at her. He then let out a horrifying, demented scream that made her cover her ears in pain. The other two students joined along, as they began screaming and pointing, even using their free hand to claw at their faces in agony. A sharp wail escaped her lips as she tried to stay as far as possible, but they slowly floated closer, their screams becoming more ear piercing than before.

“STOP IT! J-JUST STOP!” She yelled, feeling her ears oozing with ink. She curled herself into a ball and hugged herself, screaming, crying, trying to do anything to block the sound of screams of agony besides hers.She was so focused on her screaming that she didn’t even notice that....

It was silent.She looked up, and looked down at her inked hands. She held her head dizzily as she sat up and looked around. She was back in the house...

The sun was still bright, and the faucet was still dripping, as usual. But no one was home. She carefully stood up, and took a shaky breath. It was just her imagination. She closed her eyes, and laid flat on the table. That...wasn’t how her lesson was supposed to go...What the hell happened back there..? Shes probably gonna get-

*drip*

A substance dropped into her cheek, and she flinched.What the- She opened her eyes and rubbed her cheek, looking down at the substance.

It was ink.

Before she even knew it, the yellow boy let out a loud scream before hurling himself towards her, his mouth demented and his eyes, emotionless and dark.

——————————-

“NO!”

Sketch screamed as she jerked upwards, her arms flailing around in fear. Colored pencils went flying everywhere as she tried to shield herself with her arms.

“I’M SORRY! I’M SORRY!” She weeped out, her small body trembling in her seat. Shrignold quickly moved closer to her and tried to grab her arms, which were shaking widely.

“Sketch-SKETCH! Hey! Dear, look at me!” His voice grew with concern. The amount of noise quickly earned a few glances of curiousity, and soon, Tony came rushing towards her side.

“PLEASE D-DON’T! I DIDN’T MEAN TO! PLEASE!” She screamed out, tears spilling down her page. Tony carefully grabbed her arms and lowered them from her face, her eyes still shut with fear and screams still escaping her lips.

“Sketch. Look at me.” Tony’s voice was soothing and calm, as he tried to hide the concern that was growing in his chest.

“Sketch, please....” Shrignold put a hand on her shoulder, as he looked at her, worry painted in his glossy eyes. Sketch’s eyes slowly opened to reveal both Tony and Shrignold beside her, Tony with a hand on her shoulder, and Shrignold holding her other hand. She took a breath, and looked at Tony.

“S-Sorry..” her voice was quiet and raspy. He shook his head gently and looked at Shrignold.

“How long was she out?”

“Uh...I suppose, an hour or so.”

Tony looked down at Sketch’s notebook, and he quickly scanned the page. Doodles of landscapes, abstracts and objects filled the page, as well as...Tony’s eyes dimmed as he looked away.

“Shrignold. Take care of her, I will return once I finish helping the others.” His voice was quiet as he looked over at Sketch.

“I’ll talk with you soon.”

He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze, before getting back up and waking off. As Shrignold began to comfort her, the notebook sat on the tray table, opened to the same page.

On it, was a picture of the yellow boy, scratched out with black, oozing ink.

———————————-

Fridge had his eyes closed, and his fists balled up. He had never seen his husband act in such a ridiculous manner. He was treating Spinach poorly; why couldn’t he understand that?!

His eyes were soon opened when he felt a slight tap on his shoulder from the isle. It was Tony. And beside him, was Colin. Fridge pasted a fake smile on his face as he saw the two.

“Hello Tony, hello Colin.” He greeted.

“Is there anything you need?”

Tony glanced over at Colin, before clearing his throat.

“Actually, yes. We just wanted to make sure that you and..Steak Guy were alright.”

“We heard arguing not too long ago..and Bread Boy was getting concerned..” Colin exclaimed. Fridge’s eyes darkened as he clenched his fist even more.

“Ah. Bread Boy.”

Colin gently grabbed Tony’s hand out of fear, and Tony gave him a reassuring squeeze.

“Did you hear that Steaky? Bread Boy! Isn’t he sooooooo important to you?” He sneered, his smile slowly fading more and more.

“Now look what you’ve done; you made him CRY. I suggest we get your little BABYSITTER to take care of him! Oh SPINACH!” He called out, turning his head a bit.

Spinach’s eyes snapped open when she heard Fridge’s voice. She sighed and looked up at him, shrugging her shoulders as if she were to reply with, ‘what?’. Tony quickly waved his hand towards her direction.

“Everything’s fine, Spinach Can! We’re just trying to talk with your fathers, that’s all!” He grinned nervously.

Spinach looked at him, before rolling her eyes and laying down against Larry once again. What was that about?...Meh. Who cares. She didn’t matter to her dads anyways. Tony sighed with frustration and looked at Fridge.

“Listen; I don’t know what’s going on, but you two need to fix it. We’re going on vacation, we’re trying to relax and get away from the disaster we call home, and from the “special events” that took place there!”

“Well it wasn’t MY fault those three ROTTED ALIVE!” Steak Guy turned, his face painted with rage. Tony flinched a bit, and gritted his teeth.

“Well it wasn’t MY fault you killed off one student and forced the other to eat his REMAINS.”

Colin quickly grabbed Tony and pulled him aside. “O-Okay then! I think that’s enough! How about we all just settle down, and-“ “No! How about you two stay out of our business?!” Steak Guy snapped.

“Don’t you DARE speak to Colin that way.” Tony’s eyes were filled with anger as he pulled Colin closer to him.

“Aw, look Steaky! He loves him! How about you, huh? Who do you, “love”?! Surely it’s BREAD BOY, right?! it’s ALWAYS Bread Boy! Never for Spinach, right?!” Spinach, overhearing the dispute, sat up. Larry looked over at her, and looked towards the four ahead of them in concern.

“Bread Boy, Bread Boy, BREAD BOY. Always about BREAD BOY. And who’s in charge of him? Why, obviously the babysitter! SPINACH!” He laughed.

“GOOD-FOR-NOTHING SPINACH! She can’t ever do anything right! All she does is mess up! What a disgrace. Like in our lesson! HA!”

Spinach’s eyes were widened in both rage, and pain, as she heard the words erupt from Fridge.

Larry took her hand and rubbed it entry, before muttering,

“Spinach, don’t listen to them, they’re just saying nonsense-“

“SHE IS NOTHING TO US! NOTHING! ISN’T SHE?!”

Tony grabbed Colin and began to scuttle back.

“Colin, go back to your seat, he’s about to-“

“ENOUGH!”

A loud slap could be heard echoing through out the cabin.

Tony gasped; Colin covered his mouth in pure shock.

Fridge held his cheek as he looked downwards, his eyes widened and his cheek turning a bright shade of red from the slap.

Spinach gripped the seat handle hard, as hot tears poured down her face.

She was right.

huh.

Meanwhile, Steak Guy held his hand from the impact, before muttering,

“I don’t want to hear anything from any of you. Anymore on this trip.”

#THIS WAS REALLY LONG IM SORRY #but. i wanted. to make it good. before i go out n study #i hope. yall like it!!!!#it was fun shshshx #collab #fanfic #dhmis

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ebhenah · 6 years ago

Text

Time travel au blurb that won’t ever make it into the actual fic:

She stared at the box, her face a mask of confusion. She looked so much like Keith in that moment that Shiro had to laugh, which earned him a glare that did roughly nothing to dissipate the resemblance. Her weight shifted to the other leg and she bent her knee, poking the box with her toe. “Explain, please.”

“There’s a Meet and Greet,” he said, fighting the urge to giggle, and failing. She flipped him off and he managed to rein himself in. Taking a breath, he continued, “you are expected to make an appearance. I’ve been told that it is vital to you getting Diplomatic Status.”

“But,” Lia said, nudging the box with her toe again. The steel toed boots were surprisingly stylish, but still heavy and bulky and didn’t exactly make it seem any less likely that she believed the box to be filled with venomous snakes rather than clothing. “I don’t WANT Diplomatic Status. I suck at diplomacy- why won’t you people believe me about that?”

