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laughingphoenixleader · 3 years ago

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Pairing: Kanan Jarrus/Hera Syndulla

Word count: no idea

A/N: This is my first fanfiction that I’m posting out in the world! This takes place an hour or two after the end of Star Wars Rebels Season 2 Episode 7: Wings of the Master. I found a fanart when surfing the internet for Kanera content (as one does) a few months ago and I haven’t stopped thinking about it since! I don’t know whose work the art is but I’ll paste it on here! If anyone knows who it’s by, please let me know :) the art isn’t mine, but all of the writing is! Obviously, Kanan isn’t blind yet in this fic like he is in the fanart. I hope anyone who reads this likes it!! I’m hoping to post more fanfiction in the future—I have three others in the works already! I’m open to any and all feedback!

Hera rubs her temple as she steps out of the promotion briefing. Her head buzzes with new intel, and plans zip through her mind like starships. She is honored and ecstatic about her promotion to Phoenix Leader. At the same time, though, she can already feel the new responsibility settling onto her shoulders, all of the lives that will soon be placed under her supervision weighing on her. Hera can and will take on all of the privileges and authority her new position grants her, and she fully intends to own it, too. Still, her heart is heavy.

Truthfully, she’s still struggling with the losses they suffered on the first attempt to deliver supplies to Ibaar. Hera had been so determined to complete that mission, to find the right ship to make it possible, that the grief and sensation of failure hadn’t caught up with her. She had made sure of that. There wasn’t time to be crippled by guilt and loss when there was a mission to complete. Now that the mission was over, however, she can feel the effects of the losses setting in.

Thoughts swirl through her mind as she continues to head down the hallway towards the bay where the Ghost is docked.

If I had just let us turn back—if I hadn’t told everyone to keep going��maybe Phoenix Leader and the people on the transport would have survived.

She’d made the wrong call. Hera can still hear the panic-filled voice crying out, “Captain Syndulla!” as the transport—and the people inside—were blasted into a thousand pieces. She’d let her determination blind her, and lives had been lost because of it.

Guilt pours into her, paralyzing her. She stops walking in the middle of the empty hallway and steps into a nearby alcove to process it all. If I make a mistake like that again, the consequences will be worse now that I have more responsibility. What if I let everyone down?

Her churning vortex of thoughts and feelings is interrupted by a pair of strong, green-clad arms embracing her from behind, and a deep, warm voice comes from above her. “How’s it going, Captain?”

Pleasure surges through her lekku. His timing is perfect.

The pleasant surprise washes all of the guilt, fear, and sadness away, at least for now. Hera lets out a little “hey” of protest as Kanan Jarrus pulls her nearly off her feet, but an irrepressible smile spreads over her face. She closes her eyes and turns her face towards his, relishing the warmth emanating from him and the way his presence soothes her. Hera places her hands on the arms that envelop her, returning the embrace through a gentle squeeze.

“Better now, love,” she tells him. He releases her slightly so that her feet are fully on the ground and places his chin on her shoulder, still holding her close.

“And you usually hate PDAs.”

“If I’m not mistaken, there’s no one in this hallway.”

“What would you have done if there were?”

Hera is silent for a moment, eyes still closed. “Nothing differently.”

She can feel him grin. “Great,” he replies. “Because there’s someone walking by now.”

Hera’s eyes fly open and search the hallway—which is still empty. She elbows him. “Kanan!”

A deep laugh vibrates out of his chest. She rolls her eyes, but allows herself to settle back into his embrace.

“Really, though,” Kanan says gently, all traces of mirth disappearing. The care in his voice sends another ripple of affection through her lekku. “How are you? I could tell you needed this.”

“And you were right,” Hera admits as he guides them down onto the alcove’s bench, arms still entwined around her. Normally, she’d break away now to explain what she was feeling, the thought of fellow rebels walking by and being made uncomfortable by their display of affection present in her mind. This time, however, she isn’t ready to move away from him. Besides, this isn’t a heavily trafficked hallway anyway. She does move to the side rather than sitting on his lap, though, her shoulder overlapping his. “It’s those people we lost the first time we went to Ibaar to deliver the supplies,” she begins, her voice heavy with returning guilt. “They died because of me.”

Kanan lifts his head from her shoulder, his aquamarine eyes staring seriously into hers. “Hera, no.”

“They told me they were taking heavy fire,” she continues, her voice growing more and more agitated. “They lost their forward deflectors, and I still told them to keep going. I should’ve told them to turn back.” A sound of frustration escapes her throat. “Why am I so stubborn? Why are they putting more people under my leadership after my decision led to several deaths?”

“Hera,” Kanan’s voice cuts through her hysteria, rich and deep and sure. “Everyone here knows that any mission could be their last.”

“I know that,” she responds, voice still thrumming with anguish. “But that doesn’t mean lives should be thrown away just because of one person’s inability to retreat!” She breaks her gaze from his, shaking her head and staring down at the floor. “I don’t deserve that promotion.”

Kanan gently lifts her head so that her eyes meet his again. “No one trusting someone with authority expects them to be perfect,” Kanan reminds her. “Everyone here has made a wrong call, has failed to complete a mission—which you didn’t, by the way—but that doesn’t mean they’re a failure. You weren’t treating anyone like they were expendable—your optimism led you not to give up. You were determined to get those supplies to those in need and refused to give up hope.” Tones similar to those he uses when teaching Ezra a lesson color his voice, though with considerably less frustration. “The only way to rise above your mistakes is to accept the lessons they teach and apply them in the future. Letting your mistakes destroy your faith in yourself isn’t going to help anyone.”

Hera listens intently, his sincerity like a bacta patch on a wound.

“Sato could hear all of the comms between you and Phoenix Squadron, and he didn’t demote you or chastise you. Clearly, he doesn’t blame you for the lives that were lost.” Kanan squeezes her tighter reassuringly. “No one does.”

His voice becomes harder, more insistent. “And of course you deserve the promotion.” He sounds offended at the thought of anyone suggesting otherwise. “You didn’t volunteer to leave the mission—you were committed to seeing it through. But when I volunteered you for the mission to Shantipole, you dove in—literally—and headed straight into a world that no ship is supposed to be able to escape from—but you did. You’d only flown that B-wing once before joining the battle, but you flew it like it was built for you. You’re the reason those supplies did get to those people. When I recommended your promotion, Sato didn’t waste a second before agreeing with me.”

Kanan’s words replace her guilt and grief with a swelling of gratitude and comfort. Hera won’t forget those who had died today. She’ll be more careful to see when a situation requires a retreat, but she won’t let her confidence in herself die. “Thank you, Kanan,” she tells him, her heart full. He places his forehead against hers, and they share a rare moment of contentment and peace, enjoying each other’s presence.

Hera reluctantly breaks the silence after a minute or so, lifting her forehead from his.“We should probably get back home,” she tells the Jedi. “I liked that B-wing, but that doesn’t mean I’m letting the kids wreck the Ghost.” Kanan’s flash of disappointment is so endearing. She lifts his chin reassuringly.

“It’ll be all right, fearless leader.”

Kanan unravels his arms from around her, replying indignantly, “Hey, no, you’re officially the leader now.” They’d had the argument many times, each insisting that the other is the leader of their crew. Hera always tells him that “captain of the ship” and “leader” are two different things.

Now she rolls her eyes, smiling, but doesn’t correct him this time.

“I guess it’s about time we get back, anyway,” Kanan continues before she changes her mind and decides to refute him. “How long has it been since you’ve eaten something?”

Hera’s brows knit as she attempts to remember. “Yeah, too long,” Kanan’s suspicions seem to have been confirmed. “Come on.” He takes her hand and pulls her up, out of the alcove, and into the hallway. They share a comfortable silence all the way back to the Ghost, which Hera now realizes Kanan must have left to come find her. Even more affection for him to rises in her at the realization.

When the cockpit opens, the two release each others’ hands and are greeted by a rush of cheers and pumping fists. Even Chopper waves his grasping arms and spins around in celebration.

“Go Hera!” Ezra yells.

“About time you got promoted,” Zeb grins.

“Congratulations, Hera,” Sabine tells her earnestly.

“Mom got promoted! Mom got promoted!” Chopper chants triumphantly.

Hera chuckles, heart overflowing with fondness for her crew. “All right, all right,” she tells them. “You’re going to make the rest of the ship think that something’s wrong.”

“Who cares?” Ezra says as he pulls everyone into a group hug. “Hera cares,” Kanan replies, but he puts one arm around her and another around Sabine. The hug is a little awkward, with Zeb being so much taller than Ezra and Sabine and Chopper standing in the middle of the circle, but in that moment, the crew feels truly united.

“Okay, I can’t stand Zeb’s smell anymore,” Ezra quips, stepping out of the circle. Chopper rolls over and smacks him with a grasping arm.

“Ow! You always do that!” The blue-haired boy zips into the cargo hold, trying to get away from Chopper, who continues whacking him as he pursues.

