#his age is indeed old and he always gets straight to the point so him changing is almost a beg for clara to love him as he is

[writerfromthestars]

DPXDC PROMPT : ALFRED IS IMMORTAL

Alright. Don't get me wrong, I love au's where John Constantine is like "soul tax evader supreme", but hear me out.

Alfred.

Alfred, Alfred Pennyworth. Who just doesn't die. The guy's immortal. The reason for this is that Alfred is awesome, so anytime he dies, whether it be from old age or a bullet or a world-wide catastrophe, he looks Death straight in the eyes and tells them that he will die when the day comes that no one needs him anymore, and not a second before, and then he just kinda pops back to life. Because let's face it, the batfam would fall to pieces without him.

So, Alfred Pennyworth has basically just been cheating death for centuries, by this point.

Needless to say, Death is none too pleased. Finally, Death goes to Phantom, the new king, who is much more reasonable than Pariah Dark was and who agrees to actually help.

Clockwork helps Danny set up a portal and he zaps into existence in the middle of a Wayne movie night. The bats are all prepared to fight this mysterious weirdo, but Danny ignores them and turns to Alfred, who he then begins lecturing about ghostly tax evasion and how defying death isn't a good thing, so he needs to file paperwork through the proper channels to stay as an immortal almost-God.

Alfred is chill, he plays cards with Clockwork once when he dies, so he knew this was coming, but the batfamily thinks that this mysterious entity is going to kill Alfred, so they're all panicking, trying to think of ways to avoid this horrible future. Alfred calmly listens to Danny, then he interjects.

"Sir, are you aware of the fact that there is a revenant on earth? One who is most certainly under threat of more paperwork than I, seeing as he has been using the Lazarus Pits to revive himself for millennia. I, however, have only been alive for a few hundred years, so I should think that he is a bigger priority. "

Danny glances over at Jason, doubtful. "He doesn't look several millennia old, Mr. Pennyworth."

"Certainly not, seeing as Master Jason is not. Besides, his Undeath License was filed. I have a copy of it if you need to see it, your Majesty?" Alfred answers, demure as always.

"If it wouldn't be too much trouble, sir."

Alfred leaves and returns, moments later with a light green glowing piece of paper. he hands it over to Danny, who examines it.

"Seems legitimate. I assume you filed it during one of your many encounters with Death?"

"Indeed. I have it on good authority, however, that the other revenant, a man by the name of Ra's Al Ghul, has not renewed his License in at least the last half millennia, most likely longer."

Danny sighs. "Where can I find him."

"Nanda Parbat. The signature is impossible to miss."

"Alright, Mr. Pennyworth. I will return once he is dealt with, be it by filing his paperwork or returning him to the Infinite Realms."

"Very well. I will be ready." Alfred answers.

Danny opens a portal to the area around Nanda Parbat and then another, which plops him down right in front of the Demon's Head himself, in a strategy meeting with his daughter and several commanders.

They all raise their weapons, but he just basically grabs Ra's by the ear and tugs him through a Lazarus Green portal, lecturing him about tax evasion and paperwork and bureaucracy the whole time. The League is thrown into uproar, and Ra's is set down in a room with all his overdue paperwork from the past few thousand years. He feels a little bit like crying; if he had known immortality meant this much paperwork, he would've just died, honestly.

Meanwhile, in Wayne Manor, everyone is crying, because they think Alfred is going to die, Jason is confused about the whole revenant Undeath Certificate thing, Bruce is trying to make contingency plans, Tim is contacting the Justice League, and Alfred is planning out his defense and going through every ghostly law loophole he can think of because if he leaves these emotionally constipated crime-fighting vigilantes, he knows that the house that Martha so loved will go up in flames within a month.

Eventually, Danny comes to get Alfred for his ghostly court trial/hearing or whatever, and Alfred says goodbye to Bruce and everyone, goes to the Infinite Realms. Clockwork is on his side, and Alfred ends up winning the court case, on the condition that now that the has an Undeath License, he actually renew it every twenty years, like he's supposed to.

A week later, Alfred returns, crashes his own funeral, and explains that no, he will not be dying anytime soon.

Two weeks after Alfred's return, Constantine shows up at the manor basically begging to learn how the hell he managed to avoid death, and not only that, win a damn court case against them.

[thenameswinterfics]

GET TO KNOW…CREGAN STARK

Word Count: 1763

Cover magazine by @foxyanon Dividers by @zaldritzosrose

The following writing is a companion piece to "The Lives of Friends", a SMAU collaboration made by me, @legitalicat , @zaldritzosrose and @foxyanon.

Interview under the cut!

Interviewer: Welcome back to our readers. This is Cayn Karstark for Northern Wilds, and our weekly appointment is focused on the well-known Winter Wolves Sanctuary. But before we focus on the conservation work being done, it is important to remember that there has been a recent "changing of the guard" at the sanctuary, and now it is being run by none other than Rickon Stark's eldest son, Cregan, who is here with us today. Welcome, Cregan, and thank you for accepting our invitation.

Cregan Stark: Thank you, Cayn. It’s good to be here. 

CK: Before we start our interview, we would like to know if your father is okay.

CS: Of course, he's much more than fine, sometimes even better than me! (laughs) But it was not the health issues that convinced him to take a step back, but rather the desire to retire and focus more on his private life.

CK: We are heartened to know that health was not the reason for Rickon Stark’s retirement, but we must know this: how did you feel at the realisation that you had inherited your father’s “little empire” at such a young age?

CS: Oh well… I was intimidated at first, I won't hide it. Not all young men my age have a father who leaves you with a family business that has stood for generations. It was a huge leap of faith at first, but I overcame my fears and embraced my family's philosophy about the sanctuary, and it warms my heart to see it thriving despite this change.

CK: It was indeed a surprise to us! When the news broke, some of us were sure that your Uncle Bennard would step in for you.

CS: There was a private discussion in our family about who should replace the figure of my father. My uncle's name came up several times in internal meetings, with many for and just as many against. But Rickon Stark has always been a man of family tradition: he inherited the Sanctuary from his father, who inherited it from his father, so it was inevitable that his choice would one day fall on me.

CK: How did your uncle take your father’s choice?

CS: Knowing that old man, he would probably feel left out by his own brother, who chose his own son over him. The Sanctuary had always been a source of tension between them, with my grandfather placing the responsibility on my father's shoulders and thus neglecting his other son. Fortunately, the bad feeling was quickly dispelled and relations relaxed. He's building his own business in Winterfell, near the Wall, hoping to create a small legacy to pass on to his own sons.

CK: It's good to say that everything ended in the best possible way. But we will come back to your private life later, if you allow us, of course, and focus more on your recent activities at the Sanctuary.

CS: Of course, I’m glad to answer all your questions. 

CK: Let's get straight to the point, then. What impressed us the most about your work at the Sanctuary is there’s a continuous work philosophy between your leadership and that of your father. What convinced you not to detach yourself from him completely?

CS: Perhaps the fact that I flanked my father before he handed over control of the Sanctuary to me was the reason I did not change our working philosophy. He was an endless source of inspiration, and he was very serious and meticulous about his work: I still remember him scolding me when I mixed up the resting places of different animals, or when I made trivial mistakes at work! (chuckles, shaking his head) But he only did this because he loved his work and felt the need to preserve the family tradition through me, passing on a passion that I immediately shared with him. He was my shadow during my first days as an official owner, and it was only after he made sure that I had learned all the necessary skills that he completely disappeared from the scene. I feel like I owe something to him, and a total disassociation from our shared vision of the work would have been a misuse of the mission and vision of our work.

CK: One of the first things we noticed in your early leadership is how conservation has become a focus of your own work. Could you please explain your view on this subject?

CS: Well, the thing is, Westeros has areas of great beauty, with a cultural diversity not to be underestimated. The local fauna is highly concentrated there, and it's not surprising to see herds of wild animals roaming undisturbed in the wilderness. What worries me most is how our planet has changed significantly in recent years due to our impact on it, and how this has affected the home of most species. This is how the Winter Wolves Sanctuary works: we emphasise the importance of preserving the fragile wildlife of Westeros, providing them with a safe environment and allowing them to recover from threats such as habitat destruction. Our efforts are focused on the recovery and immediate care of animals in distress until they are deemed healthy enough to be released back into the wild. 

CK: Why is it important for you to rehabilitate animals in the sanctuary? 

CS: I think the importance of rehabilitating animals in sanctuaries is critical to preventing the possible extinction of certain species. As I said, our main goal is to protect the animals' welfare by providing them with all the food and medical care they need until we are sure we have increased their chances of survival in the wild. Every day we receive various calls about animal hoarders throughout Westeros, and we are all increasingly surprised by the number of animals we collect at the Sanctuary: large and small, puppies and adults... Every kind of animal is welcome at the Winter Wolf Sanctuary.

CK: You said before that every kind of animal is welcomed in the sanctuary. But it’s an animal species that you most frequently receive during your retirements? 

CS: Funny enough, wolves are the animals we usually take in, especially since many of the calls come from the wild areas of Winterfell. Generally young pups that lost their mother, but it happened that in the past we welcomed young adults or elder wolves as well. Sadly enough, when we have to take care of our puppies, many are too young to be released alone into their natural habitat, and so they stay with us in the sanctuary. It is the case of Fenrir, the wolf cub a person and I decided to officially adopt.

Cregan leans forward and extends his arms gently towards Fenrir, who occasionally approaches his owner. The wolf cub allows Cregan to pick him up, and he rests quietly in his arms

CS: You can pet him, it doesn’t bite! 

CK: This is surely one of the reasons why you are known as the “Wolf of Winterfell”, then! 

The atmosphere is playful, and the room is filled with the laughter of those present. A couple minutes after, everyone become serious again, and the interview goes on

CK: Thank you for sharing with us your knowledge of the animal world and the philosophy you've adopted for the sanctuary, Cregan. But I would like to reopen a small parenthesis about your family. In all the interviews we have done in the past, your father Rickon has always emphasised how close your family is. Has that changed or remained the same?

CS: Oh, luckily not! Our strong bond is what characterises us as a family. I would like to use a phrase that my father used in all his interviews: "family is like a pack of wolves: we are all united in front of the leader of the pack and no one is ever left behind." This is essentially what happened when my father decided to step in and welcome Sihtric Kjartansson into our family. He and my mother gave him food and shelter and treated him as if he were their second son, and that kind of love continues to this day. We're not blood brothers, but we've always had each other's backs and loved and respected each other as if we were. Sometimes he shows up at the doors of the Sanctuary, tired and still covered in bruises and cuts from his previous fights, but no matter how much I shout at him to go home and rest, he'll just be there waiting for a call for help, and even if I don't show it much, I'm glad for his generosity.

CK: I suppose the same relationship exists with your sisters.

CS: Right. I have two amazing sisters who have supported me from the beginning of this journey. Alisanne is my twin sister and a force of nature, she has a huge heart and supports you with everything she has. Lyanna too, as both myself and Alisanne have been her rock in her first steps into the fashion world, and in return she has supported us by helping out with the bakery and the sanctuary as much as she can. Our greatest weakness is that we are hard workers: we barely manage to find any free time, and now that Fenrir has joined the family, all attention is focused on him. Perhaps Sihtric is the only one saved from this workaholism, since his wife Rhaenerys knows how to discipline him properly. (laughs)

CK: So, outside your family, have you not yet had the chance to make new acquaintances?

CS: As I said, the sanctuary takes up most of my time, so it is difficult for me to get out and meet new people. It's also why the few relationships I've had in the past haven't lasted more than two months. But when I joined a dating app for fun, I found a connection with a girl I've been seeing recently. She's a kind soul with a lot of creativity, and being with her makes me forget all the stress and commitments I have at work. We're in a sort of 'long distance' relationship, but...

Suddenly, Cregan’s phone rings. The interviewer sees him talking a bit about something important related to work, and a few minutes after the call ends.

CS: I have to go, I've just had a call about a new hoarder coming to the sanctuary. Thank you for your time Cayn.

CK: Thank you for your time Cregan Stark and good luck with running the sanctuary.

If you've come this far, thank you so much for reading this! Hope you enjoyed it!

[lattesqueeze]

For the Pinterest prompts!! Can we get ambient, any ship??

My love! Hello! Yes! Of course you can!

Please accept a little peek into a sweet Sebchal moment. For when you wake up 💛💛💛

Sebastian is different, now he’s retired from racing. He’s softened, mellowed. Hell, enough of his old friends have teased that it’s just age. 

He sits, now, in an overstuffed armchair before a slightly sticky table. It’s dark outside, the cobbled streets flooded with the warm amber glow of the streetlights. Soft but persistent rain patters against the full-length window, and the glass steams up with opaque mist. The coffee shop is quiet enough, a soft babble filling the open space. 

The late hour and the cosy ambience of the cafe lends itself to introspection. Indeed, the removal of stress from his life had allowed Sebastian to relax into himself somewhat. Having been so young when he entered the cut-throat, hyper-competitive bubble of Formula One, he had sometimes felt he had missed out on some of the finer points of socialisation, leaning instead into the ‘win at all costs’ mindset he became known for in his younger years. 

It’s nice, now, to wake up when he chooses, and to run for the feeling of freedom it provides, rather than to break his own personal cardiovascular health records. 

Yes, it’s true that Sebastian’s retirement has seen him become calmer. However, it’s not so much the slower pace of life that has lulled him. It’s definitely more thanks to the sunshine-soft influence of the one he loves. Time is finally on their side, and at last it feels like they have all the time in the world.

There’s a gentle tinkle as the door opens. A slim brunet man makes his way straight to the counter, and orders in a hushed tone that Sebastian can’t quite hear. It doesn’t matter - he always gets it right anyway. He’s wearing a black hoodie over faded jeans, and thick-rimmed glasses. He looks so soft, and Sebastian envisions him curled into his lap on his sofa. 

Charles has been away, racing, and they haven’t seen each other for some time, and phone calls just aren’t the same. Sebastian doesn’t let his mind wander further, waiting for Charles to take the lead with what he wants. 

They never say it in as many words, but it’s there. Sebastian is the first to tell Charles he’s done a good job. Charles always orders Sebastian’s tea with honey in it, just how he likes it. They text each other first when they reach their respective destinations. They know they love each other. And everyone else who cares to know also knows. They don’t have to keep secrets any more.

Charles slides into the armchair opposite Sebastian, placing two steaming mugs on the table. 

“You’re here.” He says with a shy smile. 

“Aren’t I always?”

[siremasterlawrence]

In The Dark Ages Part 1

I woke up in a alternate reality that I in some unintentional effort manage to create in a sheer horror of it all but it’s in a the oddest of situations that I found myself in and soon enough.

I manage to get myself invited in to a brand new spanking palace in the midst of Aussie Haven a gigantic island and the six kings who are related but yet hate each other with very fiber of their being.

Part 1

King Alan Jackson Lyle is eldest of the six or seven brothers who rule and inhabit that old palace which has been in existence to for all eternity since the beginning and I love his nerve.

He sat in his glorious massive, golden and beautiful throne room that stretches for a thousand miles on and he sits proud as a peacock with his sword adorned with multi colored jewelry.

The sword stuck in to the stone ground with this heavy thunderous power sending chills in to my spine but stay strong as he lifts it up to me and pointing straight my way with a sharp edge.

I laugh a bit stomping my feet to his shock the doors closes behind us all, it it just us too now trapped behind four doors and he rises to his feet in utter defiance of it all so sweet.

King is amused clapping his hands with a gorgeous smile across his face making me plush but I resist as he continues on with his rambunctious applause so extraordinarily loud.

He grabs his sword running to edge of the platform he does a leap in to dive doing a perfect landing and faces me head on but

I have plans and take my chances landing a punch to his gut.

He loses it in a rage of pure anger raising his sword in to the air as he strikes me but misses as I easily evade me and I block all there attacks and that’s when I see my alley has arrived.

My alley throws me a sword he has crafted for me and I begin to imbue it with my power as it lit up on a sensational color displaying it and I go in to full attack mode striking him on the head.

The sword’s battle blow to blow till I hit him to the side as he falls to the floor, the sword goes flying across the room and I point it at him stopping him cold on the head slam his fist with it.

“Ian rise to your feet because you submit to me now in every conceivable way possible and you know yes.”

“Yes Master Lawrence! You are king forever but what do we do with your alley.” Ian ask about his brother.

“Yes! Well Ian take your sword up that’s it my boi, stop him at all cost and suspend him for me.”

“My pleasure.” He says to me.

“You think you can best brother? Bring it “

“Oh Brandon! I am already winning.”

“What the Devil Ian? Is this magic?”

“Indeed! Master Lawrence’s magic.”

“End it! Stab him”

Part 2

Brandon took another swing but another one a sword tackles it, pressing it with much more power and precision pinning him to the wall and his brother did best him for me his king.

Brandon’s horrifying expression on his face says it all as Ian stabs him in the stomach with a fierce intensity as he cries out in a inner pain and he fell forward to the ground and in to my arms.