“Oh, I believe you. Allura believes you. We all BELIEVE you, but it’s still your best bet. You DO still want security clearance, right?”

She sighed, “yeah.”

“Then Diplomatic Status is the fastest way to get that. You’ll be representing the Alteans on the Lilliput, so Allura is invested.”

“I’m going to look like an idiot,” she huffed, “I don’t DO fancy.”

“Not buying it, sorry. I’ve seen too many home movies to believe that.”

“I really hate that Lance figured out that his voice match unlocked allllll the home movies and photos.” Uncrossing her arms, she shrugged and opened the box, “ohhh no! Nope! Not putting this on my body.”

“Lia, it’s not that bad.”

“Yes it is.”

“It’s a perfectly lovely dress. Adam helped pick it out.”

“Traitor,” she hissed, “he’s dead to me.”

“For the love of- you two have to STOP with the whole ‘dead to me’ joke. It’s really not funny. We are still at war...”

“Which is why it is funny,” she insisted, ”it’s fucking hilarious... and I do NOT wear dresses.” She rummaged through the box, hoping that the dress was a gag. A misdirect. She did not find a tailored suit, or any kind of pants at all, for that matter. She did, however, find a pair of heels that looked like torture devices- all sparkly straps and thin, tiny spike heels. “Stilettos? I don’t wear heels- especially not open-toed, rhinestone encrusted strappy heels. This is a mess!”

“It’s one night...”

“No. I’m NOT putting this on. I don’t know why Allura thought I would- I didn’t even wear a dress when I got MARRIED. I haven’t worn a dress in over a decade, Shiro- and even then it was for a pretend tea party with Esme.”

“I’m not sure there’s time-”

“I just won’t go.”

“Again, this is the fastest way to get what you want. It’s one night. One party.”

“I can’t fight in this,” she said levelly, holding the dress to her frame to illustrate her point. It WAS a lovely dress- creamy white satin overlaid with lace in a purple so dark it would look black against anything but that white. It was simple, a column gown with cap sleeves, square neck-line, and a long slit up one side of the skirt. It would look amazing on her. Adam and Allura were so thrilled about finding something so flattering that wasn’t fussy or hyper-feminine. “Especially not on my tiptoes. Shoes are meant to PROTECT the foot, not... whatever the hell those things do!”

“Those ‘things’ make your legs look nice... and I doubt you will have to fight- it’s a party.”

“You know what makes my legs look nice? Wrapping them around the head of a beautiful woman. That makes them look fucking AMAZING!”

Shiro groaned, “I really didn’t need that image, Lia.”

“Yeah, well I really didn’t need,” she toed the box again, “ANY of this!”

“It’s a party, Lia,” he tried again, “you like parties- I know this for a fact. Sure, it is fancy, but it is still just a party. You know, a very high security party.”

“Look at my face and guess how much that reassures me. Do you have any idea how many fights I’ve gotten into at parties?”

“It’s not that kind of party, Lia.”

“Yes, it really is, Shiro. You don’t know my life!” Dropping the dress back into the box, she made a gesture that ringed her face, “BAD at the whole diplomacy thing, remember?”

“Well,” he prompted, “do you have any BETTER options at hand?”

“I... actually, I just might!”

“Oh, this should be good,” he muttered, following her out of the room and down the hall to... actually, he had no idea what that particular room was. He didn’t spend as much time in Lia’s family’s quarters as the others did.

“Ryung’s room,” she explained, gesturing to the barren space. He looked around as she disappeared into the closet. There were clear outlines on the walls that indicated that they’d been plastered in posters at one point, and several empty instrument and music stands. A bin of wires and circuit boards sat near a small desk that was covered in marker doodles and notes.

“Awww YEAH! It’s still here!” There was some rustling, the sound of a zipper, and a couple of clunks that he guessed were her boots. “I fucking LOVE Altean clothes! Made to accommodate shapeshifters soooo... Alfie’s old shit fits me!”

She stepped out of the closet and did a little pirouette, “tada! Do you know what this is?”

“Uh... it looks KIND OF like something Coran would wear? Other than the uh... shirt... thing.”

“The shirt thing is a corset, Shiro,” she tsked, picking some kind of lint off of her cuff. She was wearing tight black leggings that had a gold strip up the outside of the legs. The boots she pulled on over them were deep purple edged in gold and extended up over her knees, the highest point of the gentle slope sitting at about mid-thigh. The stylized cut of the Altean coat fell longer in the back than he’d seen, reminding him a little of the old ‘tails’ style of tuxedo coats. The high, stylized collar was that same deep purple edged in gold, and the rest of the coat was black with gold highlights. He could see the lining when she moved, and the pale lavender was almost the exact shade as her skin and matched the gloves she was wearing.

“You look...ummm...”

“Kind of like a sexy lesbian pirate? Why, yes... I very much DO,” she laughed, “but actually, this is official garb for the royal house of Altea. Or, at least, it is back in my timeline. There’s this whole thing where the Crown Heir creates a custom palette that represents their station and is made official by Royal decree... yadda, yadda, yadda... BUT the important thing is that HERE, there is no Alfie and no Alfie means no Crown Prince and THAT means that this glorious creation is just a very, very well made formal Altean suit. Completely appropriate for me to wear to a gala.”

“Uh-huh, so you just need a shirt, then,” he sighed. Adam would be livid that she rejected the ‘perfect gown’ they’d picked out for her, but at least Lia would BE THERE. So, fine. Whatever. Sexy pirate Altean whatever. He wasn’t fighting with her anymore. She could be so exhausting... it was as if she could summon the most frustrating traits of all four of the people that contributed to her genesis- and annoyingly ‘stubborn and willful’ were traits they ALL had a tad too much of.

“Ummm... I HAVE a shirt,” she pointed at the corset.

“That’s underwear... isn’t it?”

“Ehhh yes and no. It’s either. But, hey, it’s black satin. It looks nice and formal. This is what I’m wearing.”

“Sure. Okay. Just... send a pic to Adam and Allura so you don’t blindside them.”

“Will do. Ooooh! You think I can wear the ceremonial SWORD?? I saw it in the back of the closet...”

He stared at her, her whole face absolutely alight at the possibility. He didn’t even know why he was surprised. Keith’s kid. She was Keith’s kid. Of COURSE she had a thing for swords. “It’s a PARTY,” he repeated, not really sure why she couldn’t grasp this concept.

“Yeah,” she sighed, her face melting into a pout, “a sword is way too obvious. Blaster it is. I can hide that easy in this coat.”

“Lia!”

“What?”

“A PARTY!”

“Yeah?”

“No weapons. Leave the weapons to the security detail.”

“But-”

“No BUT! No. No weapons. Got it?”

“I’m pretty sure I should be armed,” she countered. “My history suggests that I sho-”

“Lia! This is not your original timeline! Noooo weapons. Leave it to your security detail.”

“Wait... MY security detail? I have a specific security detail?”

“Yep,” he turned on his heel and exited the room. He wasn’t supposed to let that detail slip.

She jogged after him, “Shibo? Shiiiiiiiiibo? Do you know who my security detail is?”

“Hmmm? Oh, wow- look at the time. I’m sure you have... uh... hair? and umm make-up to do? You’re Lance’s kid so... like some kind of face mask maybe? And uhh... I still need to get ready.”

“Shiro...” She stopped, eyeing him suspiciously. “No. Oh God, please NO! It can’t be... he’s like one of the shining stars of the whole...” her shoulders sank, “seriously?? GRIFFIN! I hate that guy!”

“Yeah- I know. It wasn’t my decision. Blame Iverson.” He waved as he ducked out the door, “see you in a couple of hours!”