The rest of the family shares exasperated smiles.

Kanan nudges Hera forward, dropping his arms from hers and Sabine’s shoulders.

“Lead the way, Captain Hera,” he tells her, that crooked smile of his setting the inside of Hera aglow. “We’re all behind you.”

#kanan jarrus #star wars rebels #ezra bridger #sabine wren #swr #kanera #hera syndulla #kanan x hera #garazeb orrelios #chopper #c1 10p #wings of the master #Hera is the best pilot in the galaxy change my mind #space parents #space mom #space dad #space married #best couple ever #otp

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tsukishumai · 4 years ago

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First Kiss - Tsukishima, Kageyama, Hinata, Yamaguchi (Karasuno First Year edition!)

Aoba Johsai Edition

It’s a little long, I have zero self control

Can you tell I love Tsukishima (｡◕‿◕｡)

TSUKISHIMA -

Before, you used to spend your days in school with your cousin, Yamaguchi, and his less-than-pleasant-but-ridiculously-good-looking best friend, Tsukishima.

He was a jerk, to put it lightly, but hey, you can be a jerk too.

“Your hair looks like a damn bird’s nest, and your bow’s all crooked. Did anyone even teach you how to be a girl?” “Did anyone teach you not to be such an insufferable asshole?” “Do you even know what ‘insufferable’ means?” “Uh, yeah, it means Tsukishima Kei.”

Yamaguchi regrets ever introducing you two.

Things may have started like that, but it wasn’t long before the biting tone in Tsukishima’s words was replaced by something more playful, each remark followed by a smile. He started walking you to your classes, saving you a seat next to him during lunch, even going so far as to share music with you. (He’ll never show you the playlist he’s made of all the songs you’ve recommended.)

But that was before. Now, you were doing your best not to melt under Tsukishima’s heated gaze, paying no attention to the golden brown eyes that have followed you around for days.

The bell rang to signal the end of class, and you quickly gathered all your things, throwing them haphazardly into your bag, and running out before Tsukishima could get to your desk.

You got to your locker in record time, quickly changing out of your school shoes so you could start your trek home. Usually, you would wait for Yamaguchi and Tsukki to get out of practice but… this was better for you.

“You’re avoiding me.”

You jumped at the voice that was suddenly right behind you, knowing exactly who would be there if you turned around, so you didn’t.

“Don’t you have volleyball practice?” “That’s beside the point.” “Avoiding you? I haven’t been –“ “I’m not a dumbass, so don’t play games with me. You’re avoiding me. Why?”

You gulped, gripping the school bag that hung off your shoulder until your knuckles turned white. You wanted to lie, but there’s no point. Tsukishima was always able to see right through you.

“I heard you tell Tadashi that you liked someone…” “… So?”

You tried to pretend that your heart didn’t just crumple up like a piece of paper. “SO! I didn’t want to ruin your chances; she might get the wrong idea if she sees us together all the time.”

He scoffed. “That is the single most idiotic thing I’ve seriously ever heard. Did you hit your head as a kid?”

You could feel your face turn red, anger beginning to bubble in your throat. You finally turn around to face Tsukishima, ready to give him a snarky comment. “No, YOU’RE the single most idiotic thing –“

The words died on your tongue, muffled by Tsukishima leaning down and pressing his own lips onto yours.

He pulled back, and couldn’t help but smirk at your flushed appearance.

“I was talking about you. Stupid.”

KAGEYAMA –

You had always found it extremely fun to mess with Kageyama Tobio

The boy was a genius when it came to volleyball; but maybe that’s where his genius ends.

It didn’t escape your attention that he would get flustered every time you smiled at him, or that his friends would tease him whenever you walked by, or that it was him dropping off a juice box and melon bread on your desk every morning with a note that says “have a good day.”

You enjoyed it; the way you could make him short circuit just by giving him a hug, the crimson on his face when he catches your eye from the court, and the deer-in-headlights look he gave you when you confessed your feelings.

You were never one to make the first move, sometimes wondering why you did it for Karasuno’s genius setter, but you’re reminded when you feel the shiver in his body as you slide your hand into his, and you see the sweet look in his eyes when you ask him to walk you to class.

You didn’t mind that you had to initiate most of the affection if it meant you got to see the blush that Kageyama always tried to hide.

Today, you found yourself in the perfect position to mess with him. The two of you were having a movie night, and even though you shared the same blanket, Kageyama was sitting on the other end of the couch like a perfect gentleman.

“Tobio,” you whined, “I want to cuddle.”

You didn’t even give the poor guy a chance to reply before crawling from your side of the couch, and situating yourself on his lap, arms reaching up around him as you buried your face into his neck.

You could feel Kageyama’s entire body stiffen, steam practically beginning to come out of his ears.

Laughter threatened to spill from your lips, so you decided you’ve done enough to the guy, and started to make your way off until you felt two strong arms snake around your waist.

You lifted your head to face Kageyama in surprise, but your breath was caught in your throat when you noticed the look he was giving you.

It was like slow motion – Kageyama’s head lowered and your eyes fluttered close before you felt the velvety soft pressure of his lips against yours.

Omg d-did he just kiss you?!

Now it was your turn to be flustered. The corner of Kageyama’s mouth turned upwards ever so slightly, and his hold around you tightened, causing the pink tint of your cheeks to deepen into crimson.

“Let’s stay like this for a while.”

HINATA –

Everything. Was. Going. Wrong.

This was not how Hinata imagined your first date together would go!

Do you have any idea how long Hinata has been waiting to ask you out? Ever since he met you at National’s last year, he’s been planning this day.

You were beautiful, funny, and you could teach him (more than) a thing or two about volleyball? *Chef’s Kiss*

When you finally agreed to go on a date with him, he thought he was dreaming. He knew he had to make it the best date ever.

He definitely didn’t go to the bathroom six times the morning of.

There was a summer festival that weekend, and he figured it would be the perfect place to take you on your first date.

Ten minutes in, Hinata had spilled Kakigori all over his Yukata. He had been in the middle of beating himself up about it when you reached over and dabbed at the stain with a napkin, laughing at his clumsiness.

An hour in, Hinata had spent nearly all his money trying to win you a stuffed animal to no avail. (You got it yourself in one try.)

Two hours in, Hinata had accidentally stepped on your obi, ripping the delicate material. He wanted to die right then and there, but you insisted it was old, and you were planning to get a new one anyway.

Just as Hinata thought he would redeem himself by taking you on the Ferris wheel, he found out that he got motion sickness, and you ended up having to rub his back, while he fought the urge to hurl the whole time.

“I’m so sorry,” he apologized once the two of you exited the metal death trap, sitting him on a bench, “I swear I had planned for this day to be much better.”

“What do you mean? I had a great time,” you said, and Hinata gave you a look that clearly said he didn’t believe you. You just laughed. “Hinata, when we first met, you threw up on my shoes. Today was a big improvement.”

He laughed. “Still – I wanted you to have a cooler memory of me.”

“You don’t have to try so hard,” you giggled, “I came here because I like you.”

Just then, the sky lit up with different colors of reds, greens, and blues; dancing together to create a pattern that illuminated your face in a way that made Hinata’s heart race.

You smiled then, sitting beside him on the bench and laying your head on his shoulder. “At least we have these fireworks.”

It was there, on a random bench under the glow of summer time, that you shared your first sweet kiss with Hinata Shoyo.

YAMAGUCHI -

Enter Yamaguchi Tadashi; Captain of Karasuno Volleyball Club, Pinch Server, and all-around good guy.

He’d like to think he was a completely different person now; no longer the shy, timid first year that was stuck on the bench while his classmates shone on the court.

Now, he was in charge, and one needed to have all the confidence in the world if they had to keep his demon classmates in line.

But all that confidence just went down the drain whenever you were around.

“Good morning, Yamaguchi-kun!” “Oh, hey! Hi, yeah, it’s a good morning right? Aha, the homework last night was pretty hard, right? Haha..ha.”

“I watched your game last night, Yamaguchi-kun! You were amazing, I couldn’t take my eyes off you!” “Wha - Ah - Haha, that was nothing, just - it was, uhm, the team they helped ahaha, I – Thank you?”

“Dude…” Tsukki would say, “What the hell just happened to you?”

Naturally, his friends got sick and tired of seeing him turn into a dumbass around you, so they decided to take matters into their own hands.

Yamaguchi should have known what the boys were up to when they decided they wanted to throw a party after the game. As captain, he probably should have spoken against it, but he was also feeling pretty high from the win, and wanted to let loose.

How they managed to trap him in this closet with you was beyond him. He thinks he heard the words “7 minutes in heaven” but the beers were making everything move too fast, and your proximity was more intoxicating than anything he drank that night.

You looked at him with glossy eyes, and he felt like he was drowning. More than a few minutes passed, neither of you moving. The tension was rising, and Yamaguchi didn’t want to make you feel like you had to do anything you didn’t want to.

“Y/N-san, you don’t have to –“ “Yamaguchi-kun, I like you.”