He stares up at me as the last moments of this man washes away and soon he sees me as his one and only happily giving me all of his power and influence as we as his throne.

“Oh Master Lawrence! How did you manage to win us over?” Brandon.

“You usurped my power.” Ian

“Our power” Brandon

“Simple! It was always mine”

“I am your God!”

“Yes SIR”

“How shall we make you proud next?”

“I want the continent in full”

“As you wish”

“We love you Master”

“In what way”

“In every way”

“Get ready for battle “

“Sir Yes Sir”

“We are on our way”

To Be Continued

[cleolinda]

Varney the Vampire: Chapter 5

Chapter 4: The Vampyres of Norway can be revived by moonlight.

Chapter 5: Originally posted on Livejournal, December 8, 2010 in the same entry as chapter 4. Revised and expanded. Content: Abstract discussion of suicide and death in childbirth as folklore, no specifics.

Previously on:

"With regard to these vampyres, it is believed by those who are inclined to give credence to so dreadful a superstition, that they always endeavour to make their feast of blood, for the revival of their bodily powers, on some evening immediately preceding a full moon, because if any accident befall them, such as being shot, or otherwise killed or wounded, they can recover by lying down somewhere where the full moon's rays will fall on them."

Moon Insurance. *nods*

CHAPTER V.

THE NIGHT WATCH. -- THE PROPOSAL. -- THE MOONLIGHT. -- THE FEARFUL ADVENTURE.

So, upon realizing that the vampyre he doesn't believe in might not be dead after all, Henry kind of goes Blue Screen of Death for a few minutes, which is how his brother George finds him. George is bearing a letter (To you! Oh really? Yes really! That's interesting. Yes, quite, you should read it! Should I? Indeed!), which is finally the Offer of Help from Sir Francis Varney that we were promised two chapters ago.

"Sir Francis Varney presents his compliments to Mr. Beaumont, and is much concerned to hear that some domestic affliction has fallen upon him. Sir Francis hopes that the genuine and loving sympathy of a neighbour will not be regarded as an intrusion, and begs to proffer any assistance or counsel that may be within the compass of his means. "[Sent from] Ratford Abbey."

Henry: "Who?" George reminds him expositionally that A Gentleman of That Name has recently—

Wait, what the fuck, I just now noticed the "Beaumont" thing, twelve years after I first posted this. Who the fuck is Mr. Beaumont? Did Rymer straight-up forget the family's name is Bannerworth? Did he even read this before he sent it to the printer?

—has recently moved into Carfax Ratford Abbey; Henry wants nothing to do with him, because he feels angsty about the Bannerworths being secretly poor, due to ancestral shenaniganry. Etiquette! Acquaintances! Civility! Surely a round snub will teach that Sir Francis to go about this fine neighborhood having sympathy. Meanwhile, George's primary characteristic is somewhat sickly (mood, honestly), so he and Henry bicker a bit about what part he (George) should play in the evening's festivities. Eventually they decide that George should stay home and watch over Flora while Henry and Marchdale go a-vamphuntin'. Oh, by the way, did Marchdale mention that he actually tore a piece of the vampire's coat off last night? Because he totally did:

He produced a piece of cloth, on which was an old-fashioned piece of lace, and two buttons. Upon a close inspection, this appeared to be a portion of the lappel of a coat of ancient times, and suddenly, Henry, with a look of intense anxiety, said, -- "This reminds me of the fashion of garments very many years ago, Mr. Marchdale." "It came away in my grasp as if rotten and incapable of standing any rough usage." "What a strange unearthly smell it has!" "Now that you mention it yourself," added Mr. Marchdale, "I must confess it smells to me as if it had really come from the very grave."

Which, again, points to Varney being a vampyre of some age, not a newly-minted one. Which makes Volume Two a bit confusing. But I get ahead of myself.

"A thought has just stuck me that the piece of coat I have, which I dragged from the figure last night, wonderfully resembles in colour and appearance the style of dress of the portrait in the room which Flora lately slept in." [...] Mr. Marchdale held the piece of cloth he had close to the dress of the portrait, and one glance was sufficient to show the wonderful likeness between the two. "Good God!" said Henry, "it is the same!"

Okay. What is this telling us? That Varney = Sir Runnagate "Oh, Why Not" Bannerworth. That's what this is telling us, right? Right?

"I can tell you something which bears upon it. I do not know if you are sufficiently aware of my family history to know that this one of my ancestors, I wish I could say worthy ancestors, [died by] suicide, and was buried in his clothes."

Which is traditionally one of the ways people might become vampires—violent, sudden, and/or particularly self-harming deaths. See, for example, the upiór of Serbia, or the German nachzehrer. See also "Vampires, Burial, and Death: Folklore and Reality" for how some Eastern European folklore in particular may have developed to explain stages of decomposition, if you feel like you have the stomach for it. The bhūta of the Indian subcontinent seems to be somewhat less about self-harm and more about untimely deaths and unsettled matters. On the other hand, you see "death in childbirth" as a specific cause in Southeast Asia: the Indonesian kuntilanak, the Malay pontianak, and, separately, the Malay langsuyar. Interestingly, there are many, many vampiric figures in other cultures which were never human in the first place, such as spirits, demons, cryptids, fae, and more. Which is outside the scope of this one paragraph, but my point is, while I want to acknowledge a certain cultural diversity of vampire lore, with the "European vampire" that Rymer mentioned in the previous chapter, suicide is a specifically associated cause. He's giving us that hint. We're talking about it now. Sir Runnagate died that way. He's wearing this coat in the portrait and was buried in it. Varney is now wearing the coat. Right?

"You -- you are sure of that?" "Quite sure."

I'm holding you to this, okay. I have written it down, Tumblr has witnessed it, you are held.

BUT HARK: "The vampyre -- the vampyre! God of heaven, it has come once again!"

Wait, no, it's just Mr. Dr. Chillingworth creeping around in the laurel bushes. Dumbass.

Well, while we're out here nearly obliterating Chillingworth, we might as well take a turn around the grounds. George, you okay with that? No, wait, he needs a weapon if he's going to sit with Flora by himself. So he is going to his bedroom to get the sword that he keeps in his bedroom, because that's where you keep swords, in your bedroom, if you're the kind of person who keeps swords in his bedroom, but you're not Marchdale who keeps crowbars in his bedroom, and OH MY GOD, JUST GO, GO!

Four hundred words about ladders and the beauty of the night later, LOOK! "There is a young lime tree yonder to the right." I'm going to stop here and note—well, number one, by "lime tree" they most likely mean "linden," rather than "a tree that limes grow on." Secondly—that's what Carmilla passes each dawn on the way back to her grave, an avenue of lime trees. "Carmilla" was written nearly thirty years later (1874), so is that an allusion to this scene? In searching for "linden" and "lime tree" between 2010 and now, I have only ever seen 1) one unattested claim that linden is used for vampire stakes, 2) a VTM character (clan: Toreador), and 3) a New Orleans legend that might be fiction in the first place, I'm not sure. I don't know, it just seems wildly coincidental that lindens would turn up in two major vampire works. (I also looked up "laurel," such as Chillingworth nearly got "do[ne] some execution" in, and only found a recent game. I'm sorry, I'm autistic and detail-fixated and we're just all going to have to deal with that.)

(I would also like to mention that googling back in 2010 turned up an article titled, "Use of Mist Nets and Strychnine for Vampire Control in Trinidad." You gotta nip this kind of thing in the bud, or you're going to end up with a nasty vampire infestation. Vampire control is a serious problem that affects us all. I know a lot of people like to get their kids vampires for the holidays, but they get tired of them so fast, you know? "Daddy, the vampire is boring, he just sleeps all day, I want a werewolf." So many vampires end up abandoned in shelters, the kind you see in those sad commercials with the Sarah McLachlan songs and the big sad eyes and the captions that say, "Am I going to get staked today?," or just dumped out on the streets. And then you've just got an out-of-control feral vampire population and nobody wants that. Please, be responsible with your vampires.)

Meanwhile, under that lime tree is the vampyre, THE VAMPYRE!!, the body of which begins to tremble back to vitality in the [fifteen synonyms for radiant] moonlight:

As the moonbeams, in consequence of the luminary rising higher and higher in the heavens, came to touch this figure that lay extended on the rising ground, a perceptible movement took place in it. The limbs appeared to tremble, and although it did not rise up, the whole body gave signs of vitality.

"Look! We did kill it last night! The moonlight is reviving it!" BANG! "I've killed it again!' "DUMBASS, IT'S JUST GETTING UP AGAIN." BANG! In my head, this keeps going for a good five minutes. BANG! Mr. Dr. Chillingworth gets fed up with this, however, and decides to charge the lime tree with his cane/sword, but the vampyre flees into the dark, scary forest, where even sword-canes fear to swagger.

But it's not like Chillingworth actually thinks it's really a vampyre or anything.

"No, indeed; if you were to shut me up in a room full of vampyres, I would tell them all to their teeth that I defied them. [...] True; I saw a man lying down, and then I saw a man get up; he seemed then to be shot, but whether he was or not he only knows; and then I saw him walk off in a desperate hurry. Beyond that, I saw nothing."

I hope he's the first to get eaten.

Henry, meanwhile, is reaching a state of "mental prostration," "so much intense excitement, and evidence of mental suffering":

"Is [my impression] at all within the compass of the wildest belief that what we have seen is a vampyre, and no other than my ancestor who, a hundred years ago, [died by] suicide?"

Which, fair, it's kinda fucked up YOU SAID IT! YOU SAID IT!! YOU CAN'T ACT LIKE YOU DIDN'T SAY IT NOW!

Marchdale, however, finally comes up with the bright idea that, if it really is a Bannerworth ancestor and they know which one it is, why don't we just find the grave and dig it up? Now, now, sir, how are we supposed to drag this out for 230 chapters if you go having ideas and such?

(Chapter 6 will go up on Tuesday, March 28.)

[kattahj]

Thoughts after finishing Shadow

Finished watching Shadow, and I just love it to pieces. Was it what I expected? No, but it's like expecting a strawberry cake and getting a schwarzwald cake – it's different, it may take some getting used to, but it can be just as delicious if not more. Spoilery spoilers below!

I don't feel like I can express all my thoughts in one post, because I don't feel like I even HAVE all my thoughts yet. This may be a show I have to return to and watch all over to see how things are set up, because they ARE set up. I mean, they straight up told us what the shadow was, pretty early on, but it was in among so many conflicting tales and perspectives that we didn't know who to trust. And that's at the heart of the show, isn't it? Conflicting perspectives. I was thinking about how Dan was so absolutely convinced that Brother Anurak/the one-armed man was a murderer, and it turns out he wasn't at all, he tried to stop the massacre and failed. But why did Dan believe that? Because he was influenced by the Shadow, who had its own agenda: wanting to stop the school and this newfangled religion that prevented the age-old rites from taking place. At the same time, can the Shadow be said to be lying? It never said Brother Anurak murdered anyone; that was Dan's conclusion. It just made the connection between him and the ghosts – and the connection WAS there, because he WAS the one who kept their bodies hidden and thus prevented their souls from moving on. Which, from the Shadow's perspective, was probably a worse crime, since death and the dead was part of its domain. And with Brother Anurak dying at the end, did he give himself over to the Shadow? Unsubtle political point: Do not sweep the past under the carpet! Bring it out into the light, acknowledge your wrongdoing, and learn from it! Anyway, I just love that even though we have people giving completely opposite opinions, you can't definitely say who is wrong or right even at the end. Apart from Dan's dad, who was just straight-up trash, it was hard to call people heroes and villains. Even Anan, murderer, bully, homophobe, was almost pitiful at the end. As for the Shadow itself, it's so ambiguous, and I love it! Everyone told Dan that the Shadow was a threat, and he insisted that it wasn't. He claimed to be at peace in the dark realm, but seemed afraid when the Shadow materialized. And then at the end, we learn that he always belonged to the Shadow, that he was connected to it even before his birth. So does that mean that he was never meant to be in this world and he is returned to his true realm, or was he groomed from childhood and lured in by a promise to end his depression, stuck in purgatory and effectively dead? You decide! (Sidenote: I can understand sticking the final scene post-credits, to end the "proper" show on the very effective note of Trin's reflection, but I also think the scene contained a little bit too much vital information to be placed where half the audience will miss it.) We were also warned that just about any spirit could escape through Dan's body, which is indeed what happened. From Trin's perspective, I suppose this is good news; he DEFINITELY didn't like the Shadow realm. And kudos to Singto's acting and the way the scenes were set up; I had been spoiled and really enjoyed all the little ways you could tell it was a different person. (He recognizes Josh and Nai but doesn't seem to care about their presence, doesn't acknowledge Cha-aim by name until he has heard it from somebody else, and only brightens up when Master Joe enters the room.) The way it's all set up, they COULD go for a season 2, but I don't think they should. This unsettling open ending is very suitable for the show! Shows and films I have seen compared to this one have included Twin Peaks, Pan's Labyrinth, and The Haunting of Bly Manor, which all did similar things with their protagonists. It's nicely thematic. Leave it be. Also, I think some of the negative opinions I've seen have been people who got so attached to their headcanons during the hiatus that they won't accept anything else. And that would probably just get worse with the time it would take to get a second season. Well that, and then the ones who are sad we didn't get romance. Because boy howdy, did no one get a happy ending on this show. :-)

[reineboots]

a dream i woke up crying from :)

The dream began with my death. I was hit by a car and instantly became a ghost. I didn’t realize at first; it took a while to catch on that no one was reacting to my presence. Eventually I realized in a place kind of like a public bathroom. I think I might have entered a stall when someone was showering, and they didn’t react. Funny in retrospect, but absolutely horrifying at the time because it confirmed my worst suspicions. I was indeed dead.

At this point I didn’t even do anything, I just broke down and started sobbing as the realization of it all washed over me, and I realized that I’d never see my husband again. 

Then, I felt an odd tugging sensation in my stomach. Time has always been a bit of a fluid medium for ghosts, and I was about to discover this first-hand. I blinked, and suddenly found myself seated next to my husband Pete on the couch of our apartment— with him to my left, and his sister Irene with long, dark hair to my right, on her phone. Stunned, I reached out to touch his arm. He was warm and solid. He glanced over at me and smiled. Even now, awake, I can visualize him so well. Like me, he seemed to be in his early thirties, and was a natural redhead, but with eyebrows dark like his eyes, which were a rich brown. He wore a fairly thick beard, too, which was neatly groomed into a rounded shape. His eyes crinkled upwards at the corners when he smiled— the very beginnings of the wrinkles he would wear in old age. When he grinned at me then, I had to fight with everything in me not to burst into tears at the thought of him growing old without me. Already, my time left with him was rapidly running out. I could feel it.

I shot a nervous look down at my phone— the date and time were from today, minutes before I died. The first time around, I had already left the house by now. Something was going on here. 

I scooted up next to Peter and laid my head on his shoulder. He wrapped a warm, comforting arm around me. “What’s up? You call out of work?” 

“Yeah,” I said, swallowing. “Guess I wasn’t feeling well.” I guessed I had teleported here to the moments soon after I stepped out of the apartment the first time around. 

“Aw, I’m sorry.” His arm tightened in a half-hug. “Want me to get you anything?” 

“No, that’s alright.” How much time did I have left with him? A minute? Two?

He started talking about an ad he saw for Universal, and how he went to the Wizarding World of Harry Potter as a kid and would love to go again sometime. “I always wanted to go to Universal,” I said. “But it was always too expensive… now I’ll never get to.” Despair crawled into my voice, and I shut my mouth, trying to focus on the warmth of Peter next to me. He leaned back to give me a puzzled grin. “We can still go. We just need to start saving, that’s all. It might take a little while, but that’s fine.”

The seconds were trickling down to nothing. I clung to him, feeling the rise and fall of his chest. Suddenly, his body shifted— his phone was going off. My stomach sinking, I leaned away from him to give him space to take the call. 

He turned away from me as he raised the phone to his ear. A few moments later the life drained from his face. He swallowed, blinked, and hung up the phone, cutting off the voice of the somber woman on the other side.

Why was I still here? I should’ve been yanked back to my present time. Could he still see me? “Pete?” I whispered, hope rising in me. 

He slowly looked down at where I had been sitting, and I’ll never forget the expression of heartrending confusion on his face. His sister, on the other side of the couch, had caught enough of the call to be just as alarmed. When she raised her eyes from her phone she turned white as a sheet. Their eyes met across the couch, looking straight past me. Peter’s jaw worked for a moment as he tried to speak. 

“Did you hear her come back in? After she left for work?” He asked hoarsely. We had a security system that would announce whenever the front door opened. Irene slowly shook her head. “I didn’t either,” Pete said. 