She growled to herself, kicking the wall. This was going to be the shittiest fucking party ever... “I’m getting that goddamn sword,” she muttered to herself. “Griffin will HATE that.”

#time travel AU #Lia McClain #Kimeron #Voltron fanfic #Shiro #my writing #mywriting #character study #she is kinda difficult #he loves her though #she calls him Shibo it is a thing for them

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camkablam · 6 years ago

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Day Two - Actor AU

Hey, I got Day Two up. Nice.

Yuri was your average freak.

He was small and quiet and wore glasses that looked too big for his face. Every single kid in his year was twice his height and thrice his size. He’d been bullied so bad that his mum had actually gotten herself involved, but no matter what the school did, they never seemed to be able to get it to stop. So Yuri stopped telling them.

But when he got a part in Story Mode’s second season, he’d been certain he was going to burst with joy, shock and downright anxiety all in the one go. It was, without a doubt, one of the best things that had ever happened to him. Not that any of the bullies actually believed him; all he’d got from telling them was his head dunked in a toilet. But it didn’t matter. They’d see he was telling the truth when the first trailer came out.

Yuri wasn’t sure whether or not it would make the bullying better or worse. There were some people who thought Story Mode was stupid, after all. As though they’d actually bothered to go see it.

But it was more than just that. Because Yuri was honestly finding himself having fun.

There were twelve different actors playing Jesse; Yuri was finding it a little hard to remember all their names (they were startlingly similar, though), so he sort of just ended up calling them all Jesse, to their amusement (but it was fine, because they had taken to calling him Radar; he was fairly certain they couldn’t remember his real name either). They were all so nice as well. A lot like the popular version of the character they were playing.

Ashley was the actor that played Petra. Yuri had been embarrassingly excited when he’d first met her (okay, he’d been embarrassingly excited when he met every actor that played a role in the first season, he’ll admit it), but the redhead (which turned out to be dyed) had just laughed and ruffled his newly gelled hair, telling him she liked him and completely ignoring the angry cries of the hair stylist he’d just left.

Lukas’ actor (or Scott, although he responded to both) was just as kind as his character. He’d helped Yuri multiple times when he got lost and always shot him an encouraging smile whenever he screwed up his lines. Which was often. Embarrassingly often. To be honest, he was a walking embarrassment at this point.

But, at the same time, he had fun. An odd combination, but it was true.

Then there was Jack and Nurm. Or, rather, Fred and Mark. They hadn’t known each other before auditioning, but the two had practically clicked. Fred actually had a blind eye, too; something about getting a bit of glass stuck in it and getting it infected a few years ago (Yuri was still trying to decide if that was cool or just really gross). Mark was even quieter than Yuri; and when he did actually speak, it was in a low muttering that only Fred seemed to be able to hear. Which was just downright coincidentally amazing.

Yuri hadn’t really talked to Stella’s actor, but from their few interactions, she’d been nice. Her name was Ashley, like Petra’s actor, but she’d said that she’d always liked to have Stella as her name. Yuri hadn’t even realised until way later that he’d taken to calling her Stella instead of Ashley; the actress didn’t seem to mind, though.

JB was Romeo’s actor; he’d already made multiple jokes about Shakespeare, mostly (of course) Romeo and Juliet. One particular joke had been during screening, when he’d been dangling five foot in the air from a harness, and had proclaimed his everlasting love for Jesse while quoting something from what Yuri was pretty sure was the balcony scene (the fact that it was a male Jesse that was steadily turning red had just made it all the funnier).

He didn’t see Axel and Olivia’s actors all that much (he was fairly sure they were called Brian and… Natasha? Yeah, Natasha), but that was fine; apparently, they were only appearing briefly at the beginning and then again for the final thing. While Yuri, as a fanboy, was a bit disappointed by this, he decided not to voice it. He was embarrassing enough as it is.

The familiar ring of the bell tore him from his thoughts. Yuri looked up from where he’d been doodling equations on the side of his notebook, blinking as the teacher tried to yell over the chaos of teenagers eagerly packing away their things to go home to remind them that their homework was due tomorrow. Of course, Yuri’s mother had been sure that he was on top of his homework, especially with him needing to go to the studio for most of the day, pretty much every day. Then again, he’d always made sure he was on top of his homework. He just needed to make sure he did it faster and earlier than he used to now.

Yuri shoved his books into his bag and swung it onto his back, making sure to tuck his chair back under his desk before trailing after the other teens darting out into the hallway. His mum was still at work, so the Jesse’s had taken it upon themselves to take turns picking him up from school. Something Yuri had tried to stammer his way out of, because he was fairly certain (still was) that they had way better things to do than pick up some teenager from school, but they’d insisted.

He slipped out the front doors, pausing at the top of the stairs so he could see (sorta) over the hundreds of teenage heads, trying to spot Jesse’s car. He swore that they all shared one car, because he was sure it was the same one every time. Either that, or there were twelve identical cars parked in the studios parking lot. He wasn’t sure which theory was funnier.

He must have been lingering too long. Maybe he’d been blocking someone’s way. Or maybe they’d just decided the average little freak standing on the edge of the stairs had just been too good an opportunity to pass up.

He supposed it didn’t really matter. All that mattered was that one moment he was standing there, and the next he was lying at the bottom of the stairs, staring up at the clouded sky in a daze. It was a considerably blurry sky. Where had his glasses gone? They were supposed to keep things from being blurry.

There was quiet laughter. Yuri groaned, pushing himself up and fingering the throbbing area where the back of his skull had met concrete with a grimace. His fingers came away wet with blood.

The laughing continued. Yuri looked to the top of the stairs, wincing again when he spotted the blurry figures of some of his particularly harsh bullies. Realising that almost everyone else had stopped to stare at him, Yuri ducked his head, heat rising to his cheeks. Spotting what he hoped were his glasses, Yuri reached out, half blind- a foot came out of nowhere and kicked them away. The laughing got louder. The uncomfortable heat crawled further up his neck.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?!”

Yuri’s head snapped around, somewhat useless eyes widening as his heart sank to his stomach. A blurry figure stood a few feet away, distinguishable from all the other blurs from the way they were inching away from them. But he didn’t need to see them to recognise their voice.

Jesse. Well, one of the Jesse’s. They must have seen what had happened from the car.

If Yuri had thought everything about him was embarrassing before, it was nothing compared to how he felt now.

Jesse marched forward, bending down to help Yuri to his feet. The laughing had stopped, but he had much preferred it when compared to Jesse seeing him get shoved down a set of stairs. They turned to him, close enough that Yuri could see the frown on their brow.

“Are you okay?”

Too mortified to speak, Yuri nodded. Jesse’s frown deepened, but they didn’t push, instead turning their attention to the teens still standing at the top of the stairs.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

“It was an accident,” one muttered, a tad weakly. Yuri could practically hear the sneer on Jesse’s face.

“Didn’t look like an accident,” they said; so they had been watching. Fantastic. “In fact, looked pretty damn deliberate to me.”

They didn’t answer. After a moment, Jesse scoffed, before bending down to scoop up what Yuri assumed were his glasses. The actor shot the teens one last glare, before wrapping their arm around Yuri’s shoulders and beginning to guide him away.

“C’mon, Radar,” they muttered, handing him his glasses. Yuri took them in silent thanks and slipped them back onto his face.

Neither he nor Jesse said anything as they slipped into the car, or as Jesse pulled out of the lot and onto the road. Yuri kept his eyes glued to his knees, unwilling to look at the older actor. The back of his head continued to throb.

After a few moments of tense silence, the boy swallowed, finally dragging his fingers up to prod carefully at the back of his hair. It was still wet and sticky, and that blood was going to be hard to get out of his hair if it dried in, and just ow. Why did they have to do that? Why did it have to be then? Why couldn’t they have done it when Jesse wasn’t looking?

Angry, embarrassed tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. He blinked hastily, unwilling to cry in front of his hero. He’d already been shoved down a flight of stairs in front of them. He didn’t need them to see him cry about it too.