He froze, mouth hanging open. He watched as your gaze lowered, fiddling with your thumbs as you took a step back, and he instantly missed the closeness.

“I’m sorry, this was stupid. Tsukishima-san told me this would be a good idea, but I can see that I’m making you uncomfortable, I’m just going to –“

You felt Yamagachi’s warm hands on either side of your face, catching you off guard before he pulled you in and locked his lips onto yours. Your hands instantly moved up to wrap around his middle, and you lost yourself in the softness of his movements.

He pulled away, making a mental note to thank his idiot friends when you beamed up at him with a smile that blew him away. “I… I like you, too.”

A/N - This one is for @valiantrevolt !

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plant-flwrs · 4 years ago

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weasley family christmas photos // fred weasley

masterlist!

a/n: i got a jolt of christmas spirit! i compiled a list of hp characters that i get the most requests for and i will be making as many little christmas imagines as i can! next up is draco and then george! a couple more after that, too! merry christmas and happy holidays <333

summary: You’re included on the traditional Weasley family Christmas pictures.

(1.7k)

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You fidgeted nervously in your outfit, hoping it would be approved by Mrs. Weasley for her Christmas pictures.

You spent longer than you would like to admit trying to pick an outfit, silently wishing you were back at school with Fred to ease your worries. You had always wanted to be liked by the Weasley’s, and Fred always reassured you that they did love you, but you couldn’t help feeling nervous.

The Weasleys were always so nice and warm, and they were closer than any other family you knew. You had nearly thrown up from nerves when Fred first took you to the burrow.

Here you were now, about to use the Floo network to go to the Weasley’s for Christmas photos. You laughed in Fred’s face when he told you that Molly wanted you in their pictures this year, thinking he was playing some prank. His face didn’t fall, though, and he insisted he wasn’t joking.

Your fireplace erupted in green flames and soon you were stepping out into the small and cozy living room of the burrow. Sound filled your ears before you noticed anything else, various shouts sounding off throughout the house.

“MUM! I can’t bloody find it!” Ron shouted from three floors up.

“Don’t you use that language in this house!” Arthur shouted back, huffing and shrugging out of his ministry robes. He had just gotten home and was halfway up the stairs before he even noticed you. He gave you a strained and stressed smile and trudged upwards.

“Check your laundry!” Molly shouted to Ron from somewhere upstairs.

Ginny pushed past her father and stumbled down the stairs, a piece of toast balancing between her teeth as she held one shoe in her left hand.

“Hi, Y/n!” she said when she saw you finally emerging from the fireplace.

“Hey, Gin,” you said sheepishly, not sure where to stand so you were least in the way.

“I know you just got here but,” Ginny looked around the room, moving her toast to her right hand, “have you seen my other shoe?”

You looked around, not seeing it, and shook your head at her. She groaned and put the one shoe on her foot, hobbling out to the garden to look there. You smiled at her back as she went.

“My God! You’d think I didn’t have this planned for months!” Molly tutted as she finally came down the stairs, arms full of two laundry baskets stuffed with clothes.

You swallowed, wondering if you should make it known you were there or wait for her to notice. You had come right on time, making sure of it.

Molly seemed to notice you before you could make up your mind.

“Oh my!” she jumped, nearly dropping the baskets, “I hadn’t realized you were here yet, dear, come in, come in.”

She ushered you to the table, forcing your shoulders down to sit. You noticed she and Ginny had both been wearing sweaters with their initials on them.

Molly was rushing back to the baskets, then she looked up at you again, as if she was noticing something for the first time.

“Here, darling,” she said, pulling something from the folded pile in the basket and tossing it at you.

Ron and Harry were racing down the stairs now, both clad in matching sweaters, and Molly tugged them over to her by their collars as you looked down at your hands.

It was a sweater like theirs. It had your initials on them, and it was your favorite color. You looked up, noticing Ron’s maroon one and Harry’s blue one. Molly’s was a deep grey and Ginny’s had been purple.

You tugged it on over your head, deciding it would be easier than actually changing and occupying one of the obviously needed rooms.

“Hey, Y/n,” Ron grumbled as his mother was holding onto his sleeve with one firm hand and the other was in Harry’s hair attempting to smooth it down.

“Hey,” you felt yourself relaxing, letting a small smile settle on your face as you watched Molly’s hands fail at taming Harry’s hair.

“Fred rope you in for family pictures, did he?” Ron joked, tugging his sleeve away from his mother. Molly didn’t seem to mind, only letting her newly free hand settle into Harry’s hair as well.

“Ronald! Y/n is here because Harry is here,” Molly scolded, smiling fondly at Harry and then looking over her shoulder to give the same smile to you.

It wasn’t explicitly said, but you knew how important Harry was to the Weasleys. You knew they treated him like family because he was like family to them. Molly had said you were just as much family as Harry. The thought warmed your heart and you couldn’t find it in your restless legs to sit back down at the table.

“Would you like some tea?” Molly asked you, giving up on Harry’s hair and letting him run off with Ron to find Ginny in the garden.

“Oh, no thank you,” you rushed, not wanting Molly to have another thing on her plate, “is there anything I can help with?”

“You’re sweet, dear,” Molly lightly pinched your cheek and rested her palm against it, smiling widely and shaking her head, “all that’s left to do is wait for everyone to come down.”

As if on cue, Fred and George came down the rickety stairs like they were unaware of the chaos in the house.

“Y/n!” George shouted upon seeing you, rushing over and beating Fred for a hug. He picked you up and spun you around, nearly making your legs hit the table. When he put you down, his fingers pulled the bottom of the sweater, stretching it out and getting a good look at it.

“Isn’t that adorable?” he teased, releasing the sweater and walking to the back door where Harry, Ginny, and Ron had gone through.

You were still giggling when Fred came from behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist. He bent over you, tucking his face into the crook of your neck. He nosed at your hair, pushing it away until his lips were on your bare skin.

You leaned against him, making his body curve even more like a cave around you. He breathed in deeply, tickling your neck and making you squirm in his hold. He spun you around to face him, smiling even wider at your smile.

“Sorry,” he said, dipping his head down to your height and lowering his voice so only you could hear him, “they’re a bit crazy.”

You took advantage of his lowered head and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him the short distance from your lips. You kissed him briefly and sweetly, your smile barely leaving as you met. His lips chased yours once you pulled away, and you would have given into his chase had it not been for Mrs. Weasley.

“Get in this house!” she called from where she leaned out of a window in the kitchen, then coming back into the house she went to the stairs and yelled again, “Get down here!”

Everyone was lined up in the living room almost immediately, adjusting and fidgeting as Molly was retrieving Arthur’s camera from the shed.

“Is yours itchy too?” Ron moaned, stretching his collar out.

“No,” Harry said simply, pulling his sleeves over his hands and seeming to look as comfortable as possible.

Ginny had found her other shoe, occupied with scraping the dirt off the sides from where it had been nearly buried in the garden.

“How long is this going to take? I have letters to respond to,” Percy groaned, straitening the collar of the button-down shirt he wore under his sweater.

“Shove it, Perc,” George teased, his tone light and airy and entirely family-like.

Molly was back, her hands maneuvering everyone to their assigned spots and taking steps back every once and a while to make sure it looked okay. She had the most wonderful Christmas tree in the corner, short and squat and covered in handmade ornaments and bright lights. Everyone stood in front of the tree, George on one end, next to Fred, who you were strategically placed in front of, then Ron and Harry, then Ginny, and finally Molly and Arthur at the other end.

Molly set up the camera, handing Arthur his wand as she settled into her place. At the last minute, Fred put his hands on your hips and brought you close to him, letting his arms linger as his father waved his wand and the camera took the picture. The flash was bright and there was a collective wince afterward. Molly ordered a few more to be taken, and you barely convinced Fred to let you take one without his hands on you in some way.

Pictures were done, and everyone milled around the living room as Molly and Arthur moved the camera. Ron and Harry talked about Quidditch, Fred and Percy were in an argument about the rules of Quidditch, and you, Ginny, and George were comparing sweaters.

“They’re not identical!” George said to Ginny, pointing at the minute differences between his ‘G’ and hers.

“They practically are,” Ginny rolled her eyes, shoving George’s hands away as he poked at her stomach,

“Well, Y/n’s is much better than all of ours. Hers and Harry’s,” Harry perked up at his name coming from George, coming over to join the conversation as Ginny and George chuckled.

“They totally are!” Ginny agreed, shoving Harry next to you so you stood side by side and they looked at both your sweaters.

You pulled yours down, looking at it. You looked at Harry’s, then at George’s and Ginny’s. Yours didn’t exactly look better, just newer.

Still, everyone was laughing and joining in on the conversation, teasing you and Harry for your better sweaters.

Molly and Arthur ended the conversation, Arthur taking the camera back to the shed and Molly bringing out tea for everyone. Arthur was back by the time Molly had handed out the last cup.

“A toast!” Arthur called jovially over his children, raising his mug of tea, “to a wonderful Christmas.”

