#i was on the bus to my lab today blocking out the sun because eyes ouch and started spiralling

[infartoomanyfandoms]

Omg I also get the worst health panic attacks. Not where I'm worried for my health but when I'm ✨too aware✨ of what's happening in my body, my brain does not like that. (Vividly remember 3 separate occasions where I nearly fainted or threw up in high school biology bc of this lmao) So every time I remember that my brain chemistry is literally changing I need to lie down for 10 minutes.

Medication was a great idea!

So I finally went to my doctor about mental health and got prescribed some lovely SSRIs 🤩

Fabulous, brilliant even, can't wait for them to work, however they are giving me such bad nausea and my gag reflex is constantly irritated. Like I'm not feeling ill at all, my gag reflex is just on overdrive.

Also my iris muscles are relaxing and it's giving me light sensitivity headaches

All of these mild inconveniences are making me wonder if it's even worth it 💀 But I'll stick it out for a few weeks and we'll see

[polaroid15]

Parker Luck

Summary: Two weeks after the Vulture-incident, Tony buys a parenting book. Too bad there isn't a chapter on Parker luck.

Read on Ao3 HERE :)

------

Two weeks after the Vulture fiasco, Tony buys a book called ‘Parenting for Dummies’.

He almost immediately regrets the purchase and hides it in a drawer in the lab, not yet brave enough to face it. Then one day he spends three hours squished against Peter’s side, listening to the boy ramble about everything under the sun while they adjust his web shooters. It hits Tony like a brick wall, and when Peter bounces out of the lab after teaching Tony a complicated handshake he knows he’ll never remember, he swears under his breath.

He shouldn’t be surprised, really. He had known it from that very first moment in the kid’s bedroom in Queens.

For once, denial has gotten him nowhere.

After his eyes ache from staring at the door Peter had disappeared from, Tony stands, stretches out a kink in his lower back, and grabs the book from the drawer before he can lose his nerve. Still standing, he traces his thumb over the word Parenting on the cover.

Retreat, his mind begs. Stop. Before it’s too late.

But deep down, he knows he’s already in too deep.

With a heavy sigh and a pressing warmth in his chest, Tony flips the pages to chapter one.

--------

Peter calls it ‘Parker luck’.

Tony calls it the source of his ever-increasing gray hair.

When Peter stumbles into the Tower covered in blood and delirious from a nasty hit to the head, Tony thinks he’ll pass out from the sudden weight of his worry. It only takes some gentle coaxing and seven stitches to make it better, but the unease sits in Tony’s gut long after Peter falls asleep. When the boy wakes up, he apologizes until Tony snaps at him not too.

“It’s the Parker luck, Mr. Stark,” Peter tells him, his head wrapped like a mummy on halloween. “It gets me everytime.”

Parenting for Dummies Chapter Three: Listen. “A nasty concussion doesn’t exactly sound like luck to me, kid.”

“Oh, well it’s not good luck,” Peter clarifies with a weak smile. “In fact it’s really bad luck. Exceptionally bad.”

“You’re killing me here.”

“Did you know that I slipped on a banana peel once? A banana peel. I was on crutches for three weeks in middle school.”

Tony’s worry melts into a hesitant amusement. He sits back on his stiff medbay chair and makes a distant note to invest in a better one. “That is pretty lousy luck, kiddo.”

“And it just keeps getting worse,” Peter says. “Getting bitten by a radioactive spider, crashing Flash’s car, or the fact that I spent homecoming destroying a plane while fighting my date’s dad.”

“I hope this Parker luck of yours isn’t contagious,” Tony jokes, but something in Peter’s eyes darkens. He leans back against the white sheets, chewing on his bottom lip. Tony thinks again of chapter three, of the subtitle that prompts to push at the right times, and takes the liberty. “What is it, kid?”

Peter closes his eyes and gives a watery smile. “Nothing, Mr. Stark. Sorry.”

And because he’s an idiot, Tony believes him. Something tells him he needs to buy Parenting for Dummies 2.

--------

When Peter saves a school bus full of third graders from a thirteen car pileup at the expense of his collar bone, Tony rereads his book, this time with a highlighter in hand.

He wishes there was a section on Parker luck.

This time, he’s less careful about where he reads. Pepper catches him one night, her eyebrows disappearing behind her bangs in her surprise. Her smile is genuine. “Is that what I think it is?” she asks.

“Maybe.”

“Oh God, please don’t tell me you’re pregnant.”

Tony rolls his eyes and dog ears his page before setting it aside. “I am, actually. And sorry to break it to you, but you’re not the father.”

Pepper laughs and sits on the arm of the couch. She runs her hand through his hair and he can’t help but lean into her touch. “This is about Peter,” she says.

His first instinct is to deny it. He feels vulnerable in a way he isn’t used to. “So what if it is?”

“He’s a good kid.”

“I know.”

“He’s making you soft.”

Tony scoffs, but doesn’t deny it. Not with Parenting for Dummies on his lap. “He’s stressing me out, is what he’s doing.”

“He really cares about you, Tony. I see it every time he’s over here.”

His body betrays him by the gentle swoop in his stomach. His mouth twitches in a smile. “I care about him too.”

“You’re a good example to him. He needs someone like you in his life. Especially after what happened to his parents. And his Uncle.”

And then it clicks. Parker luck. Tony’s mouth goes dry.

“I’m trying,” is all he manages to whisper. The book in his lap seems to increase by ten.

Pepper leans over him, pressing her lips into his hair. “I know.”

---------

It’s his and Peter’s fifth mission together.

Today, they’re going up against “the Detonator”, a crazed woman with an affinity for making bombs and setting them off in busy neighbourhoods. She’s armed with a team of rocket-launcher-wielding henchmen, and it’s taking every effort to keep the city in one piece.

Most of the block has been evacuated, thanks to Peter. Tony remembers chapter seven and shoots the boy some praise over their coms. Steve, who’s joined them for the day’s fight, agrees with clipped enthusiasm.

“Thanks guys!” Peter says in his usual animation. “These rocket launchers are no joke. Have you ever seen the movie-”

But whatever it is, it’s lost in the deafening sound of an explosion. He hears Peter swear over the com and Tony’s blood runs cold. Three blocks down, an orange fireball balloons into the air. Steve is already running, his shield tucked into his chest.

Tony shoots off into the sky.

---------

Peter thought they had everything under control.

Until rocket launcher man number 3 decided to explode the bank off 47th street, that is.

He feels the heat from the explosion before he can process what happened. It rips across his back and throws him off his feet into a hot dog cart across the street. Rubble and ash rain down on parked cars and their alarms begin to sound.

“Crap,” Peter groans, shoving away the dented cart and stumbling to his feet. His ears are ringing.

“Pete?” Tony’s voice cuts through the haze. “We’re on our way. You alright?”

“Yeah,” he responds, breathless. His shoulder aches. “These guys are not in a good mood.”

“You can say that again.”

The man who had fired the shot runs up the steps of the bank, bypassing chunks of concrete. Peter limps after him.

“Sorry man,” Peter says when his opponent’s back is still turned. “It’s after hours.”

Startled, the man spins. Peter fires a web to disarm him and it only takes one swift punch to finish the job. He webs him to the floor and kicks the rocket launcher into the corner.

“Kid?” Tony lands beside him, faceplate lifting and his hands reaching to grab onto him. His grip is tight on Peter’s arms, and Peter is unsure which one of them Tony is trying to comfort. “You still in one piece?”

Peter’s ears are still ringing, a high pitched whine that makes his eye twitch. His ankle throbs and he can feel warmth spreading down his back from a cut on his shoulder. He nods anyway. “Are you?”

“Better now that I see you haven’t been barbecued.”

Steve joins them as Peter laughs off Tony’s worry. He’s breathing heavy, his forehead streaked with ash. “Someone sighted the Detonator. She’s heading east towards the Empire State Building.”

“Of course she is,” Tony sighs. Finally, he lets Peter go. “Ready for a field trip?”

But just as he says it, another violent explosion lights up the street across from them. Peter stumbles against the force. Tony grabs his arm, and Steve his shoulder, and he steadies. Through the black smoke, a child cries.

Chest tight, Peter takes a step forward before he’s yanked back. It’s Tony. His helmet hides his expression, but Peter can tell from his stiff posture that he’s worried. That he doesn’t want to separate.

As if sensing it too, Steve places a hand on Tony’s shoulder. “Peter and I will clear the rocket launchers. You go take care of the Detonator.”

“But-”

“She can’t get to it first, Tony. You’ll be the fastest.”

The crying continues, and Peter takes another step. This time, the metal fingers wrapped around his elbow loosen, letting him go. “You better watch him, Rogers.”

“Mr. Stark-”

“Don’t do anything stupid, kid.”

And then Tony is off, blasting off into the sky. Peter shivers against the hot air his exit leaves before turning to run towards the smoke and debris, Steve hot on his heels. Without hesitation, he jumps over the small flames and emerges on the other side, his throat closing up against the smoke.

The first thing Peter sees is the child, snot-nosed and hidden underneath the bed of a truck. His eyes widen when he sees them, a cry stopped short. “Spider-Man!” he yells.

“Get the kid,” Steve says. “I think I see our guy.”

And then he’s gone.

Peter doesn’t dwell on it, vaulting over a smashed mailbox and a stretch of broken glass to reach the kid’s side. He’s trembling, but his hands reach out. Trusting him.

“It’s alright,” Peter says, accepting the kid’s outstretched hands. “We’re okay. Do you know where your family is?”

The boy shakes his head, lip wobbling but obviously trying to be brave. “N-no. I lost them over there,” he says pointing down the street.

“Okay. No problem. Let’s go find them.”

He doesn’t give the boy an option to walk, but instead guides him to rest against his back. Small fingers lock together at the base of Peter’s throat, holding tight.

“What’s your name?” Peter asks as he heads in the direction the boy had pointed. Keep him distracted.

“Benny.”

Peter’s breath catches. “Nice to meet you, Benny. I’m Spider-Man.”

“I- I know.”

“Oh yeah?”

The boy’s head bobs against his back. “I see you on TV. And on the newspapers on the street. You fight bad guys.”

“I try too.”

“You’re awesome,” Benny says, and the shaking quality to his voice recedes.

“I think you’re the awesome one. You’re being so brave.”

“Brave?”

“Yeah, Benny. Even though it’s scary right now you’re still going.”

Benny sniffles. “Are you scared?”

“Nah,” Peter says. “I’ve got you to protect me.”

Against his back, Benny’s chest swells with a breath of a response, but before he can let the words lose a relieved cry erupts from their left. A woman in a pastel headscarf runs towards them, her arms outstretched. “Benny! My little Ben-”

“Mom!”

Peter maneuvers him to the ground and as soon as his small feet hit the ground he’s running. The pair meet in the middle of the street, their arms wrapping tight and their tears mixing. The mother’s eyes meet him from over Benny’s shoulder. “Thank you,” she says, every ounce of her emotion leaking into her words.

“Of course,” is all he can manage.

Once he’s sure they're safe and off the street, he deviates his attention to his coms. “Steve?” he asks over a private channel. “Where are you?”

For a long time, Steve doesn’t respond. Then just as Peter’s worry spikes the man’s voice fills his ears, pinched and strained. “By the river. I’m cornered.”

“Karen-” Peter starts, but Steve’s location pops up on his screen before he can ask further. He changes the trajectory of his swing and just barely avoids clipping his hip on the corner of a building. Then, to Steve, “I’m on my way!”

He finds the Captain in worse shape than he had expected. He’s hunched against an upturned car, it’s tires melted from the sheer heat of the destruction on the street. His shield is raised over his head to protect him from debris raining from the crumbling buildings.

Across the road, three of Detonator's accomplices are shooting the buildings around him, shrieking with glee whenever new glass shatters. Peter glides between the chaos before landing beside Steve. He scrapes his hands on the landing.

“Oh my god,” Peter says, flinching from another loud explosion. “What do we do?”

Steve grimaces, and it’s only now that Peter sees how messed up his leg is. It’s twisted at an unnatural angle, the material of his suit singed and still smoking around it.

“What the hell happened?” Peter gasps, feeling sick.

“It doesn’t matter. We need to get out of here.”

“Not with those crazy rocket guys standing guard. You can’t walk!”

“I can try.”

Adrenaline courses hot through Peter’s bloodstream. He peaks over the car and reassesses their opponents. “I can take them.”

“No. Tony said-”

“Tony isn’t here,” Peter argues. “Besides, I have my Peter tingle. I’ll be fine.”

“Peter tingle?”

“Be right back.”

“Wait!”

But Peter ducks out of cover, knowing that Steve won’t be able to stop him. He runs towards the one closest to him and hopes the element of surprise will be enough to take them down. It is, but barely, and now his cover is blown. The other two turn their weapons towards him and before he can suck in a breath, fire.

Peter swears and jumps high, the rockets whistling as they pass under his feet. They hit the edge of the sidewalk by the river, blowing it open and skipping chunks of debris into the water. Not wanting to wait for them to reload, Peter swings and takes them both out with a single kick. He lands in a messy roll, disoriented by the quickness of the fight.

“We’re clear!” he yells over to Steve, but even as he says it dread sits heavy in his gut. He takes one step towards the car before he hears it- a sharp release of air.

Fire blooms up at the base of the building closest to Steve, the crack of the impact enough to rattle Peter’s teeth and throw him to his knees. It’s the last straw. The building makes a horrible noise of grinding cement, like a scream, and Peter knows enough from experience that it’s close to collapse.

“Steve!”

He sprints to where the man is trying to limp away. His eyes find him, their blue shocking through the dust and smoke. “Peter. You have to get out of here-”

“Not without you.”

Before the man can object, Peter pulls his weight over his shoulder and makes it his burden. He wonders distantly where the fourth rocket launcher is and why they haven’t been blown sky high yet.

But then glass and cement falls down around them like rain, and Peter realizes. Because the building will finish the job for them.

“We’re not going to make it,” Steve says through ground teeth. His hold on Peter’s shoulder is bruising. “Peter, please.”

The building sways again. They have a couple seconds. Nothing more.

Then Peter sees it. A manhole.

“Here,” he gasps, dropping to his knees and tearing off the cover. Every alarm bell in his head is screaming, but it’s the only option. The only way they’ll both have a chance. “Go.”

Steve drops in, disappearing into darkness and landing below with an aborted shout. Peter kicks his legs in just as the building crumbles. Fear stops the breath in his chest and he slides the rest of the way in. He falls and lands hard, head spinning, before finding Steve’s arm in the darkness and pulling him deeper into the sewer.

There’s a couple moments of silence.

And then the world erupts.

Peter will remember later how the force of the impact threw both of them off their feet and how it was impossible to keep his grip on Steve’s arm. He’ll remember the deafening noise of the building smashing onto the street above them, of the great plume of dust that filled the tunnel and blinded him.

He’ll remember falling, his legs jelly, and struggling to his knees.

He’ll remember wishing he had called Tony.

But none of it registers in the moment. There’s only terror.

And then there’s nothing.

----------

“Peter. Come on. Work with me here.”

Awareness brings pain. He strays.

“Nope. No. Peter. Open your eyes.”

The voice belongs to Steve, Peter realizes in a stilted disorientation. Steve, who had been hurt. Steve, who sounds very much alive.

It’s enough for Peter to lift his heavy eyelids. His surroundings are dark, but he can see the Captain’s worried face swimming in front of him, warping in and out of focus as both of them release a breath of relief.

“Thank God,” Steve says.

“Are you okay?” Peter murmurs, surprised for a moment by how unwilling his vocal cords are to cooperate. There’s new blood on Steve’s face and the torso on his suit is torn.

“It’s you I’m more worried about.”

“Mm. Why?”

Steve might respond, but Peter doesn’t hear it, his awareness slipping like the close of a stage curtain. Strong hands shake him and the sting of his injuries are enough for him to struggle back into wakefulness.

“Stay awake, kid. Alright? Tony is on his way. Keep your eyes open.”

Peter didn’t remember closing his eyes, but sure enough, when he tries they open. “Tony?”

“He’ll be here soon.”

There’s a tightness in his chest, and Peter coughs against it. It sparks a sharp pain behind his ribs and he curls his fingers into the ground as Steve braces him by his shoulder. His ribs are definitely broken. His leg throbs and the skin on the right side of his face itches terribly with drying blood. He blinks a couple times to try and alleviate his double vision, but it does nothing.

“What happened?” Peter asks.

“You don’t remember?”

“Not really.”

Steve’s expression pinches like he’s just eaten something sour. “The building above us collapsed, but don’t worry about it too much. Tony will be here in a flash.”

Collapse. Peter sucks in a panicked breath and it makes him cough again. It hurts worse this time, and his vision goes gray. He comes back to himself in Steve’s lap, his whole body shuddering and then man’s hand clamped protectively against his back.

The new perspective shows Peter a growing red stain on the Captain’s side.

“Steve,” he gasps, uncoordinated fingers reaching out to press against the wound.

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s not- it’s not nothing-”

Before Steve can retaliate further, their coms crack back to life. Peter winces against it, his fingers reaching up to struggle with the edges of his mask. Steve pushes his hand away. “Leave it. It’s helping filter your air.”

“Peter? Rogers?” Tony’s voice comes through in a mess of static. It reminds Peter of Ben’s favorite radio station that had been broadcasted too far to have a good connection. “I’m here. Oh Christ, I’m here. Are you okay?”

“Steve’s hurt,” Peter mumbles. It’s important Tony knows.

“Rogers?”

“Just hurry, Tony,” Steve says. There’s a pressure in his voice that Peter’s too tired to translate.

“The explosion caused the river to flood. You’re under about three feet of water right now.”

“We’re airtight.”

“For now.”

Peter feels himself dip further into Steve’s lap and the man’s steadying hand is delayed. Weaker. “Peter? What did I tell you about staying awake.”

“What’s wrong with Peter?”

“Queens. I need you to put pressure on this for me. Don’t give up on me now.”

Peter groans. For once, he doesn’t care how young it makes him sound. He struggles up anyways and replaces his hand obediently over Steve’s side. It paints his hands red and he tries desperately not to think of Ben.

“Rogers-”

“I got it, Tony.”

There’s a weighted silence. Peter bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself lucid. The static in his brain reminds him of the time he had gotten stabbed, and wonders if he’s bleeding somewhere too.

“Okay. I found a weak spot. It shouldn’t cause too much damage. Are you ready?”

“Go for it.”

There’s another lurch of shifting rock. Peter can’t help but cry out, his muddled brain struggling to comprehend that this time, it’s to help. Then there’s a loud crash, a weak beam of sunlight, and the rush of water.

Within seconds, the cold spray is up to their waists. Peter grinds his teeth and squeezes his eyes shut against reflexive tears the biting temperature brings. It gives him a boost of adrenaline, and when he opens his eyes again, his vision is more clear.

Tony is with them moments later, hovering above the water. His hands reach for Peter, but Peter shys away. “Steve first,” he pleads. “He’s bleeding-”

“You’re bleeding too-” Tony starts, but even as he says it, Steve lists dangerously to the side. His face is pale, his breathing shallow. Tony catches him by the shoulder. “Don’t move,” he tells Peter, and works to lift Steve up towards the hole.

The water is up to Peter's chest now. It steals the breath from his lungs and he scrambles to stand. Somewhere in the journey the ground above him groans and he loses his footing. He hears Tony yell out for him, feels metal hands push him hard, and then he’s completely underwater. There’s more noise. More pain.

He breaks the surface, stuttering on his breath and his teeth clattering. More sunlight has entered the tunnel, and it’s easy to piece together what had happened.

“Tony!”

Peter fights against the current to reach his mentor’s side. His suit is pinned under a large slab of concrete by his left leg, the water already sloshing up to his neck. Peter practically collapses beside him and digs his fingers under the weight, but his ribs scream in protest so violently that his vision goes white.

“Easy!” Tony yells, catching him by his arms when he falters. “Kiddo, listen to me. The suit will let me breathe for a while. You need to get out of here.”

“I’m not leaving you.”

“You have to. FRIDAY took some damage, but she’s recalibrating my boosters. I’ll be able to get out.”

“No,” Peter chokes, trying again to lift the concrete keeping Tony pinned. “I won’t leave without you.”

“Peter-”

“I’m not losing you too. I can’t- I can’t-”

Tony’s voice is more gentle, his hand reaching to cradle the side of Peter’s face. “Listen to me, bud. I know this is scary. But you have to trust me. You have to go. For me.”

Peter shudders. Feels hot tears pool under the tight confines of his mask. “Told you I have Parker luck,” he says.

Tony finds it within himself to laugh. The water is at their chins. “I know, kiddo. But you don’t have to be afraid anymore. We’ve got each other now.”

“Tony-”

“Go.”

The water rises over his mouth. He wouldn’t be able to answer even if he wanted to. Then Tony’s head is submerged, and icy terror closes around Peter’s heart.

He dives under and reaches once more for the weight on Tony’s leg. He pulls and struggles and feels Tony’s hands on his arms, trying to pry him off and pull him away. The light is gone in the murky water.

Please. Please.

The concrete shifts. It takes everything in Peter not to gasp out at the pain it causes, to waste the precious air he has left.

Please.

It shifts again. Tony has given up on trying to push him off and is instead helping to lift the weight. Just a little bit more.

Peter screams, tiny bubbles escaping and carrying whatever he had left away. His body loses strength just as the concrete is alleviated. He thinks he feels Tony’s hands close around his numb body. But really he can’t be sure.

Tony is safe.

And it’s all that matters.

-------

“Peter. Don’t do this.”

“Breathe, Queens. Oh God-”

“Steve. What do I- I can’t- I can’t-”

“Keep the compressions going, Tony. Keep going okay? Don’t stop.”

“I can’t do it without him. I need him, Steve. I need-”

“Keep it together. He’s going to be fine. Right, Peter? You’re going to be fine. You just have to breathe for us.”

“Kiddo. Baby. Please.”

It’s all water down a drain.

A swirling, murky mess.

And it takes Peter with it.

-------

Parenting for Dummies: Chapter 12.

Love them unconditionally.

Tony hasn’t left his kid’s side for hours. He’s been glued to him, the boy’s limp hand pressed between his own like a lifeline even when the doctor’s had worked to splint his leg. Every breath, every rise and fall of Peter’s chest is a miracle, and Tony stares at the heart monitor until his eyes burn.

May is dozing in a recliner in the corner, her glasses crooked on her face. It’s just nearing three in the morning.

There’s movement behind him, and Tony turns to find Steve. He’s traded his hospital gown for a pair of loose sweats and a white shirt, the skin on his arms wrapped with thick bandages. The Captain turns and sees May. When he speaks, his words are almost a whisper. “How is he?”

Tony shrugs, a sudden lump monopolizing in his throat. “He’ll be okay.”

“Has he woken up yet?”

“No.”

Steve sighs. He limps to Tony’s side, but still manages to keep some distance. “He was brave today.”

“If by brave you mean dumb, then yes.”

“He saved our lives. We both know that you wouldn’t have been able to blast out of there by yourself.”

Dread sits heavy in Tony’s gut, because it’s true. He would’ve said anything to get Peter to safety. His blasters weren’t recharging. Weren’t even close to functioning.

But the kid had been too selfless for his lie. Really, Tony shouldn’t be surprised.

And now every time he closes his eyes he sees Peter. Hurt, small, Peter. Jerking with the last of his energy to free Tony. Of going limp in the water, no more air leaving his lips and remaining totally unresponsive as Tony fought to return the life to him.

“I wish it didn’t have to be him,” Tony says.

“But it is. It was.”

“I know.”

Steve lays a hand on Tony’s shoulder. He’s too tired to flinch away from it. “Let me know when he wakes up.”

And then he leaves.

Tony runs his thumb over Peter’s knuckles. “Wake up,” he says. Pleads.

But with his usual stubbornness, Peter doesn’t show signs of waking for another hour. First his fingers twitch. Then he groans. His eyelids flutter and Tony nearly collapses in his relief. Soft and weary eyes turn to find him, and Peter’s lips turn into a smile.

“You’re okay,” he murmurs.

