#before the ruffle chip incident

[old-man-hell]

some griffens from the past year.

[crunchystarz]

"A Distant Memory I Used to Know"

Chapter - 2 EyelessJack x GNreader

Previous - chapter index

CW- none

Summary: After you drop your brother off at school you run into that same masked man from a few days ago.

Word count: 2429

“We've been looking more into the recent rise in the numbers of murders taking place in our ci-"

With a click the TV powered off. You needed to not listen to the news, for your own sake you told yourself. Placing the remote back on the counter you let out a sigh.

You don't need anything else to feed your paranoia. You haven't been able to sleep much after the convenience store incident. You felt like you were going insane. It was just some random guy, so why was it driving you crazy?

You hated that one small thing that messed with your head so much.

It's just one guy. One weird masked guy. You felt as if you saw that mask before. Like you know it from somewhere.

Who are you kidding? You needed to call your therapist and see if any spots opened up sooner than your initial date.

"What do you think would happen if a fox were to drink an entire can of soda?" A chirpy voice said from behind you.

Hunter rested his head in his hands. You chuckled and ruffled through his scruffy black hair still slightly damp from his shower. He swatted you away while laughing.

“Foxes don't have opposable thumbs. How would they drink from a can? " You playfully questioned swiftly turning around and flipping the pancake to cook it on the other side.

“Well I never said it had to come from a can just it was the amount that was in a can! Plus it could have knocked it over” The boy playfully bantered back.

You let out a fake hurt gasp before putting your hand on your hip giving him a glare. “Getting sassy with me now Mr, Bold maybe I shouldn't add chocolate chips to your pancakes”

“Nooo” Hunter said, flopping his upper body on the counter, head down.

“That's what I thought” You chuckled gently hitting him on the head with your spatula.

Hunter was one of the only good things in your life that came from your past. You were adopted into a middle class white family when you were 4. Your parents weren't really in your life much however. Growing up you were convinced they only had adopted you for tax benefits.

They weren't physically abusive however they played a massive part in your poor mental health growing up. They didn't go to things like school graduations or after school club things. They never got you anything for Christmas only every other birthday you'd get a happy birthday card as a rushed gift.

They never knew how to take care of things like your hair which you learned all by yourself through lots of trial and era and almost killing it tons of times.

Things like this led to your already poor social skills dropping so low they were basically non-existent. You hated talking to most people and your friends never lasted long.

Except for one boy. You don't remember much about him because a lot of your life is a blur but he was nice and stuck with you throughout highschool as you recall.

Hunter was their golden child. Their first blood child. He was spoiled for the first two years of his life until your mom passed due to unfortunate circumstances.

Your mom was always the more responsible one. She worked a ton and did a lot of the financial work. She tried more with you yet wasn’t super active in your life.

Unlike your father who was always a complete snob. He was a college dropout who stayed home. Sometimes you'd even wonder how any one can put up with that man

Your dad got a new girlfriend pretty fast after your mother's death. Things got worse and your father payed no attention to Hunter after that.

You adored your brother however, he was a good kid with a kind heart. So you were more than happy to basically be the one to raise him for a little bit until you went off to college.

You and Hunter had a 15 year age gap but you two were still extremely close. Your brother got you and helped you stay grounded.

With you having your own place and all you could take care of Hunter more often. Unfortunately for legal reasons you couldn't keep the kid all the time and you've sometimes debated on trying to get full custody over him but you knew it probably wouldn't end well.

Despite only being 12 Hunter was extremely smart. He for the most part understood your weird traumatized brain and was a big help when it came to calming you down other than the pills. He really was your only family.

"Who do you think would win million Pikachus or Godzilla?" The raven hair asked, reaching for the syrup bottle that was on the farther end of the counter. You put the plate of hot pancakes on the surface before pushing the maple syrup closer to the boy.

"How about we stop talking and eat ,hurry before you're late for school" You chuckled to yourself. Hunter pouted but started to dig in anyway.

You went to clean up your batter mess you made in the kitchen. You'd need to change before you left the apartment because your shirt was now covered in dried up pancake mix. You usually didn't make big breakfasts like these but you'd do anything for your brother.

You went off to get changed while Hunter finished up breakfast. It was getting significantly colder so you made sure to put it on your mental list to get Hunter a new winter jacket.He was tall for his age.He had a huge growth spurt a few months ago yet his voice was still as squeaky as can be. His new height difference meant he needed new clothes and you wanted to make sure he stays warm during the upcoming winter.

You two left your apartment after two checks to make sure he had everything. Hunter went on ahead before you, skipping down the steps that led to your apartment which was on the second floor.

You locked up your door, again making sure to lock both the bottom and the top. A familiar meow from a few days rang through your ears. You looked down to see the kitten from before under your legs. It meow and rubbed your leg. Your heart basically melted.

"Hey buddy nice to see you again...I hope you're keeping warm- I can't stay long though" You said to the cat who obviously didn't understand what you were saying just appreciated the chin scratches it received from you.

You realized you should head off before Hunter got inpatient and threatened to eat your entire kitchen again. You gave the chestnut colored cat one last pat before hurrying to catch up with your younger brother.

Hunter's school is luckily in a good distance for you to walk from and back to. This helps save gas whenever he was over on days he had school. You smiled as the younger boy walked on the sidewalk occasionally kicking a fallen leaf.

When you two got to middle school you made sure to do your little "don't get into any trouble" speech before shooing the boy. He gave you a hug before sprinting off when he saw one of his friends. You smiled to yourself as you went to walk in the direction you had came from.

You hummed a random tune as you slowly strolled along the concrete. You weren't in a rush to go anywhere so you could take in the calm scenery. It wasn't an extremely pretty sight as you were just walking through your neighborhood but it was an early morning in the beginning of fall. You were allowed to appreciate the small things.

Your body tensed up but you never stopped walking. There it was again. You couldn't catch a break could you? The feeling of eyes on you was back. It made your skin itch. It made you want to sprint home and get under your covers where you felt safe.

You're just being paranoid again [ name] just like you always are there is no one watc-

Your brain circuited as you felt something hard bump into you. Well more so you bumped into it. A person. Once you collected yourself from your mini shock. God you were all over the place, You fully realized you bumped into a person. A person. A human being.

"Holy shit I am so sorry I wasn't paying attention I-" You blurted out an jumbled up apology. Embarrassed, you cleared your throat. Just like the first time your heart skipped a beat. It felt...sickly. A discomforting feeling of familiarity washed over you.

You were met with silence from the same hooded man from the other day. The same masked weirdo that was like a plague to your mind. That mask. Against you felt as if you've seen it before. The thought made your stomach twist. You soon realized how tall the brunette was exactly. You had to basically step back to look at him properly. He was so tall it almost felt... unnatural.

You got a better look at the man from last time. He was lanky and scruffy looking. You couldn't make out any facial features as he wore a mask. A blue mask covered in some unknown goop. It looked more dried out than the last time you saw it. Maybe it was paint. He wore the basic black hoodie like before and tattered jeans. His shoes were beat up and definitely have seen better days.

The way he looked at you made you cold. You swallowed and subconsciously made yourself look bigger. That damn mask. It would make any normal person uncomfortable but man it felt as if the empty sockets of the eyes were just staring into you.

You were snapped out of your trance when you heard him clear his throat. "No its fine I wasn't paying attention as much as you were..." That british accent called out.

The second time you heard him speak. His voice didn't match his creepy appearance. While it was extremely monotone it was strangely calming. You wanted to say something so bad.

You didn't know why just something made you want to. Maybe you thought talking to him would make him leave your brain completely and you'd give your mind some closer that we was just some weirdo walking around. Just as he started to continue his way down the street.

"Hey um uh-"

You didn't know what to say. He stopped. That's good. You hoped anyway. He turned on his heel and faced you again. He tilted his head in an almost animalistic way. As if he was showing you he was listening, waiting for you to continue. While he stared at you, that weird feeling of being watched came back. You swallowed a lump of air.

"Do you live around here?... I haven't seen you around here is what I meant-" You stopped yourself from talking you sounded like a mess. You felt embarrassed. You honestly didn't know what to say. You started rethinking why you even stopped him. You really had no reason other than you couldn't get this stranger out of your head. You felt absolutely insane.

He's literally just some weirdo that you so happened to run into twice. A weirdo that you for some unknown reason feel like you know. A stranger. A stranger in a mask. Calm yourself.

"Do you…remember me too?”

Your thoughts halted when he spoke up again. You didn't get to catch what he said because you were so wrapped up in your own head. You felt bad and gave him a weak smile.

" I'm sorry, what was that?"

…

" It was nothing I just had said you're that same person from the other day is all. It's funny running into you again especially because I don't necessarily live around here" He supposedly repeated with a shrug. You let out a sigh of relief and chuckled a little to yourself. You really are getting yourself worked up over nothing.

He is just some weirdo.

"sorry for um you know stopping you out of nowhere i just don't know i couldn't get you out of my head- wait no that sound creepy it's just you have a strange.... appearance? I'm just making this worse for myself aren't I" You awkwardly laughed. To your surprise the masked man let out a laugh. This calmed your nerves a little bit.

"I get it not everyday you see someone who looks like...well me I guess. Just walking around in broad daylight like some kind of freak " He replied in his monotone voice. You two just stared at each in silence for a bit. He cleared his throat before nodding his head.

"I should go...stay safe out here with all these murders and all"

"y-yeah um you too"

The brunette walked away with a quick wave goodbye. Maybe he was some psychopath your brain tricked you into thinking you knew after all.

You ran your tongue across your bottom row of teeth before taking a deep breath. You needed a nap, or an entire tub of ice cream. Both. Both would be needed.

You turned on your heels before making your way home. You listened to your footsteps as you walked up your apartment stairs.

You were stopped yet again but a now familiar fur ball. The tiny cat watched you as you unlocked the door to your home. You thought it was going to run off again but instead it let it into the building. You blinked as it turned to you and let out a meow.

"This is not your house, all though I might have to just name you if you keep showing up like this" You basically scolded the kitten.

It meowed at you again as if it was talking back to you. You put your hands on your hip and stared down at the creature. "You're adorable but you need out" You said as if it understood you, you pointed to the open door.

It just meowed again and walked farther into your home. You let out a sigh. You were to mentally and physically exhausted to chase a kitten out of your home. You shut your front door and promised yourself you'd deal with the kitten who was now rubbing itself all over your couch later.

—

"What happened to you?"

....

"stay back"

"please..."

[marlena-immortale]

Pretty Puppy

Summary: You dress up your subby boyfriend Thomas like the princess he is and play with him all night long.

CW: SMUT, facesitting, feminization, pegging, Mommy Domme reader, puppy Thomas, a bit of humiliation, Thomas is a slut for praise

Word Count: 3.4k

Masterlist ⭐️ Taglist ⭐️ Kofi

The early Sunday morning sunlight seeping through your curtains is the first thing you notice after waking up from your sleep. The second thing you notice is a warm wet tongue lapping at your neck and soft whining in your ear. 

“Good morning puppy. Someone’s feeling extra needy today huh?” you greet your boyfriend Thomas. You only then notice his boner rhythmically poking at your thigh. 

“Mmmm … pleeaase lemme serve you Mommy, wanna make you feel good,” Thomas begs, his voice still sleepy and raspy. He’s so cute like this, with all his guards down and letting himself be vulnerable due to still being half-asleep. It’s one of your favorite ways to see him. You bring his restless body into the morning with your fingers gently scratching his scalp and using your other hand to still his hips from humping your thigh any longer. 

“How do you want to serve me puppy?” you ask, even though you know this almost always means he wants to eat you out. You just like to hear him say it for himself. 

“Can I lick you please?” he asks, puppy eyes in full effect.

You let him think you’re considering it for a moment before telling him, “I’d love nothing more than to spend the whole day in bed with your pretty face between my legs, but I think we should get up and start our day. It’s almost noon already.”

Your puppy pouts and paws at your arm, trying his hardest to convince you to stay in bed with him. 

“Hmm … I can think of another way you can serve me though.” He perks up a little at that. “You can make me some breakfast while I take a shower and get ready.” And he’s right back to pouting. You just laugh, ruffling his fluffy hair before hauling yourself out of bed and to the bathroom.

— — — 

Getting out of the shower, you hear clanging pots and pans. Exactly what you expected from your clumsy boyfriend in the kitchen. You can’t help but think about his endearing nature to throw all of  himself into everything he does, even if it’s as simple as making you breakfast, and even if he already knows he’s not great at it. He still gives it everything he’s got. And when you give him a task to do as your submissive, he jumps into it so willingly. The trust he holds for you always makes your heart melt. 

Your thoughts are interrupted by a particularly loud bang from the kitchen so you throw on some clothes and decide to check out the extent of the incident. 

In the kitchen, you find Thomas with some flour on his shirt, and on his nose, and being swept up from the floor. That seems to be the extent of the mess though, so definitely not his worst blunder in the kitchen. You still can’t forget the one time the fire department had to be called. 

“Ummm … I promise it’s not as bad as it looks.” He seems so guilty. It’s kind of adorable. 

“They look great baby,” you say, giving him a quick kiss on the nose. He flips the last pancake, the bottom being a little burnt, but the chocolate chips in the shape of a smiley face more than make up for it. He brings the two plates along with the espresso he made to the table and you sit across from him. 

“Mm so good Thommy,” you stretch the truth. It’s not fully a lie, they’re really not his worst kitchen creation. A bit burnt, but you can’t bear to tell him anything negative, not with his big beautiful eyes on you, seeking your approval and praise. You could spend all day staring into those eyes. 

After eating breakfast, you decide it’s time to give your puppy a treat for doing so well this morning after you clean up in the kitchen. “I want you to tidy up the bedroom and be ready on the bed when I come in,” you instruct. He’s already nodding enthusiastically and rushing off to complete the task you’ve set for him. You can never help but smile when he does what you tell him to so obediently. 

— — — 

Walking into your shared bedroom, you find your adorable little sub naked on his knees in the center of the perfectly-made bed waiting for you; the perfect picture of submission. His eyes are big, waiting for you to give him your next instruction. His hair is just the slightest bit disheveled, probably from tidying up the whole room and rushing to get into place before you came in. 

“The room looks so clean puppy, you did such a good job. I’m so proud of you.” He lights up hearing your words. You love praising your puppy so much, seeing the effect it has on him, the joy and satisfaction it brings him. He deserves all the praise in the world. 

“Hey puppy,” you try getting his attention back after losing his concentration to the praise for a moment. “Do you wanna try something new today?” 

He looks up at you, eyes slightly glazy from the pets on the back of his neck you’ve started giving him. “Like what?” he asks.

“I was thinking of how good you looked on stage the other night in that skirt. And how I think you’d look even prettier in a shorter skirt. So I got some supplies to dress you up, if you’re interested in trying that with me.” 

He takes a minute to think about it. You can practically see the thoughts racing through his mind, all the fantasies and ideas of what it would be like. “Yeah. Yes I definitely want to try that.” He pauses. “But if we’re trying something new, I don’t think I can handle edging today. It would just be too much. Is that alright?”

“Of course. Good boy, good job communicating baby. I’m very proud of you for telling me that,” you compliment and watch him smile and relax even more. “Are you ready to start now puppy?” He nods. “Okay, then come follow me.” You walk towards the bathroom without having to look back to know he’s dutifully following right behind you. 

You lead him to the bathtub and seat him on the edge while you fill it, dropping in some calming eucalyptus bath salts, your favorite. His expression is a little nervous, predicting how embarrassing it’ll be to have you wash him. You comfort him with a kiss on his cheek and a warm hand on his back, rubbing circles. 

Once the bathtub is filled with warm water, you hold his hand and lead him to step into the bath, sitting down as comfortably as he can with his long legs barely fitting. You grab the body wash and squeeze some out onto a damp washcloth, starting on his shoulders, making sure to get him nice and clean, all the way down to his hands and fingers. You make your way back up to his chest, running the soapy cloth over his sensitive nipples, feeling his sharp inhale under your hands and the blush adorning his neck creep up to the tips of his ears. You’re sure to be very thorough, cleaning all over his body. Bathing down his sides, around his hips and his butt, washing up and down his dick, watching him squirm and whimper at every touch. 

Once he’s nice and clean for you, you dry him off with a warm fluffy towel you had waiting. He’s relaxed from the comfort of the bath and just embarrassed enough from you washing him to get a little worked up. Such a slut for a little humiliation. 

“Come with me, I’m gonna get you all pretty for me now and do your hair and makeup. How’s that sound?”

“I-Umm, while I’m still… still naked?” Thomas asks, eyes a little bewildered.

You laugh at how surprised he seems despite the plenty of times you’ve seen him naked. “Yes, for now,” you hint with a wink, leading him to your vanity and sitting him down on the chair. He looks up at you with seemingly nothing going on behind those puppy eyes. 

“Hmm, I think this gold color would look so pretty on your lids. Close your eyes for me.” He follows instructions wonderfully. “Good boy. And of course we need to enhance this beautiful blush you’ve already got on these cheeks. Maybe we can get your other cheeks to blush another day hm?” His eyes go even wider thinking about his ass being hit enough to go pink.

“Okay one more thing. Lipgloss. You’re gonna look so pretty with shiny plump lips,” you tell him as you swipe the gloss over his parted lips. 

Once you pack up all the makeup and get your hairbrush out and when you walk back over to Thomas, he has an excited look on his face. It takes you a second to understand why that is, until you look down to see him fidgeting to cover his growing boner and remember the last time you brought out this hairbrush; as a punishment when he was having a particularly naughty day. 

You laugh a bit at his assumption. “Don’t worry puppy, we’ll only be using this for your hair today.” He looks relieved and a little disappointed. You run the brush and your fingers through his soft, freshly-washed hair getting out all the little knots along the way. 

With his hair and makeup flawlessly done, you bring out the most exciting part of the look, the outfit. You have the perfect set picked out. It’s one you found shopping the other day for yourself but when you saw it, you just knew you had to get it for your boyfriend. 

And once you see it on his beautiful body, you know for sure you made the right choice. It’s a sheer light pink crop top and the skimpiest light pink skirt you could find that doesn’t even cover his dick completely, letting his tip push up the hemline as he starts getting hard, and leaves his cute butt to peek out under the back. All tied together with silky sheer white thigh high stockings. He looks like a dream. And his look is completed with the happy, slightly humiliated, fully submissive look on his pretty face. 

“You look,” you start, looking him up and down. “Stunning.” You take his hands in yours, kissing each of his knuckles. “But I think I have one more thing to make this outfit perfect.” He watches carefully as you turn around to grab something. 

“There is something I need to do first,” you say, making your way back to him, keeping the thing you grabbed out of his sight. Without any further talking, your hand reaches under his tiny skirt to wrap your fingers around his dick, watching his face fill with surprise. You only need to give it a few strokes to get Thomas to fully hard, his dick pushing his skirt up so cutely. 

Before he has time to react, you drop down to your knees and take out that thing you’ve been hiding from him. A pale pink ribbon. Your fingers carefully wrap the ribbon around the base of his dick like a cock ring, tying it in a loose bow. Wrapped like a present, just for you. You take a picture before he can start squirming too much. 

“I wish I could set this as my phone background.” It’d be such a nice view to see every single day. “I love you puppy,” you say, infatuated, staring into his big glassy eyes before giving the tip of his cock a gentle kiss, watching it twitch, and getting up. 

“Okay,” you say, guiding him over to the bed and turning the T.V. on. “We’re gonna watch a movie and cuddle.” You find the most boring movie you can to put on while you position Thomas with his head on your chest and his legs in between yours. He cuddles in close to you, thinking the scene is over. Which is all a part of your devious plan to give your boyfriend the scene he deserves. 

Thomas is full of pent up energy, fidgeting around in your arms as you try to soothe him with pets. It doesn’t seem to be working though, as you can feel his gentle fingers dancing across your knee onto your inner thigh. You were just waiting for him to misbehave and you can’t help but smile when he finally gives in to his desire. You can feel his breath on your neck get shallower, waiting to see if you’ll allow his touches or not. His fingers climb their way higher and higher up your thigh, just barely touching but enough to send butterflies throughout your body. 

“Aww does my baby wanna tease me for a change?” You immediately feel his fingers stop in their tracks, realizing he’s been caught. “It's okay, you can keep going. It feels nice,” you tease. He keeps his fingers on the path they were on, stroking the sensitive skin of your thighs, following your instruction. 

His touches are so light and gentle that you can barely feel them but the sensation goes straight up to your pussy nonetheless. The effect doesn’t seem to target only you either. You gaze down to see Thomas’s skirt around his waist, fully uncovering his cock, hard and pushing up the pink fabric. 

“Touching me got you a little excited there huh puppy?” you say, touching his tip just to watch it twitch. He gets embarrassed again. Bashfulness might be your favorite look on him. Second only to how cute he looks with that bow wrapped perfectly around the base of his cock. 

His little whimper tells you all you need to know about how excited he really is. You would love to keep messing around with him like this but you’re a woman of your word so you stick to the no-edging today rule and get on with your plan. 

You position your pliable puppy to lay down flat on the bed with his head resting on a pillow. Without any complaint or questioning, he complies. 

“Such a good puppy,” you coo, stroking his cheek as you climb on top of him. You slowly remove your clothes, watching his eyes track your every movement, and crawl up until your pussy is hovering over his face. Thomas fights the urge to stick his tongue out and dive right in, but you have mercy on your horny puppy and lower yourself onto his pretty glossy lips. 

“Ohh your lips feel so amazing puppy,” you moan, grinding down. “And your nose too. I always love to feel your pretty little nose on my pussy.” Once he gets some encouragement, he’s got all the enthusiasm in the world and starts eagerly lapping as far inside you as his tongue will go as you rub your clit on his nose. 

His face feels so good under you, and watching him close his eyes to focus on giving you the most pleasure he possibly can. Every movement feels like you’re about to explode and you can’t help grinding down harder and faster and reveling in the little whimpers and moans coming from Thomas’s occupied lips. Your thighs feel shaky and you grab onto his hair to ground you and to pull his face even closer until the pleasure overtakes you and you cum with your legs tight around your boyfriend’s head. 

You release Thomas’s head to allow him to breathe again once you are aware enough to. You look down at his flushed face to see the makeup you applied smudged all around his face and get the urge to kiss it. You kiss all over his messy pretty face, tasting yourself on it. 

“Mmh that felt so good puppy, thank you. But I think it’s your turn to feel good now huh? How’s that sound?” He opens his excited eyes and nods quickly, placing his hands on your hips to have something to squeeze. You laugh, repositioning yourself to give yourself access to more of his body, bringing your face down to his hips where his pretty gift-wrapped cock rests. 