Everyone lifted their mugs of tea, toasting to a wonderful Christmas.

#fred #weasley #fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x you #weasley family #weasleys #christmas with the weasleys #christmas imagine #harry potter #hp

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kaitoujokerscans · 3 years ago

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The Night the Silver Cape is Set Ablaze CH6

<6> The Lady Spy and Phantom Thief Girl

At the same time as when Spade was talking to Noir, a minor commotion was taking place aboard a luxury sleeper train coursing through a European ravine.

"Stop! Don't let her get away!"

The train shook with a clunking noise, and stern-faced men in dark uniforms trampled through the carriage. They were chasing after a tiny silhouette dashing ahead. The silhouette opened the door connecting to the next carriage and ran into the hallway. Although the hallway floor was made of old wood, the silhouette's footsteps were completely silent.

There came a loud bang from behind her. A pistol bullet streaked past the side of the silhouette.

"Tsk!" The silhouette clicked her tongue, then opened the door to the next carriage and jumped in. This was the first class carriage — a passenger car with numerous private cabins. Through the earpiece she wore, she heard an order to the uniformed men — "The target's headed towards the front! Cut her off on both sides!". She was listening in to their radio comm.

They'll be coming from the front too, soon enough...

The tiny silhouette came to a stop in the middle of the carriage. Right next to her was the door to a guest cabin.

The silhouette was a little old lady in black tights. She would have been at least seventy years old. Yet her hair was a glistening white, and her skin had a healthy sheen. Least suggestive of her age was the look in her eyes. She was keeping watch for enemies in front of her and staying cautious of enemies approaching from behind at the same time.

Her name was Agent Purple. She was a veteran spy of a country to remain unnamed and was still an active intelligence agent. Purple had just stolen a top-secret file from an influential person in a certain country. She had received intel that it was being moved on this train and, putting her petite stature to good use, had skillfully swiped the file without alerting anyone. It was an easy job for Purple.

But it so happened that a newbie spy allied with her country had been caught elsewhere and let slip that Purple was on board.

Good heavens... Young'uns these days have no backbone... Purple sighed and, focusing her attention to the front, reached for the small firearm lashed around her leg.

Anxiety bubbled within Purple. The round of enemy fire had grazed Purple's arm. It was only a scratch, but still, moving it even slightly made pain course through her arm. Usually she would have no issue with firing at this range, but if enough enemies stormed her from both front and back, she wasn't sure she'd be able to make every shot.

Though it doesn't look like I have a choice... Purple steeled herself. She heard bellows come from both in front and behind her. Just as Purple's hand hovered over her firearm... the guest cabin door swung open, and someone grabbed Purple's arm.

"...!" With her opposite hand, Purple immediately reached for the knife at her hip. But she didn't stab anything. Because the person grabbing her said this to her:

"Come with me, Grandma."

When the uniformed men stepped out of the linked cars into the first class carriage, the target they had been pursuing wasn't in the hallway. The train was chugging along at high speed. She couldn't escape out the windows. Which meant that she had to have entered one of the cabins along the hallway.

The boss gave the order to his men to search the cabins. The men didn't know anything about the spy who was their target, other than that she was short. They entered the rooms one by one and inspected who was inside. Because this was the first class carriage, the occupants all had posh appearances. None of the passengers looked like they could be a spy. But it was possible that she was disguised.

Politely and carefully, the uniformed men examined each individual guest. Eventually, they stood in front of the cabin at the very middle.

One of the men knocked on the door.

"Yes?" came a young woman's voice from inside.

"This is the railway authority. We've received word that an intruder snuck on board, thus we are presently conducting an inspection of all cabins."

"I understand. Come in," responded the female voice, not suspecting the man was lying.

Two men entered and saw that there was a girl and an old woman inside. They were sitting across from each other on plush emerald green seats. The girl, her blonde hair done up in twintails, turned to the men with a puzzled look. "Has something happened?"

The girl was wearing an aqua-colored dress. She gave off a refined air — probably the daughter of a rich family. Then suddenly, one of the men took a frightening tone and demanded, "Hey, did anyone come in here?"

"N-No..." The girl replied, startled.

"She telling the truth, Grandma!?" The man said menacingly to the old woman sitting across from the girl. But the old woman's eyes were focused outside the window and she wouldn't face him.

"My grandmother is hard of hearing. I can answer your questions!" The girl nearly shrieked.

"Check their luggage."

The other man tried to pick up the large traveling bag next to the old woman. Then the girl stood up, shouting. "Stop! Not that bag!"

"Shut up! You're hiding something, aren't you!"

"Of course not! Please, just don't!"

"You're sounding more and more suspicious to me!" The man took out his gun and pointed it at the girl. The girl gasped, her face paled, and she sat back down.

The other man undid the clasp of the traveling bag and slowly opened it, when...

"BARK BARK BARK!" A white dog bounded out of the bag and jumped at the man's face.

"WAUUUGH!?" The man threw his head back in a panic. The dog wouldn't get off him.

"Aahhh! Stop that, Corn!"

"W-What is up with this mutt!?" The man peeled the dog off his face, and the girl spoke.

"He's my pet. Pets aren't allowed on board, so I hid him in my bag..."

"Huh?"

"But now that the authorities have found out, there's nothing I can do... You can arrest me," said the girl resignedly, looking up at the man.

Then the men tsked, not having found what they were looking for. "Hey, let's go. Onto the next one," one said, and they left the cabin.

"Phew... that went well." A little after the men left, Queen stopped holding her breath and plopped down on the seat. The girl who had talked with the men was Queen.

Then Purple, who had pretended to just be an old woman, looked at Queen and smirked. "That was quite the fib. I'd give you a passing grade."

"Teehee, thank you."

"Queen, what was that 'Corn' name about?" Roko, who had been pretending to be a normal dog, asked from beside Purple.

"Well, I couldn't call you by your real name, Roko. You got your name because you liked toumorokoshi — corn — right? So that's why I called you 'Corn'," Queen explained proudly. Queen, Purple, and Roko had put on a performance so the uniformed men would pass them by. Playing the parts of a granddaughter, her grandmother, and her pet, they successfully fooled the pursuers.

"Still, I was surprised when you appeared out of nowhere." Purple turned her gaze toward Queen and broke out into a happy smile. It was a warm, gentle smile, hardly an expression befitting a cold-hearted spy. She was said to have been quite the looker once, and it wasn't impossible to imagine. According to Silver Heart, no man had been immune to her wily charms. Silver Heart himself had acted smitten whenever he recalled Purple, until he met with her again...

"You're Silver's granddaughter, aren't you? You came with us to Jackal's hideout."

Indeed, Queen and Purple, along with Silver Heart and Joker, had previously broken into the organization called Jackal, headed by Doctor Neo. Purple had been introduced then to Queen as Silver Heart's partner during his spy days.

"You remembered me."

"A spy doesn't forget intel. So, since you've come out of your way to see me, I assume you need something?"

"Yes, that's right. There's something I want to ask about..." Queen lowered her voice a little. "I want to know about someone who used to work with Grandpa. Someone called Noir."

"Noir?" Purple's pitch rose. So she was familiar with Noir after all.

"You know him?"

"Yes, he's an old friend. I know him well."

"To tell you the truth, it seems Noir took a treasure from Joker, and I was wondering if it had anything to do with Grandpa..."

"Hmm..." Purple remarked in surprise.

"Did something happen between Noir and Grandpa? If you know anything, could you please tell me?"

"Hm, well..." Purple folded her arms, brooding on something. Suddenly, her eyes glinted mischievously, and she grinned at Queen.

"W-What is it?"

"When you get to be as old as I am, you get awfully tight-fisted. Giving information away for free feels like it would be a wasted opportunity."

"Huh...?"

"It makes me want to tease kids, especially a girl like you."

"O... kay..."

"If you want to hear about Silver and Noir, then do something for me. Something that'll delight me."

"HUH?" Queen drew back in surprise, ruffled.

"Do something to entertain me. Then I'll give you the information you want."

"Ergh..." Queen's gaze veered. She wasn't a veteran spy for nothing. This wasn't going to be that simple. The unreasonable demand made Queen fall silent.

What should I do for her...? I can't tell any funny stories, and I can't do tricks like Joker can... I'm not an encyclopedia like Spade is, so what can I do...?

Queen's mind started to spin in circles. Thinking hard wasn't her forte. But then, Roko cut in from beside her. "Then how about making a funny face like the one you did recently, Queen?"

"Fu... nny... face...?"

"It was hilarious! Purple-san might just like it!"

"N-No! Absolutely not!" Queen stood up to refuse, her face bright read.

"Oh, why not, that sounds fine. Please, show me." Purple bent forward and gave a provoking smile.

"I don't want to! It'll ruin my marriage prospects!"

"Nope, I've decided. That's the only way you'll get information out of me. You can't change my mind!"

"You're kidding me...!" Queen stood at a loss for words.

"..."