“You have no idea how angry I am with you right now,” Tony says, but any heat behind his words is lost behind his relief. Peter must see it because his smile only widens.

“You don’ look angry.”

“Furious?”

“Nope.”

“Enraged?”

Peter laughs, then winces. He looks down and notices Tony’s hand clamped on his own. “I’m really glad you’re okay.”

“Well, the feeling’s mutual.”

Peter looks up. Tony tightens his hold.

“Maybe I don’t have Parker luck after all.”

“We’re breaking the cycle,” Tony agrees. He lifts Peter’s hand and presses a firm kiss to the back of his hand. Peter smiles again.

“Pepper told me you bought a parenting book,” he says, eyes drooping.

“That woman is nothing but a liar.”

“Mm. I believe her.”

“Sorry to break it to you kid, but whoever would want to willingly parent a danger seeking, heart attack inducing kid like you would have to be crazy.”

Peter squeezes Tony’s hand. “Sorry to break it to you, but I guess that means you're crazy.”

Tony’s heart compresses with warmth. “Yeah kid,” he says, “I guess I am.”

And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

[saxophone-playa]

A Bad Day

@thatonetranny

OK, I know this took a long time. sorry. I could explain why, but I don’t really want to.

Characters: Tony Stark, Peter Parker, Ned Leeds, Flash Thompson

Fandom: Marvel

Word Count: 1760

Summary: Peter has a meltdown after Flash becomes the tipping point for him on a Bad Day. Ned helps, and irondad comes to the rescue.

TW: Meltdown, literally one cuss word

Peter enjoyed being alone. Sure, he liked hanging out with Tony in the lab, watching a movie with May, or playing video games with Ned. But being alone gave him space, space that the world didn’t want to offer, especially on Bad Days. Days when sounds were too loud, lights were too bright and anytime he tried to talk to someone they would brush him off or just annoy him. After days like that, being alone in his room with no one but his phone for company sounds like the greatest thing in the world.

So, when Peter woke that morning with the sun shining too bright and his pajamas feeling as though they could strangle him, he knew today was going to be a Bad Day. Brushing his teeth was a pain and he could barely swallow half an apple (he was going to be starving later, stupid metabolism). He immediately put his headphones in right outside his apartment door and started his walk to the bus.

The bus was surprisingly not too bad, yeah the jerky movements could be annoying, but to Peter they were familiar. A nice calm before the storm he knew. He kept his headphones on as long as he could, but the bell rang and the class had started. Off went the headphones and in came sensory input. He tried his best to focus and take notes while the teacher droned on about something he probably already learned with Mr. Stark. He’ll have to ask Ned for the notes later.

He was dealing with his Bad Day pretty well so far, he’s had all of his classes, except for his last one, with almost zero trouble. Ned even gave him his leftover lunch to help with his lack of breakfast. Things were going well, that is until Flash decided to be extra Flash today. Peter was grabbing the books he needed for his last class, gingerly picking up and putting down each one to make sure not to accidentally tear them up. When Flash came in and slammed his locker door and all his books fell to the ground.

“What’s wrong penis? Are you still being weird? I thought you got rid of that.” He said with a smirk, thinking he did something cool.

Peter could feel his blood boiling and itching. He just had one more class. One more. And then he could be on his way to his ro- Mr. Stark. He had to go to the tower today and work in the lab with Mr. Stark. That kind of just ruined peter. Yeah, he loved going to the lab and helping Mr. Stark, he would do that any day. But today? On a Bad Day? Why?

“Hello, Penis!” Flash started snapping his fingers in front of his face, and that was pretty much the straw that broke the camel's back.

Peter clamped his hands over his ears and screwed his eyes shut and sat down in the corner of the wall and his locker. Luckily Ned had forgotten to give him his notes and wouldn’t have seen him for the rest of the day and asked his teacher if he could give them to him quickly before class started. He honestly wasn’t expecting to see peter in a corner in a ball with flash standing there looking shocked and almost worried for the teenager.

“Shit, Peter? Are you okay?” Ned tried to keep his voice low and quiet to keep from distressing Peter more.

Peter just shook his head.

“Okay, I know what to do. You told me like a year ago.” Ned started to recall the list Peter gave him after a similar thing happened last year at their first Acadec meet.

“First, look for the cause, get rid of the cause.” He looks at Flash and glares like his mom does when he interrupts her during a phone call. It’s enough to make Flash runoff, deciding that he didn’t want to be a part of the situation anymore.

“Second, block sensory input.:” He dug around in his friend's bag to find his headphones and hat to block out the sound and light.

“Three, try, and communicate.” He looks at his friend's face and hopes his teacher won’t be mad for staying out of class for so long.

“Hey Peter, you doing better?” Still keeping his voice quiet he manages to get a nod out of his friend.

“Do you want to go to the nurse?” Knowing the nurse will help him way more than he could.

“No.” came his quiet timid response.

Ned bit his tongue in thought and tried to decide what was best for his friend.

“Do you want to go home? To May?”

His friend once again shook his head and simply said “Work.” in the same timid voice.

Ned didn’t know what to do. He was supposed to take him to the nurse so she could help him, but trying to force him there could lead to an even bigger meltdown. And Mays at work so he definitely doesn’t want him home alone right now.

“Well, what do you want peter?”

Now, Peter is smart, like really smart. All A’s kind of smart, memorized Pi in the fifth grade kind of smart. You get it, Peter is smart. But, in situations like these all that smart he has gone out the metaphorical window and he reverts into what Ned likes to call The Lizard Brain. There is no thought process or best decision for what variables there happen to be at that moment. There is only: DON’T DIE FROM THE SCARY WORLD. So when he gives his answer to Ned's simple questions, he doesn’t think.

“Tony.”

Tony was having a surprisingly good day. He ate breakfast, did his morning workout, talked with pepper on her lunch break, and was even productive in furthering their new stark phone they are planning on releasing soon. Overall, a Good Day. Plus, today was a lab day with Peter, even better. Peter was the highlight of his day, any day. He liked having the kid around, someone to match his level of intelligence. It was easy having him around, he said what he thought most of the time and would appreciate whatever Tony said back. Sure he had his days where communicating was hard, they just learned how to work with each other when that happened.

He was just about to remind Happy to pick up Peter when he got a call from the boy.

“Hey kid, I was just about to get Happy to-”

“OH my god, hi, sorry sir, to interrupt you, but we kinda have a situation.” Tony was a little startled, to say the least when he heard the voice of a different teenage boy than the one he was expecting.

“Who are you? And what situation?” to say Tony was concerned would be an understatement. There goes that Good Day.

“Um, I’m Ned, Peter's friend. And Peter is the situation right now.”

“Hi Ned’s Peter’s friend, you wanna tell me what’s wrong with the kid?” hearing that there was something up with his kid didn’t sit right with Tony.

“Yeah, uh, something happened between him and a classmate of ours” -Did Peter get into a fight? He doesn’t do that. And if he did, it would be the other kid in the ‘situation’, not Peter- “And he started having a meltdown, -Peter, does he know what a meltdown is? He does? Okay.- and I was able to calm him down, but he can’t really go back to class like this. And May’s at work. So we called you.”

By the time Fred- Ned? Ned had finished talking he already had his shoes on and was heading towards the elevator.

“Okay, thanks, Fred. Tell Peter I’ll be there to pick him up in about ten minutes and to go to the front office.” he hung up not even waiting for an answer. Getting in his car and he started down the road to go and get his kid.

When Peter heard Tony say that he was on his way he was able to calm down some, but not all the way. He could still feel the rumbling of the A/C below them and the hat he wore blocked out most of the light from the ceilings, but not the shiny floor of his school. When he stood up to leave the front office he swayed a bit on his feet, but with the help of Ned, he was able to get there without fail.

After a few minutes Peter guessed, Tony showed up with the heavy-duty headphones and sunglasses. Peter gratefully put them on and got up to leave. He waved at Ned hoping he wouldn’t get in trouble because of him and stepped outside.

The ride was quiet on the way to the tower but Peter liked it that way. Mr.Stark didn’t pressure him to talk when he didn't want to. The car had a more soothing rumble compared to the one in the school.

When they arrive at the tower Tony leads Peter to the couch, yes Peter remembers what he said about being alone, especially on Bad Days, but that doesn’t apply right now. He just wants to watch a movie with his father-figure, is that too much to ask for? Tony leaves to get Peter's favorite blanket he has in his room. “No, I’m not a dad, I swear” he whispers to the posters in Peter's room.

He sits down beside the spiderling and covers them both with the blanket. After a while when Peter is calmed down more he takes off the headphone and sunglasses and looks at Tony. He’s not looking at his eye but at his ear, eyebrow, nose, chin, and anywhere else except for the eyes, Tony doesn’t care, he just wants to know what his kids got to say so soon after a meltdown.

“Thank you.” he practically whispers.

“For what Underoos?” he matches his tone, afraid he’ll break something if he doesn’t.

“For helping me. For being there.” his speech is still a little broken up, but Tony doesn’t care.

 “You don’t have to thank me for that bambino. I'll be there no matter what.” Just like Peter does sometimes, he reverted into The Lizard Brain and he dared a kiss to the top of his kid’s curls. He froze some afterward, but after hearing the contented sigh that came out of the kid, he knew it was the right thing to do.

[rose-of-gabriel]

Stalker

@ghostoftreebeard was unfortunate in that they got me for RebelCaptainSecretSanta, and I did not get my life together until now. So yeah, sorry about that. 

Thank you for introducing me to the wide world of rogueone!collegeAU

prompt: “Oh my god, are you stalking me?”

Cassian doesn’t even know her name, and trust him, it’s not for lack of trying. At first, he had barely noticed her, save for a passing “she’s hot but I’m not going to entertain that thought any further because you’re the TA, Andor. For God’s sake!” As that first term went on, he realized she wasn’t doing any of the assignments, and while she always showed up for exams, her tests ended up in the trash instead of on Professor Draven’s desk. Cassian tried to look her up in the student registrar, but she didn’t match any of the I.D pictures. She’s a ghost, haunting nearly every class he assists for the next three semesters.

Maybe she’s just a history buff. All of Draven’s lectures are open to the public, and plenty of locals take advantage of that fact. Cassian suspects she’s a student, though, with her worn out Yavin State hoodie and battered rucksack. Despite his responsibilities during lecture, Cassian’s eyes always drift to the back of the room, where she sits with her feet propped up on the seat in front of her, hair in a messy bun and eyes smudged with black liner. Cassian wishes she would sit closer so he could make out the color of her eyes.

It happens in the spring. He’s TAing for Draven’s class on the U.S Reconstruction period when she doesn’t show up the first day. He tells himself that he doesn’t care, but he can’t deny the disappointment when she is absent the following class period, as well. He does not spend extra time in the library or walk extra slowly to the bus stop in hopes of seeing her. He definitely doesn’t get to class early next week, staring at the doorway as students pour into the room. He nearly loses hope when – just as Draven begins the lecture – she stumbles in.

Cassian prays that no one notices his involuntary gasp. Even from the front of the room, he can see that her lip has been busted open, and a massive bruise swells over her right cheek. There is a large bandage over her temple and her knuckles on both hands are wrapped in gauze. Cassian’s ears are ringing as he takes in the sight, a million questions racing through his head. He notices distantly that a few other students turn to look at her before whispering to their classmates. She doesn’t seem to notice or care, pulling out her notebook and propping up her feet like nothing is out of the ordinary.

Draven normally wants to hear Cassian’s feedback at the end of each lecture, but today he’s out the door before Draven even closes his laptop. Half of his brain is chanting that this is none of his business, this is none of his business, this is none of his business! The other half is locked on to the back of her head, weaving through the rush of students in a desperate attempt not to lose her. He doesn’t have a plan, or a real justification for what he’s doing. Sure, he’s decent in a fight, but he doubts whoever did this to her is going to show their face in broad daylight. The thought of that person sends his blood boiling and has him clenching his hands into fists. In that moment, he’s certain he could tear a man limb from limb.

The woman heads to the coffee shop a few blocks from their building and Cassian pauses at the edge of the sidewalk. This is when he should stop. He knows this, knows that he should never have come this far, it’s just… the idea of anyone hurting her fills him with more emotion than he’s felt in years. Something inside is telling him to trust his instincts and follow it, follow her.

He doesn’t give himself time to second guess when she comes out of the coffee shop, just puts one foot in front of the other. She heads to one of the computer labs, next, prints something, then to the park where she plants herself on a bench and pulls out a book. She lays down as if she’s in her living room and not a public park, holding the book to keep the sun off her face. Cassian decides to sit down at one of the metal picnic tables and pull out his own book, though he doesn’t retain a word of it. He’s idly thumbing the corner of one page when suddenly a hand is snatching it away from him.

“Ay!” He exclaims, the word dying on his tongue as he looks up.

Her injuries are even more worrisome up close, but not nearly as frightening as the death glare she is giving him. “You stalking me, Mr. Andor?”

His mouth struggles around a response, his thoughts far too preoccupied with the color of her eyes: green, with flecks of gold, like stardust.

Eventually, his brain catches up to the present and he says. “I could argue that you’re the one stalking me. I’ve seen you in every class I’ve taught for the last three semesters.”

She crinkles her nose, clearly not expecting that. “I like history, sue me.” Then she shakes her head. “Wait, how the hell did you follow me around all day and then somehow turn this on me?”

Cassian can’t help but laugh at that. “I’m not a very good stalker. I don’t even know your name. You’re not on the student roster.”

Her posture loses some of its edge, voice sliding into something more playful. “So you looked me up then, aye?”

A shiver runs through him. He admits, “It’s hard to resist the mystery.”

His eyes lock with hers for a few moments, entranced by their depth. Then his focus turns to the gruesome state of her face and his stomach turns. She notices, and all softness in her expression vanishes.

“Ah, I get it.” She growls, letting his book drop to the table with a bang. She gestures to her face. “You saw this and thought I needed your ass to follow me around and what… protect me?”

“No,” Cassian says immediately, because its true! He doesn’t doubt for a second that she can take care of herself. “I just… I was just worried.”

“You don’t even know me.” She scoffs, turning on her heal and marching away from him. He nearly chokes trying to find something to say, anything that might make her turn around, but words don’t come. He gets up slowly, embarrassment and frustration churning in his gut. Then, before he can grab his things and sulk home, she comes back, this time stepping into his personal space.

“And not that it’s any of your business,” she says, jutting out her chin, “but I got these in a fight and won. I don’t need some stalker to protect me.”

She stomps away again, but only makes it a few steps before Cassian finally finds his voice. “I know you’re smarter than everyone else in that room.” She stops. “I know you could ace those exams in your sleep.” She doesn’t turn around but inclines her head, so he knows she’s listening.

“I know you drink black iced coffee at every hour of the day, and you fiddle with that necklace when you’re thinking.” She faces him, hand settling over her sternum where he knows a large stone sits hidden beneath her shirt. He’s watched it dance between her fingers more times than he can count. It’s fueled hundreds of questions that keep him up at night, never dreaming he would know the answers.

She approaches him slowly, like a cat assessing a stranger. She stands within arms’ reach of him, eyeing him curiously. Figuring he has nothing to lose, Cassian continues.

“I’m guessing you have at least one tattoo,” she raises a coy eyebrow, “and your favorite color is green.”

That earns an explosive laugh. “How the hell do you figure that?”

Cassian shrugs, fighting a smile. “Wild guess.” Green is definitely his new favorite color.

She rolls her eyes. “We’re adults. We don’t need favorite colors.”

“I disagree.”

She makes a dismissive sound, but her lips creep up in a smirk. Cassian feels warm down to the tips of his toes. He has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling, knowing that he is being utterly ridiculous.

With a sigh, she squares her shoulders and says, “You want to get a drink, stalker?” Cassian hasn’t fully processed her question when she starts backing away, wearing a self-satisfied grin. “My name’s Jyn, by the way.”

0o0o0

They end up at the Cantina, a bar just off campus that’s popular with undergrads because they never card. Cassian learns that Jyn’s a sociology and criminology double major. The history classes she audits are just for fun. She’s also pretty good at coding, turns out, and helps student clubs design their websites. In turn, Cassian reveals that he went to Yavin for undergrad on a scholarship, but when he was a kid, he wanted to be a spy.

Jyn laughs. “Yeah, I can see that.”

Cassian takes a swig of his beer. “Really?”

“Of course. When Draven turns to you during lecture, you’re able to nod like he isn’t putting everyone to sleep.”

Cassian chokes on his beer, which makes Jyn laugh even harder. He laughs too, even as he tries to clean up his shirt. Soon they’re both on their third beer. The sun is far below the horizon and the Cantina is buzzing with people. All through the evening, Cassian resists asking about what happened, but his worry must still be evident, because eventually Jyn sighs, fingers pulling at the cord of her necklace.

“These guys have been bothering my brother for a while. I needed to send a message that he’s off limits.”

“Is your brother in trouble?” Cassian keeps his voice even, free of judgement.

Jyn wrestles with what she wants to say next. “You know the Empire?”

“The neo-Nazis cult?” Cassian can’t suppress his shock.

Jyn nods. “My brother got caught up with them after his mom died. He didn’t buy into their shit, it was just better than getting lost in the system.” Her eyes flit to his, then latch back onto the table. “Anyway, after a few years, he finally broke ties and ran. That’s when my dads found him and took him in.”

Cassian’s speechless, so many questions battling in his head. He settles on the most impossible one, the one that has him brimming with nervous amazement. “You took on a fascist cult single handed?”

Jyn seems surprised at his question, like she can’t believe that’s what he got out of the story. Then her lips are slowly pulling upward, and she’s shaking her head in fond disbelief.

“Not in its entirety, but a handful of guys, yeah.” Then her expression sobers, and he knows the playfulness in her next words is a disguise for genuine fear. “Ready to run?”

Cassian answers sincerely. “No. Based on my experience in the system, I don’t blame your brother.”

Relief and surprise wash over her features, piercing green eyes going wide. Several weeks pass before the subject is brought up again. Several weeks of grabbing lunch after class, of Jyn stopping by during his office hours. Several weeks of dinner at his place and study dates at hers. He meets her brother. Her dads ask about him when they call. He talks about her to his friends and they’re all probably sick of it by now, but he doesn’t care. Cassian Andor is happier than he’s ever been.

[baroquebucky]

chemistry

part 2

warnings: getting followed ( marked with ****** ) and flirty!shy!peter

A/N: omg you guys liked this much more than i expected :�� ) please leave some feedback of what you’d like to see !! I’d love to hear what you guys think <3

part 1

You walked into chem just as you had every other day, flustered as you noticed peters lingering stare on you, his face soon flushed when you sat next to him and gave him a soft hi.

You both stole glances at each other, giggling softly when one of you caught the other. Like now for example. You watched peter fumble with the goggles, too amused to help him.

“why are you staring at me” he pouted and you blushed, face heating up and ears burning.

“I wasn’t staring!” You defended yourself, giggling a bit as the goggles fit him too tight.

“here, let me see them” you spoke, reaching your hand out as he handed you the goggles, your fringertips brushing as your heart rate sped up even more, you were sure he could hear it.

Peter could hear how fast your heart beat was, he was fighting the giant grin threatening to crawl onto his face. You fiddled with the straps and handed him the pair of goggles back.

“there, try it” you grinned at him, seeing the goggles fit perfectly. He thanked you softly and you saw his ears a deep shade of red, you smiled at him and headed to a lab table, ready to experiment with sami.

Peter headed to a lab table four away from yours, you could still see the outline of his jaw and the way his arms flexed underneath the shirt he was wearing. You had to stop yourself from going into the depths of your mind.

“oh my god can you please keep your stares to a minimum right now? we have a fire going on!” sami gelled, motioning to the bunts and burner she had lit up.

“yeah sorry” you spoke, chuckling as she smiled at you.

“nah don’t worry about it, I’m betting now he’ll ask you out by Christmas break” sami spoke, looking over at peter and Ned almost done with the lab.

You scoffed as you grabbed the items you needed and quickly took notes as the small reaction took place. You offered to clean up the lab, seeing as though you had taken the notes and sami still needed to copy them. After wiping the table down you rushed over to put the goggles back in their container.

You got on your tip toes to put them in their spot, and you held your breath as you realized peter was right behind you, putting his goggles up too.

You stopped breathing. You could feel his chest on your back, the way his arms just ever so slightly grazed your bare skin. You were almost in a daze before you realized how close the two of you really were.

You rushed to your seat quickly, face burning hot and a smile creeping it’s way onto your face, you rushed to Sami’s side, squealing as you walked to orchestra, giving her every last detail of the interactions between the two of you.

The first week of school flew by in a whirlwind, suddenly you were fully flung into working mode, the piles of papers you had to write shoved into your backpack. But the one thing that you savored more than anything else was the time you spent in chemistry laughing at the back of the class with peter, or getting to copy his notes.

It was Sunday night, you had finally finished all your homework. Just as you were about to get in the restroom to shower, a wave of realization hit you. The art project. Painting somewhere safe.

You grabbed all your clothes and quickly ran out the door, rushing to find your shoes and heading out to a small park you had found. It was sort of your safe haven.

You thanked god that you had started doing your other work yesterday so that you had enough time to finish early today.

You sketched out the small opening with a little gazebo to the side, a small pond with a generous amount of ducks and trees. You hummed to old one direction tunes, stopping here and there to text your best friend from back home. She FaceTimed you and you smiled brightly, answering on the first ring.

“Ximena!” You smiled, as she waved through the screen.

“oh my god hey! i miss you bitch” she pouted and you sighed, “i miss you too thot, i have like one friend here and that’s it” you groaned, propping your phone up on your water bottle so you continue to sketch.

“what are you doing?” She asked, leaning in to see what you were working on. You smiled at her question and held up your piece of paper.

“art, we have to draw a safe space so I’m drawing this cute little park i found” you explained setting it back down.

“so tell me about that boy you like, what’s his name? Patrick?” She asked, smiling widely.

You laughed at her, “it’s peter and oh my god i have to sneak a picture of him he’s so fucking hot and cute” you groaned, leaning back and smiling at her through the screen.

“The other day my back was against his chest and oh my god it was magical xime” you smiled, remembering the way his skin felt against yours.

You and ximena talked for hours, catching up and just talking about nothing. You didn’t even realize the sun was already going down.

“shit, I’ll text you when I’m home, i have to catch the bus back home or else it’s like a 30 minute walk” you spoke, putting your colors and pens back into your back and carefully slipping in your art project.

“okay be safe!” your best friend called before you hung up. You walked quickly to bus station, and then started sprinting when you realized “oh my god that’s the bus i have to take home.”

You tried to run after the bus but no luck, you groaned and looked around, no one. Your eyes started to tear up but you quickly wiped them. You’ll be fine don’t be dramatic.

You didn’t know if it was just because it was dark, but you realized Queens was terrifying. Every noise you heard you were ready to fight, scared that some creepy old man would try something with you.

You looked at the map on your phone, and then looked up, realizing you had been going the wrong way. “No, no, no!” You groaned, turning around and walking much quicker the right way.

“do you uh, need a little help miss?” You heard an you spun around quickly. He seemed nice, middle aged, carrying some groceries. Something told you to stay away, say you were fine and leave.

“uhm no I’m okay- thank you” you spoke, offering him a small smile and walking the other way quickly.

“no please let me help, are you lost?” He spoke, setting his bags down and crossing the street. Oh god.

“no! Just uh change of plans my mom should be here any minute” you spoke, voice shaking as the man kept coming closer.

******

“I can take you home” he smiled at you and you ran for it, glancing down to see you were going the right way and you realized, i can’t let this guy know where i live. You took a sharp turn, hoping to loose him after running at top speed for five minutes.

Your throat burned and your legs hurt, god you were out of shape. You frantically looked around, you were alone.

You let out a loud sigh, holding onto the wall as you caught your breath again. Suddenly you were being tackled into an alley, a small scream leaving your mouth before it was muffled into the mans hand.

******

Peter heard a scream, immediately swinging the way he had just came from.

“karen what’s going on?” Peter asked as he swung towards the source of distress.