You tease him a little with your lips on his tip, swirling your tongue around until his hips start bucking up too much for you to let him get away with. Now that he’s nice and worked up, you pull his legs up and have him hold them to his chest so his cute little pink hole is exposed. He shivers when you gently blow cool air on it and you lean back to get a good view of him in this new position. He’s so fucking hot like this with his big puppy eyes staring back at you, and his legs quivering a little in anticipation, and his beautiful cock dripping onto his own hips. He looks like a dream come true. 

You get him prepped with lube covered fingers, pushing inside him and stroking until he’s ready for you to get out your favorite big pink strap. You line yourself up, pushing his legs even further back to get the perfect angle to push into him. You keep your eyes on Thomas’s face, trying desperately to keep it together for as long as he can, but you know your puppy well, and you can always tell when he’s embarrassed about how close he is just from one thrust. You take it easy on him and keep your thrusts long and slow but you can still see him struggling to not cum so early. 

“Please mommy, please let me cum, I- I don’t think I can hold on much longer,” Thomas begs. 

“Aw, puppy. You’re so cute. You can cum whenever you want, just let yourself do whatever you need to do.”

“Mommy I love you so much. Mmmm you’re so amazing, you’re the best domme in the world. I just wanna worship you every day.” he goes on and on. He always gets so wordy and just lets out every thought that passes through his mind when he’s all subby like this. He’s so gone, you just guide him through it, holding onto and rubbing his hips while you thrust into him. 

“I’m gonna cum, mommy I’m gonna cum,” he says with his eyes screwed shut and his legs trembling against you. He tries to push his hips into you as much as he can but ends up just shoving his hips up in tiny little ineffective movements. 

“Shh just hold on to me puppy, I got you I promise. You’re so close.” And with that, he’s whining out while his cum shoots out, staining the pink skirt as he shakes in your arms. You let his legs down while he attempts to catch his breath and get through the last of his orgasm. 

“You did such a good job puppy,” you praise him, throwing the strap across the bed to deal with later while you prioritize caring for your puppy. “Stay right there and I’ll be right back with some supplies ok?” you leave him with a kiss.

When you come back he’s exactly where you left him, eyes softly closing and opening again. 

“You can rest your eyes if you need to, you’ve had a very big day and you need some rest,” you say, gently wiping the smudged makeup off his face.

“I wanna stay awake. Wanna talk to you.” He barely gets the words out without yawning.

“Aw baby I think you’ve done enough talking for now. Your body needs rest, so take it. Let me take care of you. All you have to do is lay there and enjoy.” You strip him of his pretty little outfit, wiping off his sweat and cum until he’s nice and clean again. You pick up the sweat pants and shirt you brought out to warm him up before he stops you.

“Noooo,” he whines.”I want to feel your skin on mine.” 

“Okay puppy, whatever you want.” You pull him under the covers with you and cuddle him close while he squeezes you and give you little kisses with the little energy he has left until he’s asleep and softly snoring on your chest. 

[powpowpunchout]

I’ll See You Then.

“And here’s your dessert, sir.” The waiter said, placing a small, carefully sealed box in front of Don Flamenco. It had a golden sticker in the center that held the box’s flaps down.

Don stopped his conversation with Bear Hugger and turned around, “Ah, thank you.”

The waiter nodded and walked off.  

Don carefully moved the box away from the edge of the table and right next to his syrup bottle. He then looked back at Bear.

“You were saying?” He asked as he picked up his meal; a grilled chicken sandwich with so many requested alterations that it might as well be a completely different sandwich.

“Oh, shoot. What was I sayin’? Somethin’ bout th’stadium, I know that…” Bear Hugger ruffled his beard as he thought to himself. His hums mixed with the bar’s gentle music.

“You were talking about the ink incident.” Hondo said.

“That’s right!” Bear snapped his fingers, “Yeah–so Macho Man got completely covered in ink, ‘n I got a couple’a splatters on me, but luckily I managed to shield Hondo from it…”

As Bear rambled on, Hondo glanced at the meal Bear had ordered. It was that skillet dish he saw when they first got here. Hondo had forgotten the name of it–it was something lengthy like ‘The Chef’s Classic Collection’--but whatever it was called, it looked delicious. Roasted, seasoned potato slices, fried eggs, and slices of steak all crowded together to make for a heavenly meal.

Hondo picked at his own dinner with a fork. Medium rare steak with garlic butter and onions, a side of mixed vegetables, and kettle chips. It was the same thing he usually ordered here, and while there was nothing wrong with it–he still very much enjoyed it–he couldn’t help but think to himself… Surely Bear wouldn’t notice if Hondo helped himself to a single slice of a potato.

Hondo kept his eyes locked on Bear, who was still happily chatting away, and he slowly extended his fork out. He tried to be as quiet as possible, but the second his fork went past the rim of the skillet, Don faced him and raised a brow.

Bear whipped his head around, “What th’--”

Before Bear could finish that sentence, Hondo stabbed the fork into a potato slice and shoved it into his mouth.

“I look away for one second ‘n ya go ‘n steal from me?!” Bear threw his arms up.

Hondo covered his mouth with a napkin, “Stealing? Me? Why, I would never dream of doing such a thing.”

“Unbelievable.” Bear shook his head, “After all we’ve been through, after I saved ya life–”

Confusion flashed across Hondo’s face, “When did you save my life?”

“Well–I protected ya from that ink, didn’t I?!”

“Of course. How could I forget?” Hondo swallowed, “You have permission to steal from my plate then.”

Bear pouted, “It ain’t stealin’ if yer allowin’ it.” He nudged the skillet a bit closer to Hondo before he adjusted his purple beanie and shifted back to Don, “Anyways…”

Hondo chuckled. He was glad that Bear was able to joke around and have a good time despite what had happened earlier tonight. Then again, that was just Bear Hugger being Bear Hugger. That man could get brutally beaten in the ring yet pop back up, brush himself off, then go ‘Welp, that’s life!’ , and be on his way.

Hondo, admittedly, was still bitter. Bitter at Overload for coming here after insulting Bear days ago, bitter at Overload’s horrible attitude and ill-spirited ‘jokes’, and bitter at Tiger for never alerting any of them that he was bringing Overlad. But he decided to keep quiet about it and enjoy the rest of the evening. For everyone’s sake, especially Bear’s.

Hondo brought his eyes to the glass bottle that Bear Hugger made for him. A small smile made its way onto his face. While a part of him was still surprised Bear’s gift wasn’t anything origami related, the rest of him didn’t care anymore. He loved what Bear made for him, and that’s all that mattered.

Hondo then grabbed his ice tea, the cold glass stinging his finger tips, and took a sip. His eyes flickered over to Don.

Despite how pleasant his tone sounded, it was nowhere near as energetic as it was when the night started. It was clear to Hondo that Don held a grudge. From how stiff his posture was, to the fact he leaned away from Tiger, from his lack of gestures while he talked, to the fact a smile hadn’t graced his face since the moment Overload left… And on top of all of that, his bottle of wine was half empty. It was obvious his mood had been soured by Octave and Tiger, and Hondo couldn’t blame him for feeling that way. Hondo could only imagine what words Don had in store for Tiger the moment this evening was over.

And Tiger…

Hondo tilted his head ever so slightly, catching a glimpse of Tiger from the corner of his eye.

Tiger rested his chin atop his hands as he stared down at his untouched teriyaki bowl. He hasn’t really said much since Overload left; the last thing he uttered was an apology before he went completely silent.

While Hondo did feel a hint of sympathy for him, he couldn’t help but wonder what else Tiger expected to happen. He was just as responsible for tarnishing this night as Overload was.

Hondo didn’t despise Tiger over this, he was just… Upset.

Hondo stared down at his food. His grip on his fork tightened and his face scrunched.

Bear gently nudged him, “Y’good Hondo?”

Hondo blinked, “Yes.”

He sounded much more serious than he meant to.

He saw the worry that ran across Bear’s face. He quickly scanned the restaurant, trying to find something else to talk about–and then his eyes landed on Don’s takeout box.

“Is that for Carmen?” Hondo asked, motioning towards the box with his fork.

“Yes, it’s her dessert.” Don answered.

“What did you get her?”

“Their bread pudding.” Don raised his head, “They supposedly put raisins in it, but I know Carmen hates those foul things as much as I do, so I had them get rid of it.”

Hondo’s eyes lit up.

“Really? I’m rather curious now…” Hondo rested his arms on top of the table, “When I say ‘bread’, what’s the first ingredient that comes to your mind?”

Don blinked. Why did Hondo look so intense when he asked that? He opened his mouth–

“Oh no, do not drag Don into this!” Bear said.

“Don, answer the question.” Hondo sounded even more serious.

Don tried to speak, but Bear pointed at him.

“Don, do not answer that question!” He turned to Hondo, “I thought we dropped that dang argument th’moment we stepped foot in here!”

“Absolutely not. We need an outsider’s perspective.”

“Why!?”

Don’s eyes darted to Tiger then back to the other men, “What is going on?”

He was ignored.

“I want to prove a point.” Hondo furrowed his brows.

“What in th’world is Don gonna help ya prove!?”

“That I am right.”

“Oh my gosh–” Bear put his hands up. Don grew even more confused as he watched the two banter.

“Don. Answer the question.” Hondo repeated, leaning closer to Don. His hands were clasped together, and his serious expression had grown stronger.

Don let his mouth hang open, “Ah… Yeast?”

Hondo immediately spun his head towards Bear. Bear immediately looked the other way.

“Well then…” Hondo started.

“Nope.” Bear shook his head, “Not gonna tolerate this.”

“It seems yeast is important when it comes to bread.”

“I’m still standin’ by what I said earlier.” Bear folded his arms.

Don stared at the two men, “I am… Very lost.”

“Nah, don’t worry bout it.” Bear swatted at the air, “Hondo ‘n I just got in some dumb argument bout bread earlier–well–mostly bout yeast. He thought ya had to have yeast in yer bread, ‘n I thought bread without yeast was perfectly fine, ‘n we could’ve agreed to disagree but noooo.” He let out a little huff, still refusing to look at his friend, “I bet he’s makin’ that face he always makes when he’s right. Th’one where he raises his brows slightly ‘n has a l’il smirk.”

“I do not make that sort of face.” Hondo said, his brows slightly raised and his mouth curled into a little smirk.

“How does an argument about bread of all things happen in the first place?” Don asked as he refilled his glass of wine. Despite how lighthearted the situation was, he never seemed to relax.

“Gosh, it started cause of a phone call I had with Joe–oh, did I tell ya bout how one of my birds stole my phone’s cable…?” Bear asked.

As Bear started to ramble again, Don and Tiger listened. Hondo went back to his meal.  

“...They used it as a part of their nest, ‘n I felt bad takin’ it from ‘em, but anyways! This ain’t bout the cable…”

Hondo stuck his fork into a slice of his steak as he waited for Bear to get to the part where Glass Joe and Sandman made bread without yeast. Hopefully when Don and Tiger hear the absurdity of the recipe, they’ll side with him.

“...Joe was tellin’ me bout how he ‘n Sandman baked some bread together, but they hardly had any… Any uhm… Ya, uh… Ya good, Don?”

Hondo lifted his head.

Don was glaring at Tiger.

He stroked his chin as his eyes pierced through Tiger, who was getting visibly uncomfortable.

“Don?” Bear repeated.

Hondo set his fork down and watched the two, ready to take action if a fight were to break out, but suddenly, Don grabbed a napkin and crumbled it into a ball.

“Since when did Tiger shave his beard?” Don said through gritted teeth.

Bear and Hondo whipped their heads over to Tiger.

They only caught a glimpse of his clean-shaven chin before Don threw the wadded napkin at him.

The napkin flew right through Tiger’s face.

Tiger’s eyes flickered white.

The edges of his body started to speckle and flutter away–and then he disappeared into a puff of smoke.

“A clone?” Hondo whispered, his eyes widened.

Don’s scowl grew.

The men sat and stared at where Tiger once was.

Though none of them said a word, they all knew where Tiger had gone off to.  

~ ~ ~ ~

Tiger flew through the city streets, eyes frantically scanning for Overload.

His head darted in every direction as he weaved between the lamp posts and street signs. Everything vaguely resembled a person at this time of night. Mailboxes, trash cans, small trees, every little thing that Tiger rushed by made him do a double take.

He never realized how horribly lit this part of the city was. He couldn’t even remember the last time he navigated through this area–usually he just teleported–but was it always so dreary here? The lamp posts barely had enough light to dust the streets with their faint, blue glow–in fact, the yellow lights that came through the windows of whatever apartments and stores that were still open were far more useful than these lamps!

It certainly didn’t help that Overload wore nothing but dark colors tonight.

Tiger took a turn. Then another. Then another.

He cursed to himself when he felt the end of his orange shawl tangle between his legs.

He quickly stopped and unraveled himself. He threw the loose end around his neck and kept flying.

Everything was starting to blend together. Every building he passed looked the same. Every object around him started to melt into the same dark hue of blue. And every blur looked like Overload.

The night’s frigid air was like millions of tiny pricks to his face. His eyes started to water.

The smell of moss gathered along the edges of old buildings mixed terribly with the smell of car fumes. It made him sick.

As he rubbed his eyes, a part of him wondered if Overload had taken a different route back home, or perhaps he took a cab–

Tiger gasped.

There, on the cracked, weed-ridden sidewalk, was Octave.

His gem flashed and he teleported behind him.

“Overload!” Tiger said, making Octave jump. He tried to reach out, “Overload, I’m–”

“Don’t wanna hear it.” Octave stuck his hand out, not bothering to face Tiger, “Night’s over. Dinner’s done. See ya.”

Octave shoved his hands into his pockets and stormed away. If Tiger just teleported here to drill into his head how much he ‘Ruined their night’, and how he should’ve ‘Gotten over the sounds’, then Tiger could shove it. He wasn’t gonna put up with anymore of that crap tonight.

“Overload, I’m sorry.”

Octave stopped. He turned around, “What?”

Tiger clutched the loose end of his shawl tightly to his chest while his gem flickered. A lump formed in his throat.

“What the heck are ya sorry for? For bringin’ me along? For thinkin’ things would go well?” Octave scoffed. The more he thought about all the reasons Tiger could be ‘sorry’ for, the angrier he got.

‘Sorry you couldn’t get over your stupid noise problem for one night so we could have a good time.’

‘Sorry I thought this whole dinner thing would be a great idea.’

‘Sorry I even suggested this get-together in the first place.’

‘Sorry you get so emotional over sounds.’

All those potential ‘sorry’s’ in Tiger’s voice rang through his head. And each one made him angrier than the last. And that look on Tiger’s face? That guilty expression he wore? The way his eyes drifted away from Octave’s glare? Octave just knew he was gonna spout something along those lines.

“I’m… I’m sorry about how tonight played out.” He swallowed. Octave’s hands curled to tight fists.

“And… I’m sorry that Hondo and Flamenco were so short with you.”

Octave took a step back.

He stared at Tiger. The sound of distant sirens and car horns filled the silence between them.

“Yeah, whatever.” Octave finally spat out, “Not your fault they’re so sensitive.”

Despite Tiger’s apology, Octave felt even worse.

What, were Hondo and Don too chicken to apologize to him? Did they send Tiger over here like their little carrier pigeon so he could help ‘keep the peace’ in the Major Circuit?

“To think a couple’a boxers can’t handle an extra dinner guest. Ain’t nothin’ but wusses, that’s what they are.” Octave kicked at the ground.

Heck, those two probably thought they did nothing wrong. That’s what happens when you’re surrounded by nothing but fans who drool all over you, and friends that are too afraid to call you out. That’s probably why Don snapped at him. His fragile ego couldn’t handle anything that wasn’t praise, so he got all emotional and lashed out. And to think Carmen puts up with him.

And Hondo, that guy probably didn’t see himself in the wrong cause he can’t see anything past those brows. Octave saw the way he glared at him the entire dinner, he saw the constant dirty looks Hondo shot his way. It’s not Octave’s fault he couldn’t take a joke.

It was times like these where Octave was glad to have a friend like Aran Ryan. A guy who wasn’t afraid to call him out or knock him down a peg when his ego got a little too big.

“Knew this dinner was a bad idea.” Octave grumbled. He glanced at Tiger again, who had a look of hurt flicker in his eyes. Octave quickly turned away and grit his teeth, “Should’ve known Pisty ‘n Don would’ve gotten all mad bout this. ‘N Bear bein’ gross…” He huffed, “My bad for tryna hang round you.”  

Tiger let go of his shawl and breathed in, “Well, if I had known that Flamenco’s attitude towards you was going to be so foul, and that Hondo would do nothing but silently judge you, I would’ve chosen a place where it would’ve been just us.”

“Sure.” Octave said. He spun around and kept walking.

Tiger’s gem flashed. He teleported in front of Octave.

“I’m being genuine, Overload. When I said I’d like to spend more time with you, I meant it.”

Octave’s chest stung when he heard those words.

“Let me make it up to you.” Tiger said. His gem flashed again.

A clone of Tiger appeared to the left of Overload, “Let’s give this ‘dinner’ thing another shot, hm?”

Another clone appeared to the right of him, “Some place where it’s only the two of us. Some place where we can enjoy each other’s company without getting dragged down by a rose-obsessed snob, and judged by a man with eyebrows.”

That last part got a chuckle out of Octave, “Man with eyebrows? That all Pisty is to ya?”

A third clone rested itself atop of Octave, “Like you said, it’s his only definable trait.”

Octave let out another chuckle before wafting the clone off of him. The clone turned to smoke and flew away with the wind. Tiger’s gem blinked and the other clones disappeared as well.

“I swear, Pisty’s got more hair on his brows than Donny’s got on his head.”

It was Tiger’s turn to laugh. It was nice to hear Octave crack a joke despite what happened tonight.

“But what do you say?” Tiger asked, hugging his knees as he hovered in the air, “Would you like to give it another chance? It doesn’t have to be dinner, mind you. We could always do lunch–or breakfast! I don’t mind either way.”

“I–” Octave’s mouth stayed for a moment, he shoved his hands back into his pocket, “I’unno. I do, but–” He stopped himself. What was the best way to say: ‘Can we spend time together without a bunch of noisy, gross freaks around us?’ Just thinking about that request made him feel like an idiot.

“I don’t want another dumb fight breakin’ out again, ya know?” Octave finished.

“Oh, of course. You know…” Tiger slowly floated above Octave’s head, “I think I know the perfect place. It’s hard to find, nearly impossible for photographers and reporters to enter, has a wonderful view, and I don’t believe any other boxer visits it often.” He was now face to face with Octave–except he was hanging upside down.

“And that is?” Octave cocked his head to the side. Talking to Tiger like this was a bit disorienting.

“The control booth.” Tiger smiled. The end of his shawl dropped in front of his face. He huffed and quickly teleported himself right side up, “You know those small rooms above the stadium’s rings? The ones with the giant windows where the rings’ lights are controlled?”

Octave nodded, “Yeah, I know whatcha talkin’ bout.”

“Yes! Those are rather peaceful. Only problem is…” Tiger’s smile slowly fell, “We’re not exactly… Allowed up there. We don’t have permission.”

“Who cares?”

Tiger blinked, “Well, I’m sure the operators wouldn’t be too thrilled to find us sitting there.” He gently tugged at the end of his beard.

“What are they gonna do? Try ‘n kick two professional boxers out?” Octave shrugged before moving closer to Tiger, “Besides, it’d be great findin’ another quiet place in th’stadium. Wouldn’t mind spendin’ time with ya either.” He pointed to Tiger, “Just you, though. No Hondo, no Don, no freaks, none’a that.”

“Oh, rest assured.” Tiger waved his fingers, specks of glitter fell from the tips,  “I’ll cast a magical barrier on the door to make sure no one else can come in.”

“You can do that?”

“No, no. I’m only joking. However, if someone were to disturb us…” Tiger covered his face with his hands, “I can simply…” He started to drag them down, slowly revealing more and more of his warped, misshapen eyes. Eyes that looked more like thin, white cracks that ran diagonally across his face. Eyes with veins a little too red, with pupils a little too small that kept darting around while the whites of the eyes pulsated, “...Scare them!”

Before Tiger fully revealed his distorted face, his gem blinked, and his face poofed back to normal. There was a playful grin on his face.

Octave stared at him, just barely able to contain his revulsion.

He sputtered out a sound–not an actual word, just a sound–before he quickly cleared his throat.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s… That’s Good t’know.” He tilted his head, motioning for Tiger to follow him as he started to head down the sidewalk, “What time ya wanna meet up then? Sometime next week?”

Tiger drifted alongside him, floating on his back while twirling the end of his mustache, “I’ll have to think about it. I’m sure I could meet with you after one of Bull’s training sessions–”

The sudden sound of bells jingling cut Tiger off.

He flicked his wrist. His gem blinked and his flip phone teleported out of his pocket and in front of his face.

“Ah.” He said as he read the caller ID, “It’s Eyebrows.” He flicked his wrist again, teleporting the phone to who knows where, “I suppose I should get back to that dinner.”

Octave whipped his head around, “Ya not comin’ with?”

“No, I’m afraid not. I promised I’d join them for dinner and enjoy the evening, and despite their… Occasional flaws, they’re still my friends.” Tiger adjusted himself so he ‘stood’ in the air.

“Right.” Octave couldn’t help but frown. He wasn’t sure which part of that made him feel more sour–the fact that Tiger was leaving, or the fact Tiger referred to them as ‘friends’--but he folded his arms, “Well, I ain’t gonna keep ya then.”

“I look forward to seeing you again.” Tiger clasped his hands together. He gave him a small yet warm grin.

Octave stiffened, “Yeah. Same here.”

“You have a safe trip home, Overload. Goodnight.” Tiger bowed, and with the flash of a gem, he poofed away.

Octave stood there, staring into the dark night sky where Tiger was just seconds ago. The light of the lamppost above him flickered.

“Night.” Octave mumbled into the darkness, and then he continued his walk back home.

~ ~ ~ ~

Hondo kept his phone pressed against his ear as he tried to call Tiger. He tapped his fingers along the edge of the table, growing ever more impatient as each ring of his phone felt more drawn out than the last.

During the brief pauses between those rings, the other sounds of the bar seeped into his ears. The music, the chatter of the people, the clinking of dishes–

The phone rang again. The pause that followed afterwards was longer than the last. Hondo felt a glint of hope–but then he heard another ring.

He lowered his brows. His tapping got faster.

He kept glancing past their booth’s curtain and to the bar door, hoping Tiger would come through–without Overload–but there were no signs of him.

While another ring filled one of Hondo’s ears, Don and Bear’s conversation filled his other.