"Well, what will you do?"

At Purple's prodding, she gave in. Queen took a breath and faced back towards Purple. Queen was about to forsake her prized feminine sensibilities when...

"Shh...!" Suddenly the look in Purple's eyes changed and she put a finger to her lips, shushing.

"...!" Queen and Roko immediately piped down and listened closely.

Conversing voices were coming from the earpiece Purple was wearing. Apparently she had still been listening to the radio communications while talking to Queen.

"It seems they're coming back this way... My cohort seems to have blabbed that I'm an older woman. If he makes it back alive, he's in for a real reckoning," Purple muttered as she listened, a terrifying look on her face.

"What do you want to do? Do we act our way out again?"

"No, it won't work this time. You two can escape out the window onto the roof. I'll handle the rest on my own."

"With your arm in that state?" Roko asked.

Purple looked over at him in surprise. "You realized?"

"You've been stroking your arm at moments. Probably without even realizing it yourself."

"Then you won't be able to fight those men single-handedly. Let us handle it!" Queen said, getting back up.

She threw off her disguise, revealing her usual white coat underneath. She then took out her diamond sword from where it was hidden underneath the seats. "Purple-san, if I fend off those men, tell me about Noir, okay?" Queen winked sweetly. She was sincerely relieved. Thank God I didn't have to make a funny face!

Just as five black-suited men neared the door of the room where they had seen the young girl and old woman earlier, Queen and Roko sprang out of the guest cabin.

"...!"

Queen glared at the men. The look in her eyes was completely different than the girl who had been in the room earlier. She was wearing different clothes, too, and the biggest difference of all was the great sword she held in her hand.

"She's got the secret file!" shouted one of the men. Indeed, in her other hand, Queen was holding the secret file disc case that she had received from Purple.

"Get her!" Their boss barked, and the men all fell upon Queen. But Queen and Roko deftly dodged them and ran off in the opposite direction. The men rushed after her.

There were no men in the direction they were headed. Purple had found this out by listening to the radio comm. That was why Queen immediately set off in the opposite direction — towards the read end of the train.

Queen sped through the train, passing through one car after another on her way to the end. The men followed after, shoving aside the confused passengers, giving chase to Queen and Roko.

"How long are they going to run for!?"

"Don't lose your head. There's no way they can get off the train when it's going this fast. The girl's trapped like a mouse!"

Just as he said, soon enough Queen and Roko reached the rearmost carriage. It was a coach car, with booth seats on either side. Baffled by Queen bursting in, the seated passengers began to murmur.

"Everyone out! Or else you'll get hurt!" yelled Queen, thrusting her sword up overhead.

Shrieks rang out, and the conductor and passengers all started to rush towards the forward cars. At the same time, the men in black caught up to where Queen was. Wading through the waves of passengers, the men entered the rearmost carriage. Now the only ones inside of it were Queen, Roko, and the men.

Queen stood at the very back of the carriage, standing off against the men.

"Say your prayers, missy." Five suited men stopped in the middle of the carriage and took out their guns. "We're gonna turn you into Swiss cheese!"

"Now, Roko!"

At Queen's signal, Roko stepped forward. Then he unhinged his jaw and let out a prodigious cry of "ARFFFFFFFFFFF!!"

His bark shrilled in the ears of the men. Their faces scrunched up and they clutched their heads in agony. "URRRGHH! W-What was that!?"

This was Roko's ability.

Roko's throat has a special organ that enhances his canine howl. He can use this organ to vibrate ultrasonic waves and assail anyone in front of him.

While the men were gripping their heads from the pain, Queen swung her sword at them. She struck their napes with the back of her sword and mowed them all down. The men were knocked out and collapsed onto the carriage hallway with successive thuds.

"Roko, let's go!"

"Okay!"

Queen and Roko stepped past the unconscious men and ran back towards the front of the carriage. They were just a step away from the next car ahead when...

"Hold it right there!"

The two of them turned around once they heard the voice and saw that one of the felled men was getting back on his feet. The man's gun was pointed at a little girl. She hadn't been able to get away while everyone else was running.

"Wha...!?"

"Throw down your sword, right now! Unless you don't care what happens to her!"

"Bah... you really don't play fair. This is the problem with spies!" Queen bit her lip and glared at the man.

"Hurry it up!"

At his behest, Queen twirled her sword and left it on the floor.

"All right, good. Bring the disc here!"

Queen clutched the disc, vexed. Things had been going according to plan up until she knocked all the men out, but she hadn't foreseen that they would take a hostage. While Queen stood still, seemingly at a loss as what to do next, Roko whispered from beside her.

"...Queen, do that."

"Huh?"

"That thing we were talking about. Your special move! You know!"

"Whaaat?" Then realizing what he meant, Queen rejected it flat out. "Absolutely not!"

"Then do you have any other way of making him drop his guard?"

"No, b-but..."

"What are you two muttering about!? Come here, now!"

"Argh... fine!" Queen shouted in annoyance, and slowly walked toward the man with disc in hand.

"Leave the disc there," the man pointed to a seat, just as Queen spoke.

"Hey, Mister."

"Hm?"

As soon as the man saw Queen's face — he snorted out a hearty "pfft!", followed by a "GYAHAHAHA! What is wrong with your face!? BWAHAHAHA!", laughing uproariously. Queen had demonstrated her famous "funny face" to him.

As the man burst out in laughter, Queen crouched down and delivered a swift kick to the man's shin.

"Ghwaaa!?" The man's guffawing face contorted with pain, and immediately after, Queen grabbed the girl and ran back towards the front of the carriage.

"W-Wait! Bwahahahaha!" The man went after her, but was still snorting from the memory.

Without another word, Queen picked up her sword and swung it. The train's coupling split apart with a clank. The rearmost carriage with the unconscious men and the laughing man aboard lost speed and gradually became more and more distant. The sound of the man's unceasing laughter mingled with the sound of the wheels, and eventually faded away.

Roko grinned and looked up at Queen. "Nice going, Queen! Now that's what I call looks that could kill!"

"I'm not happy about this at all!" Queen puffed up her adorable cheeks and stared at Roko accusingly.

#kaitou joker #light novel

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secretkeeper13 · 4 years ago

Text

Flirt

I decided to try my hand at an outside perspective Hinny OC. Just a bit of fluff, some humor (hopefully), and a bit of cringe. I hope you enjoy poor, sweet Craig! Also on Ao3.

The sun shone through the windows of the Three Broomsticks, casting rays of light across the dark wooden booths and tables. The pub was crowded- it was a Saturday, after all, and from the looks of it, plenty of Magpies fans had decided to apparate directly from the match, their black and white jerseys giving the room the appearance of a wonky chessboard. It was still late afternoon, so families with small children were mixed in among the regulars, contributing to the noisy din.

The table his mates chose was near the entrance, and he sat facing the door as he talked and laughed with them. It was strange, being here, all together, the six of them, now that they were out of school. They were still close- it was hard to live with people for seven years and not become friends. Though, he’d heard stories from others who couldn’t stand the people in their dormitories, so they were lucky in that regard, he supposed.

They’d been at the pub for less than an hour, after walking down from Dan’s flat on High Street once the match ended. He’d missed being around his mates every day, and they’d quickly made up for lost time, talking, joking, and laughing as if they were back in the dorm at Hogwarts and no time had passed since they’d all been together last.

“Let’s hear it Craig, got yourself any birds recently?”

Dan’s teasing tone jolted him out of his thoughts. His cheeks colored a bit at being called out.

“Nah, mate, Craigey-boy’s still hung up on Cressida,” Will chimed in, and Craig shot an annoyed look at his flat mate.

“I’m not hung up on her. And I have been out with other girls, you’ve been there. Stop taking the mick.”

Will grinned at him and raised his eyebrow. “Haven’t brought any home though, have you?”

Craig sighed. When he and Cressida split up this summer after seventh year, it hadn’t been on bad terms. She was off to Egypt to be a curse breaker for Gringotts, and he had no desire to leave England, so they’d gone their separate ways. He’d been happy living as a bachelor in London with Will, but he did miss her. Well, he missed the companionship of having a girlfriend, he supposed, trying not to think about her piercing blue eyes, the casual way she would ruffle his hair, or the way she kissed. He’d supposed that being with someone for so long- nearly two years- made it harder to move on. He couldn’t really picture being with anyone other than her.

“It isn’t like I haven’t been trying. You saw me get off with that girl outside the Leaky last month. Wouldn’t shut up about it for days, in fact.”

Will laughed. “Didn’t bring her home though.”

He hadn’t brought her home. She was good looking, but not as pretty as Cressida. And to be honest, she hadn’t been a very good snog either, so really, what was the point?

“Mate, you need to get a leg over. It’s been what, six months now?” Ben asked.

Craig glared at him. They all knew full well how long it had been since he and Cressida split. Ben grinned back at him.

“Well, maybe today’ll be the day,” he shot back.

“To Craigey getting laid!” Will called, and they all raised their glasses to toast him in jest as he flipped them off with two fingers.