“It seems as though there is an assault in the alley to your right” the AI spoke calmly.

“call the cops now karen!” He rushed, landing softly and looking into the alley. He didn’t see anything and then suddenly the hair on his neck stood up. He moved quickly, the bullet going straight into the wall.

“hey i don’t have life insurance yet!” Peter spoke, running towards the man and taking him down. The man struggled but peter quickly webbed his hands up, pinning him to the wall.

From the corner of his eye he saw you moving away quickly, out of the alley and onto the street.

“hey!” He called out, running after you.

You spun around quickly, your backpack wet and you knew your project was ruined, the tears in your eyes threatening to leak out.

“the cops will be here soon just wait a bit okay? I’ll be here with you” He spoke, his voice muffled from the mask and you nodded softly. You pulled out the piece of paper from your backpack. Half of it was wet and ripped and the other half was all wrinkled.

“great now my art project is ruined” you cried putting your head in your hands and letting out a groan. Peter wanted nothing more than to take you into his arms and hold you, shield you from the world an show you love. But you didn’t know peter was Spider-Man.

You knew peter was in marching band and academic decathlon, that he was really smart and according to your whispering with Sami, really hot. Peter looked at you, you were scared and honestly after almost being robbed who wouldn’t be.

“you almost got assaulted and you’re worrying about an art project?” Peter gave you a small smile and you rolled your eyes.

“well yeah it’s my first impression! those always matter” you scoffed, folding your arms over your chest. The faint sound of sirens and the hue of red and blue lights brought you some relief.

As the police officers approached you and this spandex wearing hero they asked you questions, wanting to know if you wanted to press charges.

You knew pressing charges meant your parents knowing and if they found out something like that happened you would have to spend your entire life indoors.

The man was still arrested, seeing as though he was wanted and when they offered you a ride you denied it, you were only two blocks away and you did not want to show up at home in a cop car.

“uh thank you for, saving me spandex wearing guy” you spoke, cringing as the words left your mouth. You could hear the smile in the boys voice as he spoke behind the mask.

“it’s no problem, I’m uh Spider-Man” he spoke and you nodded. “Oh? uh okay thanks again” you smiled heading home. Peter quickly caught up to you and you lifted a brow.

“did i forget something?” You asked, naive to the fact he wanted to walk you home.

“i just wanna make sure you get home safe” he spoke and you blushed.

“well okay spider guy” you grinned as he blushed a bit. “spider-man, sorry i just moved from Texas, i don’t really know about local super heroes, only like the big avengers, the six ones i think?” You spoke, looking at the ground. Peter was quiet beside you.

“Oh my god, not that you aren’t an avenger! i mean you are! I’m not one to say i can’t even run a mile in under ten minutes in gym class- i mean you saw how out of shape i was” you rambled, stopping in your tracks as you tried to make sure you didn’t hurt the heroes feelings.

“It’s okay, i would say I’m an avenger, i was in Germany when the whole iron man vs cap was going down” he spoke and you knew for a fact he was smirking under the mask.

“i mean might as well get knighted in as an avenger right” you smiled, laughing softly as he agreed with you.

When you got home you quickly thanked him, awkwardly waving goodnight and rushing in your house. You showered and changed into an over sized hoodie and some shorts, re drawing your painting and looking out your apartment window, the city lights visible. You glanced at your clock, 3:45 a.m. It was only the second weeks of school.

You reluctantly got out of bed the next day, only 3 hours of sleep under your belt. Walking out the door the only thought on your mind was getting back home and taking a nap, or maybe you could close your eyes for a while in your small animal class, you never did much in that class.

Unluckily for you you had to take notes in your history class (you almost fell asleep had it not been for the nice girl next to you notifying you when the slides changed) your counselor called you down to finally get you out of basketball, and you had an essay in ap Lang. You just wanted to nap.

With a blurry vision you made your way to the cafeteria, wanting nothing more than to nap, even if it was 30 minutes. You found sami and quickly sat down with her, putting your head down and tuning out her rambling about some drama between girls.

She let you sleep and you were grateful, only waking you up when they were dismissing, you rushed to your art class and handed in your project, praying your teacher wouldn’t be harsh on grading. You walked outside to small animal, the bright sun shining down on your sleep deprived face, making you want to just stay in a dark room and sleep for years on end.

Your hopes of napping were crushed as you had a test, you also had on in pre cal. You walked to AP chem, your mind was blank and you just wished you only had notes today.

You sat down and pulled on the strings of your hoodie, taking a deep breath before taking the hood off and making the strings even once again. You hadn’t even noticed peter looking at you, you were too tired a delirious to.

“uhm are you okay?” Peter asked, knowing well what had happened last night.

“what? well does it look like it?” You snapped quickly, turning back to the front and yawning. You looked back at him with a sorry look. “I just didn’t sleep well last night” you spoke, taking your notebook out and flipping to an empty page.

“oh sorry” peter spoke, opening his journal and taking notes along with the slide show.

“so I’m guessing you know about Spider-Man?” You asked in a soft whisper, not looking away from your journal as you copied down some notes.

Peters face went pale, his heart rate inscreased. You didn’t know right? I mean how could you he barely talked to you for maybe 15 minutes! “uhm What? Who’s Spider-Man?” Peter asked, trying to play dumb before realize how stupid he sounded.

“that spider guy with the spandex? part of the avengers- according to him at least” you spoke, looking at peter and noticing his pale face.

“are you okay? want water?” You asked, concern on your face. Peter felt relieved, you had no clue.

“I’m fine, oh yeah Spider-Man! Sorry just had a brain fart” he chuckled nervously. “Yeah i know him, really cool guy, super awesome” he spoke, nodding his head and you hummed in response.

“yeah i met him last night walking home, seems like a good guy. We didn’t really have super heroes where i lived so, pretty cool” you smiled at peter and he smiled back, nodding his head in agreement.

“also I’m sure that flash guy in my pre cal class has a crush on him or something, i can see why though” you laughed, and peter snorted softly, causing the teacher to look at the two of you quickly. You both hid your giggles, not wanting to get in trouble.

As the last few minutes approached you put your journal back in your backpack, smiling at peter as you he looked at you quickly.

“what?” You laughed softly, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. Peter looked at you and smiled.

“you’re wearing mismatching Halloween socks, it’s barely August” you folded your arms across your chest and furrowed your brows.

“it’s almost spooky time” you spoke, the bell ringing as you finished your sentence, smiling as peter laughed at the perfect timing of the bell.

You walked out with sami telling her of your conversation with peter. The rest of the day went by quickly and you found yourself on the train once again. Your eyelids felt heavy as you sat down and you kept pinching yourself to try and stay awake.

You finally got to your stop, hopping off the train and deciding to walk home to try and wake yourself up so you could do homework when you arrived home.

After a few hours of doing homework and taking dance breaks you went to wash your face and changed into some shorts and a t shirt. You fell asleep quickly and didn’t notice the little note peter had stuffed in your chemistry notebook.

The next day you woke up feeling a lot better, sami was absent so you spent the whole day bored. The nice girl in your history class, Esmeralda, made conversation with you and the both of you seemed to click.

Your schedule got changed and so now you had Pre cal 4th and B lunch and your first period was now AP Lang. You hurried into the cafeteria, not knowing where to sit or who to sit with.

“y/n!” You heard from beside you and you quickly looked around, you saw esmeraldas long black hair and a bright smile on her face.

“hey!” You smiled walking up to her and heading to the lunch line. “I just got switched into this lunch I’m so glad you found me” you chuckled and she nodded.

“yeah the girl i used to sit with has C lunch now, i guess the counselors are finally getting the changes done huh” she spoke and you agreed. You both talked for a bit more before sitting at a small round table with two seats.

“so tell me, do you have a crush on anyone?” She smirked and your face grew hot.

“I mean yeah maybe” you smiled sheepishly, looking down at your food and messing with the taco salad that had been served.

“who!” she squeaked, looking at you in excitement. Your smile grew wide as you thought of peter.

“his name’s Peter Parker, i have him in my chem class” you smiled, looking at her as her smile slowly faded. “what?” you asked nervously, stomach dropping slightly.

“is he in band?” She asked, looking through her phone for something.

“yeah” you slowly spoke, worry starting to form.

“i think he’s on and off with this one girl MJ, i could be wrong though i don’t know.” She looked at you sympathetically and you shrugged your shoulders.

“it is what it is” you gave her a small smile and she shook her head.

“I have him in band, I’ll talk to him to set you guys up” she smiled, excited at the idea of getting to set two people up together.

“you don’t have to” you spoke, a feeling in your stomach you couldn’t describe. You wanted to trust her but something didn’t seem right.

“no i want to, I’ll get him to like you I’m sure of it” she smiled, and you only laughed softly in return, finishing off your lunch in silence.

You smiled at peter walking into chemistry.

“good afternoon Parker” you smiled at him and he laughed.

“afternoon to you Parks” tipping an imaginary hat toward you and you smiled, putting a hand on your forehead and pretending to faint.

You opened the journal and a small piece of paper slipped out, you picked it up and saw a small ghost with a pumpkin next to it “spooky time!” was written under the doodle “- peter:~)”

You smiled brightly and shoved the little piece of paper in your pocket quickly flipping to a new page and taking notes.

“the first football game is coming up” peter spoke as he watched you write down the facts from the board, he could easily copy them from Ned or maybe he can ask you for your number to get them.

“oh yeah, is the band preforming?” You asked nonchalantly and peter shrugged.

“I’m not sure, a trailer broke down the other day so we might be stuck with the spirit show instead of the actual marching show” he whispered, smiling at the way your tongue slightly poked out from your concentration.

“hm I might go, gotta have some school spirit” you giggled, “you’ll be there right?” You asked, blushing at your words, did you sound desperate? Did he take it the wrong way?

Peters face heated up at your words and a giant grin painted his face. “Yeah I’ll be there, im gonna be with the band but I’ll wave at you if i see you” He smiled and you nodded.

“I might just go, only to support my favorite band of course” you smirked and peter blushed, his heart pounding just as hard as yours. As class came to an end you slipped a little piece of paper on his desk, quickly heading out before he could say anything.

he unfolded the little paper and saw a small doodle of what looked like stick figure you and peter. A mop of curly hair on peters head and squiggly lines on your head. “friday night lights :D” was messily written underneath the poor drawing and peter felt his heart implode out of pure emotion.

He couldn’t wait for Friday to come.

part 3

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@savedbystark @teenageeggsneckpasta

[marvelmando]

tempest [p.parker x o.c.] - four

notes: hi, i just wanted to post tonight, in honor of far from home being released online :)

contains: some swearing

pairing: peter parker + fem! o.c.

word count: 3.6k

previous chapter next chapter tempest masterlist

MARIN'S FIRST DAY OF HIGH SCHOOL WAS REMARKABLY UNEVENTFUL. Thanks to the influences of Tony Stark, Marin's schedule was created to be identical to Peter's, which made discussing the events of the previous night much easier.

Their last class of the day—woodshop—seemed fun in retrospect, but the teacher was grumpy and inattentive, only stopping his crosswords to holler: "keep your fingers clear of the blades!" when Peter knocked the Chitauri energy core from the casing with an echoing clang.

"I don't really think that hitting an alien weapon with a regular-ass hammer is such a good idea, Peter." Marin flinched as the energy core toppled across the surface of the bench. "We don't even know what damage it's capable of causing."

"Well, that's why we need to find out exactly what it is, and who the hell is making them." He reasoned, poking at the glowing device.

"We can go to the labs after class and run some tests," Ned offered, and Peter nodded, joining him in an elaborate handshake in response, not even looking up from the weapon's casing.

Marin pinched the bridge of her nose. "Nerds."

+++

While Peter and Ned went off to run tests on the energy core, Marin found Michelle, Flash, and Liz studying in the library.

They were talking amongst themselves as Marin approached the circular table. Liz was the first to notice Marin standing there. "Oh, hey! Marin, right? Peter's friend from the party?" She chirped, and Flash narrowed his eyes at her curiously. "I didn't know you go to Midtown?"

"I, uh, just got transferred today." Marin responded, shifting on her feet awkwardly. "I was wondering if I could join the Academic Decathlon? If you have a spot—Peter was telling me about it when I said I was coming here, and that he couldn't make it to Nationals because of the internship."

"Aren't you in that, too?" Michelle crossed her arms, leaning back casually in her seat.

"Uh, well, yeah, but I work in a... different section than Peter... much less demanding, I guess." Marin's throat constricted around the lie.

The three studied her for a moment, and Liz was the first one to speak up. Marin wondered if she was first for everything. "Have a seat, we'll quiz you a bit."

Marin nodded and took the empty seat across from them. Liz pulled out a thick stack of flashcards, shuffling through them. "What's your best subject?"

"Um, science, I guess? Like, physics or whatever." Marin supplied, causing Liz to nod enthusiastically and Michelle to smirk at Flash.

"That's perfect," Liz smiled. "Peter was our best physics guy, and now that he's gone..."

"We're stuck with Flash. And Flash is shit as physics." Michelle's smirk was malicious but joking.

Flash frowned. "Hey, I resent that."

"Doesn't make it untrue."

Liz cleared her throat, interrupting the bickering. Her eyes locked onto Marin's. "What is the net upward force on an object by a fluid that the object is submerged in?"

"Buoyant force." Marin answered easily, thankful that there were fluid dynamics questions included. Liz nodded and switched cards.

"What theory states that two objects that are in thermal equilibrium with a third object are also in thermal equilibrium with each other?"

"Zeroth Law of Thermodynamics."

"Who isolated the DNA crystal to produce the first image of genetic material?"

Flash answered before Marin could: "Ooh! Watson and Crick." Liz leveled him with a glare and was about to scold him when Marin did it for her.

"Actually, it was Rosalind Franklin; she died of ovarian cancer before she could receive the Nobel Prize that Watson, Crick, and Wilson took four years later for their work, which was in fact heavily reliant on her research." Marin corrected with a small smirk, watching as Flash deflated in his seat. "Nobel Prizes are never given out posthumously, but even if she was alive, her work probably would have still been overlooked, because it was Watson and Crick who named the structure of DNA—and obviously because she was a female scientist in the 1950s."

Marin noticed the subtle but proud smile on Michelle's face, and a wave of triumph flushed through her system. Liz also looked impressed, while Flash looked a bit put-out.

When they didn't respond, still looking at her when curiosity, Marin rushed to explain, "My previous guardians were very enthusiastic about education. I just excelled in physics. And chemistry. And biology."

A smile erupted on Liz's face. "Welcome to the team, Marin! I'll obviously have to discuss this with Mr. Harrington, but I'm sure he'll be fine with it. We'll also have to see if there's an extra jacket for you for Nationals—which is on the fourteenth, but we're leaving for D.C. tomorrow, on the thirteenth." Liz leaned to reach into her backpack and pulled out a packet of paper. "Here's the paperwork, you just have to get it signed by a parent or guardian. It tells you the times we're leaving and includes an itinerary for the two days we'll be in D.C. It's all a little bit last notice, but you seem really intelligent and determined, and there will be plenty of time to practice on the bus ride there."

Marin nodded as she took the packet, wondering who the hell she'd get the signature from. Maybe she'd forge it.

"We look forward to having you on the team, Marin!" Liz concluded, and Michelle tilted her head once in agreement, and Flash just muttered something under his breath and crossed his arms.

Marin gave them a genuine smile in return. "And I look forward to being there."

+++

"You what?" Marin urged at Peter and Ned.

"Yeah! So, apparently, the suit also comes with these cute little tracker bugs—"

"Arachnids," Peter corrected Ned vehemently.

"—And we put one on one of the bad guys, and we're just waiting to see where they're going!"

Marin paced Peter's room. "Okay, okay," she muttered to herself. "And how are we supposed to figure where they are?"

Ned pulled out Peter's web shooter, and pressed a button. A small hologram appeared with a chirp, the dome shape depicting a translucent image of the cutout of a city block.

"They're in Brooklyn right now," Peter informed. "But they're still moving, so we're just waiting to see where they stop."

So, they waited. As conversation dwindled between the three, Marin began tinkering with some of the devices sitting around Peter's room while he and Ned snacked on Doritos. Later, as the sun began to set, Peter showed her how he refilled the vials with his stash of web fluid. He even let her try shooting a couple of webs, and she only knocked down a couple of books and a lamp. At one point, Ned was able to convince Peter to let him wear the Spider-Man mask, as he and Marin discussed her powers. She managed to avoid any questions about how she got her powers, and thankfully, Ned was tactful enough to not push the subject (even if Peter did stare suspiciously in Marin's direction as she clearly evaded the truth).

It was pitch-black outside by the time the wrist device let out a series of shrill beeps. Ned sat up from where he reclined on the lower bunk, still wearing the mask. Marin set down the other web shooter she'd been fooling around with, coming to sit next to Ned. "They stopped," Ned announced, and Peter flopped his head down from where he sat casually on the ceiling.

Marin eyed the hologram, unfamiliar with the layout of the city displayed. "Huh, Maryland." Peter harrumphed.

Marin creased her eyebrows. "What's in Maryland?"

Peter chuckled sarcastically. "I don't know. Evil lair?"

"They have a lair?" Ned tilted his head.

"Dude. A gang with alien guns run by a guy with wings? Yeah, they have a lair." Peter said as if it were the most obvious thing.

Ned, of course, nodded along enthusiastically. "Badass," he surmised. "But... how are you gonna get there if it's like, three-hundred miles away?"

Simultaneously, they turned their heads to the Academic Decathlon poster hanging on the desk's shelving unit. "It's not too far from D.C." Peter said.

"But what about Marin?" Ned asked, and Marin perked, pleasantly surprised that he suggested that she was now a part of their little team.

"About that..." the two boys turned to face her. "I've gotta tell you guys something..."

+++

"Hey, it's Peter!" One kid announced as they ran up to the bus, where the Decathlon team was waiting, all in ugly, mustard-yellow blazers with the school insignia stitched on the breast pocket. "And the new girl!"

"Guys," Peter greeted, jogging up to stop in front of a surprised Liz. "Yeah, I was hoping maybe I could rejoin the team." His voice was airy and high-pitched, something Marin had come to recognize as a sign of him growing anxious.

"No—no way," Flash contested, elbowing his way to the front of the crowd. "We already had to put Marin on the team," Marin gave him a dirty look. "And besides, you can't just quit on us, stroll up, and be welcomed back by everyone."

At that moment, Mr. Harrington descended the steps of the bus, and said: "Hey, welcome back, Peter! And welcome to the team, Marin, I've heard great things about you." Flash scowled at the teacher. "Flash, you're back to first alternate."

"What?!"

"He's taking your place," the kid from earlier mocked him, and everyone snickered.

"Excuse me," Michelle interrupted, and Marin noticed she wasn't wearing her uniform. "Can we go already? 'Cause I was hoping to get in some light protesting in front of one of the embassies before dinner, so..."

"Protesting is patriotic," Mr. Harrington agreed. "Let's get on the bus."

Flash had shrugged off his jacket, and chucked it at Peter, who caught it with a slight wince.

On the bus, Marin asked to sit with Michelle, who was engrossed in her novel, Invitation to a Beheading by Vladimir Nobokov. Knowing Michelle's reclusive nature, Marin was slightly surprised to find that Michelle had no objections (and if she had, Marin assumed she would've said as much) to sharing a bench. True to her word, Liz took a standing position at the front of the bus and pulled out her set of flashcards.

Marin spoke up when she could, though she didn't have a bell like the others did. Even without it, she would mutter the answers under her breath as the other team members answered at the same time.

As time passed, Marin felt more and more confident about her position on the team. Even Peter started to answer some questions, and Liz shared her delight at his return to the team. Marin also noticed the way his eyes gleamed with reverence whenever Liz addressed him, his thin lips curling into a fond smile.

In the middle of a question, Peter's phone began to buzz. He jumped to look at it, before saying to Liz, "Can I take this real quick? I'll only be a sec."

Liz acquiesced, and Peter rose from his seat, moving down the aisle to the back of the bus where Ned was sitting. Marin followed him with her eyes, and was about to get up when Michelle asked, "What's up with him?"

Marin looked back at her and chose to instead settle back in her seat as Peter spoke in hushed tones with Ned and whoever was on the other line. Marin shrugged minimally. "I don't know." She lied and knew that Michelle didn't believe her. But Michelle said nothing, only raising one eyebrow. "Internship, probably."

"Why didn't you get a call, then?"

Marin swallowed. Michelle was very inquisitive, and if Marin wasn't hiding anything, she probably would have admired that about her. "I don't have a phone."

Michelle made a humming noise but returned to her book. Marin shook off the jitters that swarmed her senses, and grabbed her water bottle from her bag, taking several large gulps. Marin wanted to get the hell off of this bus.

+++

"Alright Marin, you'll be sharing a room with Michelle." Liz informed her as they approached the hotel entrance. The building's interior was decorated heavily with Academic Decathlon advertisements, and the floor was bustling with high school students dressed in various colors of uniforms. Informational booths littered the lobby, and the Midtown team struggled to pass through the crowd. "Everyone, stay together!" Liz shouted above the noise. They stopped at a sign-in table.

Liz handed her a matching yellow jacket with a smile as Mr. Harrington signed the school in. "It's probably going to be too big on you, but it was the last spare one left."

"Thanks," Marin said sheepishly, and tugged the jacket on. It was about two sizes too large, the sleeves hanging far past her hands and the bottom reaching mid-thigh. But it was something. Marin had a fleeting sense of déjà-vu: a memory—at least two years old—from the first time she put on her X-Men jacket, and for the first time, feeling like she belonged somewhere.

"Hey, you brought your laptop, right?" Marin heard Peter ask Ned from the back of the group. She pushed her way towards them.

Noticing her approaching, Peter began to look nervous. "Hey, uh, we're just going to go back to our room to... prepare. Practice some more questions, you know?"

Marin narrowed her eyes suspiciously at him. "Oh-kay..." Peter nodded with a stiff smile, and hurried off with Ned.

As she watched them leave, she wondered if his sudden covertness had to do with tracking those dealers. But it was obvious that they didn't need her (or want her, she supposed), and Marin figure Peter would ask for her help when the time came. Besides, she'd been itching for a shower since before they'd gotten off of the bus.

Marin searched for Michelle, finding her lingering at the edges of the group, her nose still in her book. Catching her attention, they traveled to their shared room in a comfortable but thick silence, and as soon as she entered the room, Marin flopped onto the nearest queen-sized bed, throwing her duffel off her shoulder.

After stretching her limbs until the joints popped, Marin grabbed a new set of clothes and hopped in the shower. Stepping under the steady stream of scalding water made her smile pleasantly as the rush of it against her skin revitalized her nerve endings and invigorated her senses. She hummed lightly to herself as she scrubbed down her body, standing in the steamed room for minutes after she'd gotten out. Not bothering with using a towel to dry herself, Marin let any excess water sink into her flesh, leaving her dry in seconds. Her hair was still wet, but she figured it would be noticeable if she emerged from a shower with dry, clean hair, so she let it dry naturally.

Pulling on her clothes, she left the bathroom and sat on her bed with a newly revived energy.

"So, which embassy were you thinking of protesting at?"

+++

Later that night, after Marin and Michelle had returned from protesting the rights of refugees at the Sokovian embassy, they'd found Liz and the rest of the team sneaking around the lobby.

It was late at night; the hotel lobby was practically empty except for the Midtown team—though Peter and Ned were nowhere to be found. Liz had made the executive decision to raid the minibar to smuggle some candy bars, mentioning something about team building and rebellious group activities as she roped Marin and Michelle into participating. Marin, hardly ever caring about the consequences, obliged evangelically because eleven dollars for a Kit-Kat bar was entirely too expensive, and she sought justice.

As they laughed and joked around through the night, Marin began to forget about their mission. When Liz laughed heartily at her jokes and Charles clapped her shoulder good-naturedly, Marin felt the lingering ache from a lifetime of alienation and rejection begin to melt away.