It felt like my heart was ripping itself to shreds. I pulled myself against him again, praying for him to wrap his arm around me one last time. But he didn’t. He felt as warm and real as ever, but he didn’t react to me at all. Instead, he looked off in the distance for a moment. I saw his eyes glaze with tears, and they darted around a few times before settling back to look at me. Or rather, look through me. Because to him, I had vanished. He was staring at the spot where I had been. He was looking for me, right into my eyes, but he couldn’t find me.

It felt like the entire world was falling apart around me. I finally let the tears come, and buried my head against his shoulder. He didn’t react. I clung to him harder, as if I could bring myself back to life out of sheer force of will. Wet, keening sobs escaped my lips. He still didn’t react.

Desperation rose in my chest. I was going to be yanked back to my own time any second now. I didn’t want to go. I wanted to be here with him forever. I sobbed even harder. And it was then that I felt a massive shift within me, and Peter and our living room disappeared. I had woken up.

I was 19, and alone in my bed.

[sanddusted-wisteria]

A Builder, a Researcher, and a Rooftop, Ch. 23: Statistical Anomaly

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“Hey, you never know.” The builder gently took Qi’s hand and laced their fingers together. “3.14%, remember?” Qi turned towards them with widened eyes. “You…remembered that?”

Also on AO3

A/N: Hey, remember Statistical Anomaly? The oneshot that was the springboard for this fic that I wrote almost a year(!!) ago? I always intended for that to be a part of this fic, but before, I figured I would just link to it via A/N in between the chapters that I thought it would take place in. That was before this fic's outline tripled in size, though. So for the sake of flow and continuity, I decided to touch it up a little bit and make it its own chapter in here! Most of it is ripped straight from the original oneshot, so there's not a whole lot you're missing if you've already read it. I've just made some minor edits to improve the dialogue and make it fit in as a chapter as opposed to a standalone oneshot. Enjoy (again)!

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"My parents were quite surprised to find out about our relationship. However, when I was ten, I calculated that the probability of me finding love was roughly three point one four percent. They wouldn't have been so surprised if they had simply recalled the conversation in which I relayed that statistic."

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The Milky Way stretched its way in a magnificent arc across the sky, highlighting the already brilliant sea of stars with a luminous cloud. The silence of night was only broken by the cool desert breeze, and the subtle whirring of the research center’s machinery.

The builder was in a trance. If it weren’t for the grounding sensation of the plush blankets under their back, and the warmth of Qi at their side, they felt as if they could just fall upwards into that beautiful cosmic expanse.

A rather bright shooting star suddenly shot across their vision. The builder gasped, mind frantically stumbling to make a wish. Beside them, Qi tensed. It was only after a solid five seconds after it disappeared from view that he relaxed with a sigh of…relief? Disappointment?

“No impact,” he said, before the builder could ask him for his wish. He probably would’ve insisted that he didn’t make one, anyway.

“...Is that a good thing?” the builder asked.

“I was wondering if that was an Old World satellite or space debris that fell out of orbit.”

“I think it’d look more like a giant fireball if it was. Probably would fall into the ocean anyways.”

Qi groaned. “What a waste.”

“Hey, if that thing fell onto Sandrock, it’d be me cleaning up the mess.”

“That’s ideal! You would be the first one to hand me any relics you find inside.”

The builder snorted. “Is that why we’re dating?”

“I suppose it is a benefit. Companionship, positive emotions, a wellspring of inspiration and ideas, and exclusive access to new relics before the Civil Corps and the Church get their grubby fingers on them first.”

“Glad to see you know everything you want out of a partner,” the builder laughed. Qi joined in, his quiet chuckling rumbling against their side. “Seriously though, could something like that actually happen?”

Qi hummed in thought. “I’m not sure. Overall, odds are astronomically low, but with the recent satellite crash in Portia, that might change ever so slightly. Might be wishful thinking on my part though.”

“Hey, you never know.” The builder gently took Qi’s hand and laced their fingers together. “3.14%, remember?”

Qi turned towards them with widened eyes. “You…remembered that?”

“Yeah. Ever since you told me that, I always wondered how exactly you got that number. Seems kinda hard to calculate.”

“Indeed it was. I decided to challenge myself and attempt to calculate what so many thought was utterly unquantifiable.”

“At age 10, too.”

“Age 10 is an important stage of childhood development.”

The builder snorted. “Don’t think I was crunching numbers nonstop when I was 10…”

“It was more than just math. It was a full research undertaking.”

“Oh?” The builder turned on their side to face Qi. “Where’d you start?”

Qi brought a hand to his chin. “Hmm… Well, let’s see…” The builder felt a tiny smile lift the corner of their mouth, seeing him prep for another one of his rambly and incredibly thorough explanations.

“Well, for my calculations, my primary consideration was people,” he began, speaking as if summarizing his latest findings to a fellow researcher. “Both myself and the people around me. I had always wanted to be a researcher, and I preferred to work either alone or only with a close friend. Any communication with others besides my family could be done through letters or telegrams. So that already made my chances low. Intuitively, the fewer people I interact with, the lower my chances of forming any sort of connection with one. Pairing that with my rather raw personality, the chances of meeting anyone at all who would be romantically interested are also incredibly low.”

“But not zero,” the builder chimed, nudging Qi’s side with a grin.

“No, not zero,” Qi echoed, breathing a quiet, wistful sigh. “In any case, I took those factors into consideration, combined it with several other variables like Alliance population densities and general reports on romantic compatibility in couples, and found that my chances at finding love were around 3.14%. Accounting for error, of course.”

Accounting for error…so that could’ve been an overestimate. “...Was it…difficult to see the result?”

Qi hesitated. “At the time, it seemed rather sad. But when I considered how rare love seemed to be from personal accounts and stories, it started to make sense. I wasn’t particularly bothered in the long-term. I was still interested in research first and foremost.”

Silence fell over the two of them again.

Were you? the builder thought. They kept their eyes on Qi, trying in vain to read his expression. Qi just kept staring calmly at the stars above.

Qi was the first to break the silence with a quiet hum, knocking the builder out of their thoughts. “It’s been a long time since I ever considered that calculation. It’s in much need of a revision.”

“Really? What changes?”

“Different environments, for one. Sandrock is completely different to Vega 5 in every aspect. A smaller community in crisis and differences in culture make one more obligated to personally interact with others.”

“Especially if someone in said community keeps pestering you just to give you a power stone every other day,” the builder snorted.

“Of course,” said Qi, rolling his eyes. “In the middle of deriving difficult proofs, no less.”

The builder just laughed, seeing the faint sparkle of amusement in his eyes.

“Or trying to finish a diagram due in under 12 hours, or working with dangerous chemicals, or performing statistical analysis with a huge dataset…” Qi counted off on his fingers. “Truly bothersome.”

“Wow. What a monster,” the builder drawled. “Who could do such a thing?”

“Someone truly peculiar, for sure.” Qi couldn’t hide the tiny upward turn of his lips.

“Heh. So how much does that change the odds?”

“It increases them by a somewhat significant amount. I never anticipated leaving Vega 5 when I was younger, so I couldn’t have foreseen something like that. But I think it’s irrelevant regardless.”

“Irrelevant how?”

“There’s a second new factor that I couldn’t have seen coming even when I moved to Sandrock. It single-handedly managed to overpower almost every other factor. I’d even call it anomalous; it was completely unprecedented.”

“An anomaly, huh?”

“Yes. An anomaly no one could have foreseen.” Qi turned on his side to meet the builder’s eyes. “It suddenly arrived one summer’s day. Soon enough, it had managed to tangle itself into everything. The city’s well-being, the lives of everyone here…and even my own feelings.”

The builder flushed. “A-aw come on. Doesn’t sound like an anomaly to me.”

“Ah, but it was. Is. Sandrock was clearly on a decline on all fronts. Ecologically. Economically. And yet, when the anomaly appeared, everything seemed to start turning around. Slowly, but noticeably. Even now, change is happening.”

They smirked. “Well. Aren’t you the one who keeps saying ‘correlation doesn’t mean causation?’”

“Very good. But correlation may imply causation,” he corrected. “Many times it doesn’t, but if there is a logical reason for the correlation, a causation may be inferred.

“With the anomaly came restoration of town infrastructure, despite numerous bandit attacks, a dramatic increase in production speed and quality from the commerce guild, and even minor reversal of desertification. This anomaly was at the center of it all, an uncontrollable and unpredictable variable in everything. I think it’s fair to say it’s a logical causation, wouldn’t you?”

“Okay, okay. But what’s it got to do with you?”

“Ah. E-erm. Well. Through…extensive direct interaction with the anomaly, it was pretty clear to see the effects it had on me.” Qi suddenly seemed to have trouble keeping his eyes on the builder’s.

“Oh?” their lips curled into a coy smile. “Care to fill me in on your methodology?”

Even in the dark, they could see Qi’s face reddening. “I–uh…wasn’t expecting to be writing a new research paper right now. Much less in a…spoken-word format.”

“You’re stalling…” the builder replied in a sing-songy voice. “Methods?”

“Er…interactions were basic to start with. A small conversation here or there. Several new machine diagrams drawn. Occasionally it produced a power stone or data disk right as my supply was running dry. Or a fresh cup of tea. Somehow it never seemed to run out of goodwill.”

“And then I guess it started snowballing from there.”

“Indeed. It started appearing outside my working hours, when I would be observing the stars. And then it just…kept returning. Over and over. Just to stargaze. And also to interact with me, for whatever reason.” The builder snorted. “Whether it was in daytime or nighttime hours, it would appear. You’d think I’d get annoyed at its constant presence, but I started welcoming it. Anticipating it. Enjoying it, even.”

“And why is that?” The cheeky grin hadn’t left the builder’s lips.

“W-well, my research started advancing at an improbable rate when the anomaly started regularly appearing. Lots of data disks and relics… And then—” Qi gestured up at the massive telescope beside them. “—it managed to produce an entire telescope…something that any researcher at Vega 5 could only dream of using, let alone owning.”

“And…?”

The flush on Qi’s face was darkening. “A-and…it…um. It also manifested one of my greatest dream designs into a physical reality—”

“From something very obscure…” the builder grinned.

“S-something you never would’ve heard of,” Qi snorted.

“Uh huh. Is that all? Noooo other reason?”

Qi stammered some more, trying to fit the right words together. “I-in general… I found myself e-enjoying the anomaly’s presence. Proximity to it increased positive emotions by…erm…200%, and lowered stress by…40…no, 50%.”

The builder’s smile softened. “I see.”

“Furthermore, it seemed to trigger a positive feedback loop in me, where interaction led to desire for more interaction, which led to more interaction, and so on. Truly…” Qi took a breath. “...an utterly fascinating phenomenon.” His voice trailed off into a whisper.

The builder felt their cheeks heating again. “And how did that loop get started exactly?”

“Not by conscious choice. It just so happened that the anomaly’s work tied firmly into my work. Encountering it was inevitable.”

“So…how does that factor into your calculations?”

“Right. When we factor in this anomaly, my old calculations become totally obsolete. Instead of 3.14%, the probability of me finding love…” Qi’s voice lowered even more, barely a breath on the breeze.

“...is 100%.”

The builder was at a loss for words. They could only stare back at him, eyes glittering like the stars above. Qi’s face softened into that rare, private smile reserved just for them: small but full of warmth. It made their entire body glow with an invisible, but brilliant light.

Qi closed his eyes. “If the parallel universe theory is to be believed, there are many universes where you never come to Sandrock. There are many universes where I never come to Sandrock. But in every one that we do come here, and we meet…I will always fall for you.” He closed the distance between them, gently bringing his forehead to theirs. “The data doesn’t lie.”

His breath tickled their lips, making it achingly difficult to resist his touch. They slowly brought their hand up to his chin, tilting his head toward them with a feather-light brush. They moved in tandem, bringing their lips together into a gentle kiss.

Qi sucked in a gasp through his nose, caught unaware. And then he relaxed, letting it out as a blissful sigh. He draped his arm around their shoulders, pulling them in as close as he could. The builder’s free hand moved of its own accord, weaving through Qi’s unruly hair. They felt their nose nudge his glasses out of place, but that hardly mattered.

The builder let themself melt into Qi’s warmth. The glow inside of them burned brighter and brighter. They no longer had to imagine themself falling up into the endless sky. They were there already, a brand-new star floating on the celestial sea.

They pulled away to breathe, and suddenly they were back on Earth. The remnants of Qi’s touch tingled beneath their skin, the glow fading but never vanishing. Qi still gave them the same tranquil smile, his face ruddied all the way to his ears. The builder returned it with an adoring gaze of their own.

“I love you,” they whispered.

“And I, you,” he whispered back.

None in Sandrock would ever hear them, but the gentle wind carried the words from their lips, lifting them up, up, and away for the stars alone to listen.

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A/N: I look back at the A/N for Statistical Anomaly and I laugh a little. "I've got a couple more Qi ideas that I might take a crack at in the near future." Oh past me, you don't even know what's coming.

One thing hasn't changed though: Qi is still a dingus, and I still love him dearly.

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[thelastranger]

Chapter 5 is up for the Hallasholm Helmswoman!

"It's good to see you two out and about." 

"It's good to be here with you, Erak." That wasn't an empty platitude coming from Lydia. She genuinely liked being with Erak and the food at Helga's, though it couldn't compare to Karina's meals, was top notch. 

Erak had invited them to lunch and there was a lot to discuss. Rollond had been appointed Oberjarl just six months ago, blindsiding a sizable portion of the older Hallasholm public and surprising precisely none of the younger adults. What had been surprising was Edvin leaving his job at the infirmary and becoming an advisor for Rollond. Rumors had flown about his motives, but Edvin maintained that he only wanted to help out Rollond as best he could. 

After discussing all the various updates around town (Erak had a lot of opinions on the current state of the beachfront) and families, the conversation slid towards the recently finished brotherband competition and the upcoming one. With the practiced cadence of someone who had gone through this conversation in their head many, many times, Erak asked if Dirk was looking forward to the brotherband competition.

Ingvar and Lydia exchanged a loaded look and Ingvar decided to be frank. "Dirk is… reluctant to join the training. We think it would be good for him, but you try getting a fifteen year old to do something they don't want to do."

"Erika is exactly the same. Nothing can stop her." 

"I like to hear that," said Lydia approvingly. "She sounds like she's got a promising future ahead of her." 

Erak nodded with pride. "Yes, that's part of the reason I've called you two here today.

The real reason I called you here today is this."

He cleared his throat and took a big swig of ale. "You may not have noticed, but I am not as spry as I used to be."

"We hadn't noticed at all," murmured Ingvar as Lydia kept a suspiciously straight face. While Erak was still in great health for his impressive age, he had slowly been relying more and more on his acclaimed walking staff. Losing Svengal two years earlier hadn't helped the old Oberjarl either. Attempts to point this out had been vigorously rebuffed. Only Erika could convince Erak to let her help him.

"I am getting old and there are things that I would like to see done before I go to Valhalla."

Now this was getting a bit worrying. What possibly could Erak not have accomplished yet that was so pressing? He had negotiated peace treaties, teamed up with legendary figures, and been Oberjarl during Skandia's great change. By all standards, Erak Starfollower had accomplished more than anyone else could hope to do.

"As naive as it may seem, I have always harbored the idea that Erika would be the first female helmsman in Hallasholm. It's high time the brotherband competition was opened to the young ladies of the town." 

Lydia and Ingvar sat in stunned silence. This was not what they had been expecting to hear at all. 

"And since I'm getting older and Erika is about to take the first steps into becoming a proper member of our society, I want you two to convince Rollond to let Erika into the competition next year and rally support around town." 

It was no secret that Erak doted on his only grandchild. She had him wrapped around her finger, but this was something completely different.

"We've had women on the ships, but never gone through the training," mused Ingvar, wracking his brain for any examples. 

"It's not without precedent. There are lady sailors over near Temujai, although I won't have her become a famous pirate. You won't find a better ax thrower at her age than Erika. And Lydia, you were a part of the Herons." 

"Am," Lydia corrected. "I am a part of the Herons."

Erak, in a rare fit of tact, did not say anything about this. 

Ingvar had indeed seen the marks left in trees for the axes and Erika, for all that he had heard about her from Erak and Dirk, seemed quite capable.

"What do you say?" 

Erak sat in silence, anxiously awaiting their answer. 

It would be a difficult task and was quite likely to alienate them from some of their neighbors. There was even a good chance they would fail. And yet Ingvar knew without a doubt that Lydia was going to say yes. She had been helping mentor the young women in town for years, but nothing had ever gotten done. This could be the first real chance to make a positive change in Hallasholm for the young women who wanted to explore the world. 

And besides all that, perhaps this would get Dirk interested in the competition. As much as he denied being friends with Erika, Ingvar knew that Dirk liked having her around even if he wasn't the best at showing it. And Erika seemed not to mind too much Dirk's silence. 

Ingvar was in.

Lydia got up off of the bench. "I need to talk to Rollond. I know how to help Hal."

"Hal?" Where did Hal factor into this? Erak was now starting to regret asking Lydia and Ingvar to be his hands and mouth for this mission. Had they misheard him?