Not a quarter hour later, he happened to look up just as a gorgeous girl walked in the door of the pub. She was petite, and wearing a tight turtleneck sweater in dark green, with red hair cascading past her shoulders down to her tits, which were full for her small frame. She glanced around, as if looking for someone, then headed over to the bar. Craig’s stomach fluttered in anticipation. This could be exactly what he’d been waiting for.

“Next rounds on me,” he said to the table, gesturing over to the bar, where the girl stood. Her position at the bar meant that her back was to their table, so they couldn’t see her face, only her long, shiny red hair. She was wearing tight, tan trousers tucked into brown boots that came up to below her knees, and she had a fantastic arse, he noted.

Will made a low whistle and nodded in appreciation.

“Go get her Clarke,” Dan said, clapping him on the shoulder.

Craig stood up and walked over to the bar. He ran a hand through his sandy brown hair. He was nervous, and a bit tipsy, as they’d cracked open the firewhisky as soon as they’d arrived at Dan’s place. He took a breath to steady himself, then he sidled up next to her at the bar.

“Packed today, isn’t it?” he said, trying to sound casual, as if he chatted up fit girls all the time.

“Yes, by the looks of it we’re in for a bit of a wait,” she said, looking at the lone barmaid and the patrons stacked two deep up and down the long bar.

“Well, in that case... I’m Craig. Craig Clarke,” he said, extending his hand and giving her a boyish grin.

She looked surprised for a second, but then she took his hand and shook it, her hand small and warm in his.

“Pleasure to meet you, Craig,” she said, smiling. She exuded confidence. Her eyes were a lovely shade of warm brown and seemed to shine in the afternoon light.

He was so captivated by her that it was only later that he realized she’d never told him her name.

“Do you come here often?” he asked, and as soon as he said it, he inwardly cringed at the obvious line.

Her lips turned up into a small smile, almost like a smirk, he thought.

“Not since I was in school.”

“Oh, I went to Hogwarts as well. Just finished last year. Hufflepuff. What house were you in?”

“I was a Gryffindor,” she replied, and her smile got broader and more impish, making his heart beat faster.

She wasn’t in his year, or he obviously would’ve known her. There was something oddly familiar about her, though- like he knew her, but couldn’t place her. She must’ve been a year or two ahead of him. Maybe he’d seen her in the corridors. He wouldn’t have forgotten a face like hers if he’d met her properly, of that he was certain.

“I didn’t know many Gryffindors outside of my year. Dated a Ravenclaw though. Spent far too much time in their common room, unfortunately.” He was rambling like an idiot, he thought, but unable to stop himself. And, why, why was he mentioning his ex? Her smile was dazzling and it was too much, almost like looking directly into the sun.

“You and me both.”

“Swotty lot aren’t they?”

She laughed, a silvery tinkling sound, and her nose crinkled up a bit, which was adorable. He was smitten.

“I don’t normally come up to Hogsmeade either anymore, but one of my mates in my year works for Dervish and Banges, and we all came to his today to listen to the Montrose game.”

“Over quick, wasn’t it? Their new seeker had quite the debut.”

“You follow Quidditch?” he asked, delighted, though it was clear she did. She really was perfect, this girl.

“In a manner of speaking,” she said, almost coyly, and that smirk had returned.

“Which team do you support? I’m a Puddlemere man myself. Muggle born, so I got into it late. Brilliant sport though.”

“Harpies, through and through.” She bit her bottom lip, as if to keep from smiling wider. Her coy looks were driving him mad.

He wanted to keep the conversation going. Hopefully, he could work up the courage to ask her out.

“I live in London now. I work for the Magical Menagerie, caring for all the animals there. What do you do?” he asked. Perhaps she lived in London too. Maybe they’d know some of the same people, and he could invite her out with a group of his friends.

“Well, I’ve just had a bit of a career change. I’m a correspondent for the Prophet now.”

“Do you like it?”

“I just started, but yes, so far I do.”

“Well good luck with the change. My mate Will,” he gestured over to the booth where his friends sat, “just went through the whole career change bit. He took a job at the Ministry in the Department of Transportation right out of Hogwarts. His Deputy Head was a real stickler- impossible to work for, everything had to be just so- you know the type. He only lasted four months before he managed to get a transfer over to International Magical Cooperation. He likes it much better there, thankfully.”

“Yes, I definitely know the type,” she said, and her right hand covered her mouth as she seemed to suppress a giggle. He wasn’t sure what was funny about his comment, but he didn’t much care so long as he was making her laugh.

“Oi, Clarke, what’s taking so long? You getting our round or what!” his friends heckled him from the table.

“Come off it, it’s packed,” he called back, but they were all clearly engrossed in some drinking game they were playing and just ribbing him.

He turned back to her. “Sorry about my mates. Bunch of blokes together, you know how it is.”

“I’m very familiar, trust me.” There was that smile again, so coy.

“What’ll it be love?” the haggard barmaid asked as she finally reached them.

He turned to her and smiled. “What would you like? It’s on me.”

“Oh,” she said, looking apologetic, “I couldn’t possibly, it’s really alright.”

“No, I insist, you’ve been such good company, let me buy you a drink.”

“No really, I-“

“Oh come on love, let him buy you the drink. I don’t have all day. Bars two deep right now,” said the barmaid, looking extremely exasperated.

“Just a butterbeer for me please,” she said to the barmaid, and then he placed the order for their round.

“Craig,” she said as the barmaid walked away. God, he loved the way his name sounded when she said it. “Listen, you’re very kind, but...”

“Mum-Mum! Mum-Mum!”

A baby, maybe a year old, babbling nonsense, appeared on her other side in the arms of a tall man wearing a baseball cap. The baby grasped her long hair, the smooth copper strands peeking through his tiny fist. He had thick, dark hair that stuck up in the back, and big brown eyes. Eyes that were exactly the same shade as hers, Craig noticed.

“Oh, Jim-Jams,” she cooed, taking the baby from the arms of the tall man holding him.

He was confused. Surely, she didn’t have a baby? She was probably only a year or two older than he was. Maybe a nephew, he thought.

The man who handed the baby to her was holding a knapsack over his shoulder and looked a bit frazzled. “I’m sorry we’re late to meet you, Gin. Didn’t expect the game to end so quickly. And then, on the way out, I turned my back for a half-second to grab more floo powder to refill the tin on the mantle, and he crawled into the loo, pulled himself up, and was splashing his hand around in the toilet. Had to give him a bath, didn’t want to chance a charm with that.”

She winced, then chuckled. “I told you he’s getting fast! And it’s alright, don’t worry. Neville’s not here yet either. He sent me a patronus that he’d got tied up with something. He should be on his way down now.”

Craig’s confusion grew. Who was this Neville? He hoped it wasn’t a boyfriend she was meeting.

“Mum-Mum!” the baby said again, as he settled on her hip, breaking into a wide, four-toothed smile.

She beamed down at the baby. “Hello, James. Mummy missed you, cheeky little monkey.” She reached her left hand up to stroke his cheek, and he noticed, for the first time, her wedding ring.

At this, the wheels, which had been turning far too slowly in his head, finally clicked into place.

He felt his face flush with complete embarrassment. He’d just been trying to chat up a married woman- the mother of a baby, for fuck’s sake. Well done, Craig . She probably thought he was a complete cad.

“I’m terribly sorry,” he said to her, his words rushed and incredibly apologetic. “I didn’t realize, I had no idea...”

She held up her hand and smiled at him. “It’s alright, you were very kind, really.”

“Gin, I think I see Neville on his way,” the man said. The man (her husband, Craig corrected himself, groaning inwardly at his absolute stupidity in failing to realize this sooner) was looking out the front window, onto High Street. Craig hoped he’d missed their exchange.

The man turned back to face their direction, his round glasses catching the light. He looked at Craig with a bemused expression. Dark stubble lined the man’s jaw, and black hair was visible under the cap. He looked a bit like Harry Potter, Craig thought, thinking of the Witch Weekly poster Cressida had of him for ages. Quite a lot, actually.

Then, realization, followed immediately by absolute horror, washed over him as he looked back at the red-haired woman.

Ginny Potter. He’d been trying to chat up Ginny Potter. The star chaser for the Harpies, whose poster had hung above Ben’s bed in the dormitory since fourth year, for fuck’s sake. How had he not realized it? Ginny Potter, who’d been on the cover of every newspaper for months when she’d decided to retire because she was having a baby. Harry Potter’s baby. He’d been hitting on Harry Potter’s bloody wife for the last five minutes.

His jaw was agape as he stared at her and tried to form words. He probably looked like a giant goldfish, he thought.

“You’re...” he gulped, still looking at her, his cheeks on fire. “Oh God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t recognize you. I’m a bit drunk, you see. And I thought you were maybe a year or two older than me, not...” he trailed off, feeling like a complete idiot and wanting nothing more than to disappear.