Sometime later, Cindy Moon had suggested that they go break into the pool to go swimming. So, everyone—except for Marin (who didn't own a swimsuit) and Michelle (who preferred to sit, read, and observe)—went to go change into their swimsuits, and reconvene at the stairs.

Once everyone arrived, Liz moved first, making sure the coast was clear before beckoning the rest of the team. As she started to go, Marin saw Peter emerge from his room wearing a hoodie and his backpack. The team greeted Peter as the sprinted by him, and Flash even smacked his butt, causing Peter to yelp. Marin trailed to a stop beside Liz, wanting to interrogate him, but Liz was busy trying to convince him to join the rest of them.

"I was, uh... I was going to study, um, in the business center." He clearly lied, but Liz didn't seem to notice.

"Peter, you don't need to study," she shook her head. "You're like, the smartest guy I've ever met."

Peter watched Liz continue to speak, bewitched by her kind words. The devoted look crossing his face made Marin squirm next to him. "And besides... um, a rebellious group activity the day before competition is good for morale." Liz said.

Peter blinked, looking dazed. "Hmm?"

"Um, well I read that in a TED Talk so—I-I heard it in a TED Talk." She explained sheepishly, as if she was embarrassed that she needed external guidance on being a better leader. "And I read a coaching book."

Peter's eyes went soft. "Wow, you really... this is really important to you."

"Yeah, it's our future." Liz tilted her lips in an incredulous smirk. "I'm not gonna screw it up. Besides, we raided the minibar and these candy bars were like, eleven dollars." She pulled out an extra candy bar and tossed it at Peter, who caught it and cradled it to his chest. "So, get your trunks on and come on."

And with that, Liz flounced away, catching up with the rest of the group, who were summoning Marin and Peter. "I'll meet you guys down there," Marin dismissed them and turned to a still-stupefied Peter. Once they were gone, Marin crossed her arms. "Peter, where are you really going?"

"Um, I—" he stuttered, tightening his grip on the candy bar. "To go study—"

"But you're not." Marin sighed. "I can see the red of the suit, Peter. You're going to go after those dealers, aren't you?"

Peter visibly gulped. "I can explain, Marin—"

"Why now?" Marin huffed. "Why tonight? Can't it wait 'til after Nationals, at least? Peter, you made a commitment, and now you want to run off to Maryland?"

Peter scoffed. "That's what I came here for! What we came here for," he lowered his voice, looking hurt and angry. "But I guess you've changed your mind, then."

Marin shook her head lowly. "Peter, you don't understand—"

"What don't I understand? How you're leaving me for some people that you don't even know—you just met them, and all of a sudden, you're more loyal to them? You can't possibly care—"

"But I do." She hissed, her eyes hard, her voice broken and jagged around the edges. "Which is more than I can say for your own loyalties." Marin sighed then, losing the fight in her. "Do whatever you want, but you'd better show up tomorrow, Peter Parker. For your own sake."

Peter's face twisted with apparent guilt, but Marin wasn't interested. "Marin—" he called, but Marin turned and followed the hall that led to the pool.

If anyone noticed that Marin looked on the verge of tears when she arrived, no one said a thing.

+++

Later that night, when everyone's skin had wrinkled and pruned and their nervous energy was diminished as they settled in for bed, Marin couldn't fall asleep.

She turned on her other side, clutching the pillow she cradled to her chest. Laying for a minute until her nerves buzzed and her shoulder hurt, she gave up, turning onto her back and staring up at the stucco ceiling. She couldn't help but feel guilty for the way she'd treated Peter earlier—admittedly, she knew that he was somewhat right; they did come along to stop the dealers. And although Marin had joined not for that intention, she felt like she owed it to Peter to help him in his heroic duties.

But then she remembered the way the team had included her without any hesitation (apart from Flash's stubborn, wounded ego), how they welcomed her with open arms. She'd never had that before.

Sure, the X-Men were similar in ways—a group of distinctly antithetical individuals bonded together with a common goal, through common means. Marin understood the concept of a team well. But she felt like she was never a part of one; she certainly screwed up her position as an X-Man.

As she bubbled with warm, content feelings, Marin knew that she didn't want to screw this up, too. She figured that being a hero was important, but in some ways, supporting the Decathlon team at the most important event of the year felt like an act of heroism to her. Especially when they'd already been abandoned before. Marin wouldn't do that to them—not when they've treated her like one of them.

By the time her eyes were finally growing heavy, the sun was beginning to rise, peeking through the curtain and casting a soft orange glow over the room. She sighed out a smile as she fell asleep, welcoming the dreamless slumber.

Waking up that morning felt like waking up to a new beginning.

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[badgerpride96]

The Sun Lantern - Short Story

YES, A SHORT STORY, SHE SAID. IT WILL BE QUICK, SHE SAID. Anyway this is that short story, I had so much fun with it. @g10-gaming Sent me a post about “everyday magic” and I filed it away ages ago. I love this story, I hope it makes someone smile today :)

Nothing is ever more jolting than your alarm going off during REM sleep. I practically flew out of bed. Smacking around on my bedside table for my phone, I wondered if I could call in sick today. No way would my boss not see through that.

I sat up rubbing my eyes. My room was almost too small for one person; my bed took up most of the space, with the dresser shoved into one corner and a tiny desk in the other. I couldn’t open my door all the way because it hit the desk, but that didn’t matter as I always kept it closed. My plants floated above my head- lavender over my bed, english ivy weaving itself across the windows, jasmine blooming every day over my desk, kokedamas of succulents and ferns drifting around, all hopefully giving off serotonin and dopamine amplifiers. Supposedly helping my mental state.

My current mental state was foggy, distantly awake, and apathetic. A fairly good start. I hauled myself out of bed, snatching up my jeans and hopping into them to the door. I opened it silently in case any of either of the human girls I lived with were asleep. No one was in the living room. It was 4:30 AM, so this was expected, even of the vampire. He got home from the immunology lab at 3, and did reports and studying shut up in his room. Night shift, of course; I heard the other shift workers loved him. I went to pour some tea leaves in the kitchen, and mindlessly scooped at an empty can before remembering I’d run out yesterday. 

“Fuck me,” I mumbled, doing my best not to stomp as I made my way to the bathroom instead. As I brushed my teeth, I assessed how much work I wanted to bother putting into my hair. I used to straighten it every morning, but that took so long I eventually gave up. Besides, my mama said natural black hair was beautiful anyway, and if it was good enough for Mama, it was good enough for me. My makeup sat optimistically in my drawer of the cabinet, most of it having expired untouched several months ago. I did the bare minimum; my hair was a mess of corkscrews, longer than it had ever been. I looked like a hyacinth, a smaller face surrounded by an explosion of adornment. 

I washed my face and checked my watch. I had more time than usual, so stopping to get Cassie’s tea wouldn’t be a problem. I texted Daphne, my boss, asking if she wanted anything. I zipped up an old canvas jacket and locked my front door behind me. 

It was a brisk April morning, alright for a run. The cold air was sharp in my lungs as I started to jog downtown. I didn’t like public transport and couldn’t afford car payments. Males of every species tended to be too...grabby in a bus or metro carriage, and besides I had no issue with running. Nymphs are known for being fast runners. I hear Apollo learned this the hard way. Idiot.

I ran through the street lit morning, the city already humming around me. I passed Merl’s Auto, with Merl himself opening his roll door. Jessie, his familiar currently presenting as a dalmation, barked happily at me as I waved to Merl. 

“Alright, love?” He called to me. 

“Still going!” I shouted back. Jessie leapt up and ran to the end of the block with me, I turned onto Main, heading towards the heart of downtown. The main drag was lined with huge oak trees. The dryads had petitioned to put them in to “beautify” downtown about ten years ago. As dryad decisions go, it was a fairly good one. I slowed as I neared Cassie’s, pulling out my wallet. Cassie waved at me as I approached the windows. 

Cassie’s Coffee was a larger storefront. Windows wrapped around the front, exposed brick warming the inside. Everything was “natural” looking inside Cassie’s, without crossing over into the “vegan anti-vaxxer” style. Live edge tables were lit by simple elegant pendant lights, the different shots and enchantments lined the walls in glass jars, and the best coffee money could buy came in huge mugs. This morning, in the middle of the week at 5 AM, no customers were laughing in the windows. Cassie stood at the grinder, pouring in beans. The chimes above the door announced me. 

“Morning, love!” She called out without turning around. “Right there on the bar for you!” 

“Thanks, Cassie.” I pulled out my wallet as I approached. Two take-away teas were steaming there; one oolong, extra shot of focus and honey, and one chai with two calm and one vanilla. You could taste the magic in them. Focus tasted bittersweet, something to snap you back. Hope tasted like honey, not too sweet but enough to notice. Calm and confidence were similar, warm and spicy, but the latter with a slight tang. Both were excellent with chai. I wrinkled my nose. I hated chai, but Daphne drank it like it was going out of style. “Wow, how’d you know?”

“Oh, a joker, so original.” She wasn’t facing me but I knew the eye roll just the same. The scorn of a seer over a joke, I tell you.

I was about to remind her that I had to pay when the swinging door to the back room opened and suddenly my lungs forgot how to breathe properly. A girl walked into the room, the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen. She was perfectly proportioned, like a sculptor had agonized over the exact full curves of her hips for weeks. Her hair, shining silvery white, was pinned in an elegant low ponytail swishing past her hips. Carrying a box, she walked to the other end of the bar, away from me. Her hair pin caught my eye; it seemed to glow, emitting its own light. It even flickered. There was something unmistakably magical about her, but not any magic I knew of. It was mysterious. It felt like seeing a fantastical painting scene, where it seems unreachable tranquil and mystical. She was-

“Right that’s 5. 32,” Cassie said, tossing the empty coffee sack aside. 

“I...what?” 

“Money, sweetheart. For the tea?”

“Tea! Right!” I was sweating bullets. The girl turned to look at me and smiled. Fuck. I handed Cassie her $6.00-with-tip-total and booked it out the door.

“I am a disaster,” I muttered to myself as I walked as fast as I physically could to Daphne’s, angrily sipping my tea. This did nothing to assuage my annoyance, but it did distract me by searing the shit out of the roof of my mouth. I turned the corner onto Garden, trying to salvage the morning. At least the focus shot was already starting to work. 

Daphne’s Flowers was a hole-in-the-wall shop, literally. When the city was established and a town center founded, buildings were far apart so as to allow for carriages to deliver between them. Some were filled in, especially those along the riverfront. But about 25 years ago, a water main burst between the two, severely damaging one building and destroying the decaying courtyard between the two. Daphne offered to buy the land between for her flower shop, had the concrete removed and began restoring the underlying soil. Now, it looked as I saw it; a Dutch door at the entrance, latices of vines creating a living building, and a soft glow breaching through the leaves. The vines could be opened up if it was warm, or if it was raining lightly.  Behind the door lay a calm, lush oasis of Daphne’s wonderful imagination. 

Daphne had known me since I was born. She’d been a friend of my mother’s since childhood, and Mama had worked for her since my father had left.  Daphne offered me a job and her when I showed a proficiency for magical and ornate flowers. Daphne was a nymph, just like my mother and I. She had general plant and flower manipulation, whereas I, an anthsousia, specialized in flowers. When I was old enough, Daphne developed a wedding wing of her business, which I worked almost exclusively in now due to my talents with the fancier flora.

Today, as I worked the gate open while balancing the cups, Daphne was starting on the local orders of the day. She was wearing her usual uniform of a t-shirt and overalls. Her long black hair was in a braid, streaks of grey weaving almost to her waist. She smiled at me, barely a line in that beautiful face. She stood as I came in.

“Good mornin, hon,” she said, wiping her hands on a rag and accepting her tea, “Oh, how lovely.”

“Morning,” I said, going around the counter to find my apron. 

“How’re you doin today?”

“Alright.” I shrugged.

She looked at me for a moment longer than was necessary, as though she might debate this. She was older than my Mama was and yet neither of them ever seemed to have a discernible age. They had just seemed to be. It had been just the three of us, running the shop; three magical black ladies, sipping tea and growing plants.

“Okay then,” Daphne said, in a tone that said she didn’t believe me but wouldn’t admit it. She patted my cheek. “Lots to do.”

I grabbed my orders clipboard, cracked my knuckles, and plunged my hands into the soil.

It rained the whole month Mama was sick, but it was sunny the day she died. It seemed, at the time, to be so unjust as to be criminal. Who could have seen this woman and give her nothing but clouds as she slipped away, never to see sunlight again? It was two years ago, nearly to the day, but I remember vividly the anger I felt at seeing the sun. I’m sure Apollo heard my grief that day. I’m sure every god, regardless of region or religion, was blamed for taking my mother back. I would like to tell you that I let go of that anger, that I had a fairy tale story of rebirth and growing stronger. But instead the anger faded, and nothing replaced it. Nothing at all. It was like I was the one buried in soil, like my plants; aware of the world above, wishing to join, but not strong enough to break through. It was at least a month before I could even grow a daisy. 

Now, my magic was full again, and as it was all I had, I put my whole life into these flowers. I grew them slowly, each getting its own care and time. Nymphs can’t grow a whole shop’s inventory on the spot. Well, we could, but the drain on our power and energy would cause any normal nymph to lose consciousness. We grew our flowers little by little. For large orders, we carved out days. For others, like daily deliveries, we could do it in an hour. Sun lanterns, bluebells with soft chimes, and the roses with built in charm enhancements were the biggest magical sellers, my personal favorite flowers being sun lanterns. Vibrant yellow pods, they were essentially immortal. Like Lazurus plants with water, they would remain dormant and shriveled until placed in sunlight for an hour or so; then, they would uncurl and float up in the air, illuminating a room for up to about a day. Natural solar lanterns.

We had all sorts of succulents, flowers, ground cover, and shrubs. We delivered to local businesses and events, especially weddings. These could be an all day affair, when I stayed at the venue to constantly maintain the freshness of the blooms. It drained me, but I got to keep all the tips and Daphne always gave me one or two days off after. Today, we had a delivery to two hotels and two cafes. As I scanned my clipboard, I noticed Cassie’s was the last stop. From under the soil, I felt a little sun break through as I considered that girl would be there. I immediately shook myself. I was being dense. I was just curious; she certainly wasn’t human, but she wasn’t any kind of magic I knew. 

In thinking about this, one of the lilies for the first hotel came out slightly pink rather than white. I quickly fixed it, the annoyed feeling from earlier starting to seep in. I was getting distracted and I never wanted to mess up an order due to just being distracted. I got all the lilies cut, added the appropriate greenery we kept handy, wrapped up the package and left for the hotel. I managed to put the girl out of my head until I’d delivered the second to last order and headed back to Daphne’s to get Cassie’s flowers. Her order was easy: six bunches of Santa Barbara Daisies, some filler, and some spray roses. Except for the sprays, we had them all on hand. And the sprays were so easy Daphne did them while I was gone. I quickly wrapped them up, thinking about the girl’s hair clip. The way it glowed was impossibly delicate, and the golden light seemed to contrast her hair beautif-

“What’s the smile for?” Daphne asked, cutting some roses for display. 

“What? Nothing. Nice day.” I took off out the door before she could accuse me of another blatant mistruth, nearly smacking into the doorframe in my haste. 

I arrived at Cassie’s right on time at 8am. I slid the carrier off my back, taking out the packages of flowers and setting them on the counter. I looked around the cafe, casually. Or almost casually. I leaned on the high counter lining the pickup bar, hoping and not hoping that I could get out of here quick. 

“Can I help you?”

I jumped and spun around to the bar. Unfortunately, given spatial relations and Murphy’s law, my hip jammed itself directly into the corner of the bar. I yelped and clutched my hip. “Fuck!”

“Oh my god! Are you alright?” I looked up through squinted eyes and almost swore again. Of course it would be her. 

“Uh, oh, yeah, just fine.” I stood slowly and leaned on the bar again, a little more heavily this time. “I’m just delivering the flowers.”

She stared at me for a second, then realized the packages were in front of her. “Oh! They’re lovely!” She had a nice voice. European, maybe Spanish?

“Oh excellent” Cassie emerged from the back room, carrying a stack of boxes. The top one began to slip, and the girl ran over and took it from her. “Ah, thank you Llana dear.”

Llana.

I realized I was staring. I busied myself unwrapping the flowers, and signing the invoice. Cassie winked at me; I was sure she knew why I was so nervous. I coughed a goodbye and somewhat limped my way out the door. 

Her name was Llana.

This routine happened every day for a week. I can’t say I was feeling any more positive, but at least my hip didn’t suffer anymore. I was absolutely terrified to say anything more than “Morning” to Llana. But at least I had something nice to think about.

One morning, I woke up with my alarm but laid there for a few minutes. The morning was very quiet, with sounds of a barely stirring city. For some reason, it was a little easier to get up that day, it was easier to look in the mirror, it was easier to run. It was easier to look in the mirror, and the shop windows blurring past, and see Mama’s face in my reflection. And it was easier to walk into Cassie’s and say,

“Good morning.”

“Good morning,” Llana replied, handing me the teas Cassie had already made. “I’m glad it’s a good one today.” I knitted my eyebrows. “You usually just say ‘morning.’ Today you said good morning.”

I opened my mouth, but my brain hadn’t decided what was going to come out. It was too slow, apparently, because instead of “thank you” or “You’re the most beautiful being I’ve ever seen upon this hellscape of an earth,” what I said was “You too!”

We stared at each other for a moment as the steam rose from the tea in my hands, and my brain finally caught up. When it did, it suddenly decided, wow, this is the worst thing you’ve pretty much ever done. I decided the best course of action was to spin around, nearly slinging tea all over myself, and leave IMMEDIATELY.

“You too?!” I berated myself as I strode with rage down the street. “What the fuck.” I was irrationally angry, and I know it wasn’t really about “You too.” It had been such a good morning. All I’d had to do was go with it and be a functioning human. 

Daphne looked up as I stomped in. I practically threw her tea to her and slammed mine on the desk. She leapt up and grabbed my shoulders. “Oh no, we are taking this bad energy OUT.” She pushed me back out the door and onto the promenade. “What is up with you, girl? You’re spacey, then I can barely get you to talk to me, then you’re happy for a hot second before you come blazin in here with the fury of a thousand suns. Now, I don’t care if I make every order and customer we have today late, you are gonna tell me what the hell is going on.” She folded her arms, and stood as though I was going to charge her.

I glared at her, my hands shoved deep in my pockets and screwing up my mouth. I didn’t want to admit that I was angry over something so stupid, even though I knew it wasn’t just that. I didn’t want to say that I felt like I’d messed up a good day. I didn’t want to say that I’d messed up the last year of my life. I didn’t want to talk about stuff that hurt. But Daphne glared right back.

“I like this girl who works at Cassie’s, okay? And I fucked up talking to her this morning. And I hate waking up and thinking its going to be a good day and then I fuck it up. And I feel like I can’t do anything right and I’m always on autopilot, and I was to actually choose how something goes but I guess fucking not and I just wish I had-” I stopped. My throat tightened. Daphne had one hand on her cheek, her eyes gently gazing at me. “I wish I had Mama,” I choked out. I squeezed my eyes shut and shoved the heels of my hands against them.

“Oh honey.” I felt Daphne wrap her arms around me. “Oh honey.”

Do you ever think you can hold it together as long as someone else doesn’t actually show you any emotion back? Like if they just stand there silently, you can pull it back and be fine and not completely dissolve? The moment Daphne got hold of me, I burst into tears. I cried for a few minutes. It felt good. It felt like I was opening the tattered box in the attic of my mind and letting the bad stuff out for a walk. Daphne rubbed my back. She didn’t say anything else, just let me cry. 

I finally caught my breath and pulled away. “Jesus. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.” I hiccuped a few times. 

“Why are you apologizing?” Daphne asked. “It’s okay to cry, and it’s okay to feel, especially if you’re angry. But I can’t tell if you’re more afraid of crying or of feeling, girl.” 

In the back of my internet brain, I knew that was a Quotable Moment™. I often wondered if Daphne had some seer in her, Like Cassie. But in any case, I took a deep breath, and followed her back inside.

Usually, after work, I get home around 5. I go water my plants, toss a meal into the microwave, and slump on the couch with a hyperfixational book or show. Maybe some grocery shopping or stopping in for a drink somewhere. After Mama died, I stopped seeing friends and going to parties. I think they were relieved, honestly. How do you invite the girl whose mother just died to anything fun? With sudden free time and almost no relationships outside of Daphne and Cassie, I went dark. I packed up the house, packed all Mama’s stuff in boxes, sold the furniture and moved away. Mama was the nymph in the family, my dad was human. His family was some rich snobby family who refused to acknowledge the “stain on the family name,” or so they said in their letter back from the funeral announcement. No support from them, then. Daphne let me keep my job and paid me more, now that there were only two of us. I found my apartment, but it’s just one room that’s mine. So I put what I had of Mama into storage, shoving all my memories into that attic. 

But tonight, after I got home from work,  I didn’t sit down or water my plants. I paced for a while, holding my phone  in one hand and tapping the other against my leg. I don’t know whether you’re more afraid of crying or of feeling, I heard over and over again. I flipped my phone over a few times, staring out the window. Yeah. Okay. I took a long breath.

I called the storage company, and then an Uber. I grabbed a jacket, brushed dirt off my jeans, and jumped into the backseat of my White Corolla ride. The nice diver, about my age, was a human girl. She was very chatty, playing the local pop station. I tipped her as much as I could and walked very quickly to my container. 

I hadn’t had much to store. They gave me a small one, more like a shed, near the front. It was cheap, as units go, so they told me. I flipped through my keys for the one to the padlock, the wind starting to kick up, whipping the dust off the gravel. I fumbled with the lock for a few minutes before suddenly realizing I was trying to use my apartment key. After a moment of reflection, I managed to get in. I was strangely nervous, as though I was meeting someone else’s mother. 

I looked around. It was mostly her clothes and jewellery packed in vacuum bags (As Seen on TV!) and wrapped in fabric. My mama had this love of bangles; one whole box was dedicated to them. I never wore any, they were too hard to keep on, but Mama wore four on each arm, all the same set. She’d loved t-shirts, too. Every concert, every school either of us went to, she would get a new one. I opened the box on top. It was filled with vacuum bags - sweaters. I dug through boxes until I found the packs I was looking for; her oldest, favorite shirts, older than me, so long in her closet she’d forgotten where she’d gotten them. A black long sleeve with glittery thread woven throughout. An a bright yellow halter with a daisy pattern. A faded baseball tee with dark green edging. And the one I loved most, a green t-shirt with a velvet star in the center of the chest, about the size of my hand. I held it for a moment, then grabbed the whole bag and shoved it in my knapsack. I closed the box back up and looked at the shelves.

Up to there were plastic containers of cards and pictures. I reached up, barely able to slide them off with my fingertips. One held all the cards I’d gotten from her and vice versa over the years. The other held all the photo albums and loose pictures from frames. As I reached for it, I saw the picture pressed against the edge. 

It was of Mama and I, taken with Daphne’s old film camera. We’re laughing, arms around each other, and Mama is wearing her star shirt. It was my 18th birthday, right before I went to college. I don’t know what made us laugh or what was happening, but it was Mama through and through. 

For a moment, I hesitated. I could put it back, put it all back. I could lock up and go home and go to sleep, forget and just ignore. Ignoring was better than remembering, right?

“I don’t know whether you’re more afraid of crying or of feeling, girl.”

I locked up and called another rideshare. A large car this time, enough for a few boxes and a large backpack, and my decisions. 

The next day, I dragged myself to work. I hadn’t slept at all. My hair was untenable, my eyes were puffy. But underneath my jacket, I had on that baseball tee. I changed my phone screen to that picture. Baby steps, I told myself. And baby steps felt okay.

I stopped at Cassie’s. Cassie herself wasn’t there, just Llana. She looked up as I came in. She raised an eyebrow in askance.

“Good morning,” I answered.

She smiled. “Good morning. The usual?”

“Yes please.”

That was all. And that felt okay too.

I walked to the flower shop, where Daphne had the heater on. I took off my jacket, and called to the back to let Daphne know I was there. I tucked my shirt into my jeans and reached for my apron. There was a small gasp from behind me.