“Radar?”

He jumped, hand jerking from where it had still been prodding at the back of his head. Jesse frowned at him, still keeping one eye on the road.

“You okay, pal?” Jesse’s eyes trailed over to his hand, widening as they came to his blood coated fingers, “Is that from your head?”

Yuri swallowed. He wanted to wipe his hand on something, but he’d rather not get blood on his clothes and he wasn’t about to wipe that, of all things, all over his co-worker's car. “Um, ye- yeah.”

Jesse frowned, turning their eyes back to the road as they reached a round-a-bout, “We’ll get you patched up when we get to the studio.”

The boy nodded. With the amount of action that takes place in Story Mode, there was a lot of stunt stuff and heavy equipment with the potential to horribly injure someone. So medical supplies were often kept handy.

They shifted into silence. After a moment of hesitation, Jesse broke it.

“Does this happen often?”

“Does what happen often?”

“Radar.”

Yuri sighed; it had been a weak attempt anyway, “Yeah. But- But it’s fine, I’m used to it by now.”

Jesse stared at him. Of course, they were only able to do so for a moment before they had to snap their attention back to the road, unless they wanted to crash.

“What do you mean you’re used to it?”

Yuri shrugged, “It’s been going on for years. I told my mum and the school, but they weren’t able to really stop it. So I just stopped telling them. I think they’re under the impression that it’s stopped.”

Jesse was silent. They didn’t really seem sure what to say. Finally, they grunted.

“I don’t understand people,” they admitted, “What do they gain from hurting you?”

“I dunno,” Yuri admitted quietly, “Maybe it’s their way of desperately trying to find something they can actually control.”

Jesse huffed, “Maybe. Either that or they’re just jerks.”

Yuri’s lips twitched. The silence returned, but it was a bit more comfortable this time. He dug some tissues out of his bag (because allergy season was, unfortunately, upon them) to press again the back of his head. They were just turning into the studio’s parking lot when Jesse spoke again.

“The other Jesse’s are hearing about this, just so you know.”

“What? Wait, no, I don’t think that’s-”

“Sorry, buddy. Jesse’s tell each other everything.”

Yuri groaned. But he couldn’t have helped the little smile that twitched onto his lips even if he’d tried.

#mcsm #mcsm fanfiction #mcsm au month #day two #mcsm jesse #mcsm radar #mcsm actor au #actor au #au

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wreniswriting · 6 years ago

Text

late night walk

The bustling of the city brought a sense of calm to Mikayla, just as the sounds always did late into the night. She glanced up at the sky, though she knew she wouldn’t see anything through the smog and light pollution. It was nights like these in which doubts started to creep into her head about what she was doing, and if she was even making a difference in the city.

Mikayla sighed and shook her head. Of course she was helping. Crime rates had gone down since she revealed her powers through her alias, Wind Warrior. There was no doubt that she was helping the city if one looked at the facts. Which she had memorized from repeating them so often to herself. But on nights when her depression accompanied her insomnia, they would appear, regardless of how deep any statistics were rooted in her mind.

After all, there was a whole world out there that she could be helping. And here she was, sticking only to her hometown. Of course, she knew it was insane to try and do what she was doing for the entire world–she’d never sleep! But the guilt still weighed heavy on nights like these, as Mikayla wondered if she was doing all that she could.

Sometimes, on nights like these, she would go for a fly. But sometimes, she needed to ground herself. Literally.

Rounding the corner brought her to a part of town that was familiar in her nighttime strolls, but something new caught her attention: an art gallery. Even if it was new, Mikayla usually wouldn’t have paid much attention. What really stopped her in her tracks was the fact that it was still open. She checked her watch, frowning at the late time of 1:27am.

Biting her lip, Mikayla decided to break her routine. Something was drawing her to the gallery. If it was her sense of crime or something else, she had no idea. A bell jingled as she opened the door and stepped in after double-checking that the sign said open.

A quick check around the building found that there were no crimes being committed, so she allowed herself to observe the art. Sculptures took up space on the floor, while paintings and stained glass artwork hung from the walls. It brought a smile to her face when she found–after inspecting multiple cards–that they were all by the same artist. She was liking this Eulalia Spillane already.

Mikayla was inspecting a set of stained glass birds that were hanging in the middle of the room when footsteps sounded from behind her.

“I’m sorry, but we’re closed,” a firm, yet soft voice sounded from behind Mikayla.

She jumped and turned around. “Oh, I’m sorry. The sign said open and…”

She trailed off upon seeing the paint splattered and frazzled woman standing in front of her. There was even paint in her afro. Despite the late hour, her hazel eyes sparkled with creativity. Mikayla blinked. Oh no. The mysterious, talented, artistic woman was beautiful as well?

“Oh shit. Not again. I’m so sorry. This brilliant idea popped into my head and I just had to start on it right away.” She shook her head, her curls bouncing with the movement. “I’m very sorry. But I’m open from 9:00am to 10:00pm every day if you’re interested in coming back?” Eulalia smiled.

“It’s fine, but… don’t you ever worry about theft? This is the city, after all, and if I were a lesser person, I wouldn’t have missed out on the opportunity to take some gorgeous artwork for myself.”

As soon as the words came out of her mouth, she cringed. What kind of a lunatic would say that? To her surprise, however, Eulalia giggled, which had to be the most beautiful thing Mikayla had ever heard.

“Thanks. I’m not an idiot,though–just very forgetful when the inspiration strikes me.” She paused and lowered her voice. “If I’m being completely honest, I would love to have the Wind Warrior come to the rescue. I may or may not have a huge crush on her.” Eulalia winked and giggled again.

Mikayla’s eyes widened and her heart sped up.

“You know. You sorta look like her,” she said, stepping closer to Mikayla. “So I guess my plan half-worked. Just without the crime-fighting part, but that’s better for my store anyways.”

Her eyebrows raised and a short, hysterical chuckle bubbled up. Eulalia, missing out on what made her laugh like that, ducked her gaze and stepped back.

“I’m so sorry; that was totally unprofessional of me. But, I do have to point out that it is after 1:00 in the morning and everyone starts to get a little loopy and unprofessional at 1:00 in the morning–”

Mikayla stopped Eulalia’s rambling by following after her and tenderly taking one of her hands. “Would you like to get coffee sometime?”

Eulalia’s gaze rose again, revealing her rosy-red cheeks. “Yes!” Her flush deepened. “I–I mean: yeah, sure.”

A wide smile appeared on Mikayla’s face.”Great!”

Eulalia reached into her smock’s pocket, pulling out a rough-looking pad of paper with some notes and doodles already on the first page, which she flipped pass, and a pencil. She handed them to Mikayla. Taking them, she wrote her name and number down, adding a smiley face for good measure.

“I’m Mikayla, by the way,” she said, nodding to the paper as she handed the pad and pencil back.

Eulalia studied the writing for a second, grinning.

“Nice to meet you, Mikayla. I’m Eulalia,” she said while writing something beneath Mikayla’s own not before ripping it off and handing it to her.

“I noticed,” Mikayla said as she took it, gesturing to the shop around them, which earned another laugh from Eulalia. “Nice to meet ya, Eulalia,” she added.

They smiled at each other for several moments, but Mikayla knew she had to leave soon.

“I’ll call you later, and then we can set something up? Preferably at a reasonable time, when things are open, but I’m good either way,” Mikayla quipped.

The statement had the exact effect she wanted it to, making Eulalia laugh again.

“That sounds wonderful.”

With that, they said their goodnights, and Mikayla reentered the cold outside world, lingering only until she heard the door lock behind her.

All anxious thoughts were long since purged from her mind. Sleep was still quite a ways off but for different reasons this time. Tonight, it didn’t matter. Mikayla simply tightened her coat around herself and continued on, grinning like an idiot.