“...I can’t understand what goes through that head of his. Is all that magic melting whatever cohesive thoughts he has?” He heard Don rant, followed by the sound of more wine being poured into a glass, “To follow Overload after the way he behaved tonight? Why?! What for? To suffer more through his behavior?”

“I mean, he got mad over th’sounds or somethin’...” Hondo heard Bear mumble.

Don rolled his eyes, “That’s his excuse for everything.” He took a sip of his wine, “I bet that was his excuse for when he shoved the staff members around on the night of our fight.”

Hondo sharply inhaled as the phone rang again.

“I always knew he was vile.” Don set his glass down, “Both in and out of the ring, but to see how he can’t even pretend to be a decent person for one night–our night!?” He slumped over and folded his arms, “I suppose that is too much effort for him.”

Hondo glanced at Don’s face. His anger was as prevalent as his exhaustion.

“I guess he was pretty stressed.” Was all Bear could say.

“Pah, stressed.” Don repeated with a sneer, “I’ve been stressed plenty times before–I was stressed tonight! But even then, I still chose to move past my problems and enjoy my time with everyone, just like any normal person would.”

Another ring filled Hondo’s ears.

“The audacity he has to come to our dinner night and make everyone miserable–”

“Not only that,” Hondo said, tilting his head away from the phone, “but he had also insulted Bear’s idea before he had joined us.”

Bear shrunk back.

Hondo leaned back into his phone, “And the way he treated Disco not long ago–”

“Disco?” Don sat up, “What happened to Disco?”

Hondo put a finger up, signaling Don to wait just a moment.

His phone let out one final ring, and when Tiger didn’t pick up, he sighed and placed it down.

“Overload was bothering Disco. Again.” Hondo explained, “I witnessed it days ago. They were arguing about… Something, I couldn’t quite hear them, but I watched how Overload treated Disco. I watched how he threatened him and held him against the wall. It was repulsive.”

Don’s face twisted into disgust, “And you stopped him before it got out of hand, yes?”

Hondo stiffened.

“I… Only watched. I knew if I had stepped in, it would’ve escalated the situation.” That wasn’t a lie, yet still, guilt seeped into his chest.

“I see.” Don raised a brow, “I know if I had been there, I would’ve never let such behavior slide.” He raised his glass into the air before taking another sip.

Hondo opened his mouth–but suddenly, Tiger teleported to his seat.

Bear’s face immediately lit up, “Tiger! Hey, welcome back bud!”

“Hello again.” Tiger hummed as he readjusted his shawl, “So sorry for disappearing like that, I just needed to have a word with Overload.”

“We’re glad you’ve decided to join us again.” Hondo said through his teeth.

“Yes, and what did you two talk about?” Don said, glaring at Tiger while he took another sip.

“That doesn’t concern you.” Tiger responded. He grabbed his fork and dug into his room-temperature dinner. Don sputtered.  

“Doesn’t concern me?” Don spoke through his teeth, “Tiger, perhaps your magic is messing with your memory, so I’ll remind you just in case: Overload was the one that mistreated us. It absolutely concerns not only me, but everyone else at this table.”

Tiger pat his mouth with a napkin, “If you simply must know, then all I shall tell you is that we discussed personal matters.”  

Tiger didn’t even glance at Don when he slammed his hands onto the table and towered above him. He grit his teeth, ready to tear Tiger to shreds, but then Hondo spoke up.

“Flamenco.” He said sternly. Don whipped his head over. He saw Hondo’s subtle scowl, the crinkles along his face, and that disapproving look in his eyes.

Then Don looked to Bear, who was hugging himself and facing away.

Don gripped the table harder before he let go and sat back down. He huffed and brushed the strands of hair out of his face. He downed whatever wine was left in his glass before refilling it again.

Tiger finally brought his gaze to the rest of the men, “I’m sorry again for leaving so suddenly,” He said, seemingly unaffected by Don’s actions, “but now that I’m back, I fully intend to spend the rest of my evening here with you. As if I could just leave without hearing more of how Bear was able to make these wonderful glass bottles.”

Tiger used his magic to float his bottle into the air and rotated it.

Bear let out a chuckle, and he gladly started to share his glass-making journey. Tiger listened happily, and despite the grudges Don and Hondo held, they listened as well.

The night had been eventful enough. They didn’t want to make it worse.  

~ ~ ~ ~

When Octave got into his house, the first thing he did was go to his phone.

He wanted to call Aran. He didn’t know why. Honestly, the last thing he needed tonight was Aran screaming in his ear, but he grabbed his candlestick phone and dialed Aran’s number anyways.

As he pressed the cone-shaped receiver into his ear, he unbuttoned his coal gray suit and tossed it over the back of his dark brown sofa.

It only took two rings for Aran to pick up.

“Yeah?” Aran said, his voice mixed with the sound of muffled footsteps. Octave brought the mouthpiece of his phone closer.

“Hey.” Octave muttered, he leaned against the arm of his couch and tore off his shoes, “Remember that dinner that Tiger invited me to?” He tossed his shoes into the darkness that consumed his house. He heard them hit something–he wasn’t sure what, he didn’t bother to turn on the living room lights–but he didn’t care.

There was a loud thud on the other end of the phone, followed by Aran’s hissed curses before he said: “Yeah, whaddabout it?”

Octave stayed on the couch’s arm. He kept his mouth open, yet nothing came out. He tried to think of how to explain every little thing that ticked him off tonight, but then Aran let out a cackle.

“Oh, no way. Ye actually blew it, didn’t ye?”

“Hey, ain’t my fault th’other guys are so sensitive!” Octave snapped.  

“Oh, sure.” Aran said. Octave could hear a smile spread on Aran’s face.

“Look, tonight jus’ sucked–”

Aran talked over him, “What? ‘N ye wanted t’complain bout it t’me? Call me at th’ripe hour o’ 10 jus’ for that? That all I’m good for?” He let out an agitated chuckle, “Whaddaya expect me t’do even, hah?”

Octave rubbed his eyes and grumbled, “Ain’t that hard to pretend to care, Aran.”

Aran scoffed, “Fine. What happened then? Guarantee yer makin’ a big deal outta nothin’.”

Octave pushed himself off the couch and carried his phone with him. He clutched it’s neck tightly as he started to pace around, being careful not trip over the phone’s wire.

“Well first ya got Pisty,” Octave said, “guy kept starin’ me down th’entire time like he was a hawk. ‘N those stupid brows of his–” He felt his foot hit something and stumbled.

“Ay, again wit th’brow crap.” He could hear Aran roll his eyes, “It ain’t gonna kill ya t’look away, ya know.”

“Could say th’same thing to Pisty.” Octave mumbled as he regained his balance. He made his way over to the hickory-colored floor lamp that was behind his couch, treading slowly so he didn’t hit whatever else he had scattered on the floor. He turned it on.

A dim, yellow light came from its bulb and filled his living room with a faint golden glow. Just his living room, though. That was as far as the light could go. His kitchen? The hall to the other rooms? Still dark.

“Donny was also insufferable. He rolled his eyes at just bout everythin’ I did, ‘n whenever I talked bout anythin’ he just had to make some sorta snide comment. Then he accused me of ruinin’ th’night!” He pulled on his phone cord as he raised his voice, “Maybe if he took that thorny rose outta his rear, he’d realize he’s th’one who ruined th’night, not me.”

“Maybe if ye had better t’ing talk bout, none that wouldn’t’ve happened.”

The corner of Octave’s mouth twitched.

“Bear kept yappin’ with his mouth full’a food too.” He murmured. He wasn’t in the mood to entertain Aran’s suggestions. “Bad enough th’guy can’t keep his voice down, but now I gotta see his food too?”

“A’ight that’s a li’l nasty, ain’t gonna argue with ye there.”

“Yeah.”

Octave thought back to Bear. To the way his lips smacked, to the wet, sloppy sound of food being chewed, to the way he licked his fingers–those disgusting fingers–and Don’s tapping–

Octave gripped his hair and pulled on it.

The tapping, the licking, the constant movement.

Don’s stupid foot. His fingers always moving.

Hondo always staring.

Bear, Bear and his horrible sounds. The more Octave kept thinking about it, the faster his heart raced. He pulled on his hair tighter and tighter.

He’d rather throw his head against a wall till it was nothing but mush than hear go through that ruckus again.

He’d rather bite off a chunk of his skin.

He’d rather die.

Those sounds. Those terrible, ‘insignificant’ sounds.

Don’s words rang through his head.

As did his tapping.

As did Bear’s chewing.

He hated it, he hated it, he hated them–

Octave raised his fist into the air and punched his end table as hard as he could.

“Th’heck was that?” Aran asked.

Octave brought his fist back up and shook off the wood splinters, “A bug.”

He didn’t even bother to look at the damage done to his table. That old thing was busted anyways.

“ ‘N speakin’ of Bear, ya know what that chump did tonight?! Brought over a bunch’a tacky syrup bottles for everyone ‘n–”

Aran cut him off, “Wait, like as gifts? He brought syrup bottles as gifts?”

“Yeah!”

“What sorta crummy gift’s that?!”

“I dunno, but everyone got one ‘cept me!”

“Didja seriously want one o’ ‘em garbage?”

“I’d rather have a bottle smashed over my head.” Octave scoffed, “That part didn’t bother me, though. Ya know what did? Him lyin’ to my face ‘n talkin’ to me like I’m some sorta idiot.” He wrapped the phone cord tightly around his finger, “Told me he ‘had a bottle for me’ but was gonna give it to me ‘later’, like I’m stupid enough to fall for that.”

Octave let out an exhausted sigh and fell onto his couch. He brought the mouthpiece of his phone ever so closer, “Guy could’ve just told me he didn’t feel like makin’ me one instead of treatin’ me like a five year old.”

Octave kept the phone’s receiver pressed against his ear with one hand while he used the other to reach out to his end table. He felt around aimlessly, fingers getting nicked by the occasional wood chip, until he managed to grab hold of some crumbled, lavender-colored paper. He brought it over and fiddled with it while Aran talked.

“Man, Bear’s pushin’ his luck this week, ain’t he?”

Octave stopped, “Whaddaya mean by that?”

“Ah, I didn’t tell ye? Remember that meetin’ I had with th’people in fancy suits? Th’meetin’ that you didn’t show up to? Th’one ye didn’t–”

“Get to th’point.”

“Ay, well I found out–th’reason those guys knew bout my ink thing? Bear ratted me out!” Aran’s voice pierced through the phone and made Octave cringe. “I’unno how he found out–he wasn’t even in th’stupid locker room when we were settin’ that thing up, but he just knew apparently ‘n those snobby higher ups took his side!”

“I saw him covered in ink after my fight with Don.” Octave said as he messed with the paper some more, “Probably watched what happened to Macho ‘n had a good idea bout who did it.”

“He didn’t even have proof!” Aran hissed, “Imagine rattin’ someone out over a wee bit o’ ink on yer overalls, as if he don’t got a billion more of ‘em!”

“As if they don’t already look ruined.” Octave crumpled the paper into a ball and tossed it.

“Exactly! So I was thinkin’...”

“That’s a first.”

“Shut it.” Aran barked, “But I was thinkin’, tomorrow ye meet me at th’stadium ‘n ye help me set up a li’l somethin’ for our good ol’ pal Bear Hugger. After th’way he’s been kickin’ us round, I think it’s th’least we can do.”

“Tomorrow?” Octave repeated. He looked at the clock that hung behind his old TV. It was late. Aran groaned.

“Don’t tell me yer really thinkin’ bout makin’ me do this by myself.”

Octave opened his mouth, but Aran kept yapping.

“I treated ye t’dinner after yer fight wit’ Don even though ye lost, ‘n now ye don’t wanna help me after th’way things went tonight? What’s Bear ever done for ye?”

Octave heard static pour through the receiver for just a moment before Aran’s voice came through again.

“Wasn’t enough ye ditched me before th’meetin’ I had couple’a days ago. Th’one where ye agreed t’help me then just–just left me for Tiger! ‘N now tonight?” Aran growled, “Lettin’ ye spill yer heart out t’me ‘n for what?”

“Fine, fine!” Octave hollered.

He sighed then sunk further into the couch’s cushions.

“Tomorrow.” He said, “What time ya wanna meet?”

“Ay, 7'o clock sharp.” Aran’s voice became notably more energetic, “I’m lookin’ forward to it. See ye then.”

“Yea…” Octave muttered, “See ya.”

Then he hung up.

[writingintohell]

The warmth of the house and the glow of the tree - Day 1 of the Christmas Collection

Word count : 1055

Theme: Decorating the Christmas Tree

Markl woke with a start to the smell of something sweet cooking downstairs in the kitchen. Slipping on his shoes, he jumped down the stairs. He could hear Calcifer and Howl chattering away to their heart’s content in the kitchen, the smell sizzling of bacon mingling with the sweet scent of what he could now make out to be pastries. Walking further downstairs, Markl spotted small round pastries  bulging with small apple cubes, candied lemon peels, and raisins cooling on the countertop. Sophie was busy doing what looked like fighting multiple very sparkly snakes and attempting to wrangle them onto an evergreen tree. Turning around and spotting Markl, Sophie smiled.

“Glad to see that you’re up! What do you want for breakfast? Howl’s got some bacon and eggs on the pan if you’re up for that.”

Blinking owlishly, Markl nodded, his mentor cracking two fresh eggs over the pan, feeding the shells over Calcifer, before flipping the eggs in a perfect circle onto the plate, so that they were sunny side up. Sitting down at the table with a glass of milk and a fork in hand, Markl began to wolf down the delicious food in front of him, the contented sound of him munching on bacon and the vaguely possessed noises of Calcifer chewing on eggshells. Swallowing, he asked Howl what the large tree was.

“Is it for a spell? Or some kind of commission for the king?”

Howl laughed and ruffled Markl’s hair.

“Market Chipping and the area around it often follows the custom of plucking an evergreen or pine tree out of the ground, and then decorating it with candles and small shiny objects called baubles.”

Sophie poked her head around from the tree.

“I’ve gotten Howl to use his magic to instead use some of his magical lights that he got from his sister, because I think he would find a way to burn down the castle.”

Howl gasped, affronted.

“That was one time! And Calcifer said he was sorry!”

Around the eggshells, there was what could have been heard as a “Yeah!” from Calcifer, causing Sophie and Howl to laugh. 

Licking off his lips, Markl brought his plate and cup up to the sink, dragging over a stool and turning on the tap to do the washing up, which was normally Sophie’s job (his was the drying up), but she looked quite preoccupied with the tree, so he decided to be helpful, and hopefully prevent another slime incident.

Howl walked over with a large box in his hands and placed it on the counter next to where Markl was washing up.

“When you’re done, would you like to help Sophie decorate the tree?”

Markl’s eyes widened and nodded vigorously. Howl laughed, and picked up the dishcloth to help dry off the dishes.

Markl hopped down from the stool and ran over to where Sophie was, box wrapped tightly in his hands. He quickly helped Sophie arrange the sparkly snakes into the tree, and the lights wrapped around from the bottom up. The softly glowing rainbow lights were snuggly pushed into place, before Sophie picked up the bag of ornaments, which were wrapped up in paper. Together, Sophie and Markl got to work unwrapping the ornaments from their protective paper casing, laying them out on the table. 

Markl softly gasped at the sight of all the ornaments. There were silver shining stars, golden deer sparkling with glitter that reflected off the lights, knitted balls that were white and green and red, and thin strips of red, white, and gold that had been finely pressed down. However, most importantly of all, there was a small fairy, no bigger than Markl’s palm, dressed in a blue gown the colour of ice, with a tiny wand with a snowflake on top. Her wings were a shimmery hue, reflecting the light of the Calcifer as he bobbed happily away in the fireplace. She wore little blue shoes on her feet, almost like what Markl had seen the ladies where in Market Chipping when he and Sophie had stopped by one autumn day to visit her sisters.

Sophie smiled gently at him. “The fairy is a gift from Martha and Lettie from when we went to visit them earlier this year. She normally goes at the very top of the tree, after all the other ornaments are put on,” she said, clapping her hands together. “Well then, shall we get to it?”

Markl thought that this couldn’t get any better than it already was. The next half hour was spent placing decorations on the tree, moving them, moving them back, and so on and so forth. Howl was useful with his criminally long legs for putting the ornaments up on the higher branches of the tree, and through much deliberation, 7 cups of tea and one shot glass of whiskey, the tree was done.

Howl nudged the boy.

“Do you want to put the fairy up on the tree, Markl?”

Markl blinked at him, surprised he wasn’t asking Sophie, but even more surprised that Sophie was smiling at him as well and nodding.

“I don’t think I’m tall enough, Master Howl.”

Howl grinned and ruffled the boy’s curly hair.

“That’s not a problem Markl. Here, you take hold of her and I’ll pick you up, alright?”

Markl nodded excitedly, prompting a laugh from Sophie and Calcifer.

He gently took hold of the small thread running through the fairy’s back, and nodded at Howl to let him know that he was ready. With a one, two, three! he was hoisted up into the air before being manoeuvred closer to the tree so he could wrap the thread around the highest branch available.

Howl dropped him down with a slightly sharp exhale, his blue hair in his face. He smiled at Markl, and then at Sophie.

Sophie’s eyes lit up before running and closing all the curtains to block any and all light from coming through, so at the end of it all there was just the softly glowing tree and Calcifer to illuminate the room. Howl wrapped an arm around Sophie’s waist, pulling her in, and placed a hand on Markl’s shoulder. 

Clearing his throat, Markl asked, “Sophie, is there any other things we do to get ready for Christmas?”

Sophie grinned.

“Markl, we’ve barely even begun!”

a/n Hope you enjoyed reading this! I will be posting more for writemas so be sure to check out my other posts once they're up!

[self-proclaimed-chaotic-good]

Batman's Future Sidekick | Bruce Wayne x Reader

Prompt: Single Parent(s)

Words: 1198

Fandom: The Batman

A/N: Had this idea in my head for a while now and if I feel like it, I might expand on it more. Dick Grayson’s a preteen in this one. It’s mostly just a breakfast conversation.

Summary: You’re best friends with Bruce Wayne and Batman’s sidekick. When you came back from a business trip, you found that there’s another stubborn and reckless boy you have to help look after.

-

You knew practically every route to Wayne Tower, the drive over was merely through muscle memory. It had been a year into Bruce’s endeavor as the masked man of Gotham when you found out about him. As much as he wanted you to be far removed from Batman’s business, after you had helped solve a big case of his, there was no convincing you from staying away.

You were crime fighting partners, now, so you both made a promise to tell each other everything. Which was why it came as a shock when you came back from a business trip to see a little boy sitting on top of the stairs.

The boy perked up once he saw you and gasped. “Bruce! They’re here!” he shouted, stomping away to find the man.

Alfred appeared, shaking his head as he watched the boy run up the stairs towards the rooms. “Welcome back. I trust that everything went well on your trip?” he greeted, giving you a friendly hug.

“Everything went smoothly, Al. I’m just glad to be back,” you said, “Who’s the kid?”

“Ah!” He nodded, as if he just remembered about it. “I see Bruce hasn’t told you. That boy, I swear. I told him to tell you as soon as he decided to take him in. You’ve heard about the Flying Graysons incident?”

You nodded. “It was horrible what happened. So, he’s…”

“The only survivor, yes. Richard Grayson, though he insisted we call him Dick,” Alfred said, leading you over to the round table.

Dory came out of nowhere with a plate of cut fruits and tea. “I know you’re exhausted, dear, but I don’t want you sleeping on an empty stomach.”

“Thank you, Dory.”

She hummed with a smile, then made her way back to attend to her other duties. Alfred sat down next to you, sorting out his paperwork, then sighed, looking up towards the staircase ahead. As you popped a sliced apple into your mouth, you heard a ruckus coming from said stairs and saw Dick dragging a sluggish Bruce down, the gap between their energy levels was astonishing but not surprising. Bruce finally lifted his head and smiled at you.

“You’re back,” he said, ruffling Dick’s unruly hair before scooting him aside to get to you.

“I am,” you said with amusement, “And you have some explaining to do.”

Bruce grunted, lazily looking over at the small boy who noisily sat between you and Alfred, stealing some of your fruits. There was a small fond smile on his face as he sat down next to you, watching the boy 

“Richard is my new ward,” Bruce simply said, also picking at your fruits. 

Dory tutted at them, placing down two plates of pancakes, one chocolate chip with banana slices for Dick and one blueberry with extra blueberries on the side for Bruce. They muttered their thanks before digging in. Your eyebrows raised to your forehead as you observed them and how the young boy drowned his pancakes in syrup before taking a large bite while Bruce poured a little bit of syrup and took one modest bite.

“He eats like how you used to,” you pointed out to Bruce with a smile.

Alfred hid his chuckle behind a file, avoiding the empty glare from Bruce. “This is rather tame in comparison,” he said.

“Ah, right. Bruce used to spread an overflowing amount of whip cream between each pancake layer and then drown it in syrup.”

“That sounds amazing,” Dick said through his mouthful of pancake.

Bruce redirected his glare to you and you had the decency to act sheepish. “See, you’re giving him ideas. If you’re here to bully me and be a bad influence on my ward, you can leave.”

You gasped, holding a hand to your heart. “No! After all we’ve been through?”

Dick looked between you two and grinned. “So, you two are dating, then. Bruce said you guys weren’t but he talks about you a lot. I mean, he barely talks in the first place, but when he does, it’s about work or you.”

Bruce suddenly needed intense concentration on eating his breakfast, turning away whenever he needed to sip his coffee. After a moment, he said, “He’s exaggerating. He wants me to ground him so he doesn’t have to come to the soup kitchen today.”

“Soup kitchen? You’re doing volunteer work now?”

Bruce nodded. “It’s… kind of nice to help out like that. And it’s not like Richard’s going to do any heavy lifting.”

“I don’t mind helping,” Dick corrected him, “It’s just that I want to help in some other way. After they come to the kitchen, they still have to go back to their lives out there at some ratty place with all those bad guys running around. It’s not fair that I get to come back home to a place like this when they can’t. Soup’s not going to defeat bad guys and make them safe, superheroes are.”

You exchanged a look with Bruce. “Superheroes, huh?” Dick nodded excitedly, humming. “Well, not all heroes wear capes, as the saying goes. Help where you can and don’t lose sight of what matters the most. A hero’s purpose isn’t to fight bad guys, it’s to protect people from the bad guys.”

“Eh, what’s the difference?” Dick scrunched up his nose in confusion.

“Heroes inspire hope. Hope spreads like wildfire and burns the darkness away. If you let the hate for the bad guys overrule your will to protect others, it will swallow you up. For example, if a bully pushes down a kid at school, what do you do? Do you go after the bully or do you help the kid up?”