Daphne stood in front of the office door, her eyes the size of dinner plates. She blinked a few times, and gave a shaky laugh. “My lord, girl, you look just like your mama.”

“I know,” I said, giving her an equally unsteady smile. I told her about going to the storage room as we started work. I told her how I’d gone home and the vampire roommate had helped me carry my boxes up the stairs, and offered to make me some coffee. I told her how I’d actually made myself a real drink and after politely thanking him but refusing, and looked through everything I’d brought home. I showed her the picture on my phone and told her I saved some cards. Daphne was smiling so big I was afraid she was stuck.

“This doesn’t mean I’m like, magically better, you know.” I warned her. “It’s a step, and there’s a whole mile of steps ahead of me.”

“Oh, I know,” she said, still grinning like a cat. “But you took a step, and that’s big, hon.”

I nodded, and we moved on.

The next week or so passed, and nothing changed. I didn’t go back to the storage room, but I made sure to bring out the things I’d already gotten. I put up the pictures on my wall, and the albums on my bookshelf. The shirts went in my dresser. I looked at one card every day; I was a Valentine’s Day one. Mama and I had our own tradition. We would get each other coffee and a bag of mystery chocolates, then come home and watch bad romcoms and eat it all. Mama had written in the card, “There is a lot to love in this beautiful world, but you are the most beautiful, and the most loved. I love you big, Mama.” Love you big was our thing. It was on every card, every night before bed, before every hangup. I looked at this card every day, and I started to get an idea.

In the meantime, I started talking to Llana more. She was from Spain, and she was, in fact, not human. She avoided the specifics, though, and I didn’t push it. She, in turn, asked more about me, always gauging a Morning from a Good Morning first. On the Mornings, I like to think my tea tasted just a little sweeter than normal. Not too much, but noticeable. But maybe it was psychosomatic. In any case, she always smiled at me through the window and I always nearly collided with something in front of me. I nearly dropped my cup when she laughed at a bad joke I made. Her hair clip, beautifully shining, bathed her face in a warm glow. I began to notice that even when the lights in the coffee shop were dim, and the sky was dark and cloudy, it still glowed and shimmered. It was too bright to be reflecting anything. 

The next week, I went back to the storage room. I got some of Mama’s sweaters, and her old books. Curled up in an enormous sherpa jacket at home, I read through as many mythology books as I could. Nothing in any of them mentioned anything like Llana. I did steer clear of Greek though. I knew all about that anyway. 

The weather, while in springtime, suddenly took a chill. I found myself wearing the sherpa to work one morning, over the lucky star shirt. I had been up most of the night, turning over the same idea from a week or two ago. I’d been putting the pieces together.

I  got to Cassie’s as usual, and Llana smiled as I came in. “Good morning,” I said.

“Good morning! The usual?”

“Actually,” I said, “could I get an extra shot of courage in mine?” 

“Courage?” She asked, measuring tea leaves. “Sure, what for?” She slapped a hand to her mouth. “Shit, sorry, that’s inappropriate to ask.”

“No, it’s okay,” I mumbled into my collar. “I’m taking a baby step today, but it’s actually maybe a big step? Like, it’s a good thing, but...but I gotta make sure I can get myself there, y’know?”

Llana gazed at me for a moment, then nodded. “Alright, one Oolong with a shot of focus and a shot of courage, and one chai with a shot of calm.” She dropped in the strainers and turned back to me. She leaned on the counter, and her fingers kept touching her thumb in a pattern. Nervous habit. “So,” she said, “Cassie says you’re a nymph. So you have a specialty?”

“Yeah, I’m an anthousia. Specifically flowers. That’s why I work at Daphne’s.”

“I would love to do that.” She sighed. 

I smiled at her, glancing around. “What’s your favorite flower? Magic or not?”

“Hmmm. What’s that golden one? It floats, kind of looks like a bell? It’s magical, obviously.”

I almost choked on my own spit. “Sun Lanterns?”

Her face lit up. “Yes!”

I shook my head a little at the odds, then held up my hand, palm up. A sun lantern seemed to grow from my skin, twisting into being from the light around me. Llana watched with huge eyes as the little flower rose up to her eye line. I smiled at her astounded expression. She looked like she might take a step back when I held it out to her.

“Really?” She asked quietly. I nodded. She tentatively reached out across the counter and the sun lantern floated into her hand. She held it close to her face, letting out a small laugh. She sounded thrilled.

“Here.” I reached out, and touched the bloom, closing my eyes. “There, now it’ll dooooo…..that.” The lantern had floated up to rest just behind her ear, as though it were pinned in her hair. 

“No way!”She ran to the other side of the bar, the length of the room. The sun lantern whizzed along with her, keeping its place. She laughed again. God, I could listen to that sound till the end of days. She looked so happy, I could feel her enthusiasm reflected in me, , and I began to feel lighter, like I would really be fully-

What, had she said something? “Ah, what?”

“I said, I think your teas are done,” she said, pointing to them on the bar. 

“Oh, right.” I shook myself. Grabbing the cups, I went to leave, but suddenly, just at the door, I turned back. Llana was holding the sun lantern in her hands again, gazing at it with something like...well, a really good something.

“Hey Llana?” I asked before my brain engaged. She looked up, her face lit equally by the sun lantern and her clip. “Do you want to meet me for a drink tonight? Or a bite to eat?” I was grateful that I managed to ask with a surprising amount of composure, though admittedly at an octave higher than normal. 

She didn’t move for a moment. I began to panic. But then, the most amazing thing happened.

She burst into a smile as though she was made of sunshine. She looked as though she’d been given a drink of water after a drought, finally free of uncertainty.

“Yes, oh my god I would love-” She stopped short and coughed. “I mean, yes, I’d like that. Does 6:00 work okay?”

“6 is just fine. Meet you here?” 6pm had never seemed like a better time of day. 

“Okay.” She raised her hand in a wave. I gestured with a cup, backing into the door a bit too hard. Half winded, I made my way to Daphne’s in a daze.

Daphne told me the order for the day as I came in, which I barely retained. I concentrated on all the flowers (we had a wedding tomorrow, but we were dropping them off tonight, mercifully) a concoction of lilies, baby’s breath, and forget-me-nots. The bride had been very gracious and accommodating, but the mother was a nightmare. She was adamant that there be ABSOLUTELY NO MAGIC in her baby’s flowers. Some humans were wary of anything magical. A few thought magic was “dirty,” some just didn’t want to pay for the extra labor. The majority of the sticklers just wanted “normal” flowers because it was more....familiar, I guess? These humans were always very courteous and nice. This Mother of the Bride was not one of these humans. Luckily Daphne had a very thorough contract.

 I took my time. All these flowers were very delicate, and took a lot of care to get just right. It was easy to overgrow them. You could shoot right past “tomorrow is peak bloom” and straight into “honey the flowers are made of fruit flies” if you weren’t very careful. Daphne made calls all day in the office. We were hitting peak wedding planning season for the end of summer through fall. She was constantly on the phone with brides, planners, and venues. I was set to deliver the flowers at four, and head home from there. 

We took lunch at 11:00, and as we ate in silence I turned my question over in my mind. I could feel myself overthinking how to ask it, so when Daphne finished her salad and leaned back in her chair, I just blurted it out.

“I’m going to get a tattoo.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “A tattoo?”

I jerkily nodded.

“What happened to baby steps?”

“Honestly, this feels like a baby step. Well, maybe a little bigger than a baby step, but not a real big one. It feels...good. Natural.” I rubbed my palm with a thumb.

Daphne laced her fingers over her stomach and tilted her face to the ceiling. She was quiet. I picked at the last of my lunch. I told myself she would be the best judge of my actions, and tried to wait patiently.

After the longest 30 seconds of recent history, she finally looked back at me. “Well, it seems like a big step to me, but I’m not you. If you think it’s right, and you’re sure, then it’s right.”

I let out my breath. “Thanks, Daphne.”

“At least you’re sensible. Unlike this client! Lilies?! Half her daughter’s guests will be sneezing their eyes out! And no magic? The day before?!” She shook her head. “When you get married, girl, you better keep a sane head on your shoulders.”

“Alright, who’s taking big steps now?”

I stepped into the Cat’s Cradle, the nearest magical tattoo shop. The walls were covered in pictures of their art and clients. A cat trotted out from behind a desk, meowing assertively. 

“Cleo!” A woman called, running out from a closet at the back. She was small, but her muscle tone when she picked up the cat indicated she was deceptively strong. She had a young, confident face framed by a beautifully simple hijab. “Sorry, she got out of the office.” 

“It’s okay.” I held out a hand for Cleo to inspect. She gave me a sniff and a small lick

“My name is Soñia,” the woman said, depositing Cleo behind the front desk and firing up the computer. “Cleo’s a comfort cat, she helps calm our clients. Walk in or appointment?” 

“Um, walk in.” 

“Alright, we could fit you in in about half an hour, around 4:45. Do you need to look at a design binder?” Her tone was brisk, but not impolite.

“Actually do you guys do handwriting?”

She frowned a little. “We can do both magical and non-magical handwriting, but I have to warn you that we cannot guarantee that there will be a perfectly identical match-

“How close can you get?” I cut in.

Her frown disappeared. “Damn close.”

“Good enough for me.” I pulled out the Valentines card, pointing at the line. “How about this, magically?”

Soñia waved her hand and made a pfft noise. “Simple. The same size as the card?” I nodded. “It will take an hour, possibly an hour and fifteen for the magical freeze to set. We freeze  the magic so that your skin can heal. It will activate in a day or two.”

I confirmed I’d be back in half an hour and went to get a snack. It was overcast out, but it wasn’t supposed to rain until tomorrow. I sat on a bench, eating my power bar, contemplating. What a day. I did not have these kinds of days. These kinds of days happened to other people. 

“Stop it.” I said to myself. “It’s just a day. Let yourself have a day.”

I got back to Cat’s Cradle at 4:45 on the dot. Soñia was rolling up a prayer mat. “Perfect timing,” she said, leaning the mat against a corner and rubbing her hands together. She picked up a stencil that was somewhat glowing. “Shall we?”

I’ll spare the details, as I didn’t watch most of it. I’ve never been a huge fan of needles, so I focused on petting Cleo. An hour and nine minutes later, I was bandaged up, part of the inside of my forearm unsettlingly numb. We’d taken an old style Polaroid of it, and I paid Soñia (with a hefty tip, because her confidence had paid off).

“It’s beautiful handwriting,” she said, printing my receipt. 

“Yes,” I said, half smiling, “It was my mother’s.”

Soñia nodded, handed me my receipt, and I left. My arm around the numb part ached, but the bandage was lighter than I had thought. I still had maybe 40 minutes to get home and ready. For my date. With Llana. I almost laughed. “Wow,” I said, as I broke into a jog, “Wow.”

We met casually outside Cassie’s at about 7:01 and 29 seconds (vaguely). Llana had a pretty red peacoat on, and dark jeans and sneakers. My heart seemed to expand when I saw the sun lantern I suddenly felt underdressed somehow, even though Mama’s sparkly long sleeve and high waist green corduroys  were perfectly matching the look. A confident, cool outfit. I was desperately hoping it worked.

We went to a small bistro down the street. Luck was with us, and we were shown to a table in front of the window. Our server was a nice guy, took our coffee and tea orders and bustled off.

“So,” I said as the espresso machine blasted, “How long have you worked at Cassie’s?” 

“About 3 months ago. I started with closing shifts, but I’m more of a morning person, She drank some of her water, looking at me closely over the rim. I noticed her hair clip was silver now, still strongly lit. “I like it here. This city is so…” she gestured widely, “Open? That’s not right. I can breathe here.”

“I know what you mean.” I glanced down at the table, tracing the line of the napkin with my finger. “It seems like it’s built to be comforting.”

“Yes!” She pointed at me. “Precisely. I used to live in New York, in Manhattan. If you breathe there, you get like 5 years of second-hand smoke and carbon emissions.” I laughed. “Are you from here?”

I nodded. “Yeah, born and raised. My mama was from LA, but I’ve been here my whole life. Daphne and my mom were old friends, so she gave me a job. Besides, growing flowers is easy for an anthousia.”

“Is that what you want to do?” Llana said this in a way that seemed touchingly interested, not concerned or condescending. 

I thought for a moment. “You know, I don't really know. I went to school for web design, but I haven’t taken it anywhere since-” Don’t drop the dead-mother bombshell on the first date -  “since I graduated. But working at Daphne’s is peaceful, and it pays well.”

“Web design is complicated, yes? Computer code and all that?”

“It is. It’s absolutely maddening. But when you get it to work and look just right…” I shrugged. “So satisfying.”

She leaned her chin on the heel of her hand, drumming her fingertips on her cheek. “I never went to college. What is it like?”

For the next half hour I explained everything: semester versus quarter systems, dorm life, majors and minors, all of it. I told her I shared a room with three other girls and she wrinkled her nose. “That sounds so cramped!” 

“It was, but we all got along, more or less. Can I ask why you didn’t go?”

She waved her other hand dismissively. “Oh, the village school would never have given us college as an option. We were in the middle of nowhere, many families had been there since before Isabella and Ferdinand. We made our living off the land. And my family in particular wanted nothing to do with the outside world.”

“Village? Not New York?”

“I grew up in Spain, the region of Asturias . I probably should have said that,” she said, rubbing her neck. “Sorry. I’m kind of nervous.”

“Don’t worry; me too.” I smiled and held out my hand. She smiled back and tentatively took it. Her hand was warm. “You don’t have to go into it, if you don’t want to.”

“Thank you.” She breathed out audibly, as though she had been holding her breath. Her hair clip seemed to get brighter. “What were you thinking of ordering?”

“Hmmm,” I hummed, casually glancing over the menu as though my stomach wasn’t eating itself. 

I found I liked to learn things about her. I liked her explaining something while showing parts of herself. I learned she held her coffee cup (by the handle, not the body) in one hand while gesticulating with the other. I learned she liked bacon in her potato soup, and that she treated waitstaff with the utmost respect when she said thank you at least three times. I learned she loved portraiture, because her eyes crinkled from her slight smile when she talked about it. 

The whole evening was nice. She asked if we could split the bill, and that was perfect to me. We paid and she finished her water and we got up to leave.

“I can walk you home if you like,” I said as we stood outside and she buttoned her coat.

She smiled. “I would like.” Her eyebrows knit together for a moment. “I’m trying to think of a smooth way to ask to hold your and again.”

Oh my god. “It’s all yours,” I said, offering it. She grinned so big I wanted to laugh.

She lived just outside downtown, on the opposite end from me. We walked for about 5 minutes, looking into shops on our way. As we turned left off of the big street, I finally had the nerve to say, “Your hair clip is really beautiful.”

“Mmm,” she said. She was quiet for a minute. I was on the verge of apologising for bringing it up when she sighed. “Thank you. I don’t mean to be rude. I suppose you ought to know.”

Now my eyebrows were the ones knitting. “Know what?”

“Well, I don’t usually tell people what kind of being I am, because there are a lot of people who...who would rather we didn’t exist at all. People who listen to rumors with their eyes closed.” Her eyes were fixed on the sidewalk.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m a Xanas.” She said this as though flinging the word from around a barricade. 

I blinked. “I...I don’t know what a Xanas is.”

Llana jerked her face up to look at me. “Really?” I shook my head. Relief flooded her face. “A Xanas is Asturian magic. We’re all women, all blonde, and we manipulate fortune. There are ugly stories of us throughout the ages. Switching human babies with our own changelings, stealing money, seducing men to their deaths, killing human women in our way. In Spain, we are persecuted. My village is one of the only safe places left. We are deeply tied to the land, so many of us will never leave. But all we do is manipulate luck and fortune, and make things beautiful: art, nature, ourselves.”

I turned this information over in my mind. I knew that story, my father’s actions had told it to me a thousand times. I squeezed Llana’s hand. “I don’t put much stock in rumors, and my eyes are wide open. Besides, stealing a child? In this economy?” She laughed, and I was proud. “But what about the hair clip?”

“Oh, right. All Xanas have them. They’re made of sunlight and moonlight.”

“Can I?”

She tilted her head. I waved my hand, my fingers passing through the beams. They danced and flickered against my skin. “Incredible,” I whispered. 

“Thank you,” she whispered back.

We’d made it to her street, and arrived at her house. It was a small brick townhouse, with red stairs, a small porch, and a white door. I must have looked surprised, because Llana grinned mischievously at me. “A Xanas does have a way of running into good fortune. An eccentric aunt of mine left Spain when I was ten. She owned this house, and passed away right before I turned 18. She left it to me in her will. We were always close. It’s why I moved here.”

“Damn,” I said. “I’ve just got an apartment!”

We looked at each other for a moment. “It was really lovely,” she said as I blurted out, “I had a great time.” We laughed nervously, and she squeezed my hand. 

“Can we do this again?” She asked.

“I’d love that.” I’d almost never wanted anything more.

“Tomorrow! Here. I’ll cook.”

I was smiling so hard my face was sore. “Tomorrow is perfect.”

She ran up the stairs with a sudden burst of nervous energy, and I turned and walked back towards downtown, and home. But just as I reached the end of the block, I heard footsteps behind me. I turned to see Llana running up, skidding to atop in front of me. 

“One more thing,” she said breathlessly, and suddenly we were kissing, and everything was alright. Everything was cool and calm, and for one moment, I forgot everything in the world except this. Except Llana. And when we broke apart, and everything began again, I found it was brighter, and more valuable, just for having Llana in it.

Nothing is ever more jolting than your alarm going off during REM sleep. I would’ve flown upright, had my arm not been securely trapped under a sleeping girl. I gazed at her sleepily for a minute, soaking in her light.

It had been two years since that kiss. I still worked for Daphne (hence the alarm), but with her and Llana’s help I had also secured an internship as a local web design company. Llana was taking fine arts classes at a studio. We were busy and exhausted. We were so happy. 

I carefully shifted Llana off my arm, grabbing a sweater as I eased the door open. I’d moved in with Llana six months ago, and now I boiled my tea in a decent kitchen and drank it in front of beautiful windows. I’d had the picture of Mama and I framed, and it sat on the end table of the couch. Llana loved that picture. I’d told her about Mama on our second date, and about how I was (not) coping. Llana asked gentle questions, and held my hand. And when I went to the burial plot on Mama’s birthday, I found bright yellow flowers and a note - “To Delphi, from Llana. Thank you.” I cried my heart out for an hour. 

Now I leaned against the window frame, whispering to the picture. “I know you’re watching, Mama. You love her, I hope. Maybe you do, somewhere, where you are. I hope you’re proud.” I paused, thinking of the little box hidden in my sock drawer. “It’s two years, today. I got it all worked out. Simple, though, I’m not overthinking. Daphne keeps teasing me about baby steps.” I looked at my face, happy in a black past, and now. “I miss you, Mama. I love you big.”

I looked quickly down at my tattoo, Mama’s scrawl appeared, writing out, “I love you big, Mama,” the ‘big’ underlined for just a moment. It only happened once in a while. Soñia had explained to me that sometimes, a person’s magic can influence a tattoo of them. I smiled, Mama heard me, somewhere, and she was happy.

I heard shuffling behind me. Llana came out of our room, clutching her favorite blanket around her. Her hair was a mess, but as the early morning light fell on it, it began to straighten and unknot. She was so beautiful in the early, foggy light. Any light.

“Hey, you,” I said, holding out my arms. Llana shuffled into them, snuggling against my shoulder. “Good morning.”

She smiled up at me, eyes half closed, and my stomach swooped. I thought again of that little box, and the ring inside, and was more decided than ever. I wanted to get coffee after work with her every afternoon and hear about her class. I wanted to make her breakfast and dinner, and sun lanterns every day. I wanted to wake up every morning for the rest of my life to hear her say;

“Good morning, Joy.”

--

Buy me a coffee at https://ko-fi.com/badgerpride

-–

For more Content, check out @contentcreatorshaven or www.contentcreatorshaven.com! We are a creator collective dedicated to helping each other make it in this very crazy world.

[yeahgen]

💐

valentine’s prompts | 💐 - person a loves to go all out for person b and makes valentine’s day extravagant. person b just wants to cuddle person a and eat chocolates.

‘Here, dip this in that.’ Yagen doesn’t hesitate to take Fudou’s hand holding the strawberry and dunk it in a chocolate fountain, then into a plate of edible gold sparkles for effect. ‘Now eat it.’

“Right,” Fudou bites off a chunk without comment, savoring the flavors of fruit and chocolate on his tongue. The gold flakes don’t taste like anything though, lost in the melt of sugar. “S’fancy.”

‘It’s expensive,’ Yagen breathes, pushing up his glasses with a slightly smug smirk. ‘Finish that,’ he adds, when Fudou knits his brow and stares at the strawberry in his hand.

“You try it too,” his partner replies, and before Yagen can speak there’s already a half-eaten strawberry resting on his lip.

‘I know what it tastes like,’ Yagen arches a brow, and turns away to pick up a platter of bananas. He’d had someone bring samples to the lab for taste tests before picking this establishment, after all. ‘Here, have these next before they melt. I heard the texture’s better with frozen fruit–’

“Yagen,” Fudou lets out a little puff of frustration, which Yagen promptly silences with a poke on the nose. 

‘What? Don’t tell me you’re grumpy we skipped experiments to celebrate tonight?’

Celebrate. Uh-huh. Because today is Valentine’s Day, and Yagen had decided to take them out to the fanciest restaurant in Fibonacci. He doesn’t even know how many levels up they are, only that there’s nothing but clouds and stars outside the windows of the private room. The couch they’re sharing is strewn with rose petals, the table a veritable banquet of chocolate-themed goods, and there are goddamned heart cushions that squeak and say “I love you!” in little cutesy voices when you squeeze them.

And the pink. With the red. Covering the walls and ceiling and enough to make Fudou wonder whether he’d start breathing hearts and cherry blossoms if he sat here long enough.

“M’not,” he finally replies. “Never mind, forget ‘bout it.”

Yagen gives him a look, but it only lasts a few seconds. The next minute he’s leaning in with a chocolate covered banana, intent on feeding Fudou himself. His target takes a dutiful bite, then catches Yagen by the wrist to guide the other end of the snack to the doctor’s mouth.

“Like I said, you try some too.”

‘I’ve tried it already.’

Fudou arches a brow at the answer, then sweeps his gaze pointedly across the table. “Don’t tell me ya gonna make me eat t’whole thing?”

‘I did prepare all this for you.’ Yagen says indulgently. ‘You don’t have to finish it all. In fact, I don’t recommend it for your stomach’s sake, so leave as many leftovers as you like.’ We can afford it, after all, went the unspoken words in that grin. 

“Mm.” Fudou’s answer is noncommittal. Or perhaps he’s learned when to give up, because sometimes letting Yagen have his way was at least better than starting a pointless argument he’d only lose again. He finishes off the banana–stealing a lick of Yagen’s fingers at the end–then the strawberry too, and puts on a grin after both. “So what else ya got for me?”

‘You’ll see,’ Yagen murmurs. 

And Fudou does see, from the private performance of the strings quartet, to the giant three-tiered cake, to the beautiful if pointless ice sculpture of…his latest record-breaking achievements in the laboratory, complete with carefully carved etchings of all the experimental weapons he’d tested and a replica data printout sheet.

Yagen, what the hell.

When the spectacle finally ends with a special fireworks display outside their window, Fudou inwardly sighs in relief and shifts in his special front row VIP seat on the heated balcony. Maybe now he’d finally get some time to cuddl–

‘Work starts at 7 tomorrow, so we should start heading home,’ Yagen’s voice cuts through his thoughts as he glances at his phone. ‘I already texted the driver during the show, he’ll be waiting to pick us up downstairs.’

Ah. Fudou finds his eyes skimming past the plates of untouched chocolate, then the weird talking pillows he hadn’t done more than sit on once during the course of the night by accident. Yagen catches his expression and waves airily at the room.

‘Take anything you want with you. Or I’ll call someone to pack it up, whatever you like.’