There was steel in Lydia's stare as she looked Erak in the eyes. "On Boh-Raka's branch, we're going to get Hal to train Erika before the competition." 

It was outrageous, shocking, and quite likely to blow up in their faces much like one of Hal's inventions. Ingvar was on board immediately. For a moment, it felt exactly like old times. He smiled at his wife and then the smile stretched even further as he started to imagine the possibilities for the future. If they could make it work, Ingvar could imagine a brighter future and he could imagine this project being exactly the sort of thing that snapped Hal out of his funk. 

[a-wayfairing-stranger]

Lucky.

A little thing to try and work out Tabitha and Colm’s relationship, its a bit rough but its something.

The night was bright, the air warm, the sound of music and laughter was carried on the pleasant breeze, A party was happening in the camp, a rare sight indeed, but one which was deserved, a victory, another planet saved, another job well done.

Tabitha Basteel sat a fair distance away from the main party and sipped her tea. She'd been working for almost two days straight in the hospital, and was ordered to take time off, but even now sitting here she couldn’t make herself tired.

The breeze carried the smell of sweetness towards her and she smiled, she knew the smell of a cigar when she smelt it.

“Colm..” 

Colonel Colm Corbec was a prime example of the men of Tanith, he was big and brawny, with frazzled graying hair and a beard you could hide a lasgun in, his arms bore the swirly blue tattoos of his homeworld and he usually had a cigar clenched between his teeth, he looked imposing but underneath it all he was a gentle, caring man.

“Tabby cat.”

He sat next to her with a sigh “How are you?”

“Tired..”

To emphasize her point Tabitha rested her head on Colm’s shoulder, he smiled and stroked her hair, brushing a strand away from her face. 

“You need to look after yourself, you're no use to anyone when you’re dead on your feet.”

Tabitha smiled, “You sound like My Father.”

“Old enough to be..”

“Not this again Colm..”

She sat up straight and put the cup of tea on the floor next to her feet, she then took Colm’s cigar from his mouth.

“I’ve told you before, I don’t care about the age difference between us..”

She went to kiss him but he moved away, his bushy eyebrows furrowing 

“It ain’t right for a pretty young thing to be with a deadbeat old man like me.” 

“Colmy..” 

She dropped the cigar, ironically it landed in her tea with a plop.

“Don’t.”

She cupped his face, she always loved the feeling of his beard

“Come on Tabs, What prospects do I have? I’m an old man…in a career where not many men get that luxury.” He placed one of his big hands on top of hers “And you’ve got a family back home who’ll want kids and a husband from you, not some backwater trash like me.”

“I have seven brothers and sisters, That's enough husbands, wives and children for anyone..”

Before he could protest further, she kissed him, soft and loving, she could never in a thousand hours of sitting here describe to him just how much she did love him, he was an anchor in the rocky waters around them, even after hours in the hospital, hours of blood and death, Tabitha knew that Colm would come visit, and offer her a cup of recaf or a cake bar he’d “Found”

“I love you, You great bushy bearded bastard..”

He smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling 

“Such language Nurse Basteel..”

“I spend too much time with this Colonel.”  

“Oh you do, do ya?”

“Yes, he’s so handsome I let it slide..”

“Well, lucky him.”

[linkgab-blog]

𝑊𝑂𝐿𝐹𝐸𝑁𝑆𝑇𝐸𝐼𝑁 𝐹𝐴𝑀𝐼𝐿𝑌

_______________________

𝕬𝖗𝖈𝖍𝖎𝖇𝖆𝖑𝖉 𝖂𝖔𝖑𝖋𝖊𝖓𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖎𝖓

Archibald, or Archie for short is a seventh Generation Royal Knight of the Wolfenstein Family. A long line indeed of royal Knight's! Ever since he was old enough to stand and talk his father began to train him. He quickly and easily fell in step behind his father. Especially after his father, at the age of 73 fell ill and couldn't preform his duties as the royal Knight tasked with protecting the royal family. It was then when Archie was 14 he stepped up, pledging his allegiance to the Royal Family and becoming knighted. Tasked with protecting the Princess of said royal family mostly.

At one point several years down the line archie, at the age of 21 was tasked with aiding the soldiers in pushing back a viking clan that had dared to enter the kingdom's territory unwelcomed! But of course things didn't go as planned and he came across a formidable and strong Viking woman! And her name was Hilda Thunderbird, who just so happened to be the daughter of the clan thunderbird's Chief! And let me tell you, she put up one hell of a fight! The more Archie fought the more he became intrigued and impressed by her skills. It was there eventually the two formed some odd attraction for one another.

On one night, 6 months into the raid on the beloved kingdom during Archie's fight against the thunderbird clan he snuck out of his tent, meeting up with Hilda and there the two did the unthinkable! Against all rules saying otherwise.. they spent the night together! After that night they went Their separate ways, back to being enemies again.

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𝕳𝖎𝖑𝖉𝖆 𝕿𝖍𝖚𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖇𝖎𝖗𝖉

Hilda Thunderbird. A fierce and Fearless warrior! Also the only Daughter of the Chief of clan Thunderbird. The day she was born her eyes glowed and shimmered in light. She had a fire behind her eyes. A light that no one could extinguish! Right then her father knew she'd be a mighty warrior. And even though he was a little disappointed he didn't have a son, he was proud and happy to have her. He knew her strength would keep her alive through the hard days..

That said, 3 years later She and her father had lost their mother due to the harsh winter.. leaving only her father to try and run a clan and also care for an infant. Somehow he managed. Also with a little help from a good friend, known as Threya who kinda became like a supstitute mother.

By the time Hilda was 6 she was getting into all sorts of troubles! Threya couldn't keep her under control! Always running off with the boys, hanging out with them and getting into trouble when they'd break into fights. Hilda always being the one to win of course. Threya had no choice but to include her father in the Matter! It was then her father decided to train her in becoming a warrior.

Fast forward several years later, by the time she was 19 her clan had settled into new territory and that's when she met Archie in her very first day in the new lands. It was a good strong battle! The two fought for almost an hour straight! It seemed Hilda had found another equal in strength. And as is known they developed an attraction towards one another.

It wasn't until 2 months after that night her and archie had hooked up, Did Hilda find out she was pregnant. She feared for her child and what might happen if Archie had found out.. she knew he'd try to take the child. Thus when she requested to her father, the Chief that they make a tactical withdraw from the land. Not long after that, she met archie as he had requested. So that they could spend one last time together before her clan left, and that's when he found out she was pregnant! Hearing she wanted to flee and run away angered him. The two argued and as she suspended, he wanted to take the child to live with him. "Somewhere safe. To have a better life" he'd tell her. But she knew if he did that she'd never get to see her child again, and so she fought him, bearly escaping that night from him. The next morning her clan left and was gone.

It wasn't until 9 months later, after Hilda had given birth to her New born Daughter, to which she named Alita, that during Her clans travel's out of the kingdom they were surrounded and attacked by the king's army, there archibald had rushed into the tent, fighting Hilda and ultimately taking Alita, their daughter from her.

"don't do this, Archie!!" She begged.. "THAT'S MY DAUGHTER YOU BASTARD! I'LL... I'LL KILL YOU!" She shouted from the ground where she sat, injured from the battle between her and archie. "She's MY daughter too! And she belongs with her father!.. of you hadn't of run you and her could have been together. With me, but NO! You just had to run off!" And with that, he left with Alita. Not be seen by Hilda for a long time.

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𝕬𝖑𝖎𝖙𝖆 𝖂𝖔𝖑𝖋𝖊𝖓𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖎𝖓

Alita Wolfenstein. The Daughter of Archibald and Hilda. Between the stubbornness and sheer raw strength and that same fire within her from her mother and her father's athletics and skill she will no doubt become one of the greatest Knight's! But wait! Isn't it forbidden for woman to become a knight? Perhaps.. but that won't stop her!

Luckily Alita was granted clearance to stay and live with her Father, even after the king found archibald broke rules and was with a woman.. as was forbidden without permission, but thankfully the king and Archibald were good friends. And so they were able to work out a deal. Alita would live with her father, under one condition. That she be given a care taker to look after the infant while Archie was working. Archie, of course agreed to the terms happily. He had only wanted what was best for his daughter.

Unfortunately growing up for Alita was nothing easy! Even her being the royal Knight's daughter had it's lemits.. for example.. a fellow knight, archibald's best friend was abusive to Alita! While Archie was working, behind his back he'd offer to help look after Alita, but he did the opposite! He'd make her serve him, bring him stuff and if she got it wrong then he'd slap her, hit her. Hell one time she carries a bowl of boiling hot water to him and he smashed her face in it! Burning out her eye and leaving a permanent scar in her face. But her being her mother's child she didn't allow it without putting up a fight! She screamed, thrashed around until she grabbed a near by rock, hitting him in the head with it and knocking the guy out cold! Thankfully she was able to get away that day.. when her father returned home concerned about what happened, she'd tell him she got in a fight and tripped and fell face first into a bowl of boiling water by accident.. even he knew she was lieing. When he asked her again she finally admitted it. "Your best friend did it!!" She shouted in anger, glaring up at him. Instead of him doing what you'd THINK a normal dad would have done, he denied it! Told her she was just saying that cause she didn't like him. And that his best friend would never hurt her.. and so Alita was forced to keep the truth a secret.. Everyone she told no one would believe her.. it wasn't until one day archie caught his friend In the act and attempted to step in, but Alita had already taken action. She grabbed a near by hammer and began to beat him with it. All that pent up anger released. She screamed and continued to beat him until he was nearly dead. "ALITA!" Archie stepped him, grabbing her forarm and stopping her. "Enough! He can't hurt you no more.." he whispered. Slowly she let go of the Hammer. Still panting hard she glared up at her father. "No thanks to you! 7 months, Father! 7 months I had to put up with this shit! All because you didn't want to believe!" She hissed and ripped her arm out of his grip before storming off.

For awhile she was angry at him. Wanted nothing to do with him, but eventually she learned to forgive him, and he did after all teach her some self defense training as well a little knight training so that she could take care of herself. Eventually she began to look up to him again, especially after she saw what he did in his line of work and she decided she wanted to be a knight too! From then on she followed in his foot steps. Even going so far as to take on his last name.

Even with everyone shunning her for wanting to be a knight she kept on! Even when everyone told her no woman could be a knight! She continued ignoring what everyone said, FINALLY when she was 16 she had convinced the King to allow her to become knight! BUT under one circumstance. She was ONLY allowed to be knighted so that she could perform her task to serve as a particularly stubborn princess's knight. All other knight's before Alita had tried and failed their duties. Perhaps it was time to take a different approach. And so Alita was allowed to be a knight!

Of course, being the ONLY female knight who happens to be the daughter of the Great Archibald Wolfenstein, favored royal Knight of the king comes with it's perks! She was given special armor, like her father's with the family Wolfenstein Crest on it of a howling wolf.

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Alita Wolfenstein Character info:

First name: Alita

Last name: Wolfenstein

Age: 24

Hair color: a copper brown

Eye color: one amber eye and one red eye with a burn scar over it due to the abuse she took from her father's best friend.

Height: 5,11

Weight: 135

Body: fit, athletic

Skin tone: Tan complexion

Personality: stubborn, strong willed, determined, Quick on the draw, Loyal, Serious, but does have a fun side when she's relaxed, can be spunky, playfully even as well as bold, doesn't take no bullshit, says what's on her mind.

__

PHEW that to me SO long! Hope everyone enjoys it! These are my new medieval Oc's!

[seyaryminamoto]

I try not to get too rambly lately because I am indeed busy (trying to finish a Patreon piece rn!), but... I'd say this moment warrants it.

I have spent over a decade building up to this chapter and its developments. It's very much the climax of the entire story. The journey we've been on was always meant to lead us to this, for all emotions to come to a head, for all threads to converge right where they shall.

To make it clear just how long ago I intended for this particular plot point, I hereby present all evidence needed:

This is a scanned old artwork from a long time ago. I've kept it quiet for ages, showing it only to a few people, because I didn't want to give away too much pertaining how Gladiator would unfold.

This piece was scanned on November 11th, 2014, according to the properties of the file. While of course I was nowhere near the level of quality I am at now, this piece, at the time, was one of my unquestionable best. In fact, I remember @jordanalane straight up asking me if I had asked someone else to draw this, because it seemed sooooooooo beyond my style back in those days... I was pretty flattered by that, even if maybe I should have been proud and said OF COURSE it was me! 🤣But the point still stands, it was a rarity for me to do something of this quality 10 years ago, even if I absolutely could remake it and outdo it now.

What I'm saying is simply that I've spent a long, long time working towards this endgame. Once I realized where we were headed, the direction of Gladiator became kind of immutable in my head. It was the ending that made sense. The development that would bring everything together properly:

Our story started with these two clashing, as enemies, and altering their lives forever by what appeared to be a mere coincidence.

In that instance, Sokka was completely overwhelmed. He wasn't strong enough to fight one-on-one against Azula. She had the upper hand at every point in time. That was the starting point of Sokka's gradual power climb: he faced an unbeatable foe who then became his greatest ally, helping him become so much stronger than he ever knew he could be...

... Leading up to this: once again, they face each other as enemies, after what feels like a lifetime of bonding and sharing incredible adventures, growing together and becoming better people by each other's side. Both grew stronger across time... but Sokka, undoubtedly, had the steeper power climb. Thus, the outcome this time is nowhere near as straight-forward as it was back when the story began.

Sokka's growth was meant to bring him here, to face his worst possible enemy, and this time, actually have a chance to prevail. What most people surely didn't expect all along was for this worst-enemy to be Azula, of all people, after everything they've been through. But what exactly will he choose when he finally has a chance at victory against her? Can he stay true to who he is... or will the pressures destroy him?

Near the start of the story, Piandao warned Azula to be careful, for if she broke Sokka to the point where he no longer knew who he was, Sokka would lose his greatest strength. He warned her not to turn him into someone he was not. It's a thread that has been dangling all throughout the story, sometimes easily forgotten, but ever-present nonetheless: in pushing matters to the extent Azula has, is Sokka's true self lost now? Or will he cling to it still, even in the face of likely death, all be it to make an unthinkable choice that might just change the fate of the world...?

:')

Guess you'll find out on Friday! :'D

Preview: Gladiator Chapter 374

As memories of better times rush through their minds and hearts, Sokka and Azula collide on a battlefield, as enemies, for the first time since their fateful encounter in the South Pole. The armies around them remain at a standstill, waiting for the outcome of the duel between Princess and Gladiator.

One will hesitate. The other will demand for no mercy. As steel and flames clash furiously, the fate of the world shall hinge on the choice the victor shall make, upon facing a defeated foe: will the blade strike down...?

Or will they surrender?

Read Gladiator HERE or HERE

For a snippet of the new chapter, support me on Patreon!

[messers-moony]

Chaser at Heart | J.P

Paring: James Potter X Fem!Reader

Summary: Without realizing it James Potter has always been a Chaser regardless of his Quidditch position.

Everybody wondered where James Potter got his snitch that he played with. Rumors had been created, but only James and Y/n knew the real truth. The most common story was that James and his Marauders nicked it from a supply closet. The honest question was, why did James play with a snitch when he was a Chaser?

Y/n knew. James - even as a boy - had brilliant reflexes. They met in a field that was near both their houses. James went to the field to sit by the lake or even swim in the lake. Y/n climbed the trees and read books on the safety of the wooden bark. But one day, she wasn’t as lucky. Y/n fell from the branch she was sitting on, and James chased after her to catch her. 

Brilliant reflexes James had. At eight years old, he caught her and ran fast enough to do so. Y/n was waiting for impact, but she never felt it. Instead, two arms had been wrapped around her. One under her knees and one around her back. Instantly she was met with hazel eyes. 

They were beautiful. A gorgeous mix of green and brown. But it wasn’t mixed like paint - no - it was mixed like old and vinegar, separated but together. His hair was shaggy and a mess. It was a beautiful chocolate brown color to match the brown in his eyes. The grass could resemble the green in his eyes. Peonies represented the pink in his cheeks. 

The boy smiled, and Y/n smiled sheepishly back, “Afternoon.”

“Afternoon, sir.”

“Sir?” James repeated teasingly, “Do I look thirty?”

Y/n laughed, “Sorry. Force of habit.”

James set her on her own two feet, “Pureblood then too?”

“How did you know I was a witch?”

“Your scarf.”

She looked down to see the gold and maroon-colored scarf, “Oh. In that case, yes, I am a pureblood. You?”

“Me too.” James stated proudly, “Family of Gryffindors.”

“Me as well.”

James took her hand and kissed the back of it, “James Potter, at your service.”

Y/n blushed at his action, “Y/n L/n, at your service.”

From that point, Y/n and James became close friends. They’d switch between going to the lake or climbing trees. Thankfully their families knew each other, so becoming friends only brought them closer. In fact, Euphemia was so grateful to have Y/n’s mother closer now that their children were friends. Fleamont was delighted to be closer with Y/n’s father. 