“Go after the bully, of course! If I go after them, they won’t hurt anyone again.”

“But you should make sure the kid is okay first before you go running off,” Bruce interjected.

Dick frowned. “I mean, I guess. But, what if the bully gets away?”

“They won’t get away forever and if you help the kid, it might inspire others to help, too. Bullies target the vulnerable, but if everyone’s working together, they can’t hurt anyone so easily.”

“I think I get it now. So, like Batman or the new mayor, from what I heard. The mayor’s always saying that if the people worked together, the city would become stronger. Is that also why Batman doesn’t work alone anymore? They said there’s another masked person with Batman now.”

You hid a knowing smile. With how the conversation was going, this boy might catch on faster than you thought. You wondered how Bruce had done it, sneaking out of the tower and making sure that the boy was fast asleep in his own bed and not wandering around the halls or looking for him.

“One of the many reasons.”

“Huh. Cool. I want to be his other sidekick!” Dick jabbed his fork in the air with enthusiasm.

Bruce snorted, shaking his head. “Maybe when you’re older, I’ll see if I can get in touch with him.”

You patted his arm in sympathy. “It might come sooner than you think,” you whispered.

“That’s what I’m worried about.”

[dearchilde]

Turbulence

pairing; gorou x gn!reader

summary; separated during the war, gorou is left to pick up the pieces after your disappearance. where could you have gone? were you alright? were you even alive? these are the thoughts that invade his mind, and he struggles to keep the mask he so carefully put up each passing day.

warnings; mentions of injury, blood, war themes, hurt no comfort, angst, kind of formatted in a epistolary. possible part 2?

There used to be a constant in his life before the war. It was the type that would thrum gently in the back of mind, and it made him feel reassured. It made him feel safe.

It was like a safety rope he could trust that would pull him out of any mess, a lifeline, some would call it.

Now, though.

He's left to struggle to pull himself up after the fall. Bruised and severely empty without that reassurance.

more utc!

Gorou helps with serving their rations.

He works every day to attend to his soldiers, congratulating them for their hard work. He subconsciously counts every head to make sure everyone is present, the ones resting in the infirmary not withstanding.

“...He's been very tense lately. I wonder if it has to do with what happened several weeks ago.” His ears twitch, keeping his features neutral to avoid suspicion that he was listening in.

The other soldier hums. “They were one of the first members to join when the resistance was formed. I would be very shocked if it didn't affect the general at all.” The chopsticks he was holding were beginning to bend a little. Gorou relaxed his muscles, reaching for his can of water.

“Yeah, but it's been almost a month. You know how this war is, hope is the last thing we should be clinging on —”

Another soldier cuts in harshly. “Be quiet! He could be listening to you, idiot.” They shift around their seats anxiously.

Gorou continues eating through their constant glances in silence.

Two months go by after the incident.

He stands on Nazuchi Beach with a Tenryou soldier by his feet, gripping his uniform with such ferocity that it was a wonder he hadn't ripped through the fabric.

Several gashes covered Gorou's torso and arms, blood running down his face from where the soldier had struck him with the butt of his sword. His cerulean eyes darken, “Tell me where they are.”

The soldier spits on his face. Gorou lands a blow straight to his jaw with a grunt. Some sick, twisted part of him felt satisfied hearing the crack that came after.

He shakes the soldier with a slight manic desperation after realizing he knocked him unconscious. “Hey, I never said you could pass out.” The mask was beginning to chip. The man was out cold with just a single punch. He was useless to Gorou.

He pretends the choking sob that escapes his clutches was just a figment of his imagination.

(Standing in the distance, Kokomi watches her friend slowly lose himself bit by bit, . There was no way of saving that soldier from the hands of a grieving man.)

“General.” He turns to look at you, his previous tension releasing upon your arrival.

“Hey, how are you holding up?” He puts down his paperwork to join your side. He would never admit it, but your presence helps with his stress whenever it gets rough, especially now that he was promoted as general.

He watches you shrug, a teasing smile on your face. “That depends, how are you holding up?”

Gorou sighs. “As great as I can be. We're scheduled to receive new resources and weapons from our sponsors, so I was helping Her Excellency with that task.”

“Look at you, you've gone and grown up while I was gone!” Your laugh causes an embarrassed flush to rise on his face. Gorou groans when feels your hands ruffle his hair, playfully swatting them away with a pout.

“Stop it, you're going to give the soldiers a reason to coddle me!”

“It's just the two of us, Go, no one is going to walk in and witness your cute self.” You coo at him, reaching up to scratch behind his ears. Despite his original hesitance, this time Gorou allows himself to slump in your hold like a puppet who just had his strings cut. He could feel his tail swaying gently, your arms being the only thing keeping him up.

Gorou basks in your scent and warmth, the gentle sound of your breathing washing away his worries. He could almost whine in happiness by how safe he feels.

You hum softly above him. “Gorou?”

“Mm, yeah?”

“I'm sorry.” He furrows his eyebrows in confusion, and before he knows, blood splatters on his face, your hands that were previously massaging his scalp falling limp on your sides. Alarmed, he pulls back and almost feels a wail erupt out of him at the sight that greets him.

Your name is the only thing he screams out before everything turns black.

It begins with nightmares.

They always do.

Gorou almost prefers those than the vivid hallucinations of your presence standing behind him.

“This is all we could find, sir.” They hand him a torn red scarf, the ends singed and a single tear.

Your red scarf.

A part of Gorou dies that day, but he hides the pain with pursed lips and a thanks.

The soldier doesn't question him.

It's Kokomi's face that greets him upon awakening.

“You're awake,” She sounds as tired as she looks. Gorou notices the bloodstains on her clothes. He's handed a cup of water for his parched throat. She sits next to him and helps him down the water, “How are you feeling? Are the bandages okay?”

Gorou sets the cup down quietly. He doesn't answer.

Kokomi doesn't bring up what happened.

“You were asleep for four days. We made sure to heal the most critical injuries, so try not to move around too much since they're still healing.” She stands to go fetch the medicine prescribed to him. It's not like she needed him to talk, that was fine, Kokomi could talk enough for the both of them.

She talks about pointless matters, she talks about how his soldiers were eagerly awaiting for his full recovery. She talks about a new book she recently began reading, and it helps. It helps because it's a welcome distraction to her, and hopefully to her general as well.

Because he was alive, and that's all that truly mattered.

“Are you hungry? There should be enough food left in the storage. I can —” She cuts off with a choke suddenly, the stress of the past few days finally hitting her, but no matter how hard she tries, she couldn't stop the stream of tears that began pouring out of her eyes. She doubles over to hide her expression, but she couldn't conceal her sobs that filled the room.

Gorou watches her breakdown on the sidelines, wishing and praying to whatever deity would be willing to listen that he could do the same.

[tu-sugar-mami]

Tales of the side of the road #7: Let your bro take care of things

1k words, Tumblr mobile won't let me cut it.

You can read the whole thing in AO3

______________________

That time where an inhuman creature jumped in front of your car and made you and your companion spin down the hill trapped inside the crashed vehicle, could probably be one of the worst days you can -although very vaguely- recall in your life. You still hear the screeches of the slowly dying creature along with the pained cries of your companion in your nightmares, and some nights you swear you can feel the iron grip of their hand on your forearm searching for support as the pain blinds their senses. The dreams never stray from that memory, always looping in the exact same order in your slumber and making it impossible for you to gain proper sleep. Usually a few hours of shut-eye are enough to push through the long day, but as of lately, thanks to Eiddelte, it's been easier. Since you were 'blessed' with the honor of sharing your body with a dark deity, most of your memories from your life before Itsy Bitchy Spider have been slowly dissolving into a hazy fog, and numbness has been slowly overtaking your emotions towards that event. You don't even care about your late companion anymore, whoever they were, and even though you're ashamed to admit it, you're grateful for that since the heavy feeling after the nightmares was becoming annoying. You see no point in grieving for someone you can't remember.

Under that amicable and friendly mask personality you use for your everyday service, there's a lone and empty shadow of the person you once were. A stranger might think you're the human version of a golden retriever with how many friends you may appear to have, but the truth is, there are actually very few people you care for, one of them being Mark.

Mark, a fairly handsome brunette guy with the most dashing smile and the most charming dimples you have seen on a human who is a member of a cult, somehow slithered his way to your good graces and, even if you wouldn't admit it out loud, became something akin to a brother to you. He was there when you started working at the coffee shop, giving you a tour of the nearby woods and even treated you to a combo of chips and soda from the Oxxo across the street. He was the first face you saw after the Eiddelte incident, and the only one to keep putting you above everything other than said dark goddess. 

You both clicked like a fingernail and dirt, sharing the freshest gossip over some sweet pastries and a cup of cold chocolate and fixing the wooden cages in the back alley while he told you about his crush on a new member of the cult or trying to play pranks on the sole cashier in that old convenience store. 

Of course, spending so much time together let him learn most of your schedule, and so, as you are currently knocked out cold behind the counter, he tightens an apron a size too small for him with a coffee beans pattern print and takes it upon himself to make sure the shop doesn't fall apart. 

"I see now. I'm sorry you had to go through that." Mark says, rolling the sleeves of his shirt up to his forearms. "My first encounter with our goddess was also quite a shocking experience but one gets used to it with time." A goodhearted laugh comes from him as he gently feeds a lizard from the lizard jar to the thing that lives in the vase Daniela was about to break earlier.

"How can you say something like that?! We could have Died!" Cassandra remarks, her hands gripping hard onto the counter wood. 

"But you didn't, did you miss? Other than my Gary boy all of you are just fine, and I'm sure little ferret here wouldn't have let anything happen to you." Mark points at you. "See that? She fought against My goddess' power to be back in her body, that's why she's exhausted."

"Little ferret?" Daniels, who has gone through most of the cake exhibits, asks. 

Mark laughs again, and crouches next to you to ruffle your hair before making a display of his strength and pulling your limp body to carry it on his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and making his way to the staff only room.

"Yeah," His voice sounds muffled from behind the half closed door. "It's kind of an inside joke between us."

"Donna says it's adorable." Angie, who is back next to Daniela and munching on a cookie, says before jumping off the counter and yelling her sing-song. Poor Donna can only jump at the realization that her thoughts are exposed and quickly chases after her doll with her face bright red and thinking-yelling shush shush shush!

"Alcina! Are your bugs okay?!" The glass doors open abruptly making the bell above the glass tinkle loudly and a tall man whose clothes have definitely seen better days barrels in. 

"Uncle Heisey!" Daniela says and runs to him, almost sending him to the floor with the tackle-hug she receives him with, but surprisingly he stands perfectly and softly pats her head.

"Are you alright kid?" His voice comes chill, but worry boils under it.

"Heisenberg." The tall Lady stands from her seat and walks towards the man passing next to Bela, who's sitting on a tall chair, and pets her head on the way. 

Heisenberg squints at the Lady and goes to meet her halfway. Daniela swarms back to reunite with her sisters.

"Tell me i wasn't the only one to feel that earlier, Alcina. I wasn't worried about you at all, but you know i have a soft spot for your bugs." He says, and takes a moment to sweep the place with his eyes in search for his other two nieces, who spot him and wave before going back to raiding the rest of the exhibit. Don't tell this to Karl but they know he also checks on Donna and Angie to make sure they're alright too. And maybe he was a tiny little bit worried about Alcina too.

"Yes. That." Alcina swallows and the man shifts his posture, uneasy. He has very rarely seen Alcina this hesitant. "As much as I'm reluctant to say this, Mother Miranda might not be the only goddess we know now."

"Yeah, glad you re–" His eyes open in surprise. "Wait, you're serious?"

Alcina would have most definitely laughed at the look on Heisenberg's face if she wasn't that worried about what the implications of her words were. 

"A goddess… a real one you mean?" His head is already filling with plans and ideas for his personal goal. 

"Karl." A voice comes from behind him and Karl jumps slightly. Donna (god knows how she's always so silent) is next to him with Angie demolishing a lollipop and back in the safe restraints of the dollmaker's arms. "Did you feel it too?"

Karl's gaze is fixed on the wooden floor. He's ashamed to admit that the pressure also got to him while he was napping. His power didn't help him to fight it, instead managing to make the metal tubes from street signs nearby pin him by his jacket to a tree a few meters from the carriage. He is also not going to admit that for the first time since he got the cadou he felt helpless and… scared.

"I did. That was her?" 

Donna nods. 

"What we felt is something i haven't experienced before even with Mother Miranda's wrath unleashed." Alcina looks back over her shoulder to her girls. "I don't know if she must know about this."

"Good news! Little ferret is alright!" Mark comes back into the room, wiping his wet hands on the apron. "Oh, a new visitor." He says as he spots Karl. "Welcome to Itsy Bitchy Spider! What can I offer you this lovely afternoon?" 

While The Uncle Heisey is busy admiring the way the button up shirt clings to the brunette man's Dorito shaped torso and how those strong looking forearms are exposed, Bela's gaze is fixed outside wondering if it's her imagination or if it's really still afternoon when she's sure the sun should have gone down few hours ago.

_________________

If you love my work, would you like to buy me a coffee?

[matchamorphosis]

𝑏𝑎𝑏𝑦, 𝑖𝑡’𝑠 𝑐𝑜𝑙𝑑 𝑜𝑢𝑡𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒

━━━━━➛ 𝐿𝑖𝑓𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑎 𝑏𝑜𝑥 𝑜𝑓 𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑤𝑏𝑒𝑟𝑟𝑦 𝑏𝑜𝑛 𝑏𝑜𝑛𝑠, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑖𝑡’𝑠 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑡ℎ 𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑎 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑜𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢’𝑟𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑦 𝑠ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ.

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦 — it’s a tradition between you and Hayden that you both spend the day after Christmas with each other until winter break is over. this year, things don’t go precisely by tradition.

𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒 — fluffy fluff. 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡 — 2.1K 𝑑𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑟 — @firefly-graphics

𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 — hayden brown (harvard hottie) + woc!reader

𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 — fluff. reader doesn’t celebrate Christmas but she and Hayden give each other presents in celebration of winter break. :) slight angst because reader is feeling lonely. bit of cry. also! I gave Hayden a last name, not mines tho :/

𝑤.𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒𝑠 — everybody thank malia for this little oneshot and the moodboard she gave me that motivated me to write this. hope you guys enjoy reading, don’t forget to reblog and give feedback! ⛄️

𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑠 — · m.masterlist. · library acc. · my taglist.

December’s day in Maine, it glosses over your eyes that look out of the window — A soft powder of fluffy snow sprinkles on top of you, the delicate snowflakes entwining within your hair and lashes.

The far away sounds of the television downstairs broadcasting another round of christmas cartoons pulls you into a hollow state. Pulling the thick quilt closer to keep warm, a restless gaze etches on your dewy features that still search for the man with the glowing halo for hair to arrive.

Time has been slipping through the ancient wood of your family's country villa like the flour you’ve incorporated in the cinnamon rolls flaked with cinnamon and sugar.

The same soon-to-be frosted treats are still tucked away in the oven; however, it would be a travesty to have them be ready before Hayden would arrive. It was another little disappointment that Hayden wasn’t there to make them with you like you always do together but it kept your mind off of this when you baked.

At this moment you anticipate the moment between you both where you sit on the carpet, plates of cinnamon rolls and chocolate chip cookies surrounding you two as you hand each other gift after gift.

It certainly wouldn’t be a special break from your usual day to day life as a student to not spend the sacred days dedicated to hot chocolate, holiday cartoons and sweater cuddles if your boyfriend was here to do at least one of those things with you.

A flash of golden headlights trails through the dense fields of aromatic maple and pine trees near the tall villa, your heart leaps out of your chest at the sight that your Hayden is finally here.

The smile that hasn’t been seen for days now gracing your lips, “He’s finally here,” the warmth of your breath showing in the air from those joyful words.

You’re quick to tuck your head back inside the warm house and close the window, ruffling your hands through your hair to shake the snowflakes away as you giggle and shuffle through the room.

Oh, you could just imagine it now, you think with every rushful step you take down the stairs: The serene painting of you and Haydens legs entwined together, playing storyteller about hilarious incidents after unbelievable stories that have occured during his Christmas with his family.

The swiftness you possess almost makes you slip down the last step although you hold the quilt tighter around your shoulders. What a dream that would be, what a dream this day is going to become, you have it all played out.

Hardcover books you’ve mentioned in convenient conversations within your light grasps before a gasp escapes you from the sight. A handful of cassette tapes in a wrapped shoebox big enough to be a house for a mouse, bearing every song he loves.

Quick hands put on your winter boots, hands move your tousled hair out of your face as you open the door to the swirling wind and walk through the powdered sugar covered terrace. Making you think how sweet his lips would taste after hayden would help himself to a third cup of peppermint tea along with one cinnamon roll more.

The welcomed chill enveloping you like the stitched quilt around your body that pumps in anticipation, oh how this weather makes you eager to see Hayden’s reactions to his knitted scarf and sweater you crocheted for him.

Would he try it on immediately? Take off whatever he had on and let it wrap him up? — you think as your footsteps take you from the porch to the sidewalk, looking for his beamer he insisted was a vintage through the last rays of sunlight for the day.

A shiver and whisper of chill not touching you with Hayden’s Harvard hoodie you gave you some few years ago, fingers instinctively feel through the fabric.

Would he run his fingers through the hours spent stitches? Feel the material in between his fingers and touch each pattern? — you think again as your head turns to meet the forest around you, looking for those golden headlights to appear once again.

Step after energized step, you dig your boots into the snow and keep walking until the villa is behind you. The music of winter’s elements play in a hidden chorus within the trees and snow covered bushes. Leading you to wonder what Hayden would think about your little cards you snuck in each cassette tape you’ve made for him.

Each one summarizing every emotion you feel when he’s around you. Some silly tapes that Hayden insisted aren’t silly at all, of what it feels like to hold his hand and what it feels like when his hands comb through your hair.

Whipping your head about in another search, perplexment is now etched on your features. Shouldn’t he be here by now? you thought but your confusion is distracted when you look towards the snowman you and your younger family members made.

It’s crooked smile of little cobblestones and the bright orange carrot that’s probably been nibbled on by some local deer for his nose. It makes you smile a bit but then you remember with a frosty blow of the wind.

Where could Hayden be? — your heart sorrowfully waltz at the question, covered shoulders once straight slump with languish and worry.

Is it the traffic? Is it snowing hard that the flight was cancelled? Did his car break down?

Did you imagine the headlights? Were you just so desperate to see him that you conjured up the sight of whatever that reminded you of him?

Those spiraling questions make you anxiously pick at the knitted ends of the quilt, the skin of your face and hands becoming intolerant to the freezing temperatures now that the sun is tucked away under the blanket of starry skies.

You kiss it goodnight, trying your best to ignore the tears in your eyes and the pouring snowflakes that have stuck to your wetting lashes. Trying your best to hide them from yourself, even on a special day like this where you’re afraid of crying in front of a snowman with a crooked smile will spoil everything.

A terrible tremble shakes your bottom lip, a palette of white breath joins the twilight sky as you let out a little sob.

The confectionary warmth you’re yearning for is becoming too much for you to cope with, even the sun blazing inside your heart that keeps you patient and hopeful is starting to dim away in anguish.

Maybe he’ll call soon and update you on where he is, hearing his voice will be enough to soothe and bring comfort to your longing state. Wiping the hot tears that wet your cheeks with the sleeve of your sweater you take a moment to admire the self-regulation with the company of your snowman, mysterious trees and the silver speckled stars.

Snow continues to pour above you, fluffy and soft like powdered sugar, making you feel like those sweet strawberry bonbons Hayden’s aunts would send you.

A knot in your belly tightens a bit but in anticipation, pinning for the custom of being you sitting on the large loveseat in his lap, wrapped in the same persian quilt you have on.

A book of literature collections of your favorite poets Hayden purchased from his trip in Massachusetts you read whilst he listens to the cassette tapes and sketches in the drawing pad you give him.

Snuggling closer to his soft figure as his free arm wraps you tight, almost securing the fact that you're here with him. The bonbon box between you both as you momentarily feed each other one after the other until the box that was once filled with the pink treats disappear.

Evidence of your consumptions plastered on your pink cream lips. Both of you holding onto the flavor of the moment with every lick of your lips, with every squeeze of your interlocked hands, with every kiss you give.

A rush of wind embraces you and you figure it’s best you get inside before you catch a cold, eyes captured by the moonlight look up to the stars.

Whispering a kind goodnight before booping the carrots edge of the snowman's nose, “Goodnight to you too.”

Pulling the quilt closer to you, you shift your heels against the snow to head straight back inside. Despite Hayden not being here today to share the last few days together before winter break ends you know that whatever time he does spend with you, will not be appreciated and loved any less.

“Is it too late to wish me goodnight?” a familiar voice speaks behind you.

Familiar in a way that you gasp and turn around, a hand covering your mouth once you see the man you haven’t seen since September. Apricot sap hair catching the snowflakes that fall, his boyish smile shy and sweet as he holds a bouquet of your favorite flowers in his hands.

“You’re here.” your words barely a whisper, soft and airy with a shade of astonishment. The same tears in your eyes emerge and Hayden is quick to walk closer to you and whip them away with the caress of his thumb.

“With you baby, I’m here with you. I’m so sorry it took so long for me to get here.” Hayden softly whispers as he leans down to brush your forehead against his, taking your face in his mitten hands.

At this silver moment, you’re wondering if you’re dreaming with every step he gets closer to you and beaming at the smile you’ve barely thought you’d see today. Those blue eyes you were so used to seeing everyday pouring like starlight into your heart, filling it up with his gentle admiration and warmth.

“I know I called you and said that I would arrive this morning but the weather had other plans. I hope you could forgive me sweetheart.” his voice seeks your approval, one of his hands root themselves in your hair as the other still holds your face.

“It’s alright, don’t worry it’s alright. I’m just so happy you’re here!” you’re smiling, teary-eyed with joy and taking his face in your chilled hands.

Beaming those teeth when Hayden chuckles at how cold your fingers are as you count every freckle on his nose and cheeks. A bashful sensation spreads through your heated cheeks when Hayden hands you your bouquet with a wink.

“For my prettiest flower, I offer these to you.” you’re practically melting from his sweetness, taking the flowers into your hands. Although, it’s cleared away when he carries you up in his arms so your face is mere centimeters away from his.

“I couldn’t waste a day of our week without seeing my girl. Even if I had to drive here from Manhattan—”

“Baby you drove here from Manhattan?” your voice pitched in shock as you cut him mid-sentence and it just makes him laugh louder.