 “What I like…” Fudou echoes. “If it’s Valentine’s, it should be more ‘love’ than ‘like,’ right?”

Yagen only blinks at him. ‘You’ve never cared much for technicalities.’

That’s because you care about them too damned much. But Fudou just shrugs and says, “Yeah, ain’t my strong suit. What’s the difference between ‘em for you?”

Like and love?

‘Store brought sweets versus treating you to a luxury chocolate buffet,’ the doctor rattles off simply.

“That’s the difference between rich an’ poor, Yagen.”

Now it was Yagen’s turn to shrug. ‘Then preparing a month ahead of time. Squeezing an evening just for you into our schedules. Taste-testing chocolates for weeks.’

“You’re soundin’ testy.”

‘I’m not, but we are running late.’ Yagen shoots a look at at his phone again, then simply grabs Fudou by the hand. ‘I’ll just get this all sent back to the house. You can pick what you want later.’

Maybe it’s the effects of crashing after a sugar high, but Fudou grows a hint of stubbornness as he drags his feet. “Yeah well, we don’t always get what we want, do we.”

Yagen doesn’t stop his march for the nearest elevator. ‘What do you mean by that?’

“Nothing.”

‘Now you’re the one sounding testy.’ Yagen sighs, stopping in front of the elevator to shoot Fudou a puzzled look. ‘We just spent four hours together. Uninterrupted. What more do you want, Fudou?’

Fudou stares at the eyes that always seemed to look not at him, but through him, and chews on a corner of his lip.

Not more. Less.

Yagen squints, then leans in to feel his forehead. ‘Did you overeat? I told you not to force yourself.’

He’s close enough for Fudou to smell his scent. Not chocolate, but the faintest hint of roses–maybe the petals stuck to his skin at one point–and something else more chemical but quintessentially Yagen. His partner’s breath tickles against Fudou’s skin, tempting him to just take what the other won’t give.

He suddenly pulls Yagen close and kisses him full on the lips.

                                                            Love was－

－a narrow, dead end alleyway where he’d curled up into the smallest possible ball inside an old cardboard box, angled to keep out the sun and wind and at least a bit of the water when it rained. It doesn’t stop his bleeding though, nor does it block out the sound of footsteps growing gradually closer as someone approaches his hideout.

Fudou digs his fingernails into his palms. He’s lost his weapon in the last fight–not that a rusty box cutter really did him much good–but his sharp eyes rove around his surroundings until he spots the discarded top of an old can, round and smooth and sharp. There’s a tab attached to its surface–one of those easy-open handles–and he hooks a finger through that to adopt it as a makeshift weapon. 

The footsteps come closer. Fudou takes a shuddering breath and clamps one hand over the wound on his side while the other grips the lid. He’s ready to jump out and slice at his stalker when—

‘Hey, come out.’

–a child’s voice rings through the alleyway.

‘It’s too dark back there, I won’t get any work done.’

The voice is young, even if its owner speaks with the tone of an adult. It’s an odd mix that gives Fudou a moment of pause. He sits behind his box, uncertain of what to do next as a slow, burning curiosity edges into his mind. As he waits, his visitor resorts to tapping a foot before a noise of annoyance punctuates the air.

‘If you’re not coming, then I’m going home before you waste my time.’

A bitter taste rests in Fudou’s throat at the words. What does that feel like? To have a place to go back to.

Everyday.

In the midst of stewing in his feelings, the footsteps shift and start to move. Alerted by the noise, Fudou half stumbles, half crawls out into plain view, still clutching his waist.

“Wait!”

There’s no answer, but the other does stop to turn around. It’s a boy–one around his age, with short black hair and pale white skin, dressed impeccably in school uniform without a speck of dirt on him. He takes in the sight of the pristine tie, perfect collar, and shiny backpack on the child’s shoulders, then move up to meet a pair of inquisitive, pale violet eyes.

‘About time you showed up.’

‘Well? Where are you bleeding?’ 

He’s smiling as he speaks, but his words immediately put Fudou on edge. He raises his can lid again as he glares at the boy with a suspicious stare.

“Who’re you?”

‘Yagen Toushirou, I live in the next Ward.’ the boy drops his name without a care as he takes off his backpack and pulls out a towel. That he spreads on the ground before setting his bag on top. ‘Hurry up and tell me where you’re hurt, I don’t want to miss the bus back.’

“Why?” Fudou was still wary.

‘Because I’ll fix it,’ Yagen says simply. He starts pulling out items next: bandages, gauze, disinfectant, Q-tips. ‘I’m studying to be a doctor. You’ll be good practice.’

Yeah sure, that sounds nice. Fudou narrows his eyes. “What pract–what’re you doing with that?!” He cuts off mid-way to point at the pair of scissors that Yagen pulls out next. The other only glances at him before going back to his work.

‘I’m using these to cut the bandages, not you.’

Fudou balks at that. “I’m didn’t–you’re not touchin’ me! I…I’ll go to a ‘ospital, find a real doctor–”

‘You don’t have the Dust to pay them. And they’ll just put you away afterwards,’ Yagen cuts in briefly. ‘But I’m doing this for free.’

Fudou doesn’t know what “put away” means, but he’s not keen to be moved somewhere he doesn’t want to go. Still, he doesn’t want a stranger laying hands on him either, even if he’s only a boy. 

“I don’t need ya help,” he says stubbornly and brandishes his weapon. “Go ‘way. I’ll cut ya if ya get closer!”

Yagen doesn’t answer beyond pausing to study the wound on Fudou’s side. There’d been a clear trail of blood leading from the grass to this neglected alleyway, so it was obvious the victim had been bleeding nonstop. Judging from his physique, coupled with the sudden agitation, the blood loss would get to him in three…two…one…

Almost on cue, Fudou sways on his feet before crumpling to the ground. In the background, Yagen claps his hands, delighted at guessing right.

The next time Fudou wakes, it’s to a numb sensation in his side and the shadow of Yagen’s face–now obscured by a disposable face mask–peering thoughtfully above him.

‘You don’t need any stitches,’ he says by way of greeting.

Fudou immediately tries to sit up, but Yagen presses him down with a tsk. 

‘If you start bleeding again, I’ll make you pay for the bandages.’

Money was practically nonexistent to Fudou, so he keeps his mouth and scowls. Begrudgingly, he accepts that Yagen might actually be helping him after all. He steals a peek at the boy, who’s too engrossed in his work to pay Fudou any attention.

“…ya really gonna be a doctor? Isn’t that hard?”

Yagen doesn’t answer, too busy dabbing something cool and smooth against his skin.

“What’re you doin’ anyways?”

Still no answer. Fudou finds his eyes wandering away and up, tracing the curve of Yagen’s arm all the way up to his shoulders, his chin, and the bits of black hair trailing down past an ear. The dark hair against pale skin and the stark white face mask are all clean, clear, and bright. It’s a little unreal to see them against the backdrop of a grubby alley.

‘I’m done,’ Yagen announces a second later. ‘Rest today, I’ll check on you tomorrow.’

Fudou automatically goes for his side. This time, he feels a thick layer of bandages resting over the cut. It stings a little when he presses on it.

‘Stop doing that.’ Yagen chides, then stuffs an orange into his hand. ‘And eat this.’

Fudou holds it blankly while Yagen lines up a bottle of water and two more oranges next to him. ‘You’ve lost blood, so oranges are good for you right now. You have to drink the water too, it’s for deh–’ He stops as his watch alarm goes off.

‘Just finish it all, it’s yours,’ Yagen summarizes before grabbing his bookbag and running off. By the time Fudou struggles to sit upright, the other boy’s already gone. If it wasn’t for the food and first aid, he’d be sure he dreamed it all up.

Yagen’s left the towel too–the one he used to place his tools, and later to kneel on during the treatment. Fudou picks it up and kneads it between his fingers, the fabric welcomingly soft. 

“Mine…” he echoes to himself.

The next day, Yagen comes again. And the next time Fudou gets injured. And the time after that. Eventually, Yagen gets him a phone card so he could call whenever he gets hurt. Fudou starts sleeping with the card in his pockets, then under his makeshift pillow of the season. One day, Yagen finally learns his name.

The summer before starting med school, Yagen asks Fudou to move in with him. It’ll be a pain to find you while I’m studying in university, he says. He’s barely reached the double digits.

The autumn after that, Fudou starts school too. He divides his time between the classrooms and the streets to while away the days. It used to be that he avoided getting hurt, but now he throws himself into fights, if only because Yagen gives undivided attention to any of his injuries. He gets better at fighting, just as Yagen gets quicker with healing. 

Somehow, he makes it to high school. Somehow, Yagen graduates and gets hired by a high-profile corporation, the mafia, and a small time back alley dealer all at once.

Somewhere down the line, Fudou gets so used to the idea of them being together, he never thinks they’ll be apart.

                                                           Love is－

－the impact of lips meeting lips, except it doesn’t last. Fudou’s hardly gotten a taste before something pinches a nerve on the side of his neck and makes him let go with a yelp.

Yagen wipes his mouth while panting for breath, eyebrows furrowed into a line. ‘…what was that?’ 

Fudou looks at him incredulously. “A kiss. Why d’ya pinch me?”

‘Because I couldn’t breathe.’ His partner’s face is still red from their recent exertion, his hands busy reaching up to take off his glasses and wipe clean the foggy lenses.

“S’that it?” Fudou takes a step closer and presses the door for the lift. He’s only a centimeter taller, but he knows how to pull himself upright to make every bit count. “Maybe ya just need a lil’ more practice.”

‘I wouldn’t call it—mMmph?!’

If he was only a patient, a partner–a test subject/lab rat/record breaker/roommate–maybe it’d be enough. But he’s been everything and more with a person who has the frustrating talent of providing him with all he needs and nothing he wants.

The elevator dings, and the doors slide open. Yagen falls backwards into the empty space, Fudou stepping in after him to catch, lift, and press him against the wall. He pauses to press the button for the lobby and quirks a grin at the number displaying their floor.

250 stories is a long way down.

‘Practice,’ Yagen echoes with a sputter as their lift begins to descend. ‘That’s a ridiculous excu–’ He breaks off with a jolt as Fudou cups his chin and leans in.

“Yagen, I’ve been waitin’ to kiss ya for four hours.”

Yagen squints at him. Despite his cool, a faint flush tinges his cheeks. ‘You’re unusually demanding today.’

“An’ you’ve been generous, but in all th’ wrong ways.”

Theirs is a relationship of give and take, but it’s always been Yagen who holds the gifts, the brains, the wealth, and the power. Fudou stares at him with hooded eyes, thumb tracing the edges of a delicate jawline before brushing against rough strands of short hair.

“Take somethin’ of mine for a change, yeah?”

Chu～

–

‘You’re not allowed any chocolate for the rest of the month.’

“Mhm.”

‘No sugar. No artificial sweeteners. I’m cutting all sweets from your diet.’

“Mm.”

‘And I’m putting you on the roster to test the new prototype the day after tomorrow–’

“Day after? Why not just start tomorrow?” Fudou interrupts, resting a chin on Yagen’s shoulder.

‘Because I’m giving you time to work off your sugar rush,’ Yagen complains as he tries to squirm out of the other’s lap. ‘This isn’t how you’re supposed to sit in a car.’

“There’s traffic,” Fudou murmurs by his ear as he tightens his grip. “We’re movin’ at a crawl. Besides, s’cold.”

‘I’m overheating,’ Yagen protests.

“No, yer just blushin’.”

‘You–’

Fudou kisses him again. Yagen turns redder, then retaliates with another pinch. Somewhere between their struggles, they end up prone on the backseat with Yagen pinning Fudou down.

“I always wonder what it’d look like if ya topped.” Fudou mutters. Mostly because they’ve never done, well, anything like this before.

‘The chocolate’s affecting your brain,’ Yagen scoffs, and moves to get off. Naturally, that’s when Fudou tugs him down to rest against his chest. 

“Don’t move, I’m cold.”

‘We can turn up the heat.’

“We’re doin’ fine with ya warmin’ me up.”

‘I’ll get you an electric blanket.’

“You’re better than some blanket.”

Annoyed, Yagen manages to pushes himself up enough to meet Fudou’s eyes. ‘What’s it going to take to make you let go?’

Fudou lazily shuts his eyes. By now, he’s used to the constant rejections to brush them off. “Mm…guess there’s one thing I want after all.”

‘Alright, what is it?’

“Nah, ya gotta promise to give it t’me first.”

‘Fine, I’ll give you whatever you want.’

“Nice.” Fudou cracks open one eye as he grins. “It’s you.”

And before Yagen can protest, he’s buried in cuddles all the way back to their townhouse.

                                                           Love will be－

－waiting, on the other side of reality. 

Because there’s nowhere else to go.

Because there’s nothing else to do.

Because he crossed over first, while Yagen’s still being chased down by their doubles.

“How long are ya gonna make me wait this time?” Fudou sighs into the air, hands in his pockets. Silence answers him.

Theirs is a story of like and love, of give and take, and now of loss and gain.

[missytearex]

To Read List - Narry

This list is purely for myself to keep track of everything I still want to read. Its gonna change as I actually read though them and find more stuff to add.

Find fics I’ve already read here.

Narry

It Feels Like Years by wasp

It's easy to stop thinking, worrying, when he's with Niall, like it's all on instinct. (Community college!AU where basically Niall and Harry fall in love and there's kittens and cuddling for warmth and woo-ing and Liam and Louis are hopeless).

good enough to eat by brokendrums

Niall meets Harry on the set of Masterchef and is instantly attracted to him, even if he is a bit of a dick and far too smug for his own good. He finally cracks his determined exterior and a pretty mind blowing set of blowjobs later they start tentatively seeing each other, only Harry is far too invested in the competition and he just doesn’t have time for distractions like Niall

A MasterChef AU.

does it almost feel like nothing changed at all by estrella30

“You don’t have room to talk,” Louis says, pointing a finger at Harry and narrowing his eyes. “Seeing as how you were seventy five million years late to the meeting today.”

“Well I’m bloody well here now!” Harry shouts. Everyone goes quiet, Zayn even manages to pause whatever Robert Downey Jr. is doing on the telly, and it’s right then, in the middle of the first split second of quiet since Harry arrived that he hears it.

“Wait,” Harry says, cocking his head to the side and listening more closely. “Is that a baby crying?”

OR: Niall gets a baby left w him and Harry moves in to help him take care of her

And Maybe by CharacterDevelopment

“I want to kiss you,” Harry says slowly and nerve-wrackingly honest.

Niall blinks at him. “What?”

“Kissing. I want to kiss you, put our lips together, do the mouth tango, play tonsil hockey—”

Niall interrupts him. “I know what kissing is, Harry.”

“Well, you asked,” Harry says, defensive.

Broken-Hearted Boy by NarryMusings

Niall has watched Harry get his heart broken time after time, again and again. Harry just wants someone to love him. But Niall has always loved him and now that he's finally fed up with Harry not seeing it, Niall tells him.

If We Don't Leave This Town by EvilFriendOfMine

Harry moves to London and begins working at a small bookstore, when a blond-haired, blue-eyed Irishman runs into the store to hide from some no-so-friendly looking men. A relationship sparks but it's anything but easy as Harry has to deal with Niall being a key member of the London Irish Crew, along with his two friends, Louis and Liam. But Niall dreams of getting out one day and taking his friends and Harry with him, but leaving is a lot harder than any of them ever thought it would be.

a little drop for me by littlemissmeggie

Niall was amazed how much had changed in a year, how it didn’t hurt anymore. He’d been drowning in heartache and pain for months and suffocated by the weight of his sorrow.

And then he’d met Harry and been scared and heartbroken again, worried to love and hesitant to be loved. But Harry hadn’t left. He’d showed Niall what unconditional love—romantic unconditional love—felt like, whether out of naive innocence or stubborn determination, Niall wasn’t sure.

or...

If anyone asked Niall how he thought he would meet the love of his life, he wouldn’t have said that he expected to find him lying naked on the beach when he went for a walk at sunrise while on holiday.

future full of yesterdays by fliptomybside

Niall studies astrophysics, Harry studies Niall.

the parting line by from

Harry and Niall get married for a year to save twelve-thousand jobs (and maybe a couple of lives).

feels like home by outwardbound93

Harry shouldn’t feel so much like a little boy tucked into his sister’s side when he spent most of last night twined around Niall in his bed, competing to see who could get the other off more times. But growing up doesn’t seem to work like that. It’s not a switch that gets flicked, it’s like seeing where you want to go and building yourself a bridge to that place. Sometimes where you end up is nothing like you expected, and sometimes it’s like coming home.

out of the woods by countthestars

“Hi,” the boy says, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the counter, body language open in invitation. Niall half expects him to tip his chin up and bare his throat, but instead his smile grows wider, pulling crookedly at his mouth.

Niall's Kitchen by countthestars

Niall and Harry both have youtube cooking channels, and accidentally become rivals. An epistolary fic, of sorts.

must have been the mistletoe by countthestars

“Hey, Harry,” Niall says, voice low and conspiratorial. “Look up.”

“What?” Harry whispers back, because there's a lot to look at up there, blinking lights and boughs of garland and... “is that mistletoe?”

“'Fraid so,” Niall confirms. His lips twitch like he's fighting a smile, but he keeps a straight face as he taps his finger against his mouth. “It's bad luck not to kiss someone underneath mistletoe.”

hold me closer tiny dancer by countthestars

Dancing isn't really Harry's strong suit. Niall doesn't really care.

The Quiet Things That No One Ever Knows by KelliDiane

Unlike other kids of successful, wealthy parents Harry isn't skating by on good looks. Nor is he fifty piña coladas deep in Hawaii. Instead he spends his time learning, whether it's by reading a mountain of texts or hands on at his father's lab. There's an unspoken understanding between his father and himself that he'll take control of the company when his father no longer can. Harry would rather be well versed when he does, science really does interest him. If it interests him because it's genuinely cool or if it interests him because his father pays some kind of attention to him, well.

or

Another superpowers fic that nobody asked for.

remember that time on the bus by estrella30

“Yeah, sure,” Harry says. He smiles and shrugs happily. “I’m good with that.” He gestures to himself on the couch. “You want to like—like now?”

“No! Not now, I mean. One day. In the future.” Niall chews on his thumb and shrugs. “When we’re bored or something.”

Harry snorts a quiet laugh. Only Niall would think shagging a mate would be a good way to kill some time when bored on the bus.

Well. All right. It’s not as if the thought’s never crossed Harry’s mind.

or: harry and niall start shagging

stay, stay, stay. . . (stay.) by badjujuboo (miztrezboo)

Niall keeps a gun by the bed now.

Harry doesn't think Niall knows he knows.

OR an au of the on the streets/gangland type description, drug and alcohol use, violence offscreen, past rough sex (barely mentioned), romantic sex (because we need both sides), somewhat discussed unprotected sex, guns and being shot at and shot, and minor character death (because its a gangland fic and i'm sorry?)

show me by zouee

"i was thinking..." harry begins, scratching the back of his neck hesitantly. he feels niall's eyes on him and his cheeks start to feel hot. "what if we made a sex tape?"

the one where niall and harry are roommates who are close to broke, and are desperate to do anything for money.

high on a pleasure wheel by brokendrums

Niall wakes up the morning after the Billboard Awards married to Harry. Too hungover to face the media storm, he takes up Harry’s offer to drive him home to LA.

the taste was sweeter by brokendrums

On his 18th birthday, Niall travels into the future and ends up meeting his 24 year old self.

only talk about a bruise by brokendrums

With the eclipse fast approaching, the pack is thrown into crisis. New to it all, Harry tries to find his place.

see me in a new light by brokendrums

Niall joins the production team for Planet Earth II and Harry has an interesting proposition.

my remedy for yesterday by brokendrums

It’s been three years since One Direction finally parted ways. Three long years where Niall’s stayed away from home on a never ending holiday. Three years since he’s seen Harry in the flesh and not just splashed across the tabloids or overplayed on the radio.

Niall’s just docked his boat in Ibiza, ready to soak up the sun, when an unexpected accident brings Harry into his life again. And while Niall recuperates on Harry’s patch of sandy white beach old feelings start to emerge, not all of them pleasant.

If we dream forever, whatever happens next by brokendrums

Niall meets Harry on the train and can't stop thinking about him. Then one evening when they get off the train, Harry invites him back to his.

all of the places i ain't ever been by theamazingpeterparker

Harry takes his dinner back to his bedroom, determined to chip away at his book that he came here to write. He’s not sure what it really is yet but he knows he wants it to be in the countryside, maybe a love story without the distractions of a city or a corporate job or a huge population to get in the way.

Or, Harry rents a room on a farm in exchange for working as a farmhand.

something softer than us by theamazingpeterparker

He almost told him then, leaning forward like the thought hit him with enough force that he'd say it out loud. He had bit his tongue, let Niall carry on his explanation against the backdrop of a setting sun across the river from the ballpark. Harry supposes then that he'd loved Niall for a long time now, anyway.

Niall's cat's name is Lunchbox, Louis has definitely been in love, Zayn won't shut up about the Antonine Plague, and Harry doesn't know how to tell Niall that he's in love with him.

dear, i'm always running towards you by goreallegore

He blocks it all out, the cheers, the profanities of overzealous fans from the opposing team, and focuses on one thing, a soft gravelly voice, “Good things take time.”

Or; Niall plays for FC Barcelona, and Harry's a photographer.

a better beginning by goreallegore

Zayn and Liam are attached to the hip, Louis is always putting his foot where it's not needed, and Niall and Harry are ever so quietly in love.

a rising tide like an hour glass by goreallegore

Harry climbs over him, his legs slotting on either sides of Niall, his body flush against Niall’s. He nibbles on Niall’s lowerlip, then licks the seam of his mouth and causes him to elicit a soft - needy - moan. No feelings in the Glade, Niall remembers. Or, he doesn’t. It’s all kind of a haze to be honest.

Or; Niall and Harry are runners.

cook up a recipe for my beating heart by goreallegore

“So, what say wanna live with me? I’ll cook Sunday breakfasts,” Niall says.

“And I’ll make your favorite pastry,” Harry replies.

“Tarte Tartin.” Cause that’s what their love is. A bit of sour and sweet.

Or; Niall and Harry cook.

can't believe I captured your heart by goreallegore

Niall shrugs, “thanks, couldn’t bear living on campus after freshmen year. So moved in here my second year with me mate.”

Harry nods, pausing to repeat Niall’s words in his head, “wait, you’re not a second year?” Please don’t say senior. Please.

“Third year.” Thank god.

Harry sighs in relief, “so ready for the movie?”

Or; Niall likes movies. And Harry is just trying to figure himself out.

baby, we're like a time bomb by goreallegore

“You know that frown thing doesn’t suit you. Look like a lost pug or summat,” he chuckles, his grip tight on the steering wheel.

“I like pugs,” Harry answers simply, and Niall has to turn and look at the boy next to him and it really shouldn’t surprise him because he has known this since day one, but Harry is beautiful. Even the frown that has found a new home on his always smiling face looks pretty – could call it painfully beautiful.

“I do too, though, I like happy ones. Don’t you?” he prods, and that does it as he turns, again, to find a smiling Harry, “there it is. I knew there was something missing.”

Harry ducks his head, avoiding Niall’s gaze, “you’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?”

“Flirting.”

Or; there are timers, but Harry and Niall are too in love to care.

the whole world is sleeping, but my world is you by goreallegore

“Say if I were to leave for forever, would it be okay?”

Niall reaches for Harry’s hand, intertwining their fingers as if the gaps between their fingers were made to be filled by each other, “Only if it makes you happy. ‘Sides, I’d probably follow you to ends of time. Can’t afford losing me best mate.” A slight blush decorates Niall’s cheeks and the dim lighting of the room makes the boy look – ethereal, Harry thinks. Harry is completely endeared by the sight before him.

Or; Harry lives his dreams and Niall helps him save them.

the name forever on my lips is yours by goreallegore

“What did you forget?” his voice was small, Niall was afraid that Harry might’ve not heard him but the look on his face said the opposite.