She laughed, but it was genuine and not unkind. “Don’t apologize, it was refreshing, actually. Gives me hope for an anonymous future,” she said, and she winked at him. He felt his face flush even more.

He turned to the man, to Harry Potter, he corrected himself. “Mr. Potter, sir, thank you. I’m Muggleborn and started at Hogwarts a year after the battle. Wouldn’t have been able to go without all you did.”

God, he was babbling like an idiot. The baby was more coherent.

Harry Potter shifted a bit and looked uncomfortable at his praise. “That’s very kind of you to say. But I had loads of help, it wasn’t just me.”

“Daaaa,” gurgled the baby, who now had his hand on Ginny Potter’s breast, patting it happily. Craig immediately tried to look anywhere else. His face was even redder, he was certain. He stared at the bar top as if it were the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen.

Just when he thought his humiliation was complete, he heard a familiar voice.

“Hullo Harry, Ginny. And James! Merlin, he’s grown! Getting to be a big boy now, aren’t you?”

Craig looked up into the round, smiling face of his favorite professor, who was pretending to shake the baby’s hand as the baby gurgled and laughed. Oh, how he wished the day would end.

“Hello, Professor Longbottom.”

“Clarke! How’s the Menagerie going? I’ve missed your N.E.W.T. class this year more than I can say.”

“It’s going well, sir. I’m actually in charge of preparing all the food for the creatures- we’ve got a small greenhouse off the back, so I’ve been doing some growing myself.”

Professor Longbottom looked pleased, but then he asked the question Craig was dreading. “Craig, have you met Harry and Ginny Potter?”

“Oh, erm, yes actually...” he stammered, unable to think of how to politely phrase that he’d just tried to chat up Mrs. Potter because he thought she was fit and didn’t recognize her.

“Craig was kind enough to keep me company while I waited for Harry to arrive,” Mrs. Potter interjected. He shot her a grateful look.

“Drinks, loves.” The barmaid returned with a butterbeer and six glasses of firewhiskey.

Craig paid her and turned to Mrs. Potter to hand her the butterbeer.

“Thank you,” she smiled at him, as Harry Potter put his arm around her waist.

“Rosmerta’s saved us the back corner booth,” Professor Longbottom said, glancing to the empty booth tucked away in the far corner, away from the bar and the tables, “We’d best be off before these two are recognized by anyone else.”

“Goodbye, Professor, Mr. and Mrs. Potter,” he said, nodding to them. “Enjoy the afternoon.”

“Goodbye Craig,” Mrs. Potter said, smiling at him, her brown eyes crinkling at the corners. “And if you wouldn’t mind not mentioning it to anyone else that Harry is here, we’d appreciate it.”

“Of course,” he said, nodding, just wanting the whole thing to be over.

“Bye-bye,” said the baby, waving unprompted at him. Great, even the baby was having a go at him, Craig thought. Mrs. Potter laughed delightedly, and Mr. Potter exclaimed, “Clever boy, James!” They turned and walked off towards the back corner booth.

When they were gone, he finally exhaled, and slumped against the bar. He motioned over Will to help him carry the drinks back to the table.

As soon as he sat down, he began to gulp his firewhisky in earnest, wanting to forget that the horribly embarrassing incident had ever occurred.

“So what happened, mate?” Dan asked.

“Oh, erm, turned out she was married. Talked to her for a few minutes before I saw the ring.”

“Tough luck,” said Will. “Didn’t get a good look at her face, but she was fit.”

Craig nodded, still drinking. “What are you playing?” he asked, eager to change the subject, and then he threw himself into their game of 21, wishing for all the world that he and Cressida had never broken up. Not just because he missed her, which he did (he finally admitted to himself)- but because if they hadn’t, this never would have happened.

An hour and a half and more firewhisky later, Craig was feeling pleasantly numb. Some of the mortification had subsided, at least. And then suddenly, he looked up, and she was there, alone, standing next to his chair.

“Craig, we’re heading out, but thank you for being so kind earlier. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t flattered.”

“Oh, erm, it was nothing, really,” he said, feeling himself blush and wishing he could sink into the stone floor and disappear.

“Rosmerta will be over in a mo’. The next rounds on me, boys, enjoy yourselves,” she said to the table, before giving Craig a wink and a wave. Then, she turned, walked out the door, and disappeared with a pop before the door swung shut. His friends immediately turned to him.

“Was that?!”

“She’s bloody fit she is. Even better than in photos.”

“Damn, Harry Potter is a lucky sod.”

“Wait, you tried to chat up Ginny Potter?!”

“I didn’t recognize her!” he moaned, putting his head in his hands as his mates erupted into laughter. God, he would never, ever hear the end of this.

As his friends began to tease him in earnest (and really, he couldn’t blame them), Craig swore to himself that he would never try to flirt with some random girl at a bar again. He’d be single forever over ever reliving the humiliation of what happened today. Or maybe, he would write to Cressida tonight. Yes, he would write to her as soon as he got home.

#hinny fanfic #fluff #cringe #sweet himbo #poor craig #ginny weasley is hot

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me-myself-and-my-fos · 3 years ago

Text

Dinner

Pairing: Mycroft Holmes x Nicole Blake

Word Count: 2.5k

Summary: The first date

A/N: Again, a special thanks to @thatghoulboi for helping out!!

“Which one looks better?” Nicole asked anxiously, her robe secured tightly on her as she stepped out of her bedroom. Entering the living room of the flat, she held out two dresses on hangers. One was a plain black dress with short sleeves and a skirt that would come down to her knees. The other was a dark green dress, longer than the black one, with a sleeveless sweetheart neckline.

“This is the third time you’ve shown me that dress,” Abby said, pulling her attention away from the script in front of her. She pointed at the green dress. “It’s like you want me to pick it because you’re afraid to do it yourself.”

“I’m not!” Nicole said, red faced and biting her lip. “You said you liked this one more than the blue one. I wanted to compare it to all the dresses I have. All five dresses.” She walked back to her bedroom and started to slip off her robe and change into the green dress. “I don’t know how some women do it. I can’t have more than five dresses. I mean, I never wear them unless I’m invited to something.”

“Dresses are nice,” Abby commented, her eyes drifting back to the script. She played with the ends of her curly hair as she did. “You know how much I like them.”

“I do.” Nicole replied. She groaned from her bedroom. “I think I might need to change to the purple dress. I might be so stressed I’m getting hives. The purple one has long sleeves.” She stepped out and back into the living room.

Abby shook her head and put the script on the coffee table before walking over to Nicole. She took her best friend’s hands in hers and squeezed them in encouragement. “Hey, you don’t need to stress. It’s one date. You only have to stress if he wants to see you again.”

“A, it’s not a date. It’s just dinner.” Nicole replied stubbornly. “And B, of course I’m going to stress! I haven’t been out with a guy since I went to college! That’s nearly a decade! It has been a decade!”

“You are going to do just fine,” Abby assured her, hugging Nicole. “And if he’s an ass just pour your drink on him.”

Nicole laughed. “I’m petty, not mean.” Abby shrugged and pulled away from the hug. Nicole took a few steps back and smoothed out the green dress. “How do I look?”

“Amazing,” Abby smiled at her. “Green really brings out your eyes.”

“Really?” A shy smile came over Nicole’s face at the comment.

“Yeah,” Abby nodded.

“Okay,” Nicole bounced on the balls of her feet as she mentally checked off everything she needed to do before she left. “And you’ll be here when I get back?”

Abby nodded, sitting back down on the couch. “Of course. I’ll be here to celebrate if it goes well, or console you if it goes awful. What time will you be coming back?”

“Probably not until eight? Maybe? I’ll text you if it’s later, don’t worry,” Nicole assured her, slipping on her black flats. She slipped her phone into her bra then unlocked the flat door and opened it.

“I thought you said the ‘dinner’ wasn’t until six?” Abby glanced down at the time on her phone. “It’s five-fifteen.”

“It takes fifteen minutes to get to the restaurant, and I cannot go through the horror of him being early and waiting for me.” Nicole explained quickly, slipping out the door. “Bye, love you, don’t forget to lock up on my way out!”

It was nearly 30 excruciating minutes as she waited outside the 5 star restaurant she didn’t even know existed until Mycroft suggested it for the dinner. She wasn’t sure when the pacing started, but it hasn’t stopped, neither have the curious looks people have given her as they entered and exited the restaurant. With every step of her pacing, a new thought entered her mind.

What if he doesn’t come? What if he stands you up? But what if he’s getting you flowers? No, of course he wouldn’t do that. What if he’s just running late. No, no one is ever just ‘running late’. It’s a bad sign. He’s probably changed his mind, who would blame him when it’s y–

“I hope you weren’t waiting too long,” Mycroft said, approaching where Nicole was pacing. Her movement was halted at his words and she stood nervously as he approached.