“Yep, that’s exactly what I did. And do you know what I’d do?” he asked and you can just see the spark of mischief in his spinning copper blue eyes.

“What would you do wonder boy?” you asked him right back, staring from his eyes to his lips back to his eyes.

“I’d do it again, a hundred times all over. Again and again. Just so I can see you and hold you in my arms.”

A symphony of ballads thrum Hayden’s heartstrings, of only you knew how well you make his heart sing with the slightest of ease. How well you turn him into your instrument of delight with just a kiss, it makes him lean forward to feel that addictive flutter in his chest.

“Again and again. I’ll be wherever you want me to be.” his words smother your lips, butter you up and you pull his lips to yours.

The snow still pours and you’re still in his arms, the knitted mittens on his hands holding yours tighten when he unexpectedly swings you. Encouraging every hearty laugh to slip whilst his mount still presses sweetly against yours.

“Hayden Brown! Hayden Brown, if you don’t stop spinning we’re both going to fall over!” you shriek with every bit of caution, holding your arms tighter around his neck his laughter getting contagious.

“That’s the point sweetheart!” he hollers, spinning you and him faster and faster that the sun might as well rise up and the moon hide away for the day.

Faster then slower, agile and clumsily, until feet fall over the snow, collapsing you both against the thick blankets of snow around you. You both come down, messy kisses breaking the moments of laughter between you both.

“Baby, it’s cold outside. Let’s go inside, you’re turning into a snowman.” you giggle at Hayden’s crooked grin, pressing a quick kiss to his cheeks to warm them up.

“Yeah let’s do that. I can really go for tea, did you make those cinnamon rolls? I know I tell you this all the time but I really love when you bake.” the cold makes you both jittery but you both press your mouths against each others for that delicious warmth.

“Whatever we love, we mention the most.” you whisper, your fingers brushing the delicate snowflakes from his hair, tracing the lineage of his handsome face.

“Then I must love you too much because I mention you all the time.” he whispers, taking your hands back into his own. Those rose petal lips kiss your knuckles, and suppose it’s your turn again to feel your heart ping by Cupid’s bow.

Wait— aren’t the cinnamon rolls still in the oven?

Shuffling back up on your feet, you race to the house. Almost forgetting Hayden is laying in the snow, confusion plastered over his Rudolph the red nose rain deer face. “Let me guess! You forget the rolls in the oven again!”

“Maybe!” you shout back as you reach the porch, hearing Hayden catching up with you. Racing to the kitchen to salvage this years cinnamon rolls.

Although, you both don’t mind the burnt treats because out of all the usual arrangements, almost burning down the house is one that continues to be within the cards.

[theeslytherinslut]

The Perpetual Freak (1/?)

Pairings: Sirius Black x reader, Marauders x reader

Warnings: Mention of bullying,

Word Count: 2,063

The Beginning

“Twitch,

Just 4 days now--like I need to tell you, likely been counting down the days all bloody Holiday, haven’t you? We’ll be there Sept 1st at 10 on the dot, we should make it to King’s Cross by 11 that way. Be ready this time, won’t you? I think Padfoot just might actually hex your grandmother if he has to make small talk with her again, but can you blame him? Anyway, we’ll be there at 10. Don’t forget Jinx this time. I don’t fancy being attacked once he breaks out of your grandmother’s house.

P.S Sirius said he’ll be on his best behavior--does that make you nervous too?

See you soon,

Prongs (& Padfoot)

The letter lay in the same spot on your cracked cherrywood desk since you received it. Though short and to the point, you’d reread it many times, hoping somehow the more you read it, the faster the day would come.

Holidays were hell. Being a muggle-born, there was always a bit of an adjustment period after coming home from Hogwarts for a break--an adjustment period usually aided by parents and family--however, this could not have been further from the truth for you.

“Y/N!” As if on cue, your Grandmother's angry call shot up the stairs. Cringing, you held your breath as you walked down the stairs into the kitchen. She stood with her blue gingham apron covered in flour, as well as most of the floor and countertop.

“If this bloody bird scratches my window one-more-time,” she said the words through clenched teeth, glaring at you from across the room. Her stacked icy grey curls bobbled on her head as she shouted, her fist pressed against her hip. “I’ll have to drown it in the creek.”

Your Snowy Owl, Jinx, sat outside the baby-blue curtained window, his big orange eyes peering at you innocently through the glass.

Piecing together the situation, you’d guessed Jinx had arrived suddenly during your grandmother’s baking and had startled her, causing her to spill much of the contents of her bowl.

Suppressing a smile at the mess, you walked over to the window and opened it. Jinx’s peppered wings stretched out briefly before you felt his talons brush against your collarbone, and he perched onto your shoulder.

“Sorry, Grandmother,” you mumbled, catching your cousin smirking at you. A blush of anger lit up your face, and you made to disappear back into your room before anything got ugly; you’d gone all Holiday without a vicious row, and you weren’t about to start one just before you walked out the door.

“When does that school of yours start again, anyway? Aren’t you normally gone by now? Blakely’s school has already started, he’s been working so hard,” she doted, smoothing his hair as he ate his cereal, milk dribbling from his lips and onto the table. “We could all use a little peace and quiet around here, frankly.” she sniffed.

Jinx gave an annoyed hoot and ruffled his feathers unpleasantly as your grandmother glared at him from across the room.

“Train leaves September 1st at 11am like it always does. I’ll be leaving within the hour,” you said, struggling to control your voice.

“Train? There are enough of you--you, people, for an entire train?” Blakely said, dropping his spoon in his bowl, splattering more milk onto the table, evidently thoroughly shocked.

“Yes, oddly enough, it seems I’m not the only freak in England,” you said, using the word he often threw at you.

“Maybe not the only one, but definitely the biggest,” he said quietly, glaring up at you from his cereal. Grandmother, however, pretended as though she didn’t hear, merely clanged dishes loudly together as she turned back towards the sink.

“One day, I’ll hex you so terribly you’ll be lucky if someone calls you something so kind as freak,” you pushed the thought into his head and promptly stormed out of the kitchen, though savoring the terrified shock on his face.

“She-she did it again!” Blakely called, color draining his face. But you were already halfway up the staircase with Jinx balancing on your shoulder before her angry screech reached you.

You’d almost always been an utter freak in their eyes, and it all started when you were only a baby.

Your mother died while giving birth to you, and your father was never in the picture, so there was no one but your Grandmother to take you in; no one but you to blame for it all. You were, after all, the product of your mother’s insolence--having fallen pregnant at 15 by a man whom she’d never spoken of. And further, you were the reason she’d died; she wouldn’t have bled out if you hadn’t been conceived. To your Grandmother, it was as if you were the cause of every problem she had in life, a walking reminder of where it all went wrong--and she made sure you knew it.

Terrible as things already were, nothing was to be helped by the events that were to unfold. As the story had been told to you, you were a little over a year old, crying incessantly in your crib. You’d evidently been exceptionally whiny that day, crying non-stop, refusing to be consoled, and just when she’d for the first time seriously considered doing you in, you stopped. Relieved yet confused, your grandmother had come in to check on you.

“I’m hungry.”

She had heard the words clear as day, in a voice she didn’t recognize, but the words sounded funny. The voice almost echoed, somehow managing to sound crystal clear but miles away at the same time. Sure she was simply going mad from a lack of sleep, she stood rooted to her spot in shock.

“Did you hear me, Grandmother? I said I’m hungry.”

Seeing your bright Y/E/C eyes boring up into hers, she let out an ear-splitting scream when you grinned as recognition dawned on her face.

Obviously, no Muggle doctor could give any sort of explanation or help. At most, they’d give one of the two of you some kind of a crazy pill and a suggestion of seeing a family counselor.

Soon after, tragedy struck your grandmother’s side once more, and you were landed with a cousin, Blakely. Blakely, however, seemed to adopt a mindset closer to your grandmother’s about it all and would no sooner take a shine to you than get friendly with the rabies-infected alley cat.

But as the years went on, things began to get even stranger.

At the age of 3, your wailing cries caused all the lightbulbs around you to pop inexplicably (costing your grandmother a fortune, as she so loved to remind you).

At 5, you’d managed to levitate a ball Blakely was taunting you with out of his hands and into yours.

However, at age 9 is when it became harder to keep a secret; at age 9 is when your grandmother began truly resenting you.

Being a self-ascribed ‘freak,’ bullying was something you were no stranger to. A comment here, a hair tug there. However, this had been a particularly extreme case. Kylie Kippely and her best friends had backed you into a corner, each shooting off snarky comments at your scared state, and when that wasn’t enough, they began throwing things--anything they could get their hands on--cans, papers, pencils, erasers. All the while yelling how everyone would be much better off without such a freak in their midst, about how all their parents were scared to even send them to school anymore after your last incident.

Then, they began running out of rubbish and started picking up rocks instead. Before a single rock could leave their hands, however, the mulch around you began to shake, then chips slowly started rising into the air behind them. As your face went from scared to full of awe, they turned around to see what you were looking at and simultaneously dropped everything in their hands. The mulch then began pelting at all of them, causing everyone around you to scream and disperse, all batting away the pieces of mulch pelting at their running backsides.

Grandmother had pulled you out of the school before you could receive any other punishment, and from that moment on, you’d been stuck in the house with her.

With no outlet, with nothing but growing rage and resentment inside of you, things began to spiral even worse.

Just when Grandmother began researching distant reform schools, however, you received your Hogwarts letter, and everything made sense.

All the strange things you could do, all the bizarre things you made happen, had an explanation. Sure the explanation was that you were, in fact, a freak--but you weren’t the only freak. There was a whole school’s worth of freaks just like you--well, almost just like you.

Though paper cranes soared around you and magic burst from the tip of hundreds of wands, through your time at Hogwarts, you found you did have one unique gift: it was evidently called Telepathic Impression, a branch of complex magic known as Legillimens--no one else could push thoughts into other people’s heads like you could, not naturally anyway. Nobody could ask a question silently and have the Professor answer for all to hear. After you’d interjected into McGonagall’s head during your first Transfiguration class, she’d had you go straight off to Dumbledore’s office. After a brief discussion, it was found you possessed natural Legilimency skills--something that had only been seen once before. He’d been absolutely transfixed when you told him the first instance had been at the ripe age of 1, in fluent advanced English no less.

You smiled fondly at the memory of his laugh of delight as you’d repeated, ‘Did you hear me, Grandmother? I said I’m hungry.'

Never before had you told that story in any sort of positive light, never got a positive reaction either. Dumbledore had been absolutely enthralled with you from then on.

He had carefully explained the practice of Legilimency, how the mind was a layered thing and could not be ‘read’ simply, like a book. He’d explained how everyone learned it to some advantage of theirs, how no two Legilimens were the same.

After several years of private lessons, it seemed all you’d ever be able to do with your gift was push thoughts, images, and sounds of your own into other’s minds--but this was an incredible feat in itself, a private gift of yours. However, just the year before, it was found that with effort, you could twist the thought to become persuasive, convince the person the thought was their own, and to complete the idea you’d given them. During the first lesson which you found you could do so, you’d been practicing with Dumbledore. Though he was giving no effort at all to resist, you’d silently suggested his tea was abysmal and that he knock it off his desk in disgust. With a twitch of his wrist, the cup shattered onto the floor, shocking you both into silence. It was after this Dumbledore had insisted you promise to never use it for evil, never ever use it with ill intentions--for as a Legilimens himself, he would know. You quickly agreed, of course; you’d never once had the thought to use it with ill motives--aside from maybe having Blakely go for a nice long dip in the creek in the dead of January, but that was a fantasy you kept for yourself to get you through Holidays like these.

Shaking your head of past childhood memories, you turned to your trunk to make sure you did indeed have everything all packed up and ready. You didn’t want to stay a second longer than necessary.

Spotting your cloaks pushed into the depths of your closet, you plucked them from the dark and folded them into your trunk. It wasn’t a moment too soon either, because right as you closed the lid, you heard the boisterous arrival of your best friends as they pulled in the winding driveway driving the enchanted car James’ parents had lent him. You heard an enthusiastic barking whoop and smiled as Sirius’ bright eyes and smile filled your mind.

Your stomach bubbling with excitement, you hastily put Jinx in his cage as he looked around in interest. Picking up his cage, you bounded down the stairs to meet them.

[aminiatureworld]

Wings

Characters: Xiao, gn!reader

Word Count: 3,523

Warnings: Slight depictions of violence

Premise: In which the reader has wings

Author’s Note: It’s been a while! Hopefully I’m not too rusty, although I can’t account for how late(/early) this is being posted. I’m going to bed.

Xiao

Even from the beginning Xiao had been enthralled with your wings.

They were larger than that of any bird or creature that Xiao had ever seen before, stretching far beyond your arms when they were unfolded, before bending to cover you in a cloak of downy feathers the color of warm soil, shot through with the occasional birch colored feather.

He’d decided to appear in front of you almost the moment he saw you in the distance, at first wondering if you might be an adepti or a god from one of the other lands in Teyvat. Although the look of surprise that crossed your face when he shed his invisibility before you quickly robbed him of that conviction. It was too late to go back at that point though, so Xiao begrudgingly let out his question.

“Who are you?”

Your smile was an odd one; it seemed to convey to Xiao that you didn’t have the answer to his question at all. Nevertheless you answered. You were a half-adepti, and as of such you had been born with wings. When pressed upon your adeptus side you merely shook your head. Both of your parents hadn’t stuck around that much, and you knew little of your heritage, or of the beings who walked the land who weren’t Morax.

Xiao had stared at you then, disbelief mixing with a vague sense of pity. What must it be like to be unable to recognize an adeptus despite being one yourself. It seemed ludicrous, but Xiao couldn’t find it in himself to disdain your state. Pausing then he decided upon what immediately after seemed a very foolish decision.

“Call for me if you are in need. I’m called Xiao.”

He didn’t bother waiting for your response before disappearing, unwilling to let his emotions be known.

 The next time he saw you was in the sky. The yaksha certainly hadn’t expected such a thing, and while the initial shock was certainly something, it was almost immediately replaced with a strange appreciation. Though Xiao had seen that the vision you wielded was a Geo one, he almost immediately began to associate you with his own element, with the winds that carried you where you wished to go. Any clumsiness or human fault in your step was almost immediately shed, for how could one be anything but graceful in the air, no matter how they dipped or shook or stopped suddenly. If Xiao was honest with himself, he was utterly enthralled.

Eventually you seemed to grow tired and soon you grew closer. Shifting slightly Xiao backed up as you landed on a branch next to the roof, face flushed with exercise and happiness. Spotting Xiao you smiled brightly.

“It’s a beautiful place to fly here.”

Seemingly unfazed by the lack of conversation on Xiao’s part you sighed, leaning against the branch and staring into the sky. Murmuring something to yourself you seemed so utterly content. A begrudging curiosity swept over Xiao as he found himself responding to your words.

“Really?”

“Oh yes!” You immediately replied, face brightening. “It’s much nicer here than where I came from.”

“Where?” Xiao found himself once more asking.

“Oh this small village on the outskirts of Liyue, near the Chasm a bit. It’s a poor mining town, always covered in soot and coal dust. It’s very difficult to keep things clean there let me tell you; and the people don’t really like things that stand out. I haven’t flown in a while actually, since everyone was so hostile when I did. Now that I’m here I think, I hope, that I can do what they want.”

“You can.”

“I’m so glad to hear,” you smiled once more. “I wasn’t really sure what it would be like here. I’ve mostly stayed in the village, but people seemed more hostile than usual so I figured it’d be better to leave now before I ended up on the wrong side of a pitchfork or a shovel.”

“Humans are so foolish.”

“Maybe you’re right. Still, I’m here now and who knows! Maybe things will turn out well.”

With that you clambered off the roof and walked into the Inn proper, leaving Xiao a swirl of questions and surprisingly burning emotions.

 After this you seemed to have gotten it into your head that Xiao was now primed to be your general confidante. Though this initially ruffled the adeptus, he didn’t truly feel like dissuading you, and by the time he’d gotten over the initial shock of your conversation he decided that your voice was surprisingly nice to listen to, and thus settled quietly enough into his new and strange roll of sympathetic ear.

“I registered for the Guild today,” you were saying today, voice bright with excitement. “It’s funny the lady at the stand, Ms. Katheryne? She didn’t even bat an eye at me! I was sure that I was going to get some questions, but besides the stares nothing happened. I’m supposed to start tomorrow. I have to make sure some supplies get to the quarry. Hopefully I won’t run into anyone there.”

“They will leave you alone. The Guild I’ve heard is a powerful force in Liyue.”

“I hope so! I don’t want my first commission to go wrong. I never thought about what I’d do in my life, beyond the usual village work. It’s exciting to have something new out in front of me.”

Xiao thought that was unbearably peppy of you, but he said nothing. Surprisingly he found himself also wishing that you’d do well.

 Xiao wasn’t exactly sure what he was doing, following your commission on wind currents. It was none of his business how things went today, after all what did he care about the affairs of humans, even those who were half adeptus? Still he found himself following you, cursing himself all the while for doing something so stupid.

The usual unshakeable happiness that you seemed to exude seemed to disappear almost the moment you left the Inn, instead replaced with a face grim and jumpy with anticipation. A few times you even turned back, studying the Inn or the sky around it. Sometimes your gaze even seemed to pierce through Xiao, something the adeptus found slightly unnerving. Nevertheless he followed as you continued on your journey, all the while wondering what could cause such a massive shift in your demeanor.

If Xiao had any questions about the extent of the reality of your words they were quickly answered. The atmosphere of the quarry was absolutely suffocating, and you could’ve cut the tension with a blade as you slowly approached the drop off.

The foreman said nothing to you, merely glaring as he approached the balloon that you were accompanying. Scouring the barrels and boxes his scowl deepened and deepened. Turning around abruptly he disappeared into his hut for a moment before coming back out. Gesturing towards to open quarry he glared at you.

“There.”

“Thank you,” you replied, voice suddenly small. “Uhm, where exactly should I put this?”

“You lived with us for how many years and couldn’t be bother to retain a shred of information?” The foreman swore under his breath. “Damned half-creatures like you. Put it in Section 4. Tell the Guild master that I never want to see your face here again.”

You said nothing to that in response, merely continuing on your way. Though Xiao couldn’t help but notice how white the knuckles were on the rope you were using to lead the balloon with.

The hostility didn’t ease up when you walked in. Instead things seemed to grow worse, as men and women stared at you with open disdain. The occasional insult could be heard, but for the most part it was deadly quiet, and your steps seemed shorter and shorter as you approached your given destination. At first Xiao was trying to convince himself that such a spectacle didn’t affect him. After all, what did he care for the strange whims and fears of humans. None of this had anything to do with his contract, and he was under no obligation to help you in such an instance. These thoughts were chipping away however, and before Xiao was entirely aware of what he was doing he found himself lowering himself on the ground.

A chorus of gasps rose up as he emerged from the invisible winds that cloaked him. Standing in front of you Xiao nevertheless didn’t catch your eye, instead focusing his glare on the people around him. At first you stopped, taken aback as well it seemed by his sudden appearance. Almost immediately however your posture seemed to relax slightly, and your pace seemed to go back to normal as you walked towards him, continuing on as he followed you to your destination.

Everything else was done in deadly silence, as you got the paperwork you needed and headed out of the quarry. Xiao said nothing the whole time, merely following a few steps behind you. He half expected you to start chattering again the moment the foreman’s hut exited the field of view, but instead you remained quiet. Still you seemed much less grave than in the morning and though Xiao couldn’t explain why this somehow reassured him. Walking next to you now he found his hand drifting towards you, as if the two were being drawn together by magnets. When your hands finally connected Xiao couldn’t help but think how warm yours were.

 After that a ritual of commission sharing seemed to inexplicably pop up, though how exactly Xiao wasn’t really sure of. At first it had been to make sure there was no repeat performance of the first day, but then it quickly developed into something else, although what that something was Xiao didn’t really know. All he knew was that every morning when you went to leave he’d find himself next to you, frowning grumpily, muttering about how this wasn’t his duty. You were usually groggy in the mornings, but always managed to give his hand a squeeze before embarking.

If Xiao had subconsciously assumed that the mining incident was a standalone thing he was quickly robbed of that conviction. At first it seemed as if everyone was out for you, though in general the reason seemed to be less your status as half illuminated beast and more due to the figure you cut soaring against the sky, wings obviously too big to be a glider. Everyone seemed to be after you. Treasure Hoarders and Fatui Agents would try to shoot at you, though often you were much too high for their weapons; bandits would ambush you, aiming for your feathers as they attacked; even geovishaps and other such creatures seemed weirdly obsessed with going after you.

Though Xiao had told you more than once that it would be faster if you let him dispatch the monsters and knock out the hunters you always forbid him from doing so. It was your work after all, and if you couldn’t do it yourself then you might as well resign. Xiao usually responded to this with grumblings, but he had to admit that a part of him admired your tenacity.

Still it was difficult to sit back and do nothing. It wasn’t your presence that irritated Xiao, it was more everything else. Besides, he felt as if he was neglecting his duties sometimes. Thus when you told him one day that your commission tomorrow was going to see if a citizen had found a ruin network Xiao excused himself. You didn’t seem to mind too much, though you joked that you would miss your adventuring companion. Still the idea of suddenly not going with you seemed strange after weeks of this new routine.

“If you find yourself in trouble, do not forget to call my name. No matter where you are I will hear it.”

“I’ll make sure to do that,” you replied, smiling softly. “But it’ll be fine. I probably won’t even need to fight anything, besides maybe some slimes. I might even get back before you.”

“Don’t do anything stupid.”

“I won’t. I’ll come back as soon as possible, and then maybe we can fly a little together?” For some reason you seemed to like the idea of flying alongside Xiao, who found himself more and more often indulging you, though he wouldn’t really call his use of currents flying.

“Maybe.”

“Good! Then I’ll try to wrap things up quickly. Can’t miss something like that, can I?”

Xiao didn’t say anything in response. Later that evening, after you went to bed, he stared up at the night sky, trying to grasp onto his thoughts. He seemed to be awfully worried about you, or rather you seemed to be invading most of his thoughts. Why Xiao couldn’t tell. At first it had simply been that your strange situation somewhat interested him. He couldn’t imagine the idea of a half-adeptus who had lived as you had. Then it had been the mining, then the commissions, then the gliding. Now he couldn’t even think of the next day without a strange sense of worry.

What did all this mean? Xiao never thought he would find himself infatuated with anyone. His only loyalty was to Morax, his only connections had been with the yakshas who were now lost to him. His only remaining duty was to guard Liyue, to clear the land of the curses that remained. Nevertheless he found himself thinking about you, worrying about you even. What did this mean?