#writeblr #writing #short story #wlw story #lesbian story #queer story #superheros #pride month #op #my writing

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inkstainedfanfics · 7 years ago

Text

Chasing Ghosts

Request: I rly love your blog a lot!! I was wondering if I could request a newtxreader song fic with the song "Hide and Seek" by Imogen Heap? Where the reader tries to warn Newt about Leta, but he gets mad and they have an argument? Then he loses contact with the reader for several years and tries to find her, but each time he gets close to finding her, she gets farther away? Really angsty please??? Thank you so much!!!❤️❤️❤️"

Word Count: 4,359

Pairing: Newt x Reader (Platonic)

Tag List: @dont-give-a-bother @red-roses-and-stories @caseoffics @myrtus-amongst-the-stars @ly--canthrope @studyforthreehands @whatinbenaddiction @thosefantasticbeast2 @benniesgalaxy

A tinge of despair so intense it seems tangible still clouds Newt’s mind as he digs into the box of mementos, deeper and deeper until his dirt-caked nails crack against the bottom of the wooden crate. Nothing of significance. Nothing of importance. Nothing of use to him unless he wants to remember.

Cursing, he shoves himself to his feet. This room, this hall, this house is all useless junk now. He may as well burn it down; it’s not as if you’ll be returning at any point, not now that you know he’s discovered it. With a growl, he kicks the box, sends it tumbling onto its side. Its guts spill out, rolling across the ground, creating a mess that will remain until the landlord comes knocking for the next month’s rent. Already, it’s too late. You’ve vanished, and the short and chubby landlord with the beady eyes and missing smile won’t be able to track you down.

My fault, my fault, my fault.

No, finding you is Newt’s job, and he’s determined to do it.

A layer of fresh snow rests over the sidewalk and crunches under Newt’s feet as he trudges through the thick snow of Prague. Midnight’s dark has left the lantern lit road empty except for Newt and a few shady figures slinking in side streets. The chill of the air nips at his cheeks, turning them a faint pink, and his fingers are frozen in their curve around the handle of his suitcase. He pushes forward, eyes set on the hotel resting at the edge of the city.

“Hey, honey. How’re you doin’ tonight?”

Newt glances at the woman leaning in the alley just ahead of him. Her hair’s pinned up in a tight updo, curled against the base of her neck despite the temperature. Strands of it slip free from their pins, drooping in gentle curls to brush the collar of her fur jacket, a warm looking coat Newt knows he doesn’t want to know the history behind.

“I’m quite fine, thank you.” He ducks his head, striding forward, hurrying.

Her heels click against the pavement, cutting through the snow with ease. “Awe, come on, don’t run away. I just want to help. You look lost.”

“I’m quite all right.”

“You sure, honey? I’m a native to this place. I could help.”

It occurs to Newt that this woman is speaking English with no noticeable accent, but he brushes the questions away. A woman in her line of work must have plenty of talents. “I really must be going.”

Still, she follows him, feet steady even with the fresh snowfall and the patches of ice. “I ain’t gonna hurt you, darlin’. I promise.” When Newt says nothing, just scans the alleys, she laughs. “I ain’t got no friends with me, darlin’. You’re safe. Say, what’s in that suitcase o’ yours?”

“Clothes.” Partly true, at least.

“Ah, so you’re stayin’ at a hotel now, are you?”

“No.”

“No? Then what’re you doing? Ooo, can I guess?”

Newt says nothing, just continues forward. Two blocks left.

“You look like a fancy businessman with that jacket. So’s it for business?” She peers up at him, keeping in step surprisingly well. “No? Hmm, what’s a good-lookin’ man like you doin’ here, then? A woman? No? Come on, honey, you can tell me.” She draws her hands from the fur-lined pockets, grabbing onto Newt’s arm. “Oh, I know.” She lowers her voice to a whisper. “It’s a friend, ain’t it?”

Newt’s pace quickens. He shouldn’t be here.

“That’s right, ain’t it? You’re here to see a friend. Well, sir, ain’t that special.”

“I’m sorry, I really must be going.” He tries to shake her hand free from his arm, but she’s clinging to him, grip so tight it hurts. One block.

“I know, an old friend. Someone you ain’t seen in a while.”

Newt’s stomach turns as the stranger continues.

“You had a fallin’ out, didn’t you? I bet it was over another girl.”

Newt grits his teeth.

“Ooo, I hit a nerve.” She giggles. “You know, I bet if you knew this girl, she’d still have a message for you. Something like, oh, I don’t know, an old scribble on some parchment.” Then she opens her hand, revealing a scrap of fluttering parchment, yellowed with age.

Newt halts, sucking in a breath and snatching it from her hands, unfolding the paper. It’s just a small doodle he’d given you for Valentine’s day in the fifth year, after you’d been upset about receiving nothing. “Where did you get this?”

The woman backs away from Newt, covering her mouth as she giggles yet again. “Oh, honey, she don’t miss you. She finds this chase a bit of fun, that’s all.”

Newt blinks away the surprise, curling the scrap in a fist and staring at the woman. “You know her?”

“How d’you think she’s avoiding you, honey? She’s a smart one you let get away.”

Newt breathes through parted lips, numb. Here she is, a contact, a method of reaching you if only he can conjure the right word. “Take me to her. Please.”

She shakes her head, leaning against a post. “Can’t do that. She won’t appreciate it.”

“Please. You don’t know who she is.”

“An old ghost, right? Well, honey, you’re just a zombie chasin’ her around. “

“Tell her I’m sorry. Please. Please just tell her that for me.”

“Can’t. She won’t hear it. She don’t miss you, and she wants you to know: she’d have already forgotten your name if you weren’t chasin’ her everywhere.”

The words slam into Newt’s chest like a brick, but he just shoves his hand in his pocket, digging for his wallet. “Please. Whatever you want is yours. Just tell me where she is.”

The woman shakes her head at his begging. “Sorry, honey. You messed up.”

Newt’s shaky breath forms clouds in the cold air, clouds that shoot forward with every frenzied word, “Please. I just want to apologize. You understand, right? Please give me a chance to apologize.”

For a moment, Newt thinks she’s going to agree, thinks she’s going to sigh and relent and drag him to wherever you are. He believes he’ll finally have a chance to apologize and make it up and the two of you can return to who you were, can work together, can talk the way you did for six years, the way you did when he was truly happy.

But instead she shakes her head again. “It’s just not gonna happen, honey. Best advice I can give you is to let her go.”

“Please.” He whispers.

She gives him a look of pity, so imperceptible he wonders if he truly saw it, then she’s gone, apparates away without another word, and Newt’s alone on the snow-covered sidewalk, fingers frozen and eyes shut. He was close, so close, and still you slipped away from his fingers.

Uncurling his fist, he stares at the doodle. It’s nothing intricate or ornate, just a tiny niffler holding a heart with your name in it. It isn’t Newt’s most complex or even well executed drawing, but you’d lit up when he handed it over. The day after receiving it, you’d proudly displayed it in the middle of a worn, gold locket so old the clasp no longer worked. You’d declared the drawing a treasure, something you would never choose to part with.

Yet here Newt stands, alone under the star-studded black sky, with a pink nose and the drawing clutched in fingers growing so numb the rational part of his mind fears frost-bite’s fury.

Though he knows he’ll find nothing but an empty room, Newt marches the final block to the hotel room, heart as numb as his fingers.

“What have you heard?” Newt asks the question as casually as possible as he lifts a frame from Theseus’s office desk. It’s a picture of his brother and nephew, taken months prior, just before Newt disappeared into the Andes for three months.

Theseus pours himself a drink and gestures to a second glass, shrugging when Newt shakes his head. “You know, little brother, I’m not sure you’re sincere when you say you visited solely to check up on how Marvin is doing.”

“He’s a charming boy.”

“True. But something tells me you’re here for a more selfish reason.”