Fleamont Potter delved in Potion making while his wife Euphemia worked at St. Mungo’s, helping wizards and witches all around London. Y/n’s father worked with magical creatures, and her mother worked with Euphemia. James and Y/n got extraordinarily lucky. They were together almost every day. 

Meeting at the age of eight gave them three years of being friends before going to Hogwarts. They were close by the age of eleven - really close. They stood side by side as they got on the Hogwarts Express and shared a compartment. James and Y/n talked animatedly until a knock at the container startled them. 

“Um- Hello, everywhere else is full. May I sit?” 

The boy had sandy hair and green eyes. Scars littered his body as far as the eye could see. He was rather tall for an eleven-year-old too, but he seemed nice enough. His voice had a thick welsh accent. It made his language a bit incoherent, but James and Y/n knew what he was trying to say. Nevertheless, James put on a bright smile. 

“Of course!”

He gave a nervous smile looking at Y/n, “Come on. We don’t bite. Although James gets pretty loud.” Y/n smiled.

The boy sat hesitantly beside Y/n, “I’m Remus, Remus Lupin.”

“Brilliant to meet you, Remus; I’m James Potter.”

“And I’m Y/n L/n.”

Another hour went by with James and Y/n starting to get to know Remus. They learned that he was a half-blood and that he thoroughly enjoyed books. Y/n and Remus bonded over that while James was listening aimlessly, just enjoying the sound of Y/n’s voice. But another knock interrupted the conversation. This time a more confident boy showed up. 

He was about the same height as James. He had dark brunet hair - darker than James’ - and blue-grey eyes. His smile was almost perfectly white and straight. His face structure was defined and chiseled. A cocky smiled grazed his features. 

“‘Ello!” He exclaimed, “I was wondering if I could sit here. I just got kicked out of every other compartment.”

Remus and Y/n shrugged; they looked at James, “Sure.” James replied, patting the seat beside him, “Come sit, uh….”

“Sirius, Sirius Black.” Sirius finished sitting beside James as both purebloods dropped their jaws. 

“Black? As in the Noble House of Black?” Y/n questioned, and Sirius nodded, “Indeed.”

James stuck out his hand, “James Potter.” Sirius shook his hand. 

“Y/n L/n.”

“You two are purebloods too. Gryffindor purebloods.” Sirius commented, “Yep!” They replied simultaneously. 

Sirius eyed the nervous-looking boy, “And you?”

“Rem- Remus Lupin.” 

The entire rest of the trip - seven hours - was spent talking—no more interruptions. Y/n, Remus, James, and Sirius all got to know each other. The four of them stayed together through everything until the sorting. They all stood near each other while Professor McGonagall began to call names. James was practically shaking in his boots. Y/n grasped his hand tightly. 

“You’ll be okay.” Y/n whispered, and James squeezed her hand thankfully, “Thanks, you too.”

Multiple names were called in alphabetical order of last name until finally B’s were beginning to get called, “Sirius Black!”

Y/n kissed his cheek, making Sirius blush profusely, “You’ll be fine.”

Sirius nodded as he pushed his way through the crowd of first years. Anybody in the wizarding world knew about the Noble House of Black. They were one of the most respected pureblood families. Most known for their line of Slytherins. Sirius Black sat on the stool and waited patiently as the hat spoke in his ear. His cousins watching eagerly from the Slytherin table. 

Silence cut through the crowd until, “GRYFFINDOR!”

The Great Hall was as quiet as a mouse. A Black in Gryffindor? The rival house to Slytherin, that was a no-go. James and Y/n exchanged nervous glances that said everything that needed to be - Sirius Black was going to be in big trouble. More names got called. Remus began to rock on his heels nervously. 

“Remus Lupin!”

Again, the process repeated itself. Remus took his seat on the stool, and the hat was placed upon his head, making its commented in the boy's ear. Remus’ hands wouldn’t stop moving, and it was making Y/n want to throw up. 

“GRYFFINDOR!”

The Gryffindor table yelled and cheered. Sirius Black upon them as a blissful smile placed itself upon Remus’ features. He stepped off the stood giving James and Y/n a grateful smile before sitting beside Sirius at the Gryffindor table. A red and gold tie was placed around his shoulders. His green eyes crinkled due to the cheerful smile on his lips. 

Attendance seemed to be going slower - or so that’s how it felt - because of how close they were approached the P’s. James’ grip on Y/n’s hand began to get tighter, and his hand began to feel clammy. Y/n didn’t mind. 

“James Potter!”

“Oh, Merlin…” James muttered before squeezing Y/n’s hand one more time. 

Before stepping on the stool, he looked back at Y/n, who gave him a reassuring smile. James Potter sat upon the seat, and once again, the hat was placed above his hair. Within seconds the hat seemed to have made its decision. 

“GRYFFINDOR!”

Y/n screamed loudly for him along with the Gryffindor table. James’ hazel eyes met her e/c ones, and he winked. The boy took his spot across from Sirius and watched eagerly at his best friend waiting to be sorted. Sirius snapped his fingers in James' face to get his attention. 

“How’d you meet?” Sirius inquired, “Mm?”

“How did you meet her?” 

“Oh, she fell out of a tree, and I caught her.” James replied distantly, still looking at his best friend left alone in the smaller crowd. 

“She’s nice.”

James nodded at Remus’ comment, “Definitely. She’s brilliant.”

Finally, they got to her last name. James was on his tipping point, and Sirius smiled reassuringly - like she had when he began to sit on the stood, “She’ll be fine. You know that.”

“I do, but still.”

Y/n couldn’t fathom her excitement yet nervousness. She was a walking contradiction. Carefully, not to step on her robes while her legs felt like jelly, she moved through the relatively small crowd. Only about ten kids remained now. Y/n sat on the stool and made direct eye contact with James, who threw her the most reassuring look possible. 

“Curious, very curious.” The hat spoke in her ear, “Loyal, hardworking yet courageous and stupidly brave.”

Y/n almost snickered, “What a brilliant Hufflepuff you’d make.”

“Please, Gryffindor. Please, Gryffindor.” 

“Gryffindor? Are you sure?” The hat queried, “Please.” Y/n begged. 

If the sorting hat could’ve shrugged, he would’ve, “If that’s what you think.”

“GRYFFINDOR!”

James stumbled from the Gryffindor table as Y/n got off the stool with the same smile Remus had. The blissful, relaxed, and cheery smile. On his way out from the table, he almost fell, but he chased his way to her until Y/n was wrapped in his arms. Y/n placed her nose in the crook of his neck while James’ face was buried in her hair. They pulled away, and James led her to sit beside him. 

“Told you she’d be fine.” Sirius remarked, “I worry.” James retorted with a smile. 

Y/n fiend offense, “You were worried! Where’d you think I’d go? Slytherin?”

“Absolutely not!” James exclaimed, “Jus’ didn’t want to be separated from you.”

She nudged his shoulder with hers, “You aren’t getting rid of me.”

“Neither are you two.” Y/n pointed at the boys across from her, “Welcome to our group of four.”

“We’ve gotta come up with a better name for that.” Remus replied as the other three nodded, “Definitely.”

The boys and the girls had different dormitories. Y/n shared her dorm with three other girls named Marlene McKinnon, Mary MacDonald, and Lily Evans. Meanwhile, James, Remus, Sirius shared a dorm where they met a new boy with blond hair and blue eyes named Peter Pettigrew, who quickly was added to their group of four, which was now five. 

James and Y/n shared almost every class aside from History of Magic and Defense Against the Dark Arts. Instead, Y/n had History of Magic with Remus and Lily. At the same time sharing Defense Against the Dark Arts with Remus as well. She also became quick friends with her roommate, Marlene, through Quidditch. Y/n always admired James while he practiced being Chaser, while Y/n was his fake Keeper. 

Throughout first year the new additions to their original duo learned how mischievous these two were. Y/n had an intelligent mind with practically foolproof plans, and James had the resources to make those plans work. Sirius was quick to join their prank-making wonders while Remus tended to stick with Y/n in making plans. Peter joined whenever he could. 

Soon enough, the group was known as the pranksters around Hogwarts. Surprisingly enough, they were proud of their newfound title. They were all sitting in the boys' dorms. James, Y/n, and Sirius were talking about Quidditch. Peter was practicing the new incantation that Professor Flitwick had taught them, and Remus was reading. When out of nowhere, Remus exclaimed. 

“I got it!”

“Got what, mate?” James questioned as the chatter stopped, and they all looked at the sandy-haired male, “Our group name!”

Y/n perked up, “Whatcha got, Remmy?”

“The Marauders!”

“Marauders?” Sirius repeated, confused, “What does that mean?”

Remus sighed, and Y/n giggled, “Marauders is another word for raiders, you idiot.”

“I like it.” Sirius commented, “I do too!” Peter interject. 

The three looked at the original duo; Y/n shrugged, “Good call, Rem.”

“How about it, James?” 

“I think it’s excellent! The Marauders it is!” 

Henceforth, their legacy grew and were now known as the five Marauders. They were all known for something. James, good at getting resources. Sirius, good at persuading. Peter, the most logical. Remus, the brains of every mission. Finally, Y/n, the most reckless. Y/n is the one who’d go in first always; she was also the one with the most detentions. 

In the second year, Y/n became more intuitive, observant, and curious about Remus. She noticed in the first year a pattern of when he’d get sick or his mother's sudden illness once a month. She was no stranger to these creatures as her father had worked with them for years. So before the first full moon of the new term, Y/n pulled Remus aside. 

“You said you wanted to speak with me?” Remus inquired, and Y/n nodded, “I know.”

“Know about what?”

“I know.” 

Remus rocked on his heels, “O- Oh….”

“Don’t worry, nobody else knows. Although they may have or will find out.” Y/n assured, but Remus still looked nervous, “Remus.”

She placed her hands on his taller shoulders, “You aren’t a monster. I’ve seen werewolves before.”

“You- You have?”

“My father works with magical creatures.” Y/n answered, “Werewolves are included.”

“Personally, I think they’re beautiful.” She stated, and tears grew in Remus’ eyes, “You do?”

“Of course, I do.” Y/n smiled, and Remus pulled her in for a hug, “Thank you.”

“Anytime and if you need anything. I’m here for you.”

“Thank you.”

Eventually, Sirius found out next, which quite honestly baffled Remus. Then James and then finally Peter, who was definitely the most oblivious of the Marauders. But to Remus’ astonishment, they were all accepting. They loved Remus as much as his mom, which - in reality - was quite a lot. Every night after full moons, he’d find all four of them sitting beside him. 

James would bring games to play for when he felt up for it. Peter got his books and set them on the table beside him. Sirius brought sweets and his stupidly funny jokes. Y/n held his hand and comforted him the best he could. Honestly, Y/n gave the best head scratches, and he definitely took advantage of it. 

Second-year was also the time for new Quidditch players to join the team. James and Sirius were about to try out but were undeniably nervous. The morning of, neither of them ate, too worried to think about eating, scared of throwing it up later on the pitch. 

“You both are tossers.” Y/n suddenly stated, “You’ll both make the team, and then we’ll celebrate it later, yeah?”

They nodded, “Good. Now get yourselves outta this funk. It’s annoying.”

It was unavoidable. They didn’t just get out of their funk until they got on the pitch. Before James and Y/n separated - her to the seats and him to the pitch - he took ahold of her hand. Squeezing it tightly with his eyes closed. His broom in his other hand that was trembling slightly. Y/n took her hand from his and placed her hands on his cheeks. 

“You’ll be fine. I promise.”

“Promise promise?” James asked, “Promise promise.” Y/n confirmed. 

She let go of his face and began to run off to catch up with Remus, “Good luck!” 

“Thanks.” James murmured to himself, “I’ll need it.”

Without a doubt, James was the best Chaser the Gryffindor had ever seen. Sirius was one hell of a beater too. Marlene even tried out for the new Beater position too. Four parts needed to be filled due to seventh-years leaving. Two Beaters, one Chaser, and one Keeper. Y/n and Remus were crossing their fingers that they all got the positions they wanted. 

The following week the results were posted. James, Sirius, and Marlene made the team! Y/n would never forget the gleeful smile that passed its way onto James’ face or the way Sirius laughed. She’d never seen them so happy before. Remus and her stood feet away from their little party, his arm thrown around her shoulders. 

“It’s nice to see them this way.”

“It is.”

Remus teasingly nudged her hip, “Seems like James has always been a Chaser.”

“What's that suppose to mean?” Y/n furrowed her eyebrows at the lycanthrope, “You’ll see it eventually.”

Y/n didn’t pry. It wasn’t worth it, especially when it’s with Remus. Remus was the ultimate secret keeper and cynical. He said things that made you think but would never tell you what they mean. Eventually, more years passed and they were in the summer going into their seventh year. 

James invited Y/n to stay the summer at the Potter manor, and she did. It was possibly one of the best summers he’s ever had with her being so close. Mrs. Potter seemed to know what Remus was talking about when she threw looks at her husband when the two best friends were together. But it was one evening that they were all watching a movie when someone came through the Floo Network. 

They jumped up from the couch to see a roughed-up Sirius Black, “Sirius!” 

James was frozen along with his two parents, but Y/n wasn’t. She was haste to get Sirius up from the floor to help him stand. He had a nasty cut below his right eye and what seemed to be more all across his body which his mother could only do. But instantly, Y/n had been ordering James around while Sirius laid on his back on the couch. 

Thankfully, Y/n knew what to do and Euphemia, but she was frozen, still watching her son's best friend take care of their other best friend. James set everything she needed beside her as she began to work quickly. James sat next to her in case she needed anything else. Y/n tore off his shirt and lifted his pants to right over the edge of his boxers. 

“James, hold his hand.” Y/n ordered, and he did it, “I’m so sorry, Sirius, but this’ll sting.”

And it did. Sirius groaned and constantly hissed as Y/n helped his wounds, the muggle way. Euphemia stared in shock, no longer frozen, but it was evident that Y/n had complete control over the situation and needed no extra help. Within an hour, Sirius was brand new. Y/n had carefully used potions and other bandages to help. 

“What happened, Sirius?” 

He chuckled bitterly, “My mother.”

“No shit.” James retorted, “Why?”

“I’ve been burned off the tapestry. I’m not aloud back because I denied them.”

“Denied them?” Y/n inquired. 

“Of you know what.”

“Oh…” Y/n whispered. 

“Yeah, oh.” Sirius chuckled again - venom lacing. 

Euphemia exchanged looks with her husband, “You’re welcome to stay here.”

“No, I couldn’t ask that of you guys.” Sirius denied hesitantly, and Fleamont shrugged, “Where else are you going to go?”

Sirius stayed silent, “We don’t mind, Sirius. You’ve stayed here before. Euphemia loves having you around just as much as I do.”

“You may not be our son biologically.” Euphemia began as she knelt in front of Sirius, “But you’ll always be our son.”

A single tear fell from Sirius’ eye, “Thank you.”

“Anytime, dear.”

James and Y/n exchanged looks of pure glee, but Euphemia caught their eye, “No mischief, you two.”

They sighed, “Fine.”

The duo pulled Sirius up from the couch and led him to his new bedroom. Euphemia watched Y/n and James work in perfect symphony as if they were a made team from the start. Fleamont pulled his wife to his side, watching them both as well. How perfectly his son worked with her. How amazingly gentle he was with her. 

“He may not know it yet, but he loves her.” Euphemia broke the silence, “Reminds me of us.”

Fleamont quirked an eyebrow, “How so?”

“You always had this dopey grin on your face. The same one James has when Y/n’s around. It’s been that way since they met. When he first mentioned her name, he had that grin. He’s chased her all these years.” 

“Perhaps our son has always been a Chaser at heart.” Fleamont commented, “Perhaps.”

It wasn’t until the first Quidditch match he realized. When he was chasing Y/n around to try and hug her after the game they had won against Ravenclaw. Y/n prohibited hugs after Quidditch matches. Yet here James was chasing her around the pitch with her a screaming mess. 

Lily, Marlene, and Remus were laughing loudly at him, “Y/n! Y/n come on!” 

“Absolutely not!” Y/n yelled while running, “I told you no hugs after matches.”

She spoke too soon because while she was talking, she had slowed down without noticing. Leaving James to wrap his arms around her from behind. He nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck while she leaned back into him. 

“See! You love my hugs.” James exclaimed, “Whatever.” Y/n retorted. 

Remus chuckled at them from afar, “They’re definitely in love.” 

“How hasn’t she seen it yet?” Lily chuckled, “Oh, he’s been chasing her for years. Since before Hogwarts.” Remus replied. 

“Chaser at heart that one,” Sirius stated putting his arm around the lycanthrope. 

James realized it then and there. With her in his arms. He was sweaty and full of joy. She was wholly melted into his embrace. His arms around her neck and her arms on top of his biceps. James realized there was nowhere else he’d rather be than with her at this moment. So he pulled her around, facing her. 