Staring out into the sky Xiao asked himself what he wanted. An image of you seemed to materialize in his brain. You were flying high in the sky, arms stretched out wide, smile as wide and clear as the sky above you. He wanted you to feel that way, and, more than that, in that moment Xiao wanted nothing so more as to share that feeling with you, to be some piece in that vision of happiness. Shaking his head the yaksha let out a snort. What a stupid idea.

 The next day started in a way much more similar to the days that had passed before you arrival. Xiao left early, finding it easier to deal with the lingering evils of the world when there were less people going about to get in the way. He thought of waiting for you to wake up, but for some reason the action seemed foolish. Or maybe it seemed somehow unlucky. After all, Xiao was embarking on a day that would surely have to end with some sort of cleansing ritual.

The monsters weren’t excessive, and the going was fast enough, though the sun had risen high in the sky by the time Xiao stopped to rest. Traveling towards Jueyun Karst Xiao thought of the pool of water up near Cloud Retainer’s domain. It would be good to rest for a moment, up near sure pure energy. Summoning some winds Xiao found himself in a weirdly clear frame of mind, detached once more from the world around him.

Then he heard your voice.

Almost immediately Xiao found himself above you, instinct reacting before his mind had time to catch up. You had never called for him before, and the unexpectedness caused a flood of hot panic to rush through him.

Staring down at the scene above Xiao felt another wave of burning emotion rush through him. You were backed up against a few stones, panic evident in your stance. One of your arms appeared to have suffered a gash, and as of such the claymore Xiao knew you carried lay in the grass next to you, too heavy now to be of any use. You also seemed to have suffered a blow to the head, and your awkward movements seemed to indicate some sort of dizziness. But what drew Xiao’s eye the most was the blood staining the brown of your wings, the feathers that were scattered around you.

The people surrounding you wore the crest of the Fatui, and their smiles were ones of absolute triumph.

“You should’ve flown away. What could a half-baked fighter like you do against the greatest army in the world? Now your wings will decorate the walls of the palace of Snezhnaya.”

You were mute to the Skirmisher’s jeers, your head bobbing to the side slightly. Once more Xiao heard your voice ripple through his head, though this time it was fainter, unsteady. The anger welling up inside of him seemed to ripple, and before he knew it the yaksha found himself standing in front of you, not caring about the black tendrils that licked at his polearm, only coherent thought that the Fatui members should have picked a different assignment.

Xiao despised fighting humans. They seemed to bend around him, shredding like paper. Though a part of him jeered that he was fighting nothing but monsters, the adeptus still pulled himself back. Some burdens were too heavy to bear, and even fighting a human was something that he would normally never do. Still the fight was brutal, if painfully short, and when Xiao finally found himself standing alone he surrounded by the groans and shrieks of those whose injuries would not be forgotten tomorrow.

Taking his mask off Xiao pushed through the tendrils of darkness that were now clinging to his skin. There would be time to bathe and clean off all the evil he’d generated and purified later. For now the adeptus ran over to your side, scooping you up and traveling as quickly as possible to the Inn. The smalls groans that escaped you cut through him, but at least you were alive. At least he had made it in time. At least.

Though there was nothing that the adeptus could really do to cure gashes and a concussion, Xiao found himself unwilling to stray from your side in the aftermath. Pushing away the guilt that threatened to burn through him when he was alone Xiao became a constant figure in your room. Perching no your dresser, or eventually in the chair Goldet dragged next to your bed, Xiao supervised your health with a regiment that would’ve been impossible for a mortal. Yet it didn’t feel like enough, it never felt like enough. Watching over you as you fell in and out of naps Xiao felt the guilt buzzing behind his ears. Your fault, this is your fault.

One evening Xiao found it all too much. Covering his face with his hands he rasped into the silent room.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

Whipping his head up Xiao was met with your slightly groggy face. Reaching over to grasp his hand you smiled as the adeptus moved to intertwine his fingers in yours.

“I didn’t go with you.”

“I didn’t ask you to. I thought, I thought it’d be easy. But it wasn’t so I called for you and then you came and saved me, so it was fine.” Your voice was heavy with sleep and your words slightly slurred, but there was still some urgency behind them, an urgency Xiao found himself responding to.

“I still wasn’t fast enough.”

“You seemed pretty fast to me.”

“I still, it’s still my fault.” Xiao didn’t know why he found himself repeating the same words over and over. Somehow he seemed completely unequipped to deal with the panic that had been slowly crushing him for the past few days. How could he explain this to you? How could he explain the fear that shot through him, the anger, the… something?

“No, it wasn’t. It’s not your fault that I look strange, or that I have these weird wings. It’s not your fault that people don’t like it.”

“Humans are fools,” Xiao spat out. “They try to destroy something that is beautiful, all because they cannot understand it.”

“You think my wings are beautiful?”

“Yes.” Xiao didn’t realize that was a question. Somehow the looked of sleepy happiness on your face filled him with a sense of embarrassment. Ducking his head the adeptus shook his head. “Never mind.”

“Thank you for telling me,” you replied, happiness in your voice. For a moment you paused, before piping up again. “You haven’t been sleeping a lot have you?”

“Sleep is unnecessary for those who are full adeptus.”

“Still, it can’t be fun to sit here alone for hours,” you frowned before scooting over slightly.

Xiao stared at the unspoken invitation for a moment, disbelief mixing into the thoughts that were cramming his head. He said nothing, but as the look on your face dimmed slightly he sighed. Laying his mask on the nightstand the yaksha lay next to you.

You smiled, seemingly satisfied. Linking your hand once more with his you let out a small sigh, before relaxing slightly, closing your eyes and drifting off to sleep.

Xiao stared at the ceiling, listening to the soft cadence of your breath. The panic that fizzed through his brain only moments earlier, replaced with a contentment that the yaksha rarely felt. Suddenly everything seemed at peace with the world, and despite the summer heat Xiao felt no more discomfort.

[internalsealpanic]

Monster Monster

I wholeheartedly blame this pic for the existence of this fic. I just wanna hug him and ruffle his hair. 

Summary: Parent Teacher Conferences are very scandalous. 

a/n: This is actually one of my few fics where reading some of my previous fics will help. I highly recommend reading Of Midnight Smoothies and Murder Mysteries to get a better feel on Dick and Reader’s relationship but anything on the Dick Grayson masterlist works too. Special thanks to @littleredwing89​ and @americasmarauders​ for proofreading. Thanks to @littleredwing89​ and @batarella​ for help with the ending. 

warnings: A slur is mentioned but it gets shut down. Also, swearing. 

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

“Tt, stop staring at me.”

You bite back a smile and what was probably a laugh rising in your throat. “Hmmm, no.” You hum, carding your fingers through Damian’s curls. The corners of your mouth twitch into a frown when you feel an angry bump against your fingers. It’s dry and there seems to be no break in the skin as far as you could tell. You let a little sigh of relief escape you which has the unintended consequence of upsetting the gremlin in front of you.

Damian attempts to swat your hand away, snarling as he did. You grin at him, all sharp teeth and pettiness. You, being childish,  do not take your hand away and instead ruffle his hair more. An adorably petulant pout settles on Damian’s mouth making the kid look ten-years-old for once. It takes everything in you not to squeal in  delight. 

“Unhand me. I do not require your mothering and you would do very well to leave the scolding to Richard or Pennyworth.” You can easily picture Alfred scolding Damian but Dick? You try to picture Dick, hand on his hip, trying his damndest to be mean to the kid but you just couldn’t. Sure, Nightwing can be terrifying, even Batman but Dick? Especially with a kid? Not even feasible. You snort openly, the noise echoing in the deadly silent room. The woman on the other side of the room sitting next to a boy with a faceful of bruises and probably a couple of chipped teeth glares at you. Specifically, the woman scowls at your arm, skin festooned with bangles of coiled serpent tails and glittering blades. You fight the urge to stick your tongue out at her. Instead, you tug a bit at your sleeves, baring the golden lines streaked with old gashes. A low humorless laugh escapes you causing her scowl to deepen. 

Damian follows your line of sight. His face folds in utter contempt. The boy next to her flinches. Their size difference made this all the funnier.  “[What did he do?]” you ask in what you hope are the correct words in Arabic. Damian crosses his arms not meeting your gaze. His leg kicks out, the restlessness thrumming in his bones. “[Your accent is atrocious.]”

Your mouth twitches uncontrollably, edging into a fond smile. You tamp it down with a click of your tongue lest the little demon tear your head off. “[I’m out of practice, child,]” Damian grabs at a space beside him only for his hand to close on nothing. Something inside you dies when you stop yourself from cackling. Thank goodness, Bruce has--had--the good sense to take the kid’s katana away. 

“[Anyway, what did he do?]”

“[How are you so sure he did something?]”

“[Because you’re a brat but not stupid. You are by far the most annoyingly reasonable child I have had the displeasure of conversing with.]” Damian’s eyes widened in surprise. It seems the assumed hatred was mutual. You watch as he folds his face back into a glower, not quite fast enough to evade your attention but certainly fast enough to fool  the untrained eye. Unfortunately for him, you’re used to the acrobatics of faces, the chaotic cacophony of microexpression. Most people in your life are, after all, awful at broadcasting their feelings even when it was sorely needed. This is probably why you gravitated to Dick so easily. The man believed in openness, in communication.

Distantly, you can hear the woman across from you tap her foot impatiently against the carpet. A flick of your eye tells you she was sneering at both of you likely eavesdropping (and failing) on your conversation. Why she needs to know what you and a ten-year-old with a stick up his ass were talking about you weren’t sure. Damian turns his head slightly towards you, angling his chin upward to mask the uncertainty in his posture. “[If you must know, he-]”

“Gypsies”

The syllables ring like a loud staccato of gunshots despite how quietly she’d hissed it. You freeze. You can feel Damian stiffen right beside you. Understanding flowed into you molten and bubbling. You feel your throat itch, unkind words coalescing into a lump in your throat. You turn your body to Damian who was now still but you can feel the anger wicking off him. You sling your arm over the head of the chair behind him drawing his attention back to you. 

He arches a brow at you, challenging. The expression falters when the next few words leave your mouth. 

“[You’re off the hook.]”

Principal Jameson is a nasally man. It isn’t his anything to do with his voice. Though, you would be remiss to say that his voice was pleasant. You’re actually half tempted to turn your bad ear on him, block out the words coming from him but that would negate the point of you coming here. His voice isn’t that unpleasant but his entire demeanor rubbed you the wrong way. You’ve seen jellyfish with more backbone than this man. Then again, this might just be a by-product of your presence. Dick, and several other batbrats, have helpfully informed you that you were in fact pants pissing scary to civilians. You would like to say you couldn’t see it but standing in front of this man it was clear as day.  

“Y/n L/n,” you offer congenially. His shoulders ease a fraction but did not offer you a hand. You smother a sigh before offering an additional “I believe Mr.Grayson-Wayne had informed you that I would be coming in his stead to discuss this-” Shit show, your mind supplies but thankfully, your mouth was quick enough to bite it back. “- incident.” Beside you Damian scoffed. You stop yourself from kicking the kid because that really would not do. 

“Yes, well, Ma’am your-” Jameson halts frankly unsure of your relationship to Damian because of course, Dick would leave the leg work to your socially allergic ass. You make a mental note to kick him later. “- charge.” you supply, feeling a modicum of sympathy for the drowning man.Your eyes flick to Damian. His face is impassive, ire still directed at the thirteen-year-old sniveling behind his mother. The term is too cold for your taste but as of right now that’s all you were. Maybe you’ve finally found a Robin you wouldn't get attached to.

“Well, ma’am, you see your charge, Damian, he’s punched another student and has yet to even apologize. He even started a full on brawl.”

“Mhmm, I see,” you drawl tilting your head. You feel Damian stiffen at the ease of your response. You don’t have to look at his face to know that he was glaring at you with something in his eyes withering from the betrayal. The woman across from nods agreeably as if you had said something sensible. Jameson for his part nearly sighs with relief. You click your teeth a little irritable from their responses but more fascinated than anything. ‘I see’ is barely an answer but they each filled in the gaps with their own assumptions. “And has that young man over there apologized for what he said to Damian? Or for the lump on Damian’s head? Surely, you sent Damian to the clinic as well.” you voice out looking as scandalized as possible. 

The room froze. 

Your eyes will probably roll into the back of your head before your meeting is done. Judging from Jameson’s posture, they didn’t. They should have at least checked if the kid had a concussion. A familiar sort of ire rose in you. Oh boy, you’re going to have a field day with these people. You sigh in exasperation before continuing. “Not only did you neglect to send him to the clinic to check on the lump on his head, but you were also planning to let the other boy off the hook?” you accuse, voice rising with some effort.  Your voice has a tendency to draw low when your temper is flaring. It’s an intimidation tactic you'd learned from a while ago. It would probably be ill advised to use it on a man who looked like he was a second away from a heart attack. 

Jameson leans forward, reaching out appeasingly.“Ma’am, we-”

“From what I recall, Gotham Academy has a strict zero tolerance policy on derogatory language, does it not?” You cut him off, voice suddenly vicious. You shift your body in front of Damian putting yourself between him and everyone else in the room. He bristles at the gesture but you and your habits aren’t exactly concerned with his pride. 

“Ma’am I-“

“I rest my case. Please, feel free to contact Mr.Grayson-Wayne if you have more to say.” You settle a hand on Damian’s shoulder. You’re surprised he didn’t fight you or swat your hand away. Taking it as permission, you pull him closer to you as you leave the red faced woman and the paling man gob smacked and silent. Damian himself doesn’t make the sound as you made your way down the hall. You squeeze his shoulder gently hoping it comes across as a reassuring gesture. His posture does not loosen but you do not let him stray from you. You close your eyes as the elevator doors shut. 

“I did not require your assistance.”

“I know.”  Of course, he doesn’t. He is a Robin and an Al Ghul but that doesn’t mean he isn’t gonna get it. You drum your fingers against the steering wheel, the dull beat only serving to irritate your nerves. You swear the traffic in Gotham was somehow infinitely worse than everywhere else in the world even with working traffic lights. Maybe that’s why there were so many crazy people here. Maybe Bruce should have invested his money on better roads. Maybe-

Your eyes slide towards Damian who is somehow shrinking and pressing into the side door. Still, his face is twisted skeptically and braced for a continuation to your statement. You looked heavenward not even hiding the weariness in your smile. The brat is truly a bat-- suspicion and all.  You turn your body towards him, opening up your posture. You fold your leg and rest your chin on your arm. Damian meets your gaze head on, looking imperious as he crosses his arms over his chest. His posture is artificial, probably uncomfortable from the weight of your attention.

You roll your shoulders and reshape your features, reconfiguring yourself from understanding to teasing. “I know. I know but you see, they needed telling off and your tiny gremlin ass isn’t scary enough. And, I promise I won’t tell Dickolas that you defended him so vehemently.” you wink, a conspiratorial grin spreading across your face. Damian straightens, his body is bowed like he was about to spring for your throat but the shape his limbs took on was more natural and seemingly relaxed. The knot in your shoulder loosens. You reach over and ruffle his hair again.  He really is still a kid. You stare each other down. Your smile is as unwavering as his glower.

Both of your stomachs grumble. The sound was loud and abrasive in the closed space of the car. You check your watch and hum, shifting back into your seat. Wordlessly, you switch on your signal light. 

You leaf through the pages of the thoroughly used book in your hands, eyes skimming through the blocks of texts not really absorbing any of it. You  never really found the appeal in fiction. The stories are too neat compared to what you experienced daily. You suppose there is simplicity in them but you find that in nonfiction, the kind of books that explained the mechanics of things. They made sense of the world and were much more useful in your opinion. You’re much more interested in the messy scribbles on the margins, the etchings of a loud mind on yellowing pages. Jason’s notes were written in the same tone of voice he used when he spoke, deceptively layman but upon further inspection was frighteningly insightful. You smile at the little comments and complaints, the snarky little remarks. Remnants of the little boy he had been before. You frowned. You should probably give this back to him once you have the chance and maybe come up with some excuse of why you still have it. Or you can just keep it. 

You look up at Damian who is drumming his fingers impatiently against the lacquered table. His posture is artificially relaxed, likely something he learned from the league or maybe all nervous gremlins do it. You look down at the book again. The sight reminds you of Jay. You tip your head, the loud thunk of your skull is felt more than heard since it was your bad ear that is pressed against the glass. The sound startles Damian who was deep in thought. You hold out the book to him. He must be bored waiting for your order. He pointedly ignores you. 

"I don't need that childish drivel." He snipes. You click your teeth feeling a little defensive of the book. 

You sound exactly like your grandfather, you think but have enough sense to keep it to yourself. No child needs to be compared to Ra's Al Ghul even if he is a brat. 

"Not a fan of-" You look at the book's spine and frown. "-Robert Stevenson?" What kind of dork reads Robert Stevenson for fun? Oh wait, it's the same dork that quotes Shakespeare while bashing heads. 

"I have no need for such things." 

Of course, he didn’t. 

"No, I suppose you don't need anything with the actual text but the margins are quite fascinating." You hold out the book to him again. His eyebrows shoot up looking at you skeptically as he reaches for it. There is no  actual written indication that it was Jay's and the kid likely hasn't spent enough time with Jay to actually tell from the way it's written. You look out the window to turn your good ear to him, listening for any reactions he might have. Every now and then you hear a huff of amusement. You smother the smile threatening to form on your lips with your hand.

"Well, the person who owned this certainly had a lot to say." Damian says carefully, handing the book back. 

"Jay really was a mouthy kid."  

Damian looks at you, little face scrunching up in confusion. You suddenly notice just how easily the booth swallows him up. Why is he so tiny? "If this is Todd's, why do you have it?" 

You clasp the book in your hands, your thumb tracing over the creases. "He leant me this book shortly before he died. He-- Well, I told him that I wasn't fond of adventure stories. I prefer books about science and culture. They're much more useful, yanno?" Damian gives a slight nod. You relax into your seat with his understanding. "Well, he thought it was just that I've never read a good one so he gave me this one. Never quite finished it though." you admit a little sheepish after realizing just how sentimental you felt. Your eyes trace over Damian's expression. It's clear that the sentimentality bled through your words and some childish part of you winces at the vulnerability of it. Damian says nothing and doesn't even sneer in derision. 

You hum, the tune musical but offkey. “Jason, actually did what you did today awhile ago.”  Just like that you begin down a rabbit hole telling the little gremlin about all the stupid shit the older bats have gotten into. And oh boy, there’s a lot. 

“So do either of you want to explain what happened and why GAs headmaster called me sounding like he was gonna piss himself?”

“Hmmm, probably not ” you say around your spoonful of mahalabia, not even looking up from your book. Hilariously enough, Damian had also elected to leave Dick’s presence unacknowledged and busy with his own mahalabia.  Dick scoot into your side of the booth, purposefully squishing you against the wall with a shiteating grin. He loops his arm around you and pulls you closer, planting a sloppy kiss on your cheek. You blanch and push half heartedly at his chest as he laughs. That laugh makes your heart warm and a relenting smile spreads across your features softening them. Your body twitches forward to kiss but you still when Dick freezes instead you plant a kiss on his cheek as well. Dick relaxes at the familiarity of it and you two settle down. 

 Damian stares at both of you befuddled. A heat creeps up your cheeks realizing that Dick is practically sitting on you. Dick, on the other hand, seems perfectly content with your current lack of personal space, so you leave it alone despite the incredulous look Damian is giving both of you. Dick snatches up your spoon taking a heap from your dessert. You make an offended noise in the back of your throat which he simply answers with another broad smile.  Your lip twitches uncontrollably and your shoulders go slack.

“So what happened?”

You and Damian exchange a look. Damian rolls his eyes at you and you shrug at him performatively. “Nothing.” you two say in a chorus of nonchalance. It only succeeds in annoying Dick, so it was partially successful.   

Dick pouts taking another bite of your desert. You stare in disbelief as the grownass man sitting next to you attempts to give you the puppy dog eyes as he eats your desert. You sign on exasperation because it's working and the bastard knows it. Richard John Grayson-Wayne is a manipulative asshole and you are a certified sucker. 

You turn to Damian pleadingly begging him to please either help you or end you. Instead, he simply looks the two as if searching for an answer to a question forming in his mind. You run your hand over your face ready to concede when something clicks. 

"Man-Bat got into GA and Damian fought him off." you say, praying Dick would catch on to the game. For a terrifying moment, he doesn’t. He blinks at you in confusion and your stomach sinks then a smile slowly spreads across his face lighting up every feature. Your heart swells at the sight.

"Bullshit. What was Man-Bat doing in GA?"

"Dunno,maybe bullying students. I don't know what bat creatures get up to." you say grinning. The picture becomes clear from every outlandish story. To your surprise, Damian joins in with a few vague details of his own giving even more details than you'd initially gathered. 

Lunch passes pleasantly with outlandish stories and good food. 

“NEWS: Dick Grayson-Wayne, New Face of Wayne Enterprises, Caught in a Torrid Love Affair with a Mystery Woman. Who Could this Exotic Beauty Be?”

“NEWS: Young Wayne Heir Being Extorted by Mystery Woman?”

“NEWS: Wayne Heir with Secret Family?”

Dick wants to evaporate somehow. He stares at the headlines mortified beyond what he ever thought possible. Maybe the floor will be merciful and it’ll finally swallow him as Jason reads another headline in a ridiculous newsreel voice. 

“No, no wait.  This one is fucking priceless!”

“Jason, please, I am begging you. STOP.” Dick whines, his face flattening against his work table. Tim shrugs, an amused smile adorns his face. Dick is going to scream. “Tim, please please please, make him stooop.” Tim ignores Dick in favor of scrolling through his own tablet looking, frankly unsympathetic. 

“Oh a tryst!”

“Jason, you are making it sound so much worse.”

“Dunno, big bird, some of these make it sound like you fucked her over a table in the restaurant.” Jason watches in absolute delight as his older brother attempts to merge with the work bench, the tanned skin of his neck and ears burning a bright shade of crimson. Tim snickers, unhelpfully. Dick loved that his younger brothers were getting along for once. He just hated that for some reason they just had to be united against him. “All I did was kiss her on the cheek and eat her food.”

Jason gasps theatrically, feigning fainting. “Premarital kissing?! Dick, how could you? What’s next? Premarital hand holding? Think of the children.” Jason exclaims, dramatically pointing to Damian who at this point had been ignoring the ruckus Jason was causing. 

“Jason, you’re awful and you’re being extremely dramatic.” 

“Dick, you don’t exactly have any room to talk in that department.”