Newt lifts an eyebrow. Theseus, never able to be straight to the point, even when it truly matters. “Such as?”

“A girl, perhaps?”

“Yes, well, you’ve always had little faith in me.”

Theseus laughs at this, his wide, galumphing laugh he usually reserves for important business meetings here in his private office. “I think a better way of putting it is that I’ve always known you better than you’re willing to admit.”

Newt shifts weight from foot to foot, setting the photo back on the desk, suddenly irritated. He’s standing here, surround by glass cabinets and a desk covered in official papers while you’re out there, Merlin-knows-where, just waiting to learn of Newt’s whereabouts and disappear again. He wonders for a moment what joke you would make about this place, about how stuffy it is even with the open windows, about how a war hero can’t take out his own trash. He can hear your voice in his mind. It’s been how long? 6 years since you last spoke? And still Newt can hear you as clear as day.

The sound brings a smile to his face, a smile that Theseus unfortunately misreads and misunderstands as a response to some joke of his own.

“See, I can be funny sometimes.”

Newt shoves his hands in his pockets to hide the quick beat he’s tapping against his side. If Theseus sees, he’ll know. He’ll know how desperately Newt wants this, how important this is, and there’s nothing Theseus wants more than to believe this is just Newt chasing down an old friend as a hobby. “A real comedian. Now, if you don’t mind, the information?” He tilts his head to the clearly marked file in the middle of the desk.

Theseus takes a sip of the whiskey, staring out the window and into the field behind the office building, suddenly solemn. “You know, I was surprised when I first came out here. They gave me the address, and I almost didn’t show up. The place seemed likely to be crowded by buildings and people.” He sighs, almost sadly, as though remembering some far-off memory, and despite Newt’s unrest, he pauses to listen to Theseus. “I couldn’t stand being trapped, feeling like I had no escape. The war, believe it or not, was not as easy as I make it seem.” He smiles, but it’s bitter. “I spent plenty of nights there wondering about our family, where you were in the field, whether mum at home was safe, whether pa would be proud. I can’t tell you how many nights I had nightmares after hearing about ambushes on troops…” Shaking his head and clearing his throat, Theseus continues with a stronger voice. “When I came home, I met Helen. You know that, but there were many nights I spent alone before marrying her when the nightmares would return. It wasn’t until we’d been married for four months that I realized I hadn’t had any nightmares since that first night. Being with her, having her there at my side was enough.”

He pauses, collecting his thoughts. “I wasn’t sure if I’d take the job, but when they showed me the office and the field back there, I knew I had an escape, a place to go should anything become too much. Helen agreed to meet there if I ever needed someone. She could apparate in with no worries about muggles, no need to wait for muggle technology to bring her to me like we would need in the city. The moral of this long-winded story, I guess, is to find someone to escape to, like Helen, and somewhere free, like this field.”

Theseus stops, then, still staring at the grass waving in the wind.

“I’m happy for you.” Newt’s quiet. You were that for him at one time, the person he could walk to when his nose bled or Leta said something or a creature passed. You were his escape before he ruined it all.

“As am I.” He lets out a sigh heavy with the weight of a war, “Listen, Newt, I know you miss her. But is she right for you? Are you certain? Was she the person you went to when it all became too much, when you couldn’t forget the worst parts of your past? Because you need someone, Newt, and you can’t settle with a ghost. You need someone present.”

“She’s my best friend.”

“Does a best friend abandon you and avoid you?”

Newt wants to shut his ears, to grab the folder and leave because, yes, this was his fault. Who else would have managed to ruin a friendship with someone so patient? “It’s my fault.”

“You know that’s not true. It was the timing, the circumstances. Not you. Even if it was, if she was meant to be your escape, she’d be here today, Newt. You know that.”

For some inexplicable reason, Newt’s eyes are watering. He knows this is his fault, has thought it through time after time after time, and he’s never come up with any other answer. But Theseus’s words waver in his head, offer a relief from the guilt wracking his nerves, and he desperately wants to accept them and remove the burden from his shoulders.

But he can’t, he reminds himself. It’s his fault.

His voice is weaker than he wants when he talks next. “Just give me the information, Theseus.”

Theseus swirls his drink, not looking away from the field. “You can see it on the desk. Take it, if you’d like, but I’m not feeding this habit anymore. You need to give her up, Newt, before you burn yourself out and miss life.”

Newt steps forward and swipes the folder, ignoring the tears gathering in his eyes. This is ridiculous. Theseus is ridiculous. It’s not burning him out. No, he’s in the wrong, he was the one that pushed you away, he was the one that cut you off, he was the one making bad decision after bad decision and all you wanted to do was help. You were a friend, and yet Newt turned his back on you when you asked for help, for somebody to listen, for a friend. He let them all say that about you right in front of him, and he did nothing. He owes you nothing less than an apology.

If only you’d let him give you one.

Shame floods his cheeks, a dark red wave crashing against him and making it hard, hard to think, to breathe, to want to move.

But you’d returned the drawing, the gifts, his personalized notes and the only picture you’d kept of the two of you. The thought fractures him, drags him deeper into that despair that’s all too common now. Maybe you don’t want him back.

Maybe he should stop looking.

But no, that’s wrong, he knows, because he owes you, he owes you so much that he can’t give. You were his real friend, and he’d just left you like it meant nothing.

Clenching his jaw, he shakes his head. No, this is foolish, letting Theseus get in his head like this. His older brother may mean well, but he’s not in this situation. He’s never done something so horrible. Newt just needs to keep trying, keep tracking.

Shutting his eyes to apparate, he pictures you the way you looked that day, tears on your cheeks, backing away.

With a pop, he disappears to read the files in peace.

“So sorry. Excuse me. Pardon me.” Merlin’s beard, how do people stand being packed together like this every day? How do they not tire of rubbing shoulders with a stranger or bouncing through a crowd, shoved by everyone? New York, Newt decides, is a mess.

Theseus’s information had led him here, to this city, to a specific apartment building. The first trip for something related to you in a long time. Too long. It’s been a year since his last lead in Prague. A year and half since California, two since Brazil, three and a half since Cairo. He’s not even certain how long ago Chicago, Ottowa, Moscow, and Glasgow were. All he knows is that it’s been too long since he saw you and made you smile.

But when’s the last time she made you smile?

Newt shakes the thought from his head, cursing Theseus for implanting any ideas about your own culpability. This isn’t your fault, can’t be. Newt’s the annoying one, the awkward one.

Flinching at his thoughts, he makes his way from the train station, dodging people left and right, gripping the suitcase in his right hand, left hand dug deep in his pocket to be certain the drawing doesn’t drift out.

Five blocks of dodging people and suddenly he’s there, in front of the tilted building. It certainly isn’t as glitzy as some of the previous establishments you’ve rented. It’s not grand or towering or at the end of a picturesque road lit by starlight and lanterns. No, this building is an ugly grey, its foundation sticking up from the ground, every third window seems to have some sort of crack in it, and the railing may fall the next time someone touches it.

Checking the apartment number, Newt pulls open the creaky door and steps inside. Steps wind up the side of the narrow entry way. The floor overhead squeaks, and Newt questions the safety of taking the stairs when the wood of the first step bends low under his weight.

You’re here, though, just five stories overhead, forgiveness only a staircase away, so Newt begins the climb. Nobody stops him. The only signs of life he sees are a couple of tomcats darting after rats the size of Newt’s hand.

He wonders if Theseus’s information was correct as he makes his way to your door. A muted song leaks under the door frame, and before he can let himself consider the consequences, he knocks.

Three minutes pass. Three agonizing minutes.

Finally, the music stops and the door creaks open.

Newt’s spent hours imagining meeting you again. The dreams always consisted of smiles and tea and spending hours reconnecting and sharing stories, watching your eyes light up as you weave tales about traveling to various cities, hearing the excitement in your voice, finally finding his best friend again.