“I never clearly told you how I feel about you,” Harry stopped to pull out a journal from his back pocket, “I wrote about it you see.” He was holding a battered moleskin that seemed like it had ink all over it. Niall had seen it before but never dared to ask what it was; but now that Harry stood in front of him shyly flipping through the pages, he realized what it was. Niall felt like he was running short on air.

Or; Niall is a modern day Prince and Harry is no damsel in distress.

First Person by Gorgeous Nerd (gorgeousnerd)

Harry doesn't know why Niall wants to see him when he loses a year of memories. But Harry can't go anywhere else.

Follow You Through The Dark by disarm_d

Harry discovers that Niall is a vampire and has some valid concerns.

the mad ones (pool party remix) by irishmizzy, miss_bennie

Harry buys a car in NYC = OT5 road trip to LA. 24-hour diners, shit hotels, Polaroids, golf, line dancing, and too many people in the backseat: this is what dreams are made of.

Christmas Wishes by narrywings

Harry's hoping to go home for a quiet Christmas - but everything gets derailed when Niall calls unexpectedly.

It's Christmas. That Means We Have To Hold Hands. by holyzarrialltrinity

"As the day went on, Niall started worrying less about the way he felt. All he knew is that being around Harry made him feel happy. And being with him in the best city on Earth was even better. It made him forget for a moment about all the stuff back home. He just wanted to be with Harry for however long they had. There was some unspoken romance happening between the two of them and they both could tell. But instead of words, they just held hands really tight."

Niall hates his family. Harry barely has one. But when you spend time with someone new in the greatest city in the world, there's always room for a little change in your life.

love actually is all around by storuns

A small smile appears on Harry’s face and he scoots closer to Niall, resting his head on his shoulder. Niall wraps his arm around him and moves his hand up to rub his shoulder, earning a couple of coos from Louis and Liam across the table. Harry laughs and throws French fries at both of them. He looks up at Niall and grins as he watches him throw his head back in laughter. For some reason, a warm feeling overwhelms his chest and he feels like hugging Niall tightly and kissing all over his face. But, of course, he has control and all he can do is imagine it in his head.

Or the one where Harry and Niall go to Mullingar for Christmas, and stuff happens.

Time Has Brought Your Heart to Me by fakeheaux

Harry meets Niall, and feels a connection, so he gets to know him just a bit more.

Or the one where Harry and Niall are soulmates.

hear this heartbeat breaking through by acastle

He feels another shock of warmth, much more intense, much more overwhelming, as he looks at him. Watches Bailey cling on to this person tightly, laughing as he’s lifted off the ground. He doesn’t know how to describe it, but he’s sure. Very sure, that it is a positive feeling. He doesn’t know how to react to it, really.

(In which Harry is an amateur boxer, raising his son on his own after the hardest few months of his life, then he meets the piano teacher with a beautiful heart.)

a rush inside i can't control by dramaturgicallycorrect

all seems to stay for as long as he can -- that what it feels like to Harry, like Niall’s only ever there until he can’t be there anymore, until something’s tugging him away and he has to follow. Every day he seems to be able to stay longer, sometimes up to hours at a time before he’s tugged away. Every time he goes, Niall leaves his glasses on the kitchen table like a promise.

[Or Harry’s rented a cabin by the woods in Mullingar to write his new album and he doesn’t know that both of his muses are Niall.]

the world still turns by dramaturgicallycorrect

It’s not like he’s not seen any of them over the last eighteen months -- he has – but certainly not all once, not like the way it used to be. Not even the 2015 Way It Used To Be, because even before Zayn left they’d all pretty much tried to do their own thing. Like Just Starting Out Way It Used To Be when they were too scared to let go of each other because they didn’t have anybody else.

Niall had always had his family and the crew and all, but most days it felt like it was just the five of them and nobody else. And the world was laid out in front of them for the taking and they didn’t know who they were or who they wanted to be. Some days Niall still doesn’t know who he is or who he wants to be and he thinks that’s just as comforting as it is terrifying.

You’re not supposed to have it all figured out by age 23. He thinks people forget that sometimes.

[Or Niall organizes a lads’ holiday to see if they still fit.]

let's start right now by dramaturgicallycorrect

He turns to Harry. “Do you mind, like. Can I take a picture of your driver’s license?”

“Yeah,” Harry says easily, fishing his wallet out and presenting him with a California license to match his California plates. He has got an LA address, Niall notes as he snaps a picture. He’s got longer hair in this picture, waving down to brush his shoulders, a far sight from the short crop he's got now. It looks just as good on him, he notes almost subconsciously.

He texts the picture to Louis as Harry puts the license away, give this to the police if I go missing ..

What have you done Neil?? comes Louis’ answer quickly, but Niall ignores it, looks up to find Harry looking back at him.

“It’ll be fun.”

“Promise?”

Harry tilts his head. “I never make promises. You’ll just have to trust me.”

[Or Harry's a professional cross country road trip driver, and Niall is his latest fare.]

call this what you like by dramaturgicallycorrect

“Who was that?” Laura asks, something sly on her face that Niall quite wishes she’d wipe off.

It twists Niall’s stomach anyway, to say, “My mate Harry,” when the truth of it is mates aren’t supposed to catch your breath in your chest talking to them.

He doesn’t know what to do with the feeling, so he presses it away, deep into that box of other nasty feelings he doesn’t want, the ones that haunt him, the you’re never going to get a gig, the you’re going to end up alone.

The thing is, it doesn’t feel like a nasty feeling. It feels like something he should explore instead of hide, because it feels good. But he’s felt it, maybe just once or twice before, and nothing good’s ever come of it. Not a single person’s understood. So Niall locks it up tight and swears he’ll lose the key.

[Or Harry’s looking for love in all the wrong places, and Niall’s not meant to be looking at all.]

only fools rush in by darlingjustdont

niall holds up his hand to show off the band, unthinkingly pushed onto his fourth finger. harry stares at it. “i woke up with it on my thumb.” “did i get one?” says harry, now staring at his own hands. there’s a simple silver ring on his left hand. “oh fuck, i did. holy fuck, niall. i think we got married.”

a post-zayn, non-hiatus au where niall and harry accidentally get married in vegas. it's a bit problematic, mostly because niall's been in love with harry for a long time.

once in your life by wearecities (falsetto)

There’s a moment of silence where Harry considers just passing out right there, head hanging off the bed, because the alcohol’s finally catching up to him in the most unpleasant way. “When we’re thirty?”

“When we’re thirty.” Harry repeats. His eyelids are slowly drooping closed, fingers going slack around the beer he’s clutching. He’s just slipping over the edge when there’s the rustle of material and he squints open one eye to look at Niall.

"We’ve done stupider things.” Niall shrugs.

Niall and Harry make a marriage pact.

and we're starting at the end by dessertmeltdown

The first time Harry sees Niall he's bouncing around bootcamp with a guitar.

See You Later, Boy by marcel

One day, Niall runs Harry over with a skateboard.

Maybe With Me by threeturn

Harry tries to help Niall hook up. Set during the American leg of the TMH tour.

Turn all your grey skies blue. by mogigraphia

Niall's a new single dad, and Harry's his daughter's teacher at the daycare.

it’s kind of our routine by somerdaye

Niall only gets to kiss Harry on New Year’s, and does not in any way want more than that. Really.

You and I Misbehaving by BlackWave

Harry and Niall bake and fail to be proper human adults.

Everything Comes Back To You by Narryornarry

Niall and Harry go to Mullingar, and fall in love in the process.

a true thing by from

NYC, December 2014. Nothing lasts, especially not a shared tub of cereal milk ice cream, but they’re Harry and Niall, and they'll move on with the new.

find a way out of myself again by mozartspiano

harry can't go home so he makes a new one.

AU set in montreal, canada.

Mastering the Art of Friends Cooking by el_em_en_oh_pee

Niall has spent years of practice preparing for his appearance on the Next Food Network Star. He expected his life to change as a result of it - just not quite in this way.

Always Wanna Blow Your Mind by jibrailis

Harry accidentally buys a ring that gives him special sex powers. It’s terribly confusing for everyone involved.

Uncertainty Principle by jibrailis

He didn’t expect this: Australia, the vineyard, and Niall who won’t look him in the eye.

and show me why you deserve to have it all by intherubble

Genetics could go eat a dick as far as Harry is concerned. He just wishes he still had one. (written January 2012)

I Can Be Your New Addiction by estrella30

And that’s another problem. Harry is way too aware of Niall right now to get entirely comfortable. He’s just…

Niall is just there – right there – and Harry is having all sorts of ridiculous thoughts about him.

days grow on colorful trees by criminiallar

He’ll miss nights when they scroll through their phones side by side and Skype with their friends from opposite sides of the room, and he’ll miss leaning over whenever the mood strikes him, nudging his nose against Harry’s jogging bottoms that he’s taken to wearing around the house and looking up with a hopeful grin and Harry leaning back on his elbows with a flourish of his hands before he tips over, smiling at the ceiling with a, “Have at it, then.”

Happy Genius Heroes by BlackWave

Niall is an aspiring evil genius (who isn't very evil at all). Harry is his pretty assistant. Liam is the visiting friend and Louis and Zayn are meddlesome superheroes.

it's the way we are together by roofpizza

Harry leans against the shelf and opens his mouth to say something witty and probably super sexy when Niall interrupts him with a snort. “Do those kinds of lines get you anywhere?”

“Most of the time,” Harry shrugs, and it’s true, because he has quite a bit of charm, and it tends to work in his favor, despite his cheesy lines. “I’m charming.”

“I suppose you are,” Niall laughs, and Harry can’t help the smile that spreads across his face.

you don't need me anymore by outwardbound93

Rain riddles the sea like bullets and the dark storm clouds hang just above ceiling height, but Niall doesn’t have the panicky crushed feeling he sometimes gets. The little house feels cozy with his baby asleep in the next room and Harry’s lip jutting out in a pout.

Or, Niall becomes a dad.

hold on by outwardbound93

Funny, Niall thinks, that for all their success ordinary terrible things happen to them just like anybody else. Girlfriends get tired of the fans or get panicked about too much commitment, and bandmates slip going into the pool and lose five years’ worth of memories.

i sing you like a song i heard when i was young by disequilibrium

Niall never thought he’d find his way back home. But then, the wind works in mysterious ways: a stranger at the door, an impossible escape. A whisper that changes everything, forever, again.

always be your boy by saysthemagpie

In retrospect, becoming part of the world’s biggest boy band might not have been the smartest move for someone with Niall’s 'special condition,' what with the whole never-aging thing and the insatiable thirst for human blood.

Niall's a vampire. Harry's his human boyfriend. Harry thinks he should probably become a vampire, too.

Sad Blue Eyes by Mcwarr

“To the rest of the world, Harry had no qualms with being an absolute asshole but when it came to Niall, all bets were off.”

the one with all the football by irishmizzy, miss_bennie

Senior year was supposed to be the best ever – that is, until Louis goes through a breakup over the summer and Zayn starts acting weird. With everything falling apart, Niall, Liam, and Harry are doing their best to keep it together, but it’s easier said than done. If nothing else, at least Niall’s got Harry.

[2015 One Direction as told through an American College AU]

and you know in your heart it'll be worth it by outwardbound93

“At home, we sleep on the,” he points at the ceiling. “The top, so we don’t float away.”

Niall laughs. “The ceiling, you mean?” He traces the line of Harry’s dimple. “I figured you slept inside a castle, like in the pictures of what Atlantis looked like.”

“I doubt that’s accurate,” Harry says. He palms Niall’s thigh, running his hand down to his knee, where he pauses to feel out the unfamiliar bones with his fingertips. “Otters sleep holding hands so they won’t drift apart, did you know that?”

“What, are you an otter?” Niall asks.

“No, but it might not be too bad,” Harry says. He lays his head to rest on Niall’s chest, over his heart. His fingers tangle with Niall’s in the sheets, his skin tanned and smooth, Niall’s pale and scarred.

"Eh,” Niall says. “It’s not too bad, I guess.”

We Could Be Enough by balefully

One Direction reconvenes after two years at Niall's cabin in Connemara for Christmas. Niall and Harry haven't spoken during the break, but they relearn each other and fall into something they never expected.

Super Beautiful Sex Machine by jibrailis

Niall Horan, porn star.

you're the truth i can't explain by takesmeunder

When Harry gets hired to be Niall Horan's celebrity photographer, he's expecting a learning experience and a chance to see the world. Determined to keep his business and personal lives separate, Harry tries desperately to keep things professional. The last thing he's expecting is to fall for a rockstar.

Relatable Content by makesomelove

Harry glances down at the floor, then up at Niall, lip curling up in a bashful smirk. Niall wants terribly to kiss him. The opportunity is right there in front of him, and it's the worst idea in the entire world.

It would reach the press. He'd be in the news - CEO and Founder of BeepFodder Niall Horan Sexually Manipulates Underlings. His mum has an alert for him on her computer and she'd see it and have a heart attack. They'd lose sponsors. Even if they didn't publish the footage, it'd still exist. It all still would have happened. Harry would know Niall likes him. The thought of the most vulnerable spots in his heart being captured on film and shown to millions of people makes Niall sick. Going through with this in a legitimate way would ruin his life no matter what.

in the golden afternoon by bisousniall

Niall can talk to flowers, but his life is pretty uncomplicated despite this. Until Harry shows up.

A Spell That Can't Be Broken (orphan_account)

He hears the people around them whisper, saying that he's got this boy under a tragic spell. Niall thinks they've got it all wrong. It's him who's caught under Harry's spell.

[Niall's a witch, Harry doesn't know this, and it's all on Niall if this blows up in his face.]

watch you on the red horizon by littlecather

“Just us,” he murmurs. “If - we’re talking about, like. Always.”

Harry nods. “Just us,” he repeats, voice a cracked whisper.

It's 2018, a year after One Direction has ended. Niall and Harry may or may not accidentally become soul mates.

Yoga To Be Joking by mdashes

The tags explain everything, I think. (Yoga, Autofellatio)

slow and steady (your hand fits in mine) by leitmotifs (orphan_account)

Niall slips the case shut, running his fingers along the top until they reach the handle. “Would you come with me?”

Harry raises an eyebrow. “Right now, or in general?”

Niall decides to humor him. “In general.”

“Always.”

---

Or: Their first Christmas since the accident, and Harry promises to take care of Niall.

i'll pull you closer by leitmotifs (orphan_account)

“You’re a fish,” Harry says.

“Am not.”

“You have a tail.”

“ ‘m not a fish.” Niall sounds vaguely affronted. “I’m a siren.”

“Uh huh. Care to elaborate on that?” Harry snips.

“Well,” Niall says thoughtfully, “I’m supposed to seduce you with my voice, lure you in, and then viciously devour your flesh.”

till you know that the words are right by el_em_en_oh_pee

Somehow, at this stage in his career, waking up with breasts and a vagina on the morning of the biggest show of his life doesn't even seem that comparatively weird to Niall.

Welcome to the Jungle by peerpressure

Harry, Louis and Zayn are in a band (it's not an indie band and definitely not a tribute band).

Harry falls in love with Niall a little too hard and a little too fast. It's not very punk rock.

we're on fire now by leitmotifs (orphan_account)

In which Harry and Niall are two of the best spies in the world, except maybe not really, because they're enemies and one is not supposed to fraternize with the enemy, but it keeps happening anyway. Liam is very exasperated.

i won't be on my own by sakabelle

Harry takes a quick trip back to London to care for his ailing boyfriend.

Benefits by sakabelle

It begins at Jay and Dan's wedding. It's supposed to be a laugh, really. Niall and Harry showing up there together because they've got no one else to bring.

It continues because Niall's always got to have some sort of fling going on whenever they're home from the tour. It's just that Harry never expected that he'd be one of those flings.

Holding Me Hostage by sakabelle

Niall Horan is content to keep to himself for his thirteen month prison sentence. He's content to stay out of trouble. Content to do his time and get out. But within the walls of HM Forest Bank, everyone's got a secret. Everyone's got a purpose. Everyone's got to get through their time somehow.

Which is how Niall finds himself with a lot more problems than he ever had on the outside.

To the Stars by sakabelle

The last place Niall Horan wanted to be was a first class passenger on the Titanic, headed to America. His father was forcing him into a life he didn’t want, full of business meetings and ritzy parties. Simply put, he was miserable.

Until he met Harry Styles. A passenger in steerage who would turn his entire life upside down.

A Titanic movie AU.

Piccadilly by anb123

Based on this prompt: fic where niall is a famous pop star who takes the tube every chance he can get, mostly because it’s one aspect of his life that makes him feel more normal and harry’s the cute college student who also takes the tube, has absolutely no clue who niall is, so when niall grins at him from the other side of the car, harry just thinks niall’s a normal lad flirting with him by niallharold on Tumblr.

Famous Niall & uni student Harry meet on the tube. Life ensues.

show me your love (orphan_account)

niall and harry go to las vegas as best friends and go home married.

and if it's quite alright, you could be my way of life by lizzybean

A comfy cozy, post break up, slightly golf!AU where Harry fills all the cracks and gaps left in Niall's heart.

A Slide Into First by siempreniall

Niall's a minor league star baseball player, Harry's in love with him, Liam makes really good hot dogs, Louis's a mascot wrench, and Zayn shows up to pull everything together.

Love Muffins by alexenglish

A story about something at first sight. In which Niall didn't call, Harry stress bakes, Louis meddles, Zayn and Liam are... Zayn and Liam, and everything works out in the end.

What's A Fella T' Do? by iwanna_seeyou_undoit

Pretend!Boyfriends AU where Harry doesn't own any trousers that don't have holes in them, Niall is the only one who can drive, and they definitely aren't shagging.

take me with you by outwardbound93

“I’m dating Niall,” Harry blurts out in the middle of their interview with Scott Mills. Liam’s, Louis’s, and Scott’s heads all swing around to him. Niall doesn’t so much as blink.

If it's torn we can stitch it up by ifzi0531

Niall shifts his feet nervously. He still doesn’t know if this is the right decision but he stares back at the small name card in his hand. “Hi, it’s Niall. The one from juvie. You gave me your card, and asked me to call you if I ever needed your help.”

“Hi, Niall! What can I do for you? Are you in trouble again?”

Niall shakes his head like he always does when people are asking him questions. It’s what he does, giving them non-verbal answers. But then he realizes he’s talking through the phone, so he speaks out loud again. “I-,” Niall trails off, tightening his grip on the phone. He stares at the ground, hoping that the ground would swallow him. “My mum kicked me out of the house.”

or

The Orange County (O.C) AU

how to make two lovers of friends by petals

The first time they meet, they hate each other. Or, Harry hates Niall. The second time they meet, Niall doesn't remember Harry. He says he did. The third time they meet, they become friends. They're friends for a long time. And then they're not. And then they fall in love.

Or a When Harry Met Sally au

My Kiss Can Mend Your Broken Heart by PigSlay

After Zayn leaves the band, Niall withdraws into his head. He tries his best to keep up appearances (both in public and in front of the boys) but it's not hard to notice when he falters. Harry is the first one to do something about it.

and the history books forgot about us by roofpizza

for the prompt: A timeline of how narry came to be narry from X-Factor bootcamp to the OTRA tour.

or

Niall is having the worst day of his life.

it's not just where you lay your head by disequilibrium

Harry chuckles a little.

“I am. Cry at everything. Sad movies, the lot.”

Niall smiles.

“Yeah, I know.”

And he does know. He’s sort of started to know Harry like the back of his hand. He might even go so far as to say he’s his best friend. And that makes everything else all the more difficult.

friends just sleep in another bed by littlecather

“Just - I’ve just been hanging out with Harry. A lot - slept over a couple of times.”

“You slept over?” Dougie echoes.

"Not like that," Niall rolls his eyes - even though it kind of is.

Tour starts; Niall and Harry grow closer.

Know Your Place by siempreniall

Niall's place in life has changed a lot. He's always left trying to figure out where he truly belongs, with whom he truly belongs. It just takes a few tries and a few life-changing, impossible events for him to get it right.

Everything Comes Back To You by alliecat23784

A canon compliant fic where Harry and Niall are very much in love and manage to keep their relationship strong while both touring the world at the same time.

(And I’m queer for math!) by softly (alexenglish)

No no, we aren’t breaking up! You didn’t let me finish. I’m gay for YOU.

all the time before i knew you by littlemissmeggie

“I’ve heard you like Scrabble,” said Niall. He considered Harry. Maybe Louis was right and he and Harry would make good friends.

“Yeah.” Harry nodded enthusiastically, eyes lighting up. “I go to the Scrabble club at my library.”

“I think I’ve got a Scrabble set round my flat somewhere,” Niall told him. He shrugged and shot Harry a crooked grin. “If you don’t mind playing with a set that’s almost certainly missing a few letters.”

“Oh,” said Harry slowly, understanding seeming to dawn on him. A flicker of something Niall couldn’t identify crossed his face. “Um, that might- that might be a challenge. I’d better- I’ll probably stick with the sets at the library.” He gave Niall a sad, apologetic half-smile. “I should get back to, um, back to wardrobe."

“Don’t be offended,” said Louis, moving closer to Niall. “It’s not you. It’s not me. It’s Grimshaw. Fucking twat.”

Up-and-coming model Harry Styles falls under the charms of his long-time celebrity crush, emotionally manipulative Nick Grimshaw. After some poking and prodding and meddling from his friend Louis, Harry befriends fellow model Niall Horan and soon realises that friendship—and maybe true love—should be a bit more like this.

if I got a condo on a cloud then I guess you can stay at my place (orphan_account)

“I think I can make it. Wait so are we gonna have to hold hands and stuff?” Niall asks Harry and Harry blushes and looks down at his feet awkwardly.

“I- you don’t have too. You can just hover.” --

Harry can't just show up to his sister's wedding where his ex boyfriend is going to be without somebody with him, I mean he can't just loiter around the chocolate fountain. So that's why he enlists Niall's help.

The Wedding Singer by littlecather

It's not that Harry doesn't believe in love, exactly - he just thinks that romance and marriage and all that comes with it are overrated. Niall has sung at over a hundred weddings, and is determined to prove Harry wrong. After all - there's a reason for all those songs.

Frenemies by alteringegoism

Harry hates Niall. Niall hates Harry. But Harry wants Zayn and in order to get to him, he’ll have to go through his best friend Niall. Harry will just have to kill Niall with kindness. That’s if Niall doesn’t kill him first. Oh and Liam and Louis are getting married.

When I Close My Eyes, All the Stars Align by FallingLikeThis

Harry Styles looks out the windowed wall of his penthouse apartment, staring down at the teeming masses that bring life to the streets below. Any one of the people down there could be his soulmate. Or, who knows, his soulmate could be halfway around the world. Or dead already. There’s no way to know, really, since Harry’s affliction is so rare. He bears the soulmate mark. It occurs in maybe one in a million people. He’s one of the chosen few who has one, single person that’s meant for them. Everyone else has the freewill to love whoever they want but if Harry ever hopes to find true love, he’ll have to go through a damn scavenger hunt to get it. And as if that wasn’t enough, he has a time limit.

Or a Beauty and the Beast Au in which Harry's only beastly qualities are his hair and his bad attitude and Niall arrives to spy on him for his sister but ends up staying for so much more.

baby, you don't know what it's like by peerpressure

Harry tries really, really hard to only see Niall as a friend.

It’s not working very well.

Because Niall is simply amazing and Harry is so stunned that he’s even allowed in his presence. And also because he wants to suck his dick. Just a little. But he also wants to cuddle him and maybe share food and fight for blankets and press cold feet against each other and shampoo each other’s hair.

Harry just wants to be with Niall.

(In which Louis is a good friend, Liam is kind, Zayn is always stressed, Niall is the new guy and Harry falls in love)

let's spin the world around by jamesniall

"Superlatives are just about putting the word más before an adjective or a sustantive. Like más grande which means bigger, or más fuerte, which means harder" Niall says, looking pointedly at Harry and Harry is 99% sure he's doing it on purpose.

"más rápido means faster" Niall continues, "Are you getting hard from this, Harry?" and if Harry would have had something in his mouth he would have spilled it all over Niall's face.