Shaking her head, she answered. “No, it’s only been—” 30 whole minutes. She cleared her throat and took in his appearance. It was different from the black tuxedos he wore for the events, but not all too different. It was a nice suit. It was very nice. Nicole felt her cheeks grow warm and she tore her eyes away before she could speak. “You look very…” her mind went through the list of words she knew, not wanting to settle on just handsome as the adjective, “…dapper.” She said, before mentally kicking herself. “I meant nice, you look very… nice…” She stared at her feet for a moment.

He gave a smile, an amused one, but a smile nonetheless. “Thank you. You look lovely. Green compliments your eyes.”

Nicole couldn’t stop the giggle that escaped her, and she covered her mouth in embarrassment. Removing her hand from her mouth she looked back at him. “I think we should go inside.”

Mycroft stepped over and opened the door. “After you.”

“Thank you,” she mumbled before walking into the restaurant.

The dinner had barely even started and Nicole was already dreading it. The wine menu had been given to them and she knew nothing about wine. She couldn’t even pronounce the names of them. She had no idea what the difference was between a wine from 2001 and a wine from 1998. She knew some things about wine, having done research for her novels. But she knew the wines for her books, not real life wines. She doesn’t even drink wine or alcohol. How did she get stuck in this situation? Oh right, she had a crush.

��Which one would you like?” Asked Mycroft. His voice pulled Nicole from her wasp nest of thoughts, and she snapped her head up to look at him.

“Huh?” She questioned, her fingers playing with the corner of the wine menu’s felt border. There was a loose string she had subconsciously been pulling at. Nicole shook her head a little, the question finally processing. “Oh no, I don’t drink.” The tone she said it in, at least to her, came out more rude than she had hoped, and she quickly backtracked. “Not that there’s anything wrong with drinking. It’s just not for me. That’s not to say you can’t have any wine, I was just… yeah.” Quickly hiding her face behind the menu, Nicole bit her lip. Was it too late to cancel? Considering she was sitting at the table with him, probably.

Her body went into autopilot for a moment as Mycroft got a bottle of wine she couldn’t even comprehend the name of, and the waiter left to fetch the wine. They were left with themselves and their menus. When she did come back to reality, Nicole hoped that she didn’t miss anything Mycroft said. But from the way his concentration was on the menu, she figured she was in the clear.

Her leg. Her leg was bouncing under the table, and she only hoped it wasn’t making too much noise, or that it was shaking the table. She’d hate for it to give away how bad her nerves were. But even with all her might Nicole couldn’t stop her leg from bouncing. Trying to pay attention to the menu, she debated whether she was going to get the spaghetti or salmon. It was so strong in her mind she didn’t realize she was muttering it under her breath.

“I assume you don’t do this much?” He questioned.

Nicole shook her head and swallowed thickly. She tore her eyes away from the menu and was immediately caught by his blue ones. Grabbing her glass of water, she took a sip. “I don’t, um, socialize very well.”

“It seems that most writers don’t,” he told her.

She laughed nervously, setting the glass down. “We’re recluses, what can I say?”

The waiter came over to take their order, momentarily interrupting and allowing Nicole a moment to regain her composure. Once he was gone, along with their menus, Mycroft’s attention was back on her.

“Why did you become a writer?” He asked.

“‘I write for the same reason I breathe—because if I didn’t, I would die’,” she quoted.

“Isaac Asimov,” Mycroft said.

Nicole nodded, picking at her nails under the table. Or trying not to. “I live by that quote. Well that and ‘a good writer writes with ink, a better writer writes with their blood’.”

She watched as his brows furrowed a bit. “Who said that?”

As she brought her glass up to take another sip, she smirked slightly. “I did.” Setting the glass down again, she continued. “But I became a writer because I like books. I like them so much I decided I wanted to make my own.”

The appetizers were served, and Nicole did her best to eat despite the butterflies in her stomach. Her leg was still shaking. She figured that wasn’t going to stop anytime soon. It didn’t matter; Mycroft didn’t seem to notice it yet.

“Tell me a little about yourself,” Nicole said, using the fork to play with her salad. “Like…” she bit her lip trying to think of something. “Do you have any siblings? What do you do for fun?”

“I have a younger brother, but we have a… complicated relationship,” he explained. “And I don’t have much time for fun.”

“Oh come on,” Nicole playfully rolled her eyes. “There has to be something you enjoy.”

There was a short pause before he replied. “I do enjoy old films.”

“How old?”

“Black and white.”

She hummed in response and stabbed the lettuce of her salad with the fork. “What’s your favorite color?” She asked without looking up.

“I’m sorry?”

“Colors.” She said. “What’s your favorite one?”

Mycroft blinked in surprise. No one’s ever asked him that before. “I… I would have to say a sort of… blue-gray color?”

Nicole looked up at him. “Like your eyes.”

He nodded. “Yes, I suppose so.”

Conversation grew quiet aside from the occasional question Nicole asked him. Soon enough their finished appetizers had been taken, and even sooner their meals had been set before them.

“What about you?” Mycroft asked.

“Hm?” Nicole looked up at him after putting a bite of salmon in her mouth.

“Tell me about you,” he insisted.

She chewed the bite slowly before swallowing, shaking her head. “I’m so boring, there’s nothing to talk about.”

“That can’t be true.”

“It is!” She shook her head. “My biggest pride and joy—beside my books—is my pen collection. My idea of a fun weekend isn’t going out to eat or shop or go to a pub, it’s reorganizing the notebooks on my bookshelf or reorganizing my pens. I get excited about buying new Tupperware or soap.” She let out a halfhearted laugh. “Do you know anyone who gets excited about buying soap?”

“No one that comes to mind,” he told her.

“Exactly,” she said, cutting into her salmon. “I’m terribly boring.”

“I still don’t believe you,” Mycroft explained, a small smile on his lips.

Silence gripped the table for a bit, both focusing on their meals and where they wanted the conversation to go. Nicole really wasn’t used to this. She was used to already knowing the people she talked to, ones she shared meals with. It didn’t help that Mycroft was so hard to read. He didn’t even look nervous despite socializing obviously being something he doesn’t excel in as well. Somehow, it made him all the more endearing.

“Favorite color?”

“Huh?” Nicole looked at him confused. Had she misheard him?

He almost looked embarrassed, like he couldn’t believe what he was about to say. Regardless, Mycroft cleared his throat. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Oh.” Nicole’s leg continued to shake. “Blue. It’s blue.”

“Just ‘blue’?”

She shrugged. “I like every shade of it. Each shade reminds me of something different. The lighter shades, the ones almost passable for white, they remind me of ice. And the darker shades remind me of rain and storms. I just like the color, it’s very comforting–” She bit her tongue and laughed nervously. “And now I’m rambling, I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” he assured her. “Do you have any siblings?”

“Nope,” she answered simply and took another bite of her dinner.

Family is a sore subject, Mycroft noted.

“How long have you lived in England? Obviously you’re American so… why?” He asked her.

“Well I came here for college, but I always planned on staying. I’ve lived here for about ten years now. And honestly I prefer it here.” She told him.

“I’m glad you found a place here,” he said.

Dinner was finished, and before they knew it the evening was over. There was a short debate over who paid for dinner (Nicole insisted she should since she asked him out, but Mycroft argued he picked the restaurant and he should pay). After agreeing Nicole would pay this time, Mycroft took her hand and led her outside. Stepping out into the evening air, Nicole smiled at Mycroft. “I had a really nice time.”

“As did I,” he replied softly. “Can I walk you to your car?”

“Oh it’s okay,” she told him. “I’m just going to catch a taxi home–”

“I can take you,” Mycroft interrupted. “My car is not far.”

“I couldn’t ask you to,” Nicole started to say.

“You’re not asking, I’m offering,” he told her. He took her hand and guided her to the car before opening the door.

It was a short drive to the flat, and Mycroft walked her to the door once they arrived. Standing outside the threshold to the flat entrance, Nicole gave him a shy smile as he spoke.

“I enjoyed the date a lot, Nicole,” he told her.

She felt her whole face heat up at his words. He called it a date. “I did too. I’d love to do this again sometime.”

“Then tomorrow, seven in the evening,” he told her and brought her hand up to gently kiss her knuckles.

At this point she could’ve sworn her whole face was on fire. But a giggle escaped her at his actions, and she looked away. “O–okay. Tomorrow at seven it is.”

“I look forward to it,” he said before letting go of her hand.

Nicole watched as he got into the car and was driven off, and she smiled to herself. She took the spare key from its hiding spot under a rock and unlocked the door, rushing inside. As she slammed it shut behind her, she called out to her best friend and rushed up the stairs.

“Holy shit, Abby! You’ll never believe this!”

#otp: i don’t mind the cold #my darling 🖊#mywriting #self insert community #self insert fic #self insert #self shipping community #self shipping #self ship #self ship community

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jadedxrealityw · 4 years ago

Text

-Mind Stone- Peter Parker x Female Reader Part 1

☼-☪-☼

Kody: Awkward Peter Parker for the win. By the way both Peter and you will be 17 in this fic. K, thanks. Also reminder that Engame is set in 2023

Movie/Show: After