“Yeah, Mr. Pretty Man Down, Baby Bird has a point.” Jason says smugly as he offers Tim a fist bump which Tim reciprocates by shaking Jason's fist, a joking smile on his face. Jason snorts as if getting the joke or whatever movie reference this was from. 

Tim's face folds into a barely held back smile. The laughter bubbling in the back of his throat straining his features. “I will say it is really funny that they didn’t recognize Damian.” 

“You know how they are. They probably came up with something like the whole Damian being Bruce’s kid was actually just a cover up for Dick.” Somewhere in the background Damian makes a very displeased noise but Dick can't be bothered to lift his head to check. 

“Please no. That doesn’t even-”

“Here’s one, NEWS: Dick Grayson-Wayne’s Baby Mama? Who is this mysterious woman?” Tim reads out flatly. 

“The PR team is going to kill me. No, wait. Y/n is going to kill me first.”

“She won’t. She probably finds this hilarious.”

“How would she even find this funny?”

“Well, she does enjoy your suffering- Oh shit. This one might piss her off.” Jason clears his throat, sliding back into the newsreel voice. “DICK GRAYSON, HANDSOME PLAYBOY - WITH YET ANOTHER GIRLFRIEND - WILL HE EVER SETTLE DOWN?”

Dick is half tempted to throw his own tablet at the wall. What did he do to deserve this? You certainly don’t.  

“Hey, at least, they called you handsome.” Tim laughs placatingly. It doesn’t work, of course. 

Dick looks up at his little brother ruefully. “Oh yeah because the stuff about my looks was definitely the issue.” 

“Well considering your morning routine...”

“I haven’t even been on a date so who are these other girlfriends?!”

“Well, me and Jason thought the same thing.” Tim shoots down sneering. When did his sweet baby brother turn to the dark side? Likely, Jason’s influence but deep down he knows Tim has always been capable of evil. Jason is cackling proudly. 

“I don't see why you're concerning yourself with this drivel.” Damian says, swiping the tablet right in front of Dick forcing him to look up. Dick smiles at him wearily. “Dami, it’s a little hard when a photo of me kissing y/n on the cheek is plastered everywhere with weird headlines.” Damian tilts his head considering it but he shakes his head muttering something about pointlessness. 

“Goddammit, Disco Stick!” The sound  of your voice ringing out into the bunker sends their banter crashing to a halt. Dick feels his heart jump to his throat. He-- This was how he was going to die and for once  he wasn’t sure he deserved it or not. You stand at the doorway haloed in bright light. At least, his angel of death would be the prettiest one, he thinks-- all the oxygen leaving his lungs. 

Crumpled in your fist was a newspaper. Dick can feel his brothers take a step back as you draw near. Your footfalls were as steady as a pulse which made Dick’s own heart rate ratchet up. Your face is carefully impassive the way it always is when your anger was dosed with something else. Dick is sincerely hoping Jason is right about you being amused by the headlines. 

You stop in front of him, eyes narrowed and jaw tight. You glower down at him frankly looking murderous before you snort and your face breaks into a smile. The thick tension in the air dissipates and the room releases its collective breath. The smile on your face grows even brighter. Nope, this is how Dick dies, his breath catching in his lungs as his mind fizzes out from the sight of your smile. 

“I’m sorry?” Dick lifts himself off the table just barely, still bracing for any sudden wave of anger that will, justifiably, roll over you at some point.  

You lean your body on to the spot next to him, letting the table support your weight. Straightening the newspaper in your hands, you frown. “I look terrible in this.”

“You look beautiful.” Dick blurts out. You raise your brow at him incredulously. Jason folds over trying to hold back laughter, his shoulders trembling. Tim just shrinks from second hand embarrassment. 

“No, she is correct. She looks repulsive.” Damian says flatly as he snatches the paper from you.

You let out a breathy laugh. “To be fair, anyone would look repulsive next to professional pretty boy Dickie Wayne.” There was no sharpness in your teasing. You look at the photo over Damian’s shoulder. It was a cute photo actually. Dick’s arm loops around your shoulder as he gives you a kiss on your cheek as Damian blanches at Dick’s very public display of affection. It was hilariously easy to see where they got the idea that you two were a couple. You weren’t. You haven’t been for awhile.  The thought wrenches something a dull ache inside you. You flatten your lips preventing the edges from dipping into a frown. 

A look crosses between Jason and Tim. Tim leans over, asking in a hushed whisper, “I thought they were back together.”

“Dunno they act like it.” Jason shrugs watching your movement. As if to prove his point, you and Dick lean into each other’s space as you bicker about the merits of Gothamite photographers. Jason is half tempted to shove you two together.  

“What are you two talking about?” You ask, finally leaning away from Dick. 

“Nothing-”

“They were pondering the state of your relationship. I myself have been pondering it.”

For a moment, your eyes meet. For a moment, you are back in a drab hotel in Moscow. For a moment, you are crying your heart out in his arms trying to push him away. 

You click your teeth and stare Damian in the eyes not entirely sure what kind of emotions they were betraying. “We were a thing.” Damian’s brow shoots up. You hear someone’s hand slap against their forehead. 

You flush wanting to  disappear but hold your stance. You hear Dick chuckle beside you as he stands shoulder to shoulder with you. Something in you eases with the closeness, like a gap being filled. “We used to be a couple.” Dick supplies, saving you from your flailing. You tap your finger against the back of his hand as a silent thank you. He taps yours twice in reciprocation. You look down trying to hide a smile. 

Jason and Tim look at each other again and nod. 

“We should probably go.” Jason says carrying Damian under his arm.    

“Todd, unhand me! We are not done here!”

“We’ll see you two later.” Tim waves giving Dick a knowing smile. Dick’s heart jumps up to his throat while his stomach drops to the floor. Is this really the time for his brother’s to play cupid? 

You lean in, letting your body press into Dick’s side as you listen to their footsteps fade away. Your head settling on his shoulder hand bracing you against the workbench. You let the stillness settle and make everything around you more solid. 

Dick shifts a bit, his fingers lacing in with yours. The gesture makes your heart twinge, the chasm in your chest yawning with longing. You swallow. The air is thick with unspoken words like smoke clogging up your lungs. You think that if you could just pluck the right one out of thin air, you could clear the air. 

‘I love you’ itches in the back of your throat but what right did you have to say that to him even after all this time. 

Beside you, Dick is smiling and relishing your presence. The silver glint of your earring winking at him from beneath your hair. He had gotten you that on your first date, a little souvenir you got to commemorate the occasion.  

Dick pivots in front of you making your breath catch. His free hand brushing your hair behind your ear revealing the silver robin on your ear. Silver robins. You had at the time laughed at the absurdity of it but here they were years later. Dick’s hands settle on either side of you boxing you in against the table. Even when he’s got you trapped like this, you feel at ease knowing Dick would never hurt you. Dick leans his forehead against yours, his fingers still intertwined with yours. Your pulse is loud in your ears. You lean your forehead against his, eyes sliding close soaking up the contact. 

“It’s always been you.” Dick says breathlessly. The words do not register, too dreamlike in their conception. You always hoped and wished that you could take it back, that you had never left, that he would love you the same way he did before but you were never foolish enough to hold on to things like that with both hands. Yet here Dick was whispering things that you only let yourself dream of. 

“It’s always been you.” He repeats as if the repetition could make it more real. You swallow the lump in your throat trying to find your voice but you’re afraid that once you speak, the room would  catch fire and the dream would dissolve into harsh reality. 

Dick gently cups your face and for a moment you let yourself be lost in the sea of blue. The stinging in your eyes makes you blink even if you don’t want to. You lick your lips as if somewhere on them were the right words. 

You can’t even fathom the combination of words that could encapsulate the cocktail of longing and love you felt for him. 

Your tongue darts out, wetting your bottom lip as your eyes focus on his lips. You swallow again your throat feeling thick even as you lean into his space, pushing off the work bench. Your nose rubbing against his, his long lashes fluttering against your cheek and tickling your skin. Dick leans in, his lips on yours, the pressure barely enough to make contact. You twitch forward, lips melting against his.  The world around you stills and disintegrates leaving only him in its wake. 

The kiss is all tender softness, a promise of love and loyalty quietly exchanged between you. A delicate push and pull. Undemanding yet uncompromising in its gentle intensity. 

You both pull back, only barely. Your skins still thrum with hunger for contact. Dick leans in again, his lips brushing against yours making them tingle at the sensation. Murmured breaths exchanged between you. This time you both find the right words. 

Dick turning to reader seeing the familiar glint of her earing

“I still love you.” 

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

I was thinking it was just them in the cave standing next to each others fingers twining with each other leaning into each other's space

he brushes the strands of her hair away

After brushing her hair away he presses his forehead against hers and he just kind of comes out with it

like he'd been holding back on saying it but couldn't anymore

 Why not have the reader do something like this?

What if she nudges her nose against his? Or rubs her nose against his, like an Eskimo kiss? And it’s silent, her eyelashes flutter against his cheek. They say in Inuit, when you feel eyelashes stroke on your skin like that, it’s a way of saying “I love you” without actually saying it.

And maybe Dick knows that? Without her actually saying the words and he just smiled and captures her lips in a delicate kiss. And when they pull back, they both say it at the same time against each other’s lip, all hushed and murmured?

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

Thanks for reading!

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[jerzwriter]

Casey MacTavish - The Future 💕

Family:

Casey and Ethan had the baby talk before they were engaged. Casey was relieved to learn Ethan would now entertain the idea. They both agreed that they only wanted one child (they were only children and they liked it, so why not?)

They had one daughter four years after they married (Casey was 33, Ethan 42). (No name yet, because I will be writing a FF ... and it's a surprise ⁠😊⁠). Despite the challenges of parenthood, both were over-the-moon happy.

After she was born, Ethan confessed that he always hoped for a little girl. She had him wrapped around his finger from the second she was born. The fact that she was Casey's clone thrilled him, he said he loved nothing more than knowing there were two of them in this world.

Casey was a wonderful mother and insisted her daughter being raised to be a strong, caring woman. From the time she was an infant, she focused on letting her know that not everyone was as fortunate as she was and it was important to give back.

There were no private schools for their daughter, Casey insisted (and Ethan agreed) that she would go to public school through high school.

She also began helping at her parent's clinic when she was 12-years old.

During her teen years and college, she became a vocal activist, just like her Mom.

She did not follow her parents in to medicine. She followed her heart and went to law school becoming one of the top civil rights attorneys in America.

Alan, David, Rose, and Naveen doted on her to the point of insanity. Alan and Casey's parents sold their homes and moved to Brookline to be closer to her. They were a huge help to Ethan & Casey.

Ethan may have been hesitant for children at first, but Casey was hesitant for a dog, just feeling that they didn't have the time for one. When he pointed out if they had time for a child, they could manage a dog she agreed and that's when Ruffles came along. He got his name from an incident where he ate bag of Ruffles potato chips at the adoption center, it just stuck.

Professionally:

Casey chose to stay on the Edenbrook diagnostic team after her residency ended. While she and Ethan were offered promotions (he to Chief of Medicine and her to lead the diagnostic team), both turned down. Ethan knew he would be unhappy in the role and, even before Ethan chose not to leave his current position, Casey had decided to hold off realizing she needed more experience.

She remained there for six years, and her biggest accomplishment was creating a special pediatrics diagnostic team together with Sienna. She was director of that team for her last three years in Edenbrook.

She never stopped volunteering as many hours as she could to the free clinic, but she was often frustrated because the need outweighed the services available.

To help meet that need she left Edenbrook and opened the Dolores Hudson Family Clinic of Greater Boston and served as its Executive Director. Through grants and fundraising, the clinic offered free services to the uninsured and underinsured

Ethan was so proud of her and, not too long after, he also left Edenbrook to concentrate on this effort. They had never been so fulfilled professionally.

In time, they expanded opening facilities in their hometowns of Philadelphia and Providence, and eventually one in New York City as well.

Their forever love story...

When they finally got together, their world seemed like an absolute dream for quite some time. It truly felt like a fairy tale.

But Ethan was right, fairy tales aren't real and that isn't how true love works.

Busy schedules, childrearing, parents becoming ill and eventually passing, sometimes feeling as if the spark was gone, they experienced it all. But they faced every issue together and they always came out stronger and more in love than they were before.

The bottom line... it wasn't always easy, but they were happy.

Ethan bought Casey a beach house in Sandwich as a wedding gift. She loved the ocean and it was part of their plan to live a more relaxed life. It was about an hour's drive from Boson, so they were able to go there frequently.

The bottom row of photographs shows them through the years by their beach home. Yes, that's Ethan in a tie with Casey in a bikini. She was there with Sienna for a week, and when he drove to meet her after work, and couldn't wait to see her. He ran onto the beach, fully clothed, to greet her. Sienna thought it was adorable, so she snapped this picture as they headed back to the house.

They did travel, and thoroughly enjoyed it, but they found they were happiest when they stayed closer to home. So their beach house, and later a small cabin in the Berkshires became their go-to place... and everyone else's. Their friends and family were always welcome. Sitting around the fire pit and talking to the wee hours were some of their favorite times.

When the end came, because there is no escaping the inevitable, they had no regrets lest one... that they had not met each other sooner.

This song captures Ethan & Casey's love for me. It's an older song, but it's so beautiful. If you chose to listen, and I hope you do, I apologize in advance for the tears.

Beautiful In My Eyes

@openheartfanfics f

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ethan x casey: @a-crepusculo

[abbatoirablaze]

Tig's Daughter, Chapter 7

Word Count:  2k

Warnings:  angst, manipulation

Alex’s POV

"Got the keys to the next one guys," I smiled, bringing them in to Lowell, “so you’re good to go.”

"Thanks Alex." He grinned, taking them, "do you mind watching Moby for a little bit. I was gonna take a lunch, but I can knock out the oil change first since your dad just went."

"yeah, of course," I smiled. Moby smiled at me from his spot on the oil drum. He reached out and I picked him up, "come on little man. How about we make daddy and you sandwiches for lunch."

"YEAH!" he cheered.

I went in to the office to let Gemma know I was gonna take a second and make something to eat for Lowell and Moby.

"Hey Gemma, do you mind if I take a few?"

She looked like she was about to say no, and then she saw Moby balanced on my hip.  She gave a happy sigh, "you taking the little guy in for a snack?"

"Yeah," I smiled, "tell her what we're gonna do buddy."

"Make me and daddy lunch!"

"Good deal," Gemma smiled, "you can if you agree to get me a coke and get some cigarettes from your dad. He should be in there."

"Do I have to?"

"Gonna have to talk to him sometime sweetheart," she laughed, "and there's no better time than the present."

"Yeah, yeah," I grumbled, "come on Moby, let's blow this popsicle stand."

"Ohhh, I want a popsicle."

"Maybe later," I laughed, walking into the clubhouse. At the bar I saw Piney and Bobby arguing over the toilets, "hey, have you guys seen my dad?"

"Should be in church. Talking to Clay."

"Okay. Can you guys watch Moby for a few so I can make him some lunch?"

"Of course," Bobby smiled. I sat Moby on one of the bar stools between the two guys and grabbed some juice from the fridge, "how's it hanging little man."

"Don't spill it," I reminded Moby as I sat the juice in front of him, "use your straw."

"Thank you Miss. Alex."

I nodded and ran off to the kitchen, making a few sandwiches for Moby and Lowell. I got him some chips, and Moby got a cut up apple.

"Making Moby some lunch?" Clay asked, coming into the kitchen.

"Yeah," I nodded, "Lowell said he'd knock out the oil change before he went on lunch, because I guess dad abandoned him."

"I just went on my lunch," dad said, walking in, “kid’ll be fine out there alone.  Did you need me sweetheart?”

"Still not talking to you," I growled, “Jerk.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see that he wanted to say something, but Clay stopped him.

"Just let the kid be," Clay grumbled. Then he turned back to me, "need any help bringing the food out?"

"No," I shrugged, "but Gemma did want a pack of dad's cigarettes and a coke."

"I got it," Clay nodded. He grabbed a shopping bag and threw two cokes and a milk in. Then he turned to my dad, "cigs."

"This is my last pack."

"My queen wants em," he chuckled, "you can walk across the street."

Dad rolled his eyes, but nonetheless gave his pack of cigarettes over to Clay. After I balanced the plates and the bag I went back out to the bar where Moby was sitting, "you ready Moby?"

"YES!"

Bobby helped him down and he started walking beside me.

"Alright buddy, remember. You gotta hold on to me," I reminded him, "we don't know if anyone's gonna drive into the parking lot so you can't run off. Got it?"

"Got it!" he smiled.

We walked through the lot without incident. When Gemma saw me coming, she grabbed the empty tool bench and slid it through the door to use as a makeshift table. Once I got the food set down, I lifted Moby back onto the oil drum. He helped me set up the coke and his milk.

"The rest mine?"

"Yeah."

"Thanks, kid."

Without much more she walked off, back into the office and I turned my attention to Moby.

"Did good kid."

"Miss Alex?"

"Yeah buddy?"

"Can you make me lunch every day?"

"Every day you're here," I laughed, ruffling his hair, “it’ll be a date.”

“Okay!” he giggled excitedly. 

"Thanks," Lowell smiled, handing me the keys as he came back from the lot, "I told Clay and Gemma he'd only be by on my breaks bu-"

"Lowell it's fine," I laughed, "You know Clay and Gemma won't mind. WE love this little guy."

"Well thanks," he nodded again, “I appreciate it.”

I sent him a friendly smile and turned around, wishing that I hadn't.

Juice was by Unser's truck, which had been parked in the bay, a girl a bit older than me was next to him. The fact that Juice had come back from Nevada with a girl wasn't the part that bothered me. The part that really got me was the fact that Half-sack was staring at her.

He was giving her some look.

Like she was something special.

"You okay sweetheart?"

I looked back to Gemma and nodded, "yeah."

"I can tell you're lying."

I walked into the office and hugged her. I could feel the tears pricking at my eyes, but I didn't want anyone else to know what I was feeling.

"You got a thing for Eddie?" I nodded, unable to find my words. She sighed, sitting us down on the couch, "come on baby."

As she sat me down, I noticed she took another look out the window, and this time she stiffened.

"What happened Gemma?" I asked, "did he go up to her?"

"No," she growled, "Clay did."

"What?"

"That son of a bitch," she growled. Just then, Kip came into the office, "you know that little tart?"

"Uh yeah, uh," he said stumbling through his words, "she's-"

"Clay tapping that?"

"I wouldn't know what Clay's tapping" he said nervously, "you know aside from yo-"

"GET OUT!"

He left in a hurry, and I felt the tears falling down my cheeks as Gemma slammed the door, "fucking dogs. Every single one of em."

She wrapped her arms around me, and we began crying together.

"We'll get through this baby," she cooed, "we will. I promise you." 

Tig’s POV

Fucking christ.

"What's wrong, brother?"

"I need in her room," I said to Clay, "discreetly and quickly."

He nodded and texted sack, "she'll be out in a few. What's going on?"

"School called," I grumbled, "guidance counselor said that I missed the past two calls and now the parent teacher conferences she's set up. I didn't even fucking know. I need to see if I've been getting shit and Alex is hiding it."

"Alright, well let’s go," Clay announced, standing up from the shop. I saw Alex coming out and she immediately stopped in the middle of the lot, “Hey-“

"Where are you going?"

"I uh-"

"I asked my daughter, prospect."

"Kip asked me if I wanted to go to the movies," she said quickly, "a new movie just came out...it's called the Conjurer."

"You have to be seventeen to see rated R movies."

“I’m eighteen you prick,” she growled.  When I didn’t move, she sighed, "come on…Dad."

I sighed, rubbing my brow. This was how sack had managed to get her to agree to leave.

Fuck.

"Fine," I groaned, "but I don't have any money to cover a ticket or snacks s-"

"It's okay," sack said quickly, "I'll pay for her. I offered anyways."

"Make sure she's home right after." I ordered, "you are still technically grounded."

"I know."

I looked at the prospect and nodded. The two of them bounded off towards his bike and I shook my head, "A LITTLE THANK YOU WOULD BE NICE!"

"THANKS TIG!"

He handed her a helmet and the two of them were off.

"See how easy that was," Clay chuckled, clapping me on the back. He led the two of us into the clubhouse, but he stopped at the bar, "you let me know if you need any help."

I went back to the dorms, expecting to see someone. Anyone really, but I didn't. Not a damned soul. Walking to her room, I noticed that the door was unlocked.

Well that was easy.

I went in, quietly closing the door, and stood there.

Her room was clean.

The bed was made.

But I couldn't shake the feeling that something was up. I couldn't help but think that something was wrong.

She had to be fucking up somehow.

I started off at her bed. There wasn't anything under the pillows or between the mattress and box spring. Under the bed was just a few pairs of sandals and a notebook. Pulling out the notebook I saw that it was labeled Chemistry. I threw it on top of the bed and opened it up.

It was not about chemistry.

Dear diary,

I don't think he trusts me anymore. :s Everything feels so tense, and I don't know how to change it. I just wish things could go back to the way they were...when I was little. When we had Missy. When we had the house. I've been looking at places to try to bring up to dad, but that would involve us actually acknowledging each other's existence. I feel like the only time he ever acknowledges me is when he's trying to start a fight.

Like the other day. I've been following along with that bullshit guidance counselor's plan. I've been going to class. Doing my homework. Meeting up with her twice a week...and dad still yelled at me saying that I wasn't. But how would he know? The guidance counselor asked me two different times if she's had dad's number right and I thought it was it. But apparently he changed it last week when he switched to a new burner. As soon as I got the right number I gave it to her, so hopefully he answers. She's tried to set up face-to-face meetings but he's always busy.

Maybe it was wrong of me to think coming home was a good thing...maybe I should have just let Brenda throw me out. It feels like I'm not doing anyone any good. Shit. He's knocking on my door. Got to go. Write again soon.

Lexi

I skipped back a few pages and saw another previous entry

Dear diary,

I got fired. The manager told me that he stopped in and threatened them. I can't believe my dad did that. I only started doing it so that we could get a house.

At least I don't have to explain it to him.  He hates my guts now though. Ever since he found out how old I really am.  That, or he doesn’t like that I’m Tig’s daughter.  Maybe I should have told him about my age sooner...

That wouldn't have changed anything...who am I kidding? He only came in to watch me. It is kind of funny to think though, he's part of the club and I've been living here, but he didn't even know I existed.

My thoughts are everywhere.

I need a smoke.

Fuck writing in this thing.

Shit.

I sat down on the floor and laid the notebook next to me.

Looking to my left I saw a shoebox under her nightstand. Dragging it out, I noticed that it was slightly heavy.

What the fuck? What shoes did she get that were this heavy?

When I opened the box I saw stacks of bills. All of them were neatly wrapped. Closing the box I noticed that she had written 'house fund—me and dad.'