You just stare at him from the crack, careful, eyes watching his every move.

“I, um,” Newt clears his throat. “I’ve been looking for you.”

You still say nothing, so Newt gestures behind you.

“May I step in?”

You eye him for another second before nodding and stepping away.

The room’s a wreck. There appears to be only one offshoot for a bathroom, and Newt has to bend to step in through the doorway. The walls are the same draining grey as outside, cobwebs infest the upper corners of the room, the two windows are both grimy with a substance Newt doesn’t dare try to identify, and the small record player in the middle of the room is dented in three different places. He’s hesitant to set his case down, doing his best to avoid a pile of dust.

He conjures up a joke, one that would normally make you laugh, but you don’t even flinch. “I thought Hogwarts dorms were cramped.”

You cross your arms, leaning against the wall farthest from him. “What are you doing here?”

Newt swallows, a mix of relief and shame and the culmination of so many years of grief knotting up and climbing up his throat, cutting off his voice. He has to clear his throat twice and stare at a ball of dust on the ground before he can talk. “It’s been some time, hasn’t it?”

You cock your head. “Has it?”

“Six years?”

“Seven.” You plaster a strained smile on your face. “If you count sixth year as a loss, that is.”

“I’m sorry.” Sixth year, when you’d come to him, tears in your eyes, blood on your face, and he’d let Leta drag him away. Sixth year, when he saw you boiling in the hall after someone singled you out, and he’d walked past with a bowed head. Sixth year, when he’d chosen Leta over you, when he’d called her a better person, when he’d as good as wrecked the friendship with a single word.

“You don’t get to be sorry.” You spit out, words as bitter as they had been when you’d confronted him by the lake and he’d chosen to leave. The immediacy of your anger surprises Newt, but he doesn’t challenge it. No, he deserves this.

“I know.”

“You don’t get to be sorry when you’ve chased me around the globe trying to make up for something that was all your fault. You can’t keep following me, Newt. We’re done, don’t you understand that?”

Newt blinks, dropping his eyes to the ground. “Of course.”

“You ruined this.”

He did. That’s what he’s best at, after all. Mid-twenties with no friends to speak of. You left, then Leta left. He never formed any lasting connections otherwise.

Wandering the world searching for you had been a lonely endeavor.

“You were the one that left me, Newt, don’t forget that. I had a bloody nose from being punched and you let her drag you away. I had to heal myself.”

You’re supposed to forgive him like he forgave you for letting him walk away, for not bothering to fight, for ignoring him even after the experiment exploded in his face. Sure, he messed up, but he needed someone after the expulsion. You hadn’t even written a short letter.

Would a best friend abandon you?

Newt’s sharp breath startles you into silence, though the deep lines in your forehead don’t disappear. “You abandoned me.”

You recoil from the accusation. “Why should’ve I stayed when you’d been sure to let me know where I sat on your list of important friends?”

Would a best friend abandon you?

“Because you were my friend.”

“You made it clear that I wasn’t.”

Newt shuts his eyes; Theseus was right. “You were.” He finally forces himself to look at you again, to meet your gaze. “You were all I had after the experiment.”

If Newt isn’t imagining things, if it isn’t his desperation simply creating illusions, he swears he sees tears form in your eyes. From guilt? “You were being so selfish, Newt. I was your friend. How could walk away from me for her? How could you do that to me?”

“I was wrong.” Merlin, the words feel good to say. “But all due respect, so were you.” He peers up at you from under his flop of hair.

“How could you blame this on me?” You sound furious, but the tears spilling over the bottom of your lids alter the tone, turn it into one of grief. An emotion Newt knows all too well.

Newt’s own misery is dwindling, a sudden clarity replacing it. “I tried to apologize.”

“Three years later. After Leta left you.”

“I was a fool. And I couldn’t understand what I chose then. I promise, I wouldn’t make that choice again.”

You run a hand across your cheeks. “It’s too late. It’s too late.”

Newt’s heart breaks, a simple break that cracks right down the center. “You can’t forgive me?”

You wait, Merlin’s name, you consider the question, try to find it in yourself, but the hesitation is only a worse fate for Newt when you meet his eyes again and shake your head. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

Newt shuts his eyes, breathes out, then opens his eyes again and smiles a smile that could never pass as genuine. “I’m sorry, truly, for any pain I’ve caused you.” Then he reaches into his pocket, pulling out the parchment paper. “I was hoping you would accept this, for my sake.” He steps across the room and holds it out toward you. “I know I’m not in the position to ask for anything, but I can’t bear the sight of it, not when it belongs with you.”

You reach forward, hand shaking the slightest, and accept the gift for the second time in your friendship. Newt turns, lifting his case, and starts toward the door.

“I missed it, you know.” You say, stopping him.

Newt doesn’t turn, just stares at the doorknob in front of him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You stop, but Newt, despite the many years separated, knows you well enough to wait for the rest of your response. “Thank you.”

He nods and pushes the door open. “Best wishes.”

It clicks behind him, muting the ‘best wishes’ you echo back.

No tears fill his eyes, nor anger his chest. No, all Newt knows now is an exhaustion planted in his bones years ago, now taking root and begging him for a long nap.

Newt steps onto the staircase and nearly drops his suitcase when someone runs into him.

She shouts, a small noise, and grabs the railing. It groans but somehow holds. “Mercy Lewis, that could’ve been bad! Are you okay, sir?”

Newt steadies himself and nods. “Quite fine. Now if you don’t mind…” He gestures to the staircase behind her.

She glances back then realizes what he means. “Oh, of course, sorry. Sir, are you sure you’re all right? You look a bit upset.”

Newt ducks his head in a nod. “I’m quite fine, simply in a hurry, is all.”

The woman gathers her grey coat against her, wincing when it pulls a strand of her chin-length black hair. “Of course, I understand. Sorry for running into you. I really should be paying more attention to where I’m going.”

Newt squeezes past her, “No harm done.”

Then he pounces down three floors before apparating back home.

It’s time to visit his brother and his nephew. It’s time to stop chasing a ghost.

196 notes · View notes

unicyclehippo · 8 years ago

Note

Could you write something about Lena discovering the existence of the alien bar, so she talk about it to Kara like "Hey, it might be a good subject for an article or something" and she sees that Kara is nervous so she propose to go with her if she wants and Kara have a hard time finding an excuse to refuse so she just... kind of end up with Lena there and everyone recognize Kara and Lena is like "Oh." and explanations ensue because why did the alien device didn't work and all ???

“kara.”

she focuses on her page, doodling mindlessly in the corner of it.

“kara.”

“i’m ignoring you.”

“ignoring me?” lena sounds amused, of all things, and kara scowls down at her page. without looking up, she flicks a paperclip lena’s way and she can’t help but grin when she yelps.

“headshot?”

“centre mass, actually, which you would know if you would look at me.” her tone turns inviting, hopeful. the nicest possible version of wheedling. kara stares down at her paper and wills it not to burst into flame. “kara,”

“lena,” she mimics.

“it was an accident,” lena tells kara, which kara already knew of course, but having a drink spilled down the front of her shirt - and then being photographed by the paparazzi that always slinks around lena - means she’s embarrassed but also incredibly aware of how easily her disguise might be found out. white shirt, meet liquid; kara danvers, supergirl, meet the entire world knowing her identity. that they don’t is another source of concern, and confusion. because sure the drink had been dark but also lena had whisked a coat around her instantly and they’d made it back to her place where she has several outfits.

in lena’s wardrobe.

which she does not remember leaving there - no, well, she does remember it except now that she sees she has left her lucky belt, her second favourite boots, and her most comfortable sweat shirt there… it means something and she’s not entirely comfortable with that.

the idea of dating lena? no problem. the idea of dating a luthor? minor problems, named alex and clark. the idea of dating lena luthor, her best friend of some six months, who still doesn’t know that she’s supergirl? DING DING DING, huge problem.

there’s a soft touch to her hand and lena’s voice, jerking her out of her thoughts with a gentle, “kara?”