Or, Harry learns spanish thanks to Niall's dirty talk.

Maybe You're My Snowflake by pintsandguitars

Harry Styles loves the snow. Niall Horan loves the stars. And somewhere between snowflakes and night skies, they start loving each other.

For Rayvans: Uni! au where Harry doesn't have anywhere to go for Christmas break, so his roommate Niall invites him to spend the holidays with him. (bonus if they end up sharing a bed in Niall's small childhood room).

A head for business and a body for sin by flickerbyniall

He first time he caught Harry’s eyes was about an hour ago, the boy was eating some strawberries from the buffet table around the corner, oblivious to the fact he was standing out in the crowd with his rebellious look.

or Harry goes to a Gala and can't take his eyes off the boy wearing a leather jacket.

Searching by littlecather

Niall has been hired by a magazine to track each employee's searches on Google. Harry uses Google a lot.

wide open spaces by outwardbound93

“Well,” Harry says at the end of the day. The sun sets late in Texas like it doesn’t want to go, clinging to the scrubby flatlands with the last reaches of striped sunbeams. Niall leans on the broom and watches Harry fidget with a bundle of notecards he has to fill with peoples’ heartfelt sentiments. Love notes, apologies, get-well-soons, Harry’s got them all. “Will I see you tomorrow, then?”

Niall props the broomstick against a shelf holding a bunch of little green plants he doesn’t know the name of. The shop is bursting with green leaves, colorful blossoms like pops of candy mixed with buttered popcorn at the movie theatre, and at the heart of it, Harry. Harry, with his languid speech and that one curl that stubbornly sticks out on the side of his head that Niall always wants to twirl around his finger and that smile that arrives in a flash or unfurls slowly.

“Yeah,” says Niall. “I’ll be here.”

this could be the end of everything by basementhero

The Norns remembered each cycle of time and would recount the tale if asked: Harry and Niall were not the first of their kind, nor was it the world’s first attempt at existence. Some cycles were short while other stretched on for tens or hundreds or thousands of millennia. It was always the same in the end, though, no matter how many intervening years it took to get there. Baldr always fell; the giants always attacked, and the realms of Yggdrasil—the world tree—were always plunged back into the void after Ragnarök, waiting for rebirth.

But not everything was so set in stone; at least, it didn’t seem to be.

(or: Niall and Harry are immortal deities, but even gods are subject to fate.)

We Could Be The Ones Who Matter by jibrailis

Harry and Niall both get weirdly intense about things, and by things, they mean competitive Scrabble.

lovesick boys will write you lovesongs by narryblossom

When Niall walks through the gate at Dublin Airport at four in the morning, jet lagged to hell and back, he feels like he’s home. He thinks he’s never felt so happy to hear an Irish accent, and he certainly has never been so happy to have no fucking clue what he’s doing.

(Well, he has some idea of what he’s doing, he just isn’t sure it’s going to work out the way it does in his head.)

(An AU where Niall dreams of his lost love and finds himself going home to search for him.)

let yourself be enchanted by acastle

“Which means, I’ve got a Charms post to fill. And do you know who he suggested for the job?”

Harry doesn’t trust the wide beam on his face, and Louis goes on, “Well, he’d told me about this bloke. Class of 2011, student rank number three but top at Charms of his class, Hufflepuff, prefect, atrocious Quidditch player, but he makes a great treacle tart-”

“He suggested me?” Harry says blankly.

(Hogwarts and co-teachers AU, all in one.)

Along the Way (Something Changed ) by catrinahart

For the last five years, singer turned actor, Harry Styles has had Niall by his side to help manage his incredibly crazy life. They met and quickly became the best of friends. Then people start asking questions, making Harry think, what do they see that he doesn't?

and days gone by by outwardbound93

Niall catches himself glancing at Harry in the backseat. The tops of buildings are lined with Christmas lights like the iced piping on a gingerbread house, and the crisp sharp light of a winter night makes Harry’s skin look warm and soft.

riverina by outwardbound93

Harry looks up at Niall, the sharp, almost antique lines of his face thrust into regal beauty by the stadium lights. Harry’s ribs press against the size of his heart.

Or, a royalty!au where Niall's a prince and Harry's the reporter that writes about him.

let me photograph you in this light by storhan

“I like that one,” he says, turning the camera back around to show Harry the picture he took earlier that day of Niall reading. Harry also finds himself smiling, he quite likes that one too.

“Me too,” Harry says softly.

Or, Harry's a photography major and Niall is his muse.

something so magic about you by storhan

Niall's a single father and Harry's his neighbor who never seems to wear a shirt.

St-st-stuttering by asaprockme

In which Harry has a stutter that he just can't control. Niall doesn't mind.

I'm not trying to stop you, love by littlecather

If we're gonna do anything, we might as well just ...

Niall and Harry are the only ones left on campus over the Christmas holidays, and even though they've never really hung out before, they manage to spend most of the week holed up in Harry's room, together.

the piano man’s playing some old melody by littlervoice

Harry is a piano player. One day his neighbour puts in a request.

Do you want to come to the gym? by maxette

Niall is Harry's personal trainer: a romantic comedy without the middle forty-five minutes of misunderstandings.

running around in love again by mozartspiano

they meet at a coffee shop on valentine's day. it's all a horrible cliche.

You Feel Like Home (You're Like a Dream Come True) by roughvoiced

Niall sighs and unwraps the scarf from around his neck. "A plus one," he repeats. "I need one."

“For what?” Harry asks, watching as Niall unzips his coat, letting it slip off his arms and drop to a rumpled pile on the carpet before slipping off his shoes and striding over to Harry, plonking himself down on the sofa beside him and snuffling up under his arm, waiting for Harry to pull him in close before he speaks.

“Greg’s wedding.”

or, the au where Harry offers to be Niall's plus one and ends up with a whole lot more than he bargained for.

Another Auld Lang Syne by colbyjack

"We drank a toast to innocence We drank a toast to now. And tried to reach beyond the emptiness, But neither one knew how.”

-

Harry and Niall are old flames who eventually find each other again, of course, because the universe doesn’t want to give up on them.

Stacked Against You by siempreniall

Niall hates the library. All of the computers are always taken, the stacks make him feel claustrophobic, and his short attention span has never given itself well to studying anyways. The cute boy at the information desk makes it all worth it, though.

i want you so much (but i hate your guts) by siempreniall

Niall doesn’t know what he’s still doing there. This isn’t really how he likes to spend his Sunday nights. He doesn’t want to be yelled at and made to feel guilty for something that happened months ago. All he wants is to leave, really.

heartbreak hero by acastle

“So you want me to hear your side of things?"

"Yes, that would be a start."

"Fine,” Niall steps forward, so he and Harry are practically nose to nose. “Come back tomorrow at 8, so you can air your side of the situation on my segment.”

In which Niall is a love guru of sorts on the radio, who thinks love is the bane of the world, and Harry is a fuckboy who’s lovely, surely, but is not the best boyfriend in the world, not by a long shot. His girl breaks up with him while on air with Niall, and Harry isn’t having that, so he forces Niall to help him win her back.

(Alternatively, Niall’s Guide On How to Win Back the Girl, patent pending. It should work, in theory.)

Home is Wherever I'm with You by ziamfcks

Niall is blind and Harry works in a coffeeshop. It's love from the start.

Intensified by Absence by littlecather

Niall smiled, the action uncontrollable. “Hey, time traveller,” he said softly.

Harry blanched, his eyes growing a little wide, but he cocked his head to the side with confusion. “Hello,” he said, holding out his hand across the back of his seat for Niall to shake. “I’m Harry. What’s your name?”

The Time Traveller's Wife AU.

My Dearest Love by badjujuboo (miztrezboo)

His teeth hurt. Ached really. Like this thrumming underneath the veneer that wouldn't cease. Wouldn't be calmed no matter how many pain meds he's taken, no matter how much oil of clove he's rubbed onto them.

His dreams. His dreams were strange, too. Bloody, but without violence. Just a warm, wet, thick feel to them. And red. So much red.

He should have expected it. Should have made plans, sought guidance, kept himself away but. . . .

He’d never been to good at any of those things. Especially the last.

hands that hold me by lostgirl152

Niall was always too interested in Harry's hands

6,359 miles by acastle

“Why, why’d he send me that?” Harry murmurs, and Nick looks up from the screen. “What does he want me to do? I don’t-”

“Idiot,” he flicks his phone back to him. “Make a reservation. He wants you to go there.”

(Niall and Harry were sleeping together, until they aren’t, and then Niall disappears into a tiny island in the East. Then he asks Harry to follow him.)

i forget where we were by littlecather

“You,” he says thickly, swallowing. “You don’t - you don’t remember.”

“Not the last three years,” Harry tells him simply. “Sorry. What was your name?”

“Niall,” he mutters, face suddenly dark. “I’m Niall, I’m Liam’s assistant."

Harry wakes up to find he has retrograde amnesia and a perfect life - seemingly.

he is the lamb, she is the slaughter by trishapocalypse

“Niall, what did you do to me?” Harry repeated, quieter, slower than normal, and he looked up at Niall from under his eyelashes.

Niall froze, reaching a hand up to rub at his eyes, blinking rapidly as he stared at Harry. “What’s that?”

“This?” he asked, gesturing towards his chest. “Oh, you know, just breasts!” he snapped, picking up the pillow and throwing it back at Niall. “What did you do to me?!”

(Or: the one where Harry wakes up a girl and it's clearly NIall's fault.)

Through the Screen by sunshineflying

In his free time, Niall Horan likes to subscribe to his favourite camboy, Harry Cox. When he moves to uni he's not sure how he'll manage to watch the weekly show with a roommate. Things become even more complicated with that roommate is the one and only camboy of his dreams - Harry.

The Whole Shebang by BakerGrey

Niall lives life like it’s a daydream, Harry’s just in love, and Zayn’s painting pictures of Louis’s boyfriend.

laughin' loud on a carnival ride by el_em_en_oh_pee

Harry looks around the fairground. They’ve already done the putt-putt - Harry got tripped up by the windmill, but Niall almost lost his ball at the clown hole because he didn’t want to look straight at it - and the zipper and the gravitron and the spinning teacups. The Ferris wheel looms, past the inflatable slides and the yo-yo, and he wants to go to that, he does, but - Ferris wheels are always romantic in the movies, and Harry isn’t sure that Niall wants romantic from this. “Funnel cakes?” he suggests, instead.

i have lightning by sarcangel

“Have you ever eaten a raw olive?” Harry asks. Niall can actually taste them on his breath, green and briny, mixed with vodka and actual bitters; Harry still needs to breathe to live, after all, and still has no concept of personal space.

in the lonely cool before dawn by mozartspiano

Niall is the Deputy Chief of Staff at the White House. Harry is his assistant.

A West Wing!AU.

like your favourite tune by words_unravel

It's just another summer for Harry - an unexpected flat mate, Louis being an idiot, and Liam hiding away in Wolverhampton.

....okay, maybe not just a typical summer then.

The River and the Deep Green Bend by liquidmeasure 

Harry studies the card for just a moment. It’s all brightness and blooming growth where the last card was darkness and destruction: a child, fair haired and laughing and riding on the back of a horse, his arms outstretched and basking in the light of a yellow sun.

“See? Not all bad." Jesy taps at the image on the card and nods. "Him I like. Look at him casting his light, nourishing the four little flowers in the back. He's an engine, burning brightly. Illuminating the dark corners. He's growth. Newness. Reconciliation...” Harry shakes his head and moves for the door. Opens it just as she says, “for all five of you.”

There’s a flutter and a commotion from behind him and then Rover is winging past him through the door, making her way out into the dark. The night air is cold on his face and it feels like relief. Like an escape.

“Four of us.” Liam sounds a little uncertain.

“What was that?”

“There’s just four of us, not five.”

“Oh…” her voice trails off as Harry steps out into the moonlight. “Well, like he said, it’s mostly bullshit anyway. Can’t get everything right.”

A Dark Tower AU for round 4 of the 1D big bang.

[tendonsatire]

A Film by Peter Parker (Part 1)

Author’s note: Hello! I had this idea and I got excited! Please enjoy this first part of A Film by Peter Parker. I wanted to read this kind of story, but figured it’d be a little hard to find one even remotely like it. So I wrote it for you all. It’s only in parts because it wouldn’t let me write as much as I wanted on my phone in this text box. I know. What a lazy bum. This is a super fluffy reader insert! Enjoy your first three years of high school with our lovely Peter Parker.

____

It started with him running down the hallway, stopping right in front of me and pushing the phone camera in my face.

“Say cheese Y/n!!!” Peter Parker told me in a sing song like voice. I laughed but did as told to humor the boy.

“Cheese Y/n!!!” I smiled for the camera before looking at Peter. “How does it look?”

“Oh I-I’m actually taking a video.” Peter blushed behind the phone as he smiled innocently, holding it a little slack. When he realized he had let the angle change, he quickly corrected it.

“Peter! I probably look ridiculous! You have to delete it!” I laughed reaching for the phone. He slipped out of reach before I had the chance to grab it. “No, don’t try to take it, I need it!”

“What on earth could you possibly need it for?” I inquired narrowing my eyes at him. It sounded rather suspicious.

“That is for me to know and for you to find out.” He smirked at me and I rolled my eyes, unable to keep a smile from forming on my face.

“Fine, but I refuse to be the only person on screen, you have to show yourself too.” I decided, holding a hand in front of the camera. Peter groaned loudly but turned the phone’s camera on himself before grabbing my arm and pulling me closer so the camera would have a visual of the both of us.

“Okay y/n, how is your first day of high school going?” He asked, looking to me instead of the phone.

I turned to look at him and scrunched up my face. “It’s your first day too!” I retorted and he shrugged.

“Just give us an answer.” He nudged me with his elbow as I smiled a little at him.

“Fine. Um, I almost missed the subway so that was stressful. I also haven’t gotten my schedule; oh will you actually go with me? I don’t know what to do or where to go.” I looked back at him giving him the puppy dog eyes I knew he couldn’t turn down.

“We were just here yesterday for orientation.” Peter looked at me with disbelief.

“Peter I literally don’t remember anything, I think I blacked out. Can you not show this to anyone this is probably the most embarrassing moment of my life.” I glanced at the phone and bit my lip as my gaze returned to Peter’s face.

“But what about that time in the seventh grade when your little brother started yelling about how you got a bra and he didn’t.” Peter said holding up his pointer finger and looking at it as if he was about start listing off all of the most embarrassing moments of my life.

“Peter what are you doing? I don’t want to relive everytime I got embarrassed!” I interupted him grabbing his finger and moving his hand back down to his side.

“Fine, let’s go.” He started to lead the away while stopping the video and turning his phone off. -

Next was a movie night I had with Peter and Ned. It was at my house and we were in my basement on a pile of pillows and blankets. The lights were still on while I bustled around with snacks, more blankets, and started to put the movie in. When I stood straight up and turned I saw Peter pull out his phone and start recording a video.

“What movie are we watching y/n?” Peter asked with a smirk as he watched me walked over and sit in the middle of the set up. I muttered something incoherent and he tisked. “Come on, I can’t hear you!”

“We’re watching…” I sighed pulling my knees to my chest. “We’re watching Star Wars…” I dropped my head a little looking at my lap and shaking my head a little.

“Tell us why you sound so put out?” He suggested poking my arm. I looked up and glared.

“I hate Star Wars and refused to watch it.” I grumbled as if I was a five year old pouting.

“Why are you watching it now?”

“Because you asked if we could watch it this time.” I shrugged as if it were that simple.

“You could have said no.”

“But you like it! And, you guys let me watch Tangled last time it’s only fair.” I added as I got my pillow and blanket ready to watch the movie.

“Awe you’re so sweet!” He smiled moving the camera a little closer to my face. I grabbed some gummy bears and tossed them at him as Ned walked into the room.

“Are you bothering her with that video thing again?” I looked over at Ned and nodded.

“Yes he is. Do you know what it’s for? He won’t tell me!” Ned glanced between the two of us, eyes lingering on Peter. I quickly looked to Peter, catching him in the act of shaking his head no before freezing and smiling at me.

“No of course I don’t.” Ned laughed nervously as he got comfortable on the other side of me. “Can you put that away so we can watch the movie?”

Peter quickly finished up the video as they started the movie. -

The next was the same night. Peter aimed the camera at me laying in my spot.

“Look at this Ned, we aren’t even five minutes into the first Star Wars movie and she’s already fallen asleep!” Peter turned the camera on Ned who was dramatically reading the opening credit/setting to the movie.

Ned stopped to look at the sleeping form and laughed. “I guess you’ll have more content for your little film.” Then they got back to the movie. -

That summer was next. Us three were on a beach. My parents had invited them on vacation with us. Peter was walking over to where I lay on a towel, sunbathing.

“How are you feeling today?” He asked as he blocked the sun from shining on my face.

“I’m trying to get some sun Peter. Its good for me and I rarely get out during the school year.” I opened my eyes shielding them from looking directly at him with the sun shining so brightly behind him.

“You’re hurting my eyes Peter.” I groaned and sat up on my towel. Peter gasped sitting in front of me.

“Am I really that hard to look at?” He asked feigning hurt with his hand on his chest.

“Oh stop being so melodramatic, you were standing right in front of the sun and you know that’s what I meant.” I rolled my eyes looking at him.

“Yeah, I know, you can tell me how much you love me later.” He teased and I scrunched up my face at him.

“Where’s Ned? We’re going to swim in the water when he gets his booty out here.”

“You want to get rid of me so soon?”

“Oh cut it out. You can’t take your phone into the sea.” I retorted standing up as I heard Ned’s voice and started towards the water. -

Sophomore year.

We were on a bus, on our way to a lab for a school trip. This time I had Peter’s phone aiming it at him as I started the video. “Hey Peter!!!! Where are we going???” I asked him excitedly as I sat on my knees looking over the back of my seat to Peter and Ned sitting behind me.

Peter looked up surprised when he saw his phone in my hand. He then smiled. “We are on our way to a laboratory where they have bread genetically mutated spiders that make webbing as strong as steel.” Peter looked very giddy which made you smile.

“How are you boys feeling?” I added getting both of my friends in the frame of the shot.

“Clearly Peter is the more excited one of the two of us.” Ned smirked nudging his friend. Peter blushed looking at Ned and shaking his head a little.

“Y/l/n! Detention! Sit down in your seat… facing forward and not with your legs on the seat!” The teacher yelled back adding on to the command when I had just sat back on my knees.

“Stupid-” I started to mumble as I turned the video off and handed the phone back to Peter. -

I looked up as I sat in the back of the classroom for detention. I watched the clock’s seconds tick by. Just a few more minutes. I turned my gaze to the door and saw Peter. His phone was out, clearly taking a video. As soon as I was dismissed, my detention finished, I walked out to see Peter standing by the door.

“How was y/n’s first detention?” He asked smiling. He was clearly amused by the situation that I had put myself in.

“Oh whatever. At least I didn’t freak out on the trip when we saw the spiders.” I shifted my book bag on my shoulders and walked with him. He just shrugged.

“I thought I saw a loose spider.” Peter claimed which made me look at him.

“It’s fine to be scared of spiders Peter.” I reminded him. He smiled in return, putting away his phone. -

Next was another movie night.

“Okay y/n, what on earth are you wearing?” Peter laughed behind the phone as he showed off my outfit to the camera.

I scowled at him and looked down at what I was wearing. “It’s just my pajamas!” I huffed with obvious exasperation.

“That is an over sized Spider-Man t-shirt.” Peter pointed out. “And don’t worry, she has shorts on underneath.” He added to which I groaned.

“Why must you mock me?” I feigned dramatics as I pretended to faint, falling to the floor. We had the usual pile of pillows and blankets for the night.

“Fine. What movie did you request tonight?” He asked. When all he got was a glare from me, he cleared his throat turning the camera on himself.

“Right… we’re rewatching Star Wars! Turns out Y/n has fallen for the, quote unquote, unlovable.” Peter smirked before glancing at me.

“But I haven’t fallen for you Peter.” I shot back quickly without thinking about it. He immediately pouted to which I sat up and patted his cheek. “Oh come on Mr. Pouty Pants. You know you’re not unlovable. May loves you very much.” I served the burn on a golden platter as Ned yelled from the kitchenette in response to my harsh replies. Peter sighed shaking his head as I threw my arms around him.

“You know I’m kidding. I’m sorry.” I said softly and patted his back. He looked at me with narrowed eyes as Ned removed her from the boy and sat in between them.

“It’s my turn for the middle seat.” He shrugged as Peter turned off his phone and they started the movie. -

Junior year.

Ned held the camera up to Peter’s face. “Here we see a wild Peter Parker, staring majestically into the distance. They are often hunter by the wild Y/n Y/l/n. They sneak up behind them and ATTACK!!!” Ned described as I jumped onto Peter’s back with a yell and pretended to attack him. Peter let out a shriek as his hand instinctively flew to my legs to keep me from falling.

“Ten out of ten the best documentary.” I declared with a smile as I hopped off of Peter’s back.

“Hey Penis Parker!” A mocking voice called out in the distance. Peter’s face grew hot as I threw up a certain finger at Flash Thompson.

Peter glanced at me and eased my hand back to my side.

“Hey, no more detentions.” He spoke softly to me as I turned to face him.

“What does it matter? I can’t just let him treat you like that!” With that I turned and walked away.

Ned pushed his hand further out and into Peter’s face.

“Awe you guys are already fighting like an old married couple!” Ned cooed even though Peter and I were just friends.

Peter turned his gaze away from the closing door and took the phone from his best friend. -

I looked up from the book I was reading as Peter burst in the library. My eyes widened as he searched me out. His face was unbelievably red as he spotted me. He looked so nervous.

“Hey, are you-” I started as my concern grew. Peter shushed me. He actually shushed me!

He had his phone out, his hands shaking a little.

“Pete-” I tried again wanting to comfort him.

“Y/n Ned convinced me to do this. It was now or never. Well now or he would tell you. Anyways… Would you maybe.. want to… go on a date? With me?” Peter asked, his eyes wandering around, landing every where but on me.

“Is this what you were so nervous for? Of course! I would love to go on a date with you, Peter!” I exclaimed smiling. I set my book down, not bothering with a book mark. Especially with Peter’s current demeanor! I gently took his phone and turned the camera on him.

“Look at this sweet heart all cute and nervous about asking me out. I mean I would be too. Look at me, I am very intimidating!” I smiled at Peter and gave him a wink. He just shook his head and took his phone back.

“How does this Saturday sound? I could drop by at 3 and take you to the place I picked out.” He leaned the phone a little closer and I stuck my tongue out at the lens. “Sounds perfect.” I added when I remembered that I had to answer him. -

“Just a second…” I heard Peter’s voice as he got his phone out. “And open your eyes.” After being told to close my eyes while we traveled to a mysterious location, I was relieved that I could finally open them again.

My eyes landed on my best friend, no, my date, before looking around. A smile grew on my face immediately.

“Well what do you think?” He inquired, looking at me and pointing the camera at me expectantly.

“Peter !! I love the festival!!” I exclaimed excitedly as I spun around, taking everything in.

Peter ushered me to the ticket booth and when we were at the front, we got the wrist bands to ride unlimited rides for the night. Holding the phone to my face Peter shot questions at me as he always did.

“So y/n what’s your favorite ride?” Peter smiled as my face contorted to one of deep thought.

“Probably the cages.” I smiled at him. He pointed the camera to the said ride. It was 8 cages, moving in a vertical circle. Each cage could seat two people and had a bar that if pulled by the people in the cage it would lock the cage from rocking. If the bar was pulled at the right time, the cage would lock in place, allowing the cage so go upside down in a full rotation.

He pointed the camera back at me. “I thought you were scared of heights.” He said, obviously just getting me to explain it for whatever video he was messing with this time.

“I am. That doesn’t mean that I can’t make exceptions to the best rides at a festival!” I exclaimed pulling him along towards the rides. “Come on! Put your phone away!”

“Fine.” He sighed dramatically and put it away after stopping the video. -