“Y/n.” 

“James.”

Without a second thought, he pulled her in and kissed her. His arms were moving down to her waist and hers around his shoulders. He was so gentle and soft with her. As if she was the finest China he’d ever owned. Godric James was so soft and so sweet. Y/n’s hands went through his sweaty hair. 

The whistles and cheers are what pulled them apart, “Finally!”

“It’s about time you realized!” Remus exclaimed happily, “He’s been chasing you for years!”

Y/n smiled at him, and James put his arm around her shoulder, “My chaser.” 

“I’ll always chase you, love.”

Years later, that snitch James always played with would be the same one McGonagall had taken from him one day in the seventh year. It was the same snitch that Harry had almost swallowed in his first year. The same snitch that Dumbledore returned to Harry in his seventh year. 

The snitch? It was given to James from Y/n when they were nine. It was an honorary friendship gift. The snitch wasn’t stolen. The snitch wasn’t nicked. The snitch was a gift to a chaser who never stopped chasing till the very end. 

[alwaysmarveling]

To Be Seen

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x gn!reader

Warnings: Hints at neglect

Word Count: 3.5k

Summary: All superpowers seem to have a downside to them. Invisibility is no exception.

You got your first pair of glasses when you turned seven. The black frames were a birthday present of sorts. You had your eye set on a transparent blue pair, or honestly any of the many colorful options that lined the shelves, but your mother had grabbed the black ones without a word to you and placed them on the counter. Then the two of you went home, back to the always busy house, buzzing with the sounds of your siblings’ chatter and the television that entertained your constantly preoccupied father. There was no cake, no other presents, not even a “congratulations” or a “happy birthday,” but that was okay. That was okay because you had already gotten the gift of sight.

“Happy birthday, Y/N,” you whispered to yourself that night, your younger sister already sound asleep beside you while you looked up at the glow-in-the-dark shapes taped to the ceiling. The glasses turned the green fuzzy blobs into actual stars, their points clear and easily counted as you drifted off to sleep with the lenses still on. “You can see now.”

---

You found out you could make yourself invisible on the day you hit ten years old. When you woke up, the first thing you did was look at yourself in the mirror, trying to see if you looked any different from the day before, when you were nine. Double digits should mean double the change, right? But there was no change from when you weren’t in the mirror to when you were. 

At first, you thought it must’ve been a prank from your older brother, but one look in the bathroom mirror told you that this was something else. It took you about half an hour before you somehow managed to become visible again, but when you did, you walked into the kitchen to find everything the same as it was the night before. No one hung streamers around the house or left a card on the counter, but that was okay. That was okay because you had a gift.

---

On your twenty-seventh birthday, you were recruited to be an Avenger. Three years ago on that exact day, you had quit your office job and joined SHIELD, only as a trainee, but you made your way through the ranks. You had the advantage of a mastered superpower—turning invisible came useful on the countless days you wished the world would just swallow you whole—but you still had to learn to use it like an agent. You were never remarkable, never being praised as the top of your class nor critiqued as one of the worst. You were always in the middle. Always just… there.

But Fury had seen something in you, and now here you were, packing your things to move into the Avengers Tower. You honestly weren’t sure what he saw in you; no one did. There were other SHIELD agents with far more useful powers and much better combat skills, yet he had picked you and no one else, making you the third SHIELD agent to join the Avengers since Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff.

You looked around the empty apartment, scanning for something you and your imperfect vision might have missed, but saw nothing. Was that what others saw when they looked at you, thinking they had packed the whole room while you were standing right in front of them, arms waving in their face and voice begging for them to acknowledge you? No matter. Fury had told you Natasha would be picking you up at 2, meaning you had just over thirty minutes before she got here. Life moved on, and so would you.

Just like in years prior, there were no claps on the back, shiny bows, or patterned gift wrapping, but that was okay. That was okay because you had gotten the gift to protect and serve others.

---

You laid into the punching bag, twenty-eight non-stop uppercuts for your new age as of today. You brushed one hand across your forehead to interrupt the sweat droplets that ran from your hair, Bruce doing his best to praise you in the meantime.

“Good work, Y/N, yeah. Um, stronger than the ones you’ve been doing in the past. Better form too. I think.” You were sure you weren’t meant to hear his last sentence, but a roll of Natasha’s eyes next to you was enough to make you laugh it off. It wasn’t like you could blame him. Training others wasn’t his forte. You weren’t even sure if he trained himself.

Fury’s interest in you had been short-lived, it seemed. To be fair, you were lucky he recruited you in the first place and even luckier that he let you stay on the team. Still, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t disappointed in how you turned out to just be a new puppy to him. With your novelty now wearing off, you became the responsibility of people like Bruce, who never quite wanted you in the first place.

You had nothing against the gentle and kindhearted scientist, but Steve, Nat, or even Clint would’ve been much more obvious choices. Yet somehow the scientist was who Fury appointed. Maybe he was just the only one who accepted the task, the only one not bold enough to deny Fury’s orders outright. Strangely enough, Nat always showed up, but you weren’t entirely sure why, seeing as she usually sat there silently for most of it. She’d occasionally lean in to whisper something to Bruce, but she rarely said anything to you.

Much to Bruce’s—and maybe Natasha’s—relief, Tony strutted into the gym, his charisma already filling in the awkward gaps between you guys that never seemed to disappear, no matter how much time passed.

“Bruce, Nat, just the people I was looking for! It was great to see you guys at the party last night.” You pushed your glasses back up the bridge of your nose before going back to the punching bag; obviously, he was not here to speak with you. As you beat into the bag, getting lost in the rattling of the chain and the rhythm of the combinations, you thought back to last night, when you heard the Avengers’ laughter as they prepared for the gala.

-

You sat in the living room watching a movie with the tiniest but fiercest hope that someone might see you and ask you to come along. This was a party for the Avengers, after all, to celebrate the success of a mission that you had been part of. It had been up to you to cut the power and incapacitate the leader. Somehow the credit had gone to Clint, all the news stations celebrating the archer and his amazing feat. It was fine, whatever, just another chip to brush off of your shoulder—a teeny, tiny chip, really, honestly probably more of a scratch—but you thought you would’ve at least been invited to the party. Yet there you were, your posture slowly drooping as you sank into the leather sofa while your teammates gathered in the elevator to head up to the party. You had taken your phone out and opened the camera app, checking to make sure you hadn’t somehow triggered your invisibility, but, nope, you were very much there. The tears that fell were very much there.

-

“Alright, Tony, I’ll be there for Movie Night tonight, but you gotta go. I need to get back to my training duties.” It was then that Tony finally seemed to realize your presence, turning around with a surprised look on his face.

“Oh, hey, Y/N. You, um, you should come tonight too.” All of his charm was gone, the relaxed smile only hanging on by the tiniest lift of the corner of his mouth. So you did your best to reassure him with a small nod. The smile came back immediately. All was well; Tony Stark does indeed have a heart.

-

Later that night, as you sat alone on the three-person couch, you drew the blankets closer to you. The same movie you had watched last night was playing on the TV. The original plan had been to watch Jaws, but Sam was delighted to find the DVD box to Space Jam on the coffee table, insisting that he’d been wanting to watch it again and how it was such a coincidence it was already out. He wasn’t saying that last night when you asked if anyone wanted to watch it with you, but at least you weren’t watching it alone this time. You looked around at the small groups the Avengers had formed on the other couches, some of them even sitting on the floor—there wasn’t enough space, you guessed—before letting out a sigh. There were no party hats or festive noisemakers, but that was okay. That was okay because… A tap on your knee brought you back to the present moment. You looked down to find the outstretched arm of a familiar redhead, a bowl of popcorn in her hand.

There was no time for wallowing in self-pity. That was okay. You were okay.

---

The harsh sunlight woke you up in time for your thirtieth birthday. Or maybe it was the stiff and lumpy mattress that did it. Either way, you were hoping you’d be able to sleep through it. The rational side of you knew that wasn’t possible—what with being on the run from the US government and all—but one can always hope, right?

You’d stuck with Natasha during the Avengers’ split, pushing for the team to stay together even though you’d never really been part of the team. It wasn’t about you though; you’d seen the amazing things the Avengers could do when they were together. The world needed them.

Well, that line of thinking got you here, in a small cabin in the woods with all the Avengers who had followed Steve, Natasha joining the group later. Happy birthday to you. Although to be fair, it wasn’t like any of your past birthdays had been much better. Once your childish naivety had faded away (which probably took much longer than it should have), the day became something you dreaded, something you hoped each year you would forget about but never quite could. This time, though, you had a small plan. It was going to be different this year.

-

Your knees cracked as you stood, announcing to no one in particular that you were heading off to bed. Rather than heading straight down the hall to your room, though, you cut through the kitchen and grabbed a few things.

Your shoulders dropped slightly as you closed the door, and you allowed yourself to study the contents of your hands: a lighter, candle, and one of the leftover store-bought cupcakes from Steve’s birthday. The cupcakes weren’t great, but no one had the time, energy, or ingredients to make a cake, and, let’s be honest, most of the people here couldn’t bake anyways. Plus, this one had frosting in your favorite color, so you couldn’t complain, especially since it was more than you’d had for your birthday since you could remember.

The wooden bed frame creaked as you shifted to place the candle in the frosting and light it. For the first time that day, you were grateful the windows had no curtains, as they allowed you to see the stars that dotted the sky.

“Happy birthday,” you murmured to yourself, your eyes never leaving the constellations, instead darting around to watch in awe as more and more of the twinkling lights showed up the longer you cared to look.

Just as you tore your eyes away to blow out the candle, a knock rang out against the door. Were you guys spotted? Did you have to leave? You immediately ran to open the door, running through a list of things you’d have to pack the second you heard the order. You weren’t exactly surprised to see Nat standing outside your door, but you were surprised to see her holding a small rectangular box and a bottle of champagne.

“Hey, um, sorry to interrupt.” Your cheeks immediately heated up when you noticed her eyes dart to the cupcake still in your hand. You must’ve forgotten to put it down in your rush to open the door. At least the candle’s flame had gone out. “I get it if you don’t want to celebrate with anyone, but I figured you still deserve a treat on your special day.”

Natasha’s brows furrowed as your head tilted slightly.

“What special day?”

“Um, well, isn’t it your birthday?” You nodded, still not quite understanding what she was asking. Not to mention, the spy’s continued use of filler words surprised you. Sure, the two of you hadn’t interacted with each other much, but a lack of familiarity didn’t usually make her this uneasy. Were you really that invisible that she felt uncomfortable around you despite having known you for three years? But you couldn’t dwell on it with Nat speaking again, her voice pulling you out of your thoughts. “And, um, I noticed the only alcohol you drink is champagne, so… this is for you.”

You stepped back slightly as she nudged the objects towards you, but the spy misunderstood you, taking your surprise as an invitation to enter the room. Before you knew it, you were asking her to sit next to you on the mattress. It wasn’t like you had much of a choice, though; keeping her standing would be rude, and there were no chairs in your room. The two of you sat at least a foot apart, both of your spines straight and neither of you quite meeting the eyes of the other.

“So, um, do you want to open the present first or have your cupcake? Or we can open the champagne if you want.”

“This is a present?” You eyed the brown box she held in her hand. You weren’t sure what it could be. Based on its size, maybe a watch or a pocket knife? But Natasha laughed, simply pushing the box towards you.

“Of course it’s a present. Open it!” So you set the cupcake down on the unstable bedside table, making sure the dessert wouldn’t fall due to the furniture having one leg shorter than the rest. You cast one last glance at Natasha, who gave you a reassuring yet pointed nod, and with that, you lifted the cover. 

It took everything in you to prevent the tears springing in your eyes from overflowing. You lifted the goggles with shaking hands. You had to touch them to make sure they were real, to make sure this wasn’t some sick and twisted dream your brain had forced on you to make you remember how disappointing your past birthdays had been.

“Do you like it?” The blonde asked you softly, her lower lip caught in between her teeth. Had you been thinking clearly, you would’ve been surprised at how apprehensive she sounded, how unsure she was. “I thought it could be something you might want to wear on missions. I noticed your other ones kept slipping down or breaking, and um…” Both of you became antsier as Natasha rambled on, you at how she was being more intimate with you than anyone ever had, and she at how she just couldn’t seem to stop talking despite the fact that, in her opinion, she was digging herself into an increasingly deeper hole. “It’s a lot more sturdy, and there are some other features that I think you’ll appreciate. I had Tony and Bruce make it for you… before, you know, this whole thing happened. And I brought it with me when I left.”

The frames reminded you much of the glasses you had first wanted as a kid, the ones your mother had looked past in favor of the plain black ones. They matched your combat suit, though, even having a small carving of your symbol on the side. You nodded as you choked down a sob, forcing yourself to meet the former assassin’s gaze to try to thank her properly.

“I love it, Natasha. Thank you so much. I- it’s… it’s amazing.” Nat dipped her head as if to nod, but you didn’t miss the way her cheeks flushed red or how a hint of her characteristic smirk appeared.

“Of course. It’s the least I could do.” Your eyes returned to the glasses in your hand. You’d try them out the second Natasha left. “So, cake now?”

“Yes, right, of course,” you nodded immediately, shaking your head at how you had managed to forget about the one thing you had planned to do for your birthday. Before you could reach for the frosted dessert, Natasha relit the candle and handed the cupcake to you as she began to sing “Happy Birthday.” When she reached the last note, you could hold it in no longer, and all the tears immediately began to flow.

“Oh my god, Y/N, I’m so sorry. Is my singing really that bad?” The redhead wasn’t sure whether to pull you closer or move away as she ran a hand through her hair, but she felt slightly comforted when she noticed you shaking your head.

“No, no, it’s just…” Natasha hesitantly began to rub your back in an effort to calm your sobs, “No one’s ever sang that for me before.”

“Ever?” She winced slightly at how her voice cracked, betraying her emotions to you despite her attempts to remain composed.

“Well, there used to be a video of it from my third birthday, but… I was three. So I don’t really remember it.” Natasha thought back to the many birthday celebrations the team had held, none of them being for you. The door to your room was always closed on your birthday. She’d always thought you had just gone out with friends and family, people outside of the Avengers, and who was she to get in the way of you and those you loved? But it had been the opposite. You had been hiding away in your room, and she hadn’t helped matters at all by waiting for three years to do anything. If only she’d gained the courage earlier, she could’ve helped ease your pain much sooner.

But all you saw through your tears was the way her head was cocked to the side, her spy training paying off as you couldn’t even begin to predict what she might be thinking. Your confusion slowed your tears somewhat, but that didn’t last for long as your mind shifted gears. You were ever the fool for sharing something so vulnerable with someone you barely knew.

So it was much to your surprise when Natasha finally reached her hand toward you, using her thumb to brush off the last few tears that made their way down your cheeks.

“You’ve never been invisible to me, Y/N. I see you. Always.” And with that, without responding, you turned away from her with a sniff to blow out the candle. “What’d you wish for?” the spy asked lightly, hoping the joke would help lift your mood.

“Nothing. This was more than I could’ve ever asked for.” Nat nodded slowly, keeping her eyes on you as she reached to take out the candle. Your eyes remained on the cupcake as if it would be ripped away from you if you turned away for a second. With her hand returned to your back, you began to dig into the cupcake, your eyes closing as you savored the taste. A cupcake just for you, on your birthday. Sure, it was a leftover cupcake, the frosting a bit too sweet and the cake itself dry and somewhat stale, but that didn’t matter. It was still the first in thirty years. 

-

That night, you lay in bed with the stars overhead, a smile on your face as you thought about the day’s events, your best birthday ever.

And maybe it was naive of you to believe what Natasha had told you earlier that day—it wasn’t like the thought hadn’t crossed your mind several times in the few hours since she told you that—but then you thought about the champagne and the glasses she’d given you. You thought about the way she’d examined your apartment with you one last time before she brought you to the Avengers Tower, about the way she gave you an encouraging smile during training when you became exhausted with Bruce’s cluelessness, about the way she’d shared her popcorn on movie nights with you and only you.

And in the room next to you, Natasha thought about your confusion, your tears, and the way desperation, hope, and amazement filled your face when you looked at her right before you blew out the candle. It was then that she made a vow to herself, to show you that you’d never be invisible, especially not to her.

“Happy birthday, Y/N,” she whispered, “You are seen.”

-----

🏷 : @vancityfire13 @007giu

[kaitsawamura]

would you like to stay forever?

SUMMARY⎮   Sparring with Pro Hero Kirishima Eijiro in his private gym at his home doesn't seem like a bad idea if you don't count the fact that you really, really like him.