I opened the box again, feeling even more guilty. She had clearly saved everything she'd made at the strip club, and it was intended to get us a house.

"Jesus."

It didn't even feel or sound like my own voice. My fingers grazed the bills and I slammed the lid shut.

This is wrong.

I should be taking care of you.  Not the other way around.  

I felt some tears slipping down my cheeks as I shoved the box down back under the night stand.  Forcing myself to get up I hid the notebook back under her bed and went to the door.  

I shouldn't be in here.

I shouldn't be in here.  

Chapter 8

[embrassemoi]

Surrounded by the Moon and Stars ✷ 26

Pairings: Sirius B, Remus L, [F]Reader   CW: Language, prejudice against MB, blood/injury, sexism A/N: as always, unbeta'd

【 Masterlist: Previous Chapter | Next Chapter 】

Chapter 26: Human Anatomy 

━━━━━━━━━༻✩༺━━━━━━━━━

May 4th, 1976

Following the Mary incident, there were two Death Eater attacks in Birmingham plastered all over the Daily prophet now clutched in everyone’s hand. Y/N watched from the sidelines as Lily gripped her copy so strongly that it began to tear where her fingernails were.

Distantly, she could hear Marlene and Dorcas attempting to distract them by fighting over the last Chocolate Frog. Y/N ignored them, her mood dampened from the news and played with her food idly. That was until she felt Sirius nudge her underneath the table, quietly placing the now stolen Chocolate Frog into her hand.

It was clear that she and Sirius reached a standstill. Ever since his outburst, he hadn’t been avoiding her — they still snuck around — but his witty and snarky comments were gone. He’d become more reclusive, shy, even, and couldn’t keep eye contact for too long. A few times, she even caught him entertaining other women and it caused her to stiffen up, laugh bitterly and chip away at any logic, reason — manifesting in irritation and resentment.

It was clear that she and Sirius reached a standstill. Ever since his outburst, he hadn’t been avoiding her — they still snuck around — but his witty and snarky comments were gone. He’d become more reclusive, shy, even, and couldn’t keep eye contact for too long. A few times, she even caught him entertaining other women and it caused her to stiffen up, laugh bitterly and chip away at any logic, reason — manifesting in irritation and resentment.

It was a game of cat and mouse and Y/N was the cat. So the gesture was surprising. She took it from him, smiling as she ripped open the package and split it into two, giving him the larger half. He gave a reticent smirk and went back to his desert.

Sirius Black was confusing.

She saw Remus had put down his copy of the prophet, who pressed his lips together to hide his amusement as he looked between the two. His brow rose; she looked anywhere but him.

It was nearing the end of dinner when James finally joined, just coming from his career consultation. He went over to Ravenclaw’s table first, talking admittedly with Emmeline before making his way over. He was uncharacteristically nervous as he sat down beside Y/N.

“Saved you a plate,” Peter greeted. A large plate of spaghetti hovered in front of him. Normally James would’ve dug in within seconds, but instead prodded at a meatball with his fork. Everyone noticed but ignored it.

“What took you so long?”

Sirius grinned. “I bet McGonagall was listing off the Quidditch teams that want him. Which one is it? Appleby? Puddlemere?”

“I call Ballycastle,” Marlene warned, “I want their spot!”

James remained quiet.

“Don’t tell us you’re going to live off your trust fund,” teased Remus, but it had a questioning tone.

James’s gaze flittered to Lily’s paper before he spoke.“They all reached out.”

Everyone gave a loud round of applause and cheers; Y/N ruffled his hair while Peter conjured one of the floating candles to explode into confetti.

“That’s amazing! Congratulations, Prongs! You deserve —” “I’m turning them down, for now.”

Everyone went still, smiles fading and utensils dropping.

Remus was the first to speak. His eyes glossed cautiously around the table before leaning in. “Want to go somewhere a little more private? To talk?”

James took a deep inhale, peering over to Mary’s empty seat. Still shaken up, Mary had been hiding away in her dorm. As Marlene liked to say, she was pulling a sickie, and nobody could blame her. Then James’ eyes strayed towards Y/N.

“I told McGonagall that I’m enlisting once school’s done.”

Peter placed a tentative hand on him, “What did you say?”

“Er… after everything that’s happened…” He took a deep breath, “I’ve been thinking… I don’t want to live in a world where the people I care about are judged — innocent people are being… slaughtered... I can’t — I can’t just sit here and let it happen! And the war won’t end — not unless people are there to fight.”

Lily ripped her newspaper as she snapped, “This isn’t the time for jokes, Potter. You can’t just say that and —”

“I’m not joking,” James states calmly yet firmly. “Quidditch can wait until the wizarding world is safe.”

Nobody spoke until Dumbledore dismissed dinner.

“I said the same to McGonagall,” Sirius added. Everyone’s head whipped towards him.

“Is this a sick plan you two haven’t told me about?” Remus scolded. His voice was laced in something Y/N couldn’t place but teetered on the edge of indignation.

Sirius shook his head. “No. Never mentioned it to him. It’s just… I want to fight people like… my… family.”

The phrase echoed in her head: my family… What did that mean?

“Then that’s what I’ll do too.” Marlene states.

Dorcas whipped her head towards her. “No, you won’t.”

“Potter’s got a point,” Marlene says. “What good will my influence — power and position I’ve got as a Pureblood do if I don’t put it to use? Besides, my brothers have all enlisted already. They help with the Ministry and Dumbledore.”

Y/N and Lily stayed quiet, both shared a look — the first time either made direct eye contact since their fight. It communicated worry and pure dread.

━━━━━━━━━༻✩༺━━━━━━━━━

May 14, 1976

“You pincushion. You’re going to break if you aren’t careful!” She’d been waiting outside the hospital wing for Remus who hobbled his way out with a pink flush.

The Marauders and girls were taking ‘partnering up’ seriously. The Marauders escorted any Muggleborns around the castle at night; James, Peter and Sirius using their blood status while Remus used his height and prefect title as leverage. Even Marlene made sure every first or second year was escorted safely too.

In particular, ever since the mention of enlisting and Mary’s attack, James and Sirius were ruthless — merciless to anyone that showed even the slightest allegiance to the other side. More hexes, jinxs and pranks ensued.

Remus tilted his head as his body shook with quiet laughter. “Just a tumble.”

“Clumsy giant.”

He ignored her, going to take her bag off her shoulder to carry.

“Now you’ve lost it — give it.”

“I’m fine,” he grunted, going to dangle the bag so she wouldn’t be able to take it. But Remus staggered forward a bit, having to stop walking and balance himself out. Y/N noticed, sighing as she linked her arm with Remus’, letting him lean against her for support as they walked.

He did seem peaky, she worried, he waved it off. The Marauders did say he’s ill…

“Are we picking up Butterbeer?”

“Mary and Marlene are getting it.”

“Oh… Mary… How is she?”

Y/N sighed as they turned and left through a secret passageway and into the yard. Today was the last Quidditch game of the year. “I’m not sure… we’re not exactly close and Marlene refuses to spill.”

“I’m glad she’s… okay — out and about. What about you?”

“Me?” She turned to Remus.

“No one has tried to hurt you, have they?”

“Nope.” Best to lie.

Remus loosen up at that. His head tilted to hear her clearer, body hunched over as if he’s trying to get closer.

His soft messy curls were strewn messily around like he just rolled out of bed. “Do tell if someone does. I know you can defend yourself but we all need to be there for each other.”

“Of course. You too?” He hummed.

The hot sun beat down against them as sweat began to form on her forehead. Remus wore a light sweater — just by looking at him, he made her feel uncomfortably warm.

“You’re not hot?” Y/N asked.

He dropped his head a bit and a sudden far-away look filled his eyes. “Erm — not really. I just prefer it.”

She instantly felt bad from his reaction. “Well, at least you look dashing.”

He nodded, smiling before making grabby hands. Y/N glanced sideways, already fishing out her cassette player from her pocket.

“All you do is use me for this thing.” “Hush.”

They walked together down the path, arm in arm, over bumps and dips. Both laughing at the other before Y/N noticed a fairly large ball of black trailing on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. It was as tall as Flitwick and as long as Marlene’s broom.

Y/N felt herself stop, pulling away from Remus who was about to open his mouth. A rush of excitement filled her. “Is that a dog?!” She already let go of Remus, motioning him over as she dashed off into its direction.

The dog must’ve heard her footsteps before she came to a stop in front of it. Now, slowly walking up, her hand stuck out and waited for the dog to approach.

“Hi there, buddy!” She smiled largely as the dog sniffed her. There was the slightest hesitation before its head rubbed against her hand, moving happily as its tail wagged. Its head bowed, presenting its neck as a sign of submission. It even nudged her. She rubbed the side of the dog’s body. Its fur was shaggy, matted with a bit of dirt which had her nose wrinkled.

Remus eventually appears, watching them but once the dog notices him, it goes rigid, pulling away from Y/N, even going as far to growl at her. Although it’s weak, she still rips her hands away as the dog keeps its gaze on Remus.

“No! Please come back?”

The dog stopped growling, letting her pet him again but bared its teeth to Remus. Remus doesn’t seem to care as he watches the scene intently, a smirk crosses.

“I didn’t know Hogwarts had a dog!” Y/N scratches behind its ears. “You must be Kettleburn’s, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, he’s been around,” said Remus.

“Oh yeah? You seem like such a good boy!” Y/N then stands, picking up a stick before waving it, throwing it far. The dog bolts to retrieve it. “Why didn’t you tell me there was a dog?”

“I’m more of a cat person.”

The dog comes dashing back, stick in mouth as it runs circles around her. She goes to bend down, fingers gliding through its matted fur before getting caught. “You’re kind of disgusting.”

The dog looks at her, its eyes adjusting to open wider while Remus bursts out laughing. Y/N glances at him, questioning his unusual behaviour before reaching to grab the stick from its mouth. She transfigured it into a dog brush and went to work.

"... Kettleburn has really been neglecting you."

Remus’ hands go up to wipe his happy tears before dropping down to sit beside her. She can even feel his body shake with laughter. “You sure you don’t want to leave this mutt be?”

The dog growls at him, Y/N giggles.

“I don’t think he likes you much.”

His face level with the dog. “Don’t like him either.” The dog barks and Remus practically howls.

“So…” he has a sly smirk that tells her he’s up to no good. The light catches onto his eyes, glinting with golden specs like they were infused in him. “You and Padfoot have been chummy lately.”

The wagging tail halts and Y/N stops combing as they both stare at him. The dog pulls away from her grasp and growls at Remus. This time, it’s guttural and deep, sounding like a warning and losing its playful tone.

“I — ugh —” She falters, mentally slapping herself. “We’ve been getting along since Oats. Studying, spending time together… I got tired of fighting.”

“Mmm, I bet.” His voice is condescending. “I heard you want to be a Healer.”

“Yeah?”

“Say then, do you guys study —” The dog goes and bites down on his jeans, tugging harshly, drawing her attention but Remus continues to study her.

“Look at me, not at him,’” he says cockily. He leans in a challenging manner that has her flustered. He repeats, “Do you guys study… I don’t know… human anatomy?”

The dog barks madly — so loud that they’re getting stares from passing students. Y/N swore she could’ve died there while Remus bellows with laughter: his question answered. She bolted up, remaining silent and marched away from him who hobbled behind her, yelling out false apologies.

━━━━━━━━━༻✩༺━━━━━━━━━

Gryffindor, unsurprisingly, had another amazing win against Ravenclaw. James had improved as Captain drastically — confident with his position and team. Marlene improved too, she was almost as fast as the Snitch itself and never let a single Bludger slip past her while James scored goal after goal.

She and Remus still stuck by each other, walking down the rickety wooden stands as they observed the sea of red robes swarming the pitch. James pulled Emmeline into a kiss before he was holstered up by the Gryffindor team. Sirius was cheering him on while Peter was missing, having to leave right after the match for detention.

James then glanced back, along with Marlene, who waved while the two students grinned widely, sticking their thumbs up, fist-pumping in the air as a sign of congratulations.

But it wasn’t long until trouble came their way. Y/N wasn’t sure how Remus knew, but he suddenly went mute, his head perked up and swivelled around. In a fluid motion, he grabbed her wrist, pulling her flush against him; his hand wrapped around her protectively as he shifted his body to cover her and then bucked down; just before a Bludger came barreling their way.

Remus whipped his wand out, pointing at the Bludger that was hurling back, turning it into a balloon.

“The fuck?” Remus breathed out.

From where they stood, they were obscured by the shadows and wooden stands. The crowd couldn’t see them and the Gryffindor team was too occupied to notice. Cackling sounded from one of the exits. It was Crabble, Snape and two other Slytherin’s she didn’t know the names of.

“How cute! Ickle Lupin protecting his Muggle bitch!” Crabble said, flashing a dark smile.

“What did you call me!” Y/N shrieked, still in Remus’ hold before he finally let go.

“Watch what you’re saying,” Remus cautioned, voice dropping low. He stood tall as waves of authority emitted from him while he held his wand tightly, stepping in front of her. His broad shoulders squared. “Thirty points from Slytherin. You don’t want detention, do you?”

“That’s all you got? House points?” Snape taunted. “Loopy Lupin — acting tough in front of his girl.”

“Heard she’s fucking Potter,” the Slytherin said. He had blue eyes and dirty-blond hair.

“I heard differently,” the other nameless Slytherin blurted. He licked his lips in a snake-like motion. “Have you seen the way she and Black are around each other so much now? A Mudblood and a whore!”

She drew her wand.

“Aw, trembling itty, bitty baby!”

“That’s enough, Barty,” drawled Snape. Barty held his wand, toying with it before he lifted his wand, ready to cast a spell.

“Expelliarmus!” Remus shouted at him. Barty’s wand flew from his grasp but wasn’t lucky before the unnamed boy shouted, “Levicorpus!”

Instantly, Remus was grabbed by the ankle, hauled up into the air. Y/N saw him wince, all his belongings thudding to the grass.

“Aw, Rosier,” Snape said coolly. He took a few steps in a twitchy manner, “Stop playing with the poor mutt!”

But before the Slytherins had an opportunity, Y/N shot a spell at Remus, floating him down gently while Snape and Crabble directed a spell at her.

“Protego!” She cried as an invisible shield expanded between her, Remus and the Slytherins. The barrier was so powerful that they all stumbled as Remus went to retrieve his wand.

“Lupin can’t even protect himself! You had to let a girl do it too!” Crabble shouted.

“A Mudblood and a Half-breed! A match made in heaven.”

Angrily, Remus stood, a black ball of light shot out from the tip of his wand at the feet of the Slytherins. A small boom rumbled the ground, sparks of fire emitting but not enough to start a fire. They jumped back and Snape threw another spell.

“Ad sectis!”

Y/N barely had time to block it as a gust of wind knocked them back. It wasn’t a spell she knew of. Remus sent another hex at them but was blocked.

“Dangerous bloke, that Loopy Lupin,” Snape jeered, directing his words at Y/N while the Slytherins laughed. “You ought to be careful who you run around with. Let alone your boyfriend.”

“Shut up!” Remus shouted. “Shut the fuck up!”

“Where do you think he goes every month?” Snape taunted before backing up from them, rejoining the other Slytherins who left, all bellowing, “AHH-WOOOO!”

The reverberation from Remus’ spell drew the Marauder’s attention as they arrived. James saw them, marching up side by side with Emmeline and Sirius. He wore a large smile as he pressed several kisses to the side of Emmeline’s head. “Whiskers! Moony! Did you see that score!”

Remus and Y/N breathed in deeply, dazed and shocked. Remus stumbled over but she clutched his arm to keep him upright.

“Don’t listen to anything they said,” implored Remus.

“Wait… James,” Emmeline said, “I don’t think somethings right.”

“Moony, you’re awfully pale…”

“Shit! Are you guys bleeding?”

Y/N’s eye travelled to a large slash that travelled up Remus’ jaw and leg, blood seeping out at an alarming rate but the cut was shallow. Y/N in turn only then realized the damp liquid was now travelling down her arm. Her arm was also slashed, not deep, but the amount of blood was concerning.

All their voices began chatting over the other as the girls arrived by now; Dorcas rushed up to Y/N, prying Remus off of her as James and Sirius took Remus and sat them on a nearby bench.

“— happened?”

“— Y/N — Remus —”

“Lift your leg —”

“— get to the wing —”

“Merlin’s beard!” Lily shouted. “Give them some space!” Her eyes were on Remus but shifted to Y/N. Hesitantly, Lily walked up to her and bent down in front of her but still kept her distance.

“Okay, we need to get you patched up.” James stood, looping an arm around Remus and stood up.

Marlene rubbed her shoulder while Lily spoke, both James and Sirius doing the same for Remus. “Would you like us to come?”

She shook her head as the girls reluctantly left, but clutched Lily’s wrist as she stood. In a small voice, she asked, “Stay?”

Lily nodded her head and bid her goodbyes with the girls.

“Right, okay. I’ll see you later?” James said to Emmeline who pressed another quick peck to her cheek. Instead of the hospital wing, Remus asked, and was very adamant, about being brought to his dorm where they hauled in Y/N and Lily.

Sirius managed to get the bleeding to stop and worked on Remus before going to patch up Y/N who sat in James’ bed. The curtains were drawn just close enough for them not to be seen while Lily and James feverishly spoke to Remus.

“Ah!” She hissed as Sirius wrapped her arm carefully. Her free hand went to grip on his arm and he looked up at her apologetically.

“M’sorry — and we’re done.” Sirius tosses a quick smile, “You did amazing.” Sirius placed his material to the side and went to hold her hand gently. “What happened? Don’t you dare tell me a lie because this is serious.”

“I thought you were Sirius.” That joke never got old

Sirius broke out into a grin before it quickly vanished again. “Who did this?” He urged voice hardening yet kind. “Please, trust me.”

And she did.

Y/N reluctantly retold the story. Sirius went stiff. She grabbed his arm to bring his attention back to her. “Don’t do something that’ll make it worse. Don't you dare go looking for revenge. Promise me.”

He nodded his head but looked conflicted. At the same time, James pulled back the curtains; Y/N ripped away.

She looked around the room. “Where’s Lily?” “I told her to leave,” Remus cuts in. “I didn’t think that she would’ve liked to hear about the Snape part.”

Her eyes locked with James who wore the same expression as Sirius; he knew. And so she repeated herself, enunciating every word to the boys. “Don't. You. Dare go looking for revenge.”

[descendantofthesparrow]

How about one where the reader isn’t very good with physical touch unless they really get to know someone? Maybe Mal’s sister (but closer with Hades) or Whoever you want. Hope the set up goes well!

=

You had never been a….toucy person, even something as simple as your dad giving you an affectionate tap on the shoulder bugged you out.

Quite a big stretch from your half-sister who thrived with physical affection, she never hesitated to stretch out like a cat on her friend's laps and could cuddle up to any of them for a good couple of hours with no problem. She was touched starved from her mother maleficent so it made sense.

While you had an affectionate father who tried to show genuine love to you since you were born, but you were always off Standish to anyone so it confused the both of you.

But if you started the affection? Oohhhhh you were like a koala, one time when you were a baby; you had crawled up onto your dad's chest and just knocked out for two hours, clutching onto his shirt and refusing to let go.

He had not moved in those two hours you napped on him.

Now you had a set of mental rules for those you allowed to touch you if they got close enough to you.

1.    Don’t touch my hair

2.    ONLY touch my hair if you have permission

3.    Even if you HAVE permission, I will still jump if you touch me, so let me know when you're going to touch me

4.    Touch my neck I kill you

5.    No kisses

6.    Hand holding feels weird, fist bumps are fine

7.    I will take a long time to get comfortable with you, be patient, but don’t expect me to start being buddy-buddy with you

8.    Don’t hug me

Gil was one of those people who actually needed you to write out the list of rules for him to follow, he was a very…touchy person and needed to be reminded that you didn’t like to be touched.

Harry liked to be touchy as well, and it took you twisting his finger for him to get the hint.

Uma was the only person other than your dad to be able to touch you without “permission” but she still did it sparingly.

She thought it was funny when she would randomly brush her fingers against your shoulder and you jumped five feet in the air. But that thought would end when you would whip around and smack her in the torso.

Most recently, Harry had been trying to get closer to you, he was a very physically affectionate type person, he thrived on a simple hand running through his hair.

He hoped one day you would be comfortable enough to receive affection from him, along with being comfortable enough with him to give affection.

….oh, I forgot to mention, Harry had the biggest, fluffiest, pining crush on you. A little after he finally figured out why there were so many butterflies in his stomach when he saw you, he tried to hold your hand.

Which resulted in his wrist being twisted and him apologizing a million times before you let him go.

“harry you know I don’t like being touched!” you had sighed, taking his wrist and looking it over, giving him a soft annoyed look and ruffling his hair. “let me know before you try to touch me, next time I might not be so defensive” you stood and walked off, leaving a blushing Harry on the chip shop floor.

Though Harry had known you for almost his entire life, you had never been comfortable around him enough to even lean on him.

So when one night, a month after the wrist incident, you and Harry were taking the night shift guarding the lost revenge, sitting on the deck against the rails.

Harry suddenly felt someone lead their head on his shoulder, he slowly looked to his right, his heart fluttering as he saw you leaning on him heavily, your hands slowly wrapping around his arm and snuggling into him.

Harry let out a silent excited scream and grinned, shifting to make himself more comfortable to be your pillow. He stayed silent as possible, watching your fluttering lashes as you slept, soft snores pouring from your lips.

“wow” Uma muttered as she stepped out onto the main deck, tilting her head at you and Harry “never thought I'd see the day where (y/n) actually touches you”

“shh, shes sleepin’ ” Harry hushed, pouting at Uma.he looked back down at you, his eyes softening again.

Uma narrowed her eyes at her first mate, glancing between the goddess and Pirate “oh~” she sang, a smug grin on her face, waving her hand as Harry rose his brow at her “don’t mind me, go ahead and get your lovey-dovey cuddles in~” she skipped to her cabin, giggling to herself.

“whatever” Harry muttered to himself, lifting his arm to wrap around you, tugging you further into his side, and pressing a soft kiss to your head.

“what was that” you grumpily muttered, making harry jump.

“uh, affection?” he winced, expecting a punch to the face.

“disgusting” you huffed, feeling Harrys bicep tense against your cheek “do it again”

The tension in Harry's body dropped, and he shook his head with a smile, leaning a bit and kissing your head again, letting his cheek lean against your head as you hummed and rubbed your face against his arm. “you have permission to do that whenever you want” you muttered.

Harry grinned to himself, mentally pumping his fist in the air.

-end-

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