“wuh- huh?” she looks from where lena had been sitting to where she is now, standing next to her. “i zoned out, sorry.”

“no, no, it’s alright.” lena takes the seat next to her. “is everything okay at work? or,” lena waves a hand in a small motion that encompasses everything else.

“yeah, yeah, it’s all fine.” kara gives lena her brightest smile and lena nods but doesn’t look away. “i’m sorry, i’m being a bad friend.”

lena shakes her head, lays her fingers on kara’s hand again. she does it so hesitantly, always, and kara likes the way her smile eases when she turns her hand and holds lena’s.

“you’re not a bad friend. just distracted. which is why i thought we could go out tonight. there’s this bar,”

“i really am not interested in a repeat of last time lena,” kara whines.

“which is why we will get my driver to ditch the followers. it’s a hole in the wall, please,” lena asks - begs is more like it, and kara can’t look away from her pouting lip, her wide dark eyes. “you can write, i can drink, it’ll be a regular girls night out. please!”

“ugh. fine! but,” she searches for some kind of argument. “you’re paying!”

“deal.” lena squeezes her hand and kara ducks her head, grins, at the little spark the gesture shocks.

“uh, lena,” kara looks properly at the building they’ve pulled up outside and she hesitates. “i don’t think we should go in there. you know, it’s, um,”

“an alien bar, i know.”

kara nods slowly. she had guessed that. she just isn’t sure how much lena had planned this out.

“okay listen when i say this and i don’t mean it in a bad way,” kara tries to find a not bad way to say it but she’s coming up empty so…straight to the point then. “you’re a luthor. they’re aliens in there. i just think, i know how much you’re doing for your image and i just don’t want you in danger or, i also don’t want them to…get scared,” kara finishes softly. lena presses her lips together flat, nods. “i know you, lena. i know how good you are, and that you would never hurt these people, but they don’t.”

“isn’t that what your articles have been for? everything i’ve been doing? i have to test it out sometime.”

“it doesn’t mean you can walk into their bar, lena!” kara snaps. she shakes her head, tries to soften herself, her words, her shoulders, her hands. “this is a place where they can be themselves, without having to worry about that stuff. you have all the bars in the city, lena, they only have this one.” kara widens her eyes pleadingly, and lena nods slowly.

“i- you’re right. of course. i hadn’t thought of that.” lena purses her lips. “you know an awful lot about this place.”

kara grins nervously. she shrugs, happy to play it off on research, only the door swings open on its rusted hinges, music pouring out alongside obviously alien shouting, and all kara knows lena can’t be seen here. she picks her up, moves her into the shadows of the alley.

“hey kara, you coming in?” m'gann isn’t hiding her green tonight. or wasn’t. she looks to the woman in kara’s arms and her skin ripples back to her human form. “you two coming in?”

“not tonight,” kara says quietly. lena doesn’t say anything - she grips tight to kara’s arms, shaking slightly. “we’re gonna head out, actually.”

“call you an uber?”

“that’d be great,” kara nods.

“down the road, you know the pickup spot.” m'gann tilts her head toward lena, shakes her head very very slightly.

kara nods. “have a good night.”

“you too.” after a moment, m'gann adds, “lena,” and she disappears back into the bar.

the noise muffles with the door closed and kara eases away from lena. she urges her gently down the alley, and together they walk side by side down the road to the spot the Uber always arrives.

“i gather you’ve been there before,” lena says finally.

“um. yes.”

lena nods.

the uber pulls up after ten minutes of painfully empty silence. it takes another twelve minutes to get to lena’s apartment building, six to get into the building and up the stupidly fast lift to the sixteenth floor.

“you can come in,” lena tells her, and kara follows her. watches almost desperately as lena toes off her heels, the way she sighs and rolls onto the balls of her feet when she shrugs off her coat. “coffee?” she offers.

“um. sure.”

kara hasn’t felt this uncomfortable around lena since…never. not in this way. not in the horrible, teetering, this-is-the-end kind of way.

“kara,”

“i’m sorry,” she blurts out. “i’m sorry i didn’t tell you, and i’m sorry i broke your alien device, and i’m sorry about how weird tonight was and again, really sorry about not telling you but, but i had reasons, really good ones, and,”

“kara,” lena sighs, and she sets her stupidly expensive coffee pot down on the counter and steps over to her. lays her hands on either side of kara’s face, tugs so she’s looking right at her. “stop.”

kara stops. she stays very still, barely breathing, certainly not blinking.

“you’re an alien.” lena closes her eyes. she doesn’t pull away - if anything, she grips on a little tighter. she’s soft again when she drags her fingers down kara’s cheeks and away. “i understand why you didn’t tell me,”

“i really doubt that.” kara walks with her into the kitchen, pulls open the fridge. she takes out lena’s favourite cheese and, of all things, carrot sticks. sets them on a little plate. she pulls herself up onto the counter and waits as lena makes her coffee. it’s fine, they’ve done this before, this is how it’s supposed to go.

except, she’s never made late night snacks as an alien before. she’s never drunk from a cup as an alien, never eaten her food, never touched her things, never been in lena’s home as an alien before.

“it makes a lot more sense how appalled you were about that device,” lena muses. kara just nods. lena twists a little to face her, almost impeccably calm aside from slight, polite curiosity. “how did you break the alien device?”

kara covers her mouth, not wanting to spit cheese out. she swallows quickly. “zapped it.”

“you release an electric discharge?”

“what?”

“how did you zap it? when you touched it?”

“no, with,” kara stops, horror dawning slowly. lena knows she’s an alien, she doesn’t know that she’s supergirl. “rao help me,” she mutters, tilting her head up so she can look up at the stars.

“pardon?”

“okay.” kara hops down off the bench, backs up several steps. “i’m…yeah, i’m just going to do this,” she says, mostly to lena but a little to herself. “alright. okay.”

she pops open the buttons on her shirt quickly, too fast for lena to see, and peels it open slowly. lena stares.

and stares.

kara shifts her weight from one foot to the other.

“well.”

the coffee pot hisses. lena turns, pours herself a mug and then kara. she sets the mug out on the side and retreats into the corner of the kitchen, leans back against the corner where the two benches meet.

kara moves softly like lena could spook, and she stands opposite her. she sips at the coffee, grimaces. lena pushes the sugar over to her, watches with the same look of fascination as she always has as kara spoons sugar into her mug.

“is that an alien thing?”

“i don’t think so.” kara hesitates, but adds one final spoonful. this time it tastes right. mostly of sugar. “um. not to make this weird night weirder but, uh, you’ll have to sign stuff. now that you know.”

lena nods slowly.

“i…i should go,” kara says. she pours her coffee out into the sink, half drunk, and washes it out. sets it on the drying rack. “i didn’t mean for this to happen, not like,” kara shakes her head. there’s plenty of stuff she wants to say, or maybe just a couple very important things, but lena is still just staring - into her coffee or at kara, it changes - so it can wait. “i’m really sorry.”

“the only thing i can think right now is…i know something he never did.” lena laughs a little, a short sound and not happy. she closes her eyes. “i think you should. because, if that’s my first….my only thought?” she shrugs one shoulder. “i don’t think i’m someone you should be around right now.”

“i’m not afraid of you,” kara tells her. it lacks, completely, any defiance. how strange, for that to be a reassurance. lena doesn’t look like she believes her, if the dark little curl to her lips means anything.

“tell them i’ll sign. i have no interest in seeing the inside of a cell. again.”

kara nods. “i’ll see you soon?”

lena sets her mug in the sink, and disappears into her bedroom. it becomes clear she’s not coming out again. kara tips a little food into the fish tank, makes sure the windows are locked, and locks the front door behind her.

#tagging my stories #supergirl #supercorp #kara danvers #lena luthor

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