STATS⎮ minors do not interact, 18+ ⎮  Rating: M (for mature)  ⎮  WC: 5525  ⎮   Pairing: Pro Hero Kirishima Eijiro x Fem!Reader  ⎮   Tags: Aged Up Character(s), Friends to Lovers, Sparring, Smut, Fluff, Age/Experience Gap (if you really squint)  ⎮  AO3

NOTES⎮  Thanks to @spacelabrathor​ for listening to me scream about this and to @some-kindofgnome​ for fueling my Kiri fever dreams.  Yes, that title is based on a Mulan quote. This whole fic was based on THIS POST and Kirishima seemed like the perfect character for this pwp.  Hope y'all enjoy!  (Also please for the love of God, click on the banner to see in HD if you’re on mobile, it looks so much better lol)

It was Saturday and even though you’re on your way to becoming a Pro Hero, you can think of several things you’d rather be doing with your one day off than going to Kirishima Eijiro’s house to spar.  But here you are pulling into his driveway, going over combat moves in your head as if your life depended on it.  They weren’t really serving their purpose which was to distract yourself.  Kiri had offered up his personal gym, encouraged you to stop by with one hand in his pocket and the other rubbing the back of his neck as if he was nervous.  

A couple of his friends had already taken him up on the offer.  You were the only one he’d offered who hadn’t come over yet.  He had texted you a couple of weeks later saying he was starting to take it personally…  and then immediately texted with a laughing emoji just to clarify he was only giving you a hard time.  It brings a smile to your face now as you remember it.  Yesterday he had also clarified it would just be the two of you if you were self-conscious sparring in front of other people.  You’d have the whole place to yourselves.  Like that should mean something.  Which it did.  It does , you realize with butterflies growing in your stomach.  Kiri doesn’t need to know that though.

The two of you had been toeing around something since you had been hired at Fatgum’s Agency a year ago.  Neither of you had made a move.  Kirishima, the Red Riot, was a big Pro Hero and while you took pride in your quirk, it didn’t hold a coin to some of the others you’d come in contact with.  It had surprised you when Toyomitsu had brought you on.  But he had mumbled something about “liking your spunk” and that he thought a teleportation quirk would be a useful one to add to his agency.  The first day you had shown up, Kiri had immediately caught your eye.  Not for the obvious reasons.  Obvious reasons being the fact that he was climbing the Pro Hero charts or the fact that he had a dynamically interesting quirk or that at twenty-five he was already built like a brickhouse. 

Those were all valid reasons, yes, but what had pulled you in was his smile and his genuine interest in you outside of your quirk.  But he was just like that you had quickly discovered.  He knew everyone’s coffee order and what they liked for lunch.  He knew when to push and when to back off.  He knew when to talk and when to listen , knew when he still had a lesson to learn.  The kids flocked to him.  Even now you’re still entirely convinced that’s actually his quirk, getting people to like him.  It’s not a difficult thing to do though.

Your brain stutters back to the present when a text notification pings from your cell phone as you sit in Kiri’s driveway, picking at non-existent lint on your gym shorts.  The cute ones you’re still convincing yourself were your only clean pair and that’s the only reason you wore them.

KIRI : i saw u pull up, u gonna come in or what 😂

Had he been waiting for you to get there?  You tapped out a quick response, one that hid the little flip in your stomach at the thought: creeper, you were watching for me lmao

Response bubbles immediately flash on your phone screen but you’re angling out of your car and shutting the door before he can reply.

Somehow, this house fits Kiri perfectly.  It isn’t big.  You had seen pictures of other top-ranking Pros’ houses.  Enji Todoroki’s house, for example, was fucking ridiculous.  But even without a massive floor plan, Kiri’s house is nicer than any you’d been in for some time.  Clean, straight lines and lots of windows.  In fact, you can see straight through the floor-to-ceiling windows out to his backyard when you reach the front door.  Is that a pool ?  Kiri had tons of fun showing pictures at the agency; it was a well-deserved investment for his already multiple years of service as a Pro.  The pictures hadn’t done the place justice though.

Kiri comes to the door, throwing it wide open with a huge grin that shows off his sharp teeth.  You ignore the way your mouth goes dry as he drags you in, babbling on like an excited little kid at you actually coming.

“I really thought you were gonna back out!  I mean, that would have been fine, of course.  I just can’t see the point of having the whole place to myself all the time.”  He’s irresistibly cute, walking around showing you the living room and the kitchen and pointing out to the backyard where, yes, there is indeed a pool.  “You can come over any time and use that too if you want!”  You thank him, warmth pooling in your stomach at how incredibly nice he is.

“Uh, we should probably get in the gym.  I have… stuff to do later,” you finish lamely.  You don’t have anything to do later but very quickly you’re realizing how far out of your depth you are here.  The familiar beginnings of the head over heels fall is washing over you in steady waves.  But you’re coworkers and the thought of coming to work every day and having to see his adorable face and not doing anything about it is almost making you nauseous.

“Oh, yeah, it’s just down the hallway,” he rumbles, leading the way and you follow trying and failing miserably to calm the nerves flashing through your veins.  You’re here alone with Kiri , the man you’ve been crushing on since you’d started working with him a year ago.  And now your stupid brain isn’t just thinking about what it would feel like to run your tongue along his teeth or how his hands would feel between your legs.  No, your stupid brain is thinking about what Kiri looks like when he first opens his eyes in the morning.

Your one-track mind is not getting any help, especially when Kiri walks through the doorway of the gym addition and immediately proceeds to pull his shirt up and over his shoulders and tosses it to the side.  Shit.  His back muscles ripple with the movement and when he turns to face you, it’s heart-wrenchingly obvious that he has no idea the effect he’s having on you.  He has to know .  Doesn’t he?  From your end, it seems wildly obvious that someone as good-looking as him should know .  

You glance around, eternally grateful for the fact that the gym is also attractive.  Floor to ceiling windows span two of the walls here as well and there’s a large set of French doors leading out to the yard.  You find yourself actually in awe when you get a better look at the landscaping.  It’s so green .  There’s a small patch of lawn but the rest is just artfully arranged native flora and fauna.  Violets, tulips.  Huge hosta plants.  And cherry trees heavy with their signature sakura blossoms.  

“Kiri, it’s beautiful!”  He comes to stand beside you, looking out the French doors as well.

“You like it?  I guess it is pretty nice, huh?”  You glance up at him, your chest expanding on a lurch looking at his smile.  You’d never noticed before but he has a light dusting of freckles across his nose.

“Yeah, really nice.”  You look out again, letting the silence grow until it feels like the most comfortable thing in the world.  After what seems like an eternity Kiri clears his throat, rocking back on the balls of his feet.  “What are you thinking for today?”  The question leaves your lips and you’re immediately regretting it; your stomach flips again when Kiri looks at you like you’re prey.

“Close combat, hand-to-hand combat.  You did mention a while ago you wanted to strengthen that, right?”  You throw your head back, rolling your eyes, and groan.  The two of you make your way to the center of the mat.

“Yeah, I mean, I’d be scared to take me on too,” Kiri says, large hands on even larger hips.   He isn’t as tall as some of the other heroes at six foot three inches but he’s wide , thick.  You know for a fact you couldn’t wrap your arms around his waist and have your hands meet.  He’s wearing the biggest shit-eating grin you’ve ever seen.  The sharpened points of his canines are out and on prominent display.   Famous last words you think as a snarl erupts on your face.

“I’m not scared , Kiri.  I just don’t want to wear you out .  You’re a Pro Hero.  You’re on the job a lot more than I am.  Plus, you’re getting kind of old.  Is that a little gray I see coming in?”  Kiri bares his teeth even more but it’s not lost on you that he quickly reaches up to rake his fingers through his hair.  There isn’t any gray, obviously , but the thought has Red Riot distracted.  Distracted enough that when you plant your feet and your fist connects with his face, your knuckles hit skin and not the reinforced rock of his quirk.

“ Shit.”  Kiri takes a step back, reaching up to cradle his jaw.  His tongue swipes out to lick at the blood on his bottom lip.  His vermillion eyes find yours and if you didn’t work with him on a regular basis, you would have felt fear at this moment.  You know he wouldn’t hurt you but even now, a thrill races through your veins like electricity.  He looks as if he’s going to devour you.  You take your own step back, readying your quirk, reaching out to it as your fists hold their position in front of your body.  A dark chuckle spills from his chest as Kiri calls on his own quirk.

Now it was your turn to be distracted; you had always been fascinated by Kiri’s quirk, the way his body looked when it hardened up.  The ripples of muscle still visible under the toughened skin.  The divots and ridges and how they mapped their way across his shoulders and chest and abdomen.  You knew how it felt to the touch in fake combat.  The Fatgum heroes all took pride in maintaining a healthy routine; sparring was a common workout that was previously done at a local public gym.  You wonder absently what it would feel like to touch him slow and at the moment.  When you could give extra attention with extra time. 

Kiri closes the space between the two of you at the moment your mind strays and you barely are able to teleport out of the way to avoid him crashing into you.  You try to take a swipe at him as you materialize from in front of him to behind but this time he’s ready for you and he’s using his quirk.  Instead of moving out of the way, he plants his feet and allows your punch to hit.  Pain radiates up through your fingers and wrist.  It always irritated you that you had to prepare yourself to strike Kiri when he was using his quirk.  Otherwise, you’d be in for a whole lot of hurt every time you landed a punch.

Teleportation is a pretty handy quirk.  It gives you a pretty good advantage the more you work on your close combat skills.  The trick with Kiri was to keep going at him until he ran out of energy.  You hadn’t gotten to that point yet; your quirk had its limits as well.  You were only two years out of UA, Kiri was out by seven.  His strength was already fairly unmatched; sparring with him was always good practice.  You relish the thought of the day you can win a sparring session without tapping out.  It surges through you like pure energy.  

You teleport to stand in front of him again, shifting your weight into your hips and up through your right hook.  This time your fist connects with Kiri’s side and he lets out a small grunt.  Your fingers don’t hurt so bad this time and by the time Kiri is retaliating, you jump back a few feet.  He hmms, a sound that reverberates from his chest.

“That’s all well and good but how do you expect to do anything if you jump that far away?”  He lunges forward at a running start, leaping at the last second, sending his gloved fist into your stomach.  You were fast, but still not always fast enough.  You double over, the air rushing from your lungs and your pre-workout protein smoothie threatening to exit back the way it went in.  Sweat is already beading on your brow and sliding under your tank top.  You take a few breaths through your nose when an idea pops into your head; you stay bent over.  “Hey, I didn’t hit you that hard.  You good?”  

Kiri comes to stand in front of you, leaving him vulnerable.  He can’t see your smirk until it’s too late.  You wail on him, using some of the basic combos he’s taught you before today.  Satisfaction rolls through you when he actually takes a step back.  But then he puts his arms up in front of him, clenching his abdomen and bending inward to protect his core.  He drops just a fraction and before you realize what’s happening, he’s swiping his leg out to push through yours.  You watch in slow motion as you see his laughing face then the ceiling of the gym as you flip and land on your back.

If you thought you were out of breath before…  “Fuuu-.”  It’s a wheeze that feels like it’s ripping your chest open.  You’re seeing stars.  Kiri stands over you, hands on his hips again.  You stare at his face; the hero has his hair pulled back into a bun.  You snort, rolling your eyes.  Why does he still look so fucking good?  The sweat has caused some of the pieces falling out of his hair tie to curl.  His hair has curl to it?  You’ve never noticed before, considering he always gels it into spikes.  You like the curl.  “Are you--are you gonna help me up, or what?”  It was still painful to talk.

Kiri tilts his head to the side, just slightly, and crosses his arms.  “I’m thinking not.  Last time I let down my guard you got those good combos in.”  You stare in stunned silence, sitting up so you’re supported by your elbows.  Kiri shifts slightly and if you didn’t know better, you’d say he’s backing up to… get a better view.   

“Is that any way to treat your student,  Red Riot?”  You know you get under his skin when he clicks his tongue against his teeth and holds out a hand with a begrudging eye roll.  He pulls you up with ease, quickly enough that you almost lose your balance, swaying into his space.  You look up, eyes moving back and forth between his.  

He draws in a breath and drags his bottom lip between his teeth.  “First of all,” he says as he places his hands on your upper arms, “I’m not your teacher.  I’m not that much older than you.  Secondly,” he mutters as he tucks a stray lock of hair behind your ear, “our relationship isn’t that formal is it?”  He’s so fucking close.  This is getting dangerous.  Dangerous because Kiri is within kissing distance.  Dangerous because this gentle side of him is making you lose more breath than falling on your ass.  Dangerous because the thought of Kiri taking you on the floor right now is almost too much to bear.  

So you fall back on what you’re here to do.  Fight.  You flash him a wicked smile before rallying your quirk and teleporting a few feet away.  His hand is still raised in mid-air and when his head whips to look in your direction, his crimson eyes are narrowed and his nostrils are flared.  He laughs and rolls his neck, dancing on his toes.

“Okay.  I see.  I’m not gonna go easy on you, you know?”  You snort and put your fists up in front of you again.

“As if you were going easy on me before, Kiri.  Bring it on.”  He smiles, the sharp points of his teeth enough to make your thoughts swerve again before you bring them under control.  “Bring it on,” you whisper more to yourself as you brace for the fight.

Two hours later, you feel the strain in your muscles.  Your quirk is running low on reserves and you know you won’t be able to use it much more.  Kiri looks like he hasn’t wasted a breath but you can see he’s getting tired in the way his feet don’t move as sharply.  And if the length of time he’s using his quirk is any indication to his state of mind, you know the two of you will be calling it a day soon.  But you’re also both stubborn.  And you’re dying to get one more good move in on him.

The cockiness the two of you had at the beginning of the sparring session hasn’t gone away but has burned hot into determination.  No more smiles, only clear-headed concentration.  The two of you are an arm's length from each other, throwing various punches and switching quickly between using your quirks and not.  You’re breathing hard, sweat gathering at your brow as you throw another right hook that Kiri easily blocks.

“Get out of your head.  You can be too predictable sometimes.”  He doesn’t mean for it to come across as rude but the words strike a match to a guttering fire.  You bare your own teeth at Kiri even though they aren’t sharp and probably don’t look nearly as threatening but it helps you feel powerful nonetheless.  You drop without a second thought, lowering to your palms and sweeping your leg out in front of you in a wide arc.  A grin spreads across your face when your calf meets Kiri’s ankle.  He’s too physically dense for this move to work if he had seen it coming.  But he doesn’t.  And his solid 220 pounds of muscle falls hard.  

You allow yourself the satisfaction of the moment for only a split second; Kiri’s recovery time is much shorter than yours so it isn’t long before he’s scrambling forward.  He goes straight for your wrists to subdue you but with a smirk, you realize in his haste he’s put himself in the perfect position for you to possibly gain the upper hand.  You scoot up away from him just enough to drag his arm forward and swing your legs around his neck.  Then you elevate your hips and lock your core.

It’s over from there as you squeeze with every last ounce of strength left in your body.  It doesn’t take long for him to tap out.  You release as soon as you feel his loose hand tap your arm; he collapses over you and you’re too tired to move away or push him off.  Now his breathing is rough and you feel a surge of pride.  You reach up and place your hand on his head where his bun has come undone; he’s so heavy but it doesn’t feel bad.  In fact, the feel of Kirishima resting his head and upper chest on your stomach is feeling nothing short of good .  He’s still between your legs and suddenly the air is crackling with a new kind of energy when you gently comb your fingers through his hair.

He rises up, his hands on either side of you.  His hips rest between your legs; the mingled heat radiating from both of you is almost more than you can take but there is no way you’re going to move anywhere.  He leans forward, so close you can see the flecks of burnt orange in his eyes.  If you moved forward just a little, you could close that space between you.  He leans down more, his mouth right next to the shell of your ear.

“Maybe not always predictable.  You did good today.  Probably some of the best fighting I’ve seen from you so far.  Keep it up.”  He grunts, a shift of his hips allowing the curve of his cock to brush against your clothed sex through his gym shorts.  He stiffens in what you think might be embarrassment.  “Shit, sorry, let me just, uh--”  The stuttering mess he becomes right before your eyes makes something lurch in your chest; you reach for his face without thinking.

“Kiri,” you whisper, rolling your own hips against his.  His cheeks are burning a shade of red almost as vibrant as his hair.  You bring up your other hand, holding his face between them and bringing him down to settle over you once more.  Your lips meet his; he seems to war with himself for just a moment.  A suspended second in time.  But then he gives in, slipping his tongue against yours in a delicious sliding vision of what’s coming.

He reaches between you to slip his hand under your tank top; his hand is big and nearly encompasses your side.  But it’s warm and gentle.  Gentle.  Who would have guessed that Red Riot could be so fucking gentle?  But he is and when his hand moves lower to slide below the hem of your shorts, you give yourself to him with no reservations.  His middle finger passes through the mess of your sex; a hissed breath rattles through his chest as your back arches on a ragged groan.

“ Shit.  You’re so wet .”  He slides his finger back and forth, gathering your slick on the thick digit.  He takes his hand away and you mewl.  “Can I?”  He asks breathlessly as he hooks his hands on the hem of your shorts.  You nod, eyes half-lidded.  He pulls them down along with your underwear and the way he looks at you, at what’s between your legs, you don’t even have the wherewithal to feel self-conscious.  Adoration.  It’s the only word you can think of and it makes you wonder if you’d made a mistake waiting so long.

He’s on his knees when he takes your legs and drapes them on either side of his hips; this time he doesn’t hesitate in slipping his finger into your cunt.  You nearly see stars just from that and if one finger is any indication, you’re in for it.  Slowly, he adds another, his hand pumping into you in a steady rhythm.  You’re grabbing for the ground, grabbing for him as a strangled noise pushes from your throat.  He reaches out with his other hand to splay it across your sternum and it’s the only thing anchoring you as he adds the third finger before scooting down to put his mouth on your clit.

“ Kiri,” you keen, shoving your hips into his touch, frantically scrabbling for his wrist that’s on your chest just to have something to hold on to.  He’s done this before, he’s had to.  He’s too good.  Too fucking good.  Already there’s coiling in your gut as incomprehensible words tumble from your mouth.  “Shit.  Shit.  Kiri I’m--I’m gonna--”  He rumbles approvingly against your clit; the vibrations send you closer and closer to the edge and when it crests, your back arches near pain as you cry out, your voice echoing in the gym.  It’s deep, roaring through all of your limbs but  Kiri keeps going, fingers still pumping, tongue still swirling around your sensitive nub.

Another orgasm breaks over you sharp and quick and the overstimulation has your legs quaking as your arousal gushes over Kiri’s hand and tongue.  But then he’s moving again, and you’re blearily aware that he’s shoving his own shorts and boxers past his hips to free his cock.  You stare as it bounces back to sit near the planes of his stomach; it’s already leaking steadily with precum.  Kiri looks back at you and when your eyes meet, you dart your tongue out between your lips to wet them.  Another time, maybe.  

Kiri leans forward to lift you up and the closer you get you can barely see any red in his eyes; his pupils are blown, his nostrils flared as he lifts you like you weigh nothing .  He could snap you like a twig.  But he won’t.  You know without a doubt this is the safest you’ve ever felt, even as he lowers you slowly over his cock and it does feel like you’re being split .

“ Fuuuck…”  You wrap your legs around him, your mouth dropped open, your hands gripping his shoulders.  You try not to dig your nails in but it’s almost impossible with how you’re being filled.  You knew Kiri was big but this was almost too much.  His forehead drops to yours as he pants.  But he’s not moving, won’t move until you tell him to.  It makes your heart ache and your cunt floods, drunk on the affection thrumming through your veins.  You roll your hips experimentally and the friction is bliss.  “Oh fuck, ohfuck.”  You move again, pushing yourself up and back down, listening to the hitch in his breathing.  “ Kiri, please, ” you whisper.  Those words… they’re enough.

Kirishima grips you by the hips, his fingers splayed and digging into the flesh; it’ll leave bruises and the knowledge cracks through you like electricity.  Let him leave marks.  Let him leave them everywhere.  He’s moving you up and down his cock, grunting, mumbling.  “Tell me, Kiri, tell me.”  His eyes meet yours again and his own mouth drops open.

“Fuck, you’re so good.  S’ tight.  Jesus, I-- ” Kiri moves his hands from your hips to support you as he lays you down on the floor of the gym.  The idea should be questionable but it’s not, it’s fucking not and you can’t concentrate on any other thoughts when Kiri grabs your wrists and pins them gently above your head with one hand while the other comes back to your hip.  He thrusts into you at a brutal pace but… it feels like home and you think in that moment as your cunt begins to seize around his cock that you would give up forever to continue touching him.

“Yes, Kiri, yes.  Right there, right--shit yesyes yes. ”  He pistons up, the veins of his cock rubbing just right and when he releases the grip on your hands, they’re moving to wrap around him on instinct.  He’s planting kisses along your jaw, mouthing up to your lips and back down to graze his teeth over your pulse point.  “Do it, fuckin’ do it, let them know ‘m yours, ” you slur and when he bites down you crash over the edge on a groan that’s really more of a scream.  Everything goes black but you're cradling him to you as his movements become more erratic.  The snapping of his hips is getting sloppier by the second and a steady growl punches from his lungs with each breath.  “Cum, Kirishima, cum inside me.”

He’s never heard those words before and it lights a fire in his veins.  His head is buzzing and then he can’t hear anything as his cock releases and he’s spurting searing hot ropes of cum into your cunt.  He goes until you’ve milked every last drop from him and he’d be lying if he said his world didn't suddenly feel whole.  Finally, his body settles and his chest drops to yours.  Everything slowly bleeds back into focus and somehow, everything seems more colorful than it did moments before.  You’re still clinging to him.

“Kiri.  Kiri, babe, I can’t breathe,” you say and he slowly rises, taking in your blissed-out expression.  Your eyes can barely stay open, your cheeks are flushed.  He backs up to see his handiwork on display, hyper-focused on the trail of the mingling cum dripping from the mess of your sex.  But you’re smiling.  Lazy and tired, completely at ease.  “Wanna take a shower?”  When you nod he doesn’t hesitate in standing to kick his underwear and shorts the rest of the way off his legs and then he’s grabbing you, scooping you into his arms and against his chest.  He pads out of the gym and across the hall to his bathroom where he deposits you on your feet, only after he’s sure you can stand and only long enough to turn the shower head-on.

He puts his hand under the water, waiting for it to get warm.  Steam billows from behind the glass door when he’s turning back to you to remove your tank top and your sports bra.  Thank god you chose the front-closure one today; you didn’t think either one of you wanted to struggle to get one up over your head right now.  When your breasts spill out of the high-impact fabric, you notice with tender amusement that his cock is half-hard again.  His eyes go dark again and he leans in for a kiss.  But it's slow and sweet. 

"You're so fuckin' beautiful," he whispers.  He ignores his arousal, ushering you into the stream of water.  Your care is the only thing that matters to him right now.  The heat slides across your body, and when Kirishima steps up behind you and begins soaping up your shoulders, it feels like heaven .

You take turns washing each other until you’re both blissed out in a different kind of way and the only thing either one of you can think about is sleep.  But the afterglow is fading and doubt is creeping in.  When you step out of the water, you stand awkwardly as Kiri hands you a towel.  “You okay?”  He’s actually concerned and you can’t put your finger on why you’re so fucking grateful for it.

“Yea, just tired.  I should, uh, probably get going.”  Kiri freezes and you think you’ve said something wrong, already crossed a line.  Your brain is like a broken record as the stomach-curdling image of having to see him at the agency flashes across your eyes in vivid detail.  But then he’s stepping into your space and pulling you in for a hug.  A hug.

“Don’t go,” he whispers into the crown of your head and it has you smiling like an idiot against his chest.  His skin smells clean and warm with a hint of spice.  You bury your face further in as you nod against him.  Then he’s leading you to his room, to the king-sized bed.  He peels back the comforter and the white sheets and pulls you in beside him.  Your back is against him and he hooks his foot around your ankles, bringing you even closer.  

He doesn’t say anything more, just lets out a huge sigh as he wraps his arm around you.  The last thing you notice before your eyes flutter shut is how your heartbeats are thumping at the same steady rhythm.  

Late afternoon sunlight slants in Kirishima’s bedroom window, creating interesting patterns across his blanket.  It’s pushed towards the end of the bed, your legs intertwined and tangled in the sheets.  He’s still dozing, his breathing not quite that of someone sleeping but not of a person fully awake.  You reach out to cup his cheek, stroke above his eyebrows, caress his lips with your thumb.  A contented sigh leaves his chest as he grabs your hand and kisses your wrist.  His eyes are open now and he watches you.  You smile at him, snuggling closer, not wanting the moment to end.

“Hey,” he says quietly, suddenly serious.  “I just want you to know, I don’t do this all the time.  I mean, I’ve been with other people before but I don’t…  I don’t really hook up .”  Things start clicking into place as you realize what he’s trying to get across.  He just fucked you stupid in his personal gym and somehow he looks bashful.  And because you love it, you’re not going to help him along.  You just watch, biting your lip to keep from giggling.  “I just.  I guess what I’m trying to say is I like you.  I’ve liked you for a long time.  And normally I would have wined and dined you first but...  Well.  Here we are.  Would you like to stay for dinner?”

That’s the last straw; your laughter comes bubbling out of you and Kiri is leaning back to look at you with a quizzical expression on his face.  “Is something funny?”  That just makes you laugh a little harder but the confused look he’s wearing has you leaning in to press your lips against his.

“I’ve liked you from the first day I met you, Kiri.  I’ll one-up your offer and tell you that I might like to stay forever.”  A grin rips across his face and your heart blooms with warmth and affection.  The world seems full of possibilities but none of them matter except for the possibility laying right in front of you.

[pwarkluv]

❝ idk you yet ❞ - p.js

park jisung x reader | angsty, fluff | 1.6k words 

WARNINGS | TW: mentions blood, abuse, drug and alcohol abuse, smoking, lowercase au, non-idol au, high school au, badboy!jisung, mature language/cursing, reader is like an angel sent from heaven for him, jisungie just in need of love :(

SUMMARY | being an outcast has him wondering if he’ll ever be happy. cue you, the new girl, stumbling into his life (literally).

AUTHOR’S NOTE | inspired by the song “idk you yet” by alexander23! also AHHH this is my 100 followers special fic :) THANK U LOVES FOR 100 IM SO SHOCKED CJSBFKEJD <33 the writing is a little crappy because i’m currently on my period and my patience for sitting down and writing this went down halfway through lol but I LOVE YOU SO MUCH, ENJOY THIS JISUNG FIC BC JISUNG MY BABIE AND SO ARE YOU GUYS!

whenever anybody thinks of park jisung, they think of the chains and dark clothing he wears. they think about the faint smell of smoke and men’s cologne that follows him wherever he goes. 

they think of the boy who grew up on the wrong side of the tracks. 

but what they don’t think about are bruises on his face he fails to hide whenever he walks into school, the dejected look on his face whenever random people give him disapproving looks, the way his smile slowly faded into a permanent frown wherever he went. 

jisung quickly accepted his reputation at school and in their little town, not having enough energy to feel insecure about it like before.

the only group of people that even remotely cared about the boy were his best friends in the whole entire world, nct dream.

they were outcasts just like him, the most “fucked up group of boys” in their town (the people’s words, not theirs).

see, they were your typical bad boy group straight out of your typical fanfic. bad grades, smoking in their free time, getting into fights, always being late to class; not a single person had hope in them.

but behind their scary and intimidating facade, all seven boys were big softies with misunderstood hearts and difficult backgrounds.

people were just too dense to look into it, only judging them based on their looks and personality on the outside. 

❝ how can you miss someone you’ve never met ❞

love was a foreign thing to jisung, the only form of love he’s ever felt being from his friends. his parents were… interesting to say the least. 

jisung’s father was a hard-core alcoholic, his mother being a major druggie. with no siblings in the house, jisung was usually their main target to push around and beat up.

and so because of this at a young age jisung learned to distance himself from other people and found different ways to release stress.

he started smoking when he was 14, the warm and hazy feeling of the smoke entering his lungs comforting him.

if jisung humored himself enough, maybe smoking could count as his first love. it was always there for him, never leaving him alone even if he wanted to quit. 

he relied on it knowing it was the only constant in his life. 

now of course the boy has heard of proper love, love like in the movies or shitty romance songs he hears on the radio.

and he won’t lie, there were moments he thought about what it felt like to be in love. but he knew that would never happen, at least not in their small town anyways. 

he just wanted to be loved. 

jisung would never admit it but sometimes he’d be jealous of the old couples walking down the street in their own world like it was just them two against the universe. he was jealous of the happy kids running around, their mother’s and father’s fondly smiling at their child. he was jealous of all the “normal” kids in his neighborhood. 

jisung wanted that, craved that. 

but most importantly, the boy wanted love.

❝ cause i need you now but i don’t know you yet ❞

everything hurt. 

his head, his body, his mind, his heart; everything was in pain.

jisung walked down the empty streets of their city, a trail of blood following behind him as he accepted his fate. the boy was 99% sure he had a concussion and at the very least had a few broken ribs. 

he felt like this was the end, and he was ready.

-

wandering aimlessly around town, you decided to take a late night walk to familiarize yourself around the area. you had just moved into the city a week ago, spending all seven days trying to help your family unpack and rearrange your cozy new home. 

now that you were finally free of the smell of tape and the dust of the boxes, you decided it was best to get to know the place you were living in. 

the autumn air seemed to settle at night as you shivered, cursing yourself for not bringing a jacket of some sort. the sight of a convenience store up ahead of you brought you relief as you rummaged through your pockets wondering if you had enough money for ramen.

your steps became excited as you found a couple dollars, fondly thinking about what type of ramen you should buy. you became so lost in your thoughts you didn’t even notice the poor boy who was staggering in front of you, or the trail of blood he left behind. 

-

jisung pushed himself to reach the convenience store a couple feet away from him, in desperate need of supplies to at least try and fix himself. 

if it didn’t help in any way then oh well, maybe death was indeed an option. 

grinding his teeth though the pain, he did not expect to feel a small body bump into him. had he been at his regular health, jisung would’ve easily been able to keep still but because of how much blood he was losing the boy was knocked down like a bowling pin.

“holy fuck.” jisung cursed the feeling of the concrete floor colliding with his ribs. he didn’t even notice the girl who had bumped into him sitting on the floor dumbfounded, freaking out over his state.

“oh my fucking god.” the girl said, capturing his attention. jisung glared at the stranger, mentally acknowledging the fact she was pretty. 

but her being pretty won’t get you anywhere, he scolded himself. she’ll leave you just like everyone else.

“a-are you okay?” she said, eyes glancing at his black eye. jisung rolled his eyes, already annoyed. “does it look like i’m okay?” he replied, his deep voice catching the girl off guard. 

“just, fuck off.” jisung said closing his eyes as he laid back down on the floor, knowing he couldn’t force himself to get up anymore. he didn’t even have to open his eyes to know she left, hearing the sound of her footsteps walk away.

the boy sighed as he laid idly on the floor, wondering what sin he committed to lead him to where he is now. not even she wanted to stay, the tears threatening to fall as his thoughts buried him alive.

“why can’t i just die?” jisung said out loud, asking no one but himself.

“because i won’t let you.” a voice replied as jisung forced himself to sit up in confusion. it was the same girl he had bumped into, but this time she had a first aid kit with her. he gave her a lost look despite knowing what she was here to do. 

jisung’s mind just couldn’t wrap around the fact that a total stranger would even bother to help him. 

“now sit up.” she said softly as she bent down to open the box, the boy slowly followed her instructions. “i’m sorry this might sting.” she said though jisung didn’t mind because she was much prettier up close.

-

the next ten minutes were you trying to fix his wounds against the shitty chairs outside the convenience store.

jisung didn’t even bother mentioning his broken ribs, not wanting you to freak out. you cleaned up what you could and the boy was beyond grateful for that.

you subconsciously rubbed his back in a comforting way whenever you’d apply alcohol to his open wounds, trying to ease the sting. you held his hand for him to hold and though he was a big boy and had a high pain tolerance, he still gave it a squeeze just to keep your hand there.  what the actual fuck is this feeling, jisung asked himself as he watched your determined figure work on him.

it was cold and in order to better work on his wounds, the boy offered to give you his hoodie which strangely had no traces of blood on it. you gladly accepted, the faint smell of blood and his cologne engulfing you up. 

the sight of you in something so big and so him made his chest swell in pride.

jisung couldn’t even formulate a sentence as you cursed at the time once you finished patching him up, fleeing the scene before he could say anything with a small smile, his hoodie still on. 

❝ and can you find me soon because i’m in my head ❞

the thought of your soft hands on his, your voice, your whole presence; everything about you couldn’t seem to leave the poor boy’s mind. it was now monday, and waiting for his class to start already made him want to go home.

if only i got her name, jisung daydreamed with his head resting on the palm of his hand. the classroom was loud and bright, people occasionally giving him looks but the boy didn’t mind. 

“jisungie~ did you hear we have a new kid?” jaemin asked, poking the boy’s cheeks. the boy only gave him a pointed look before sighing. 

“hyung i don’t really care.” jisung replied, looking back out the window. 

jaemin only gave him an offended look before grumbling a bit. “i don’t know maybe you will.” he muttered under his breath as their teacher walked into the room. 

❝ yeah i need you now but i don’t know you yet ❞

their homeroom teacher stood in front of the class, jisung tuning out his voice. the boy once again sighed as his teacher called for their attention, explaining they had a new girl in their class. “now make her feel welcomed,” he said before turning towards the door.

“y/n, please come in.” the teacher said and jisung almost fell out of his seat when he saw you walking through the door with the same smile you gave him a couple days ago.

“hi i’m y/n and i hope we can get along.” you bowed to the class, a familiar hoodie you were wearing catching his attention. 

isn’t that mine, jisung thought to himself as he bit back a smile knowing you kept it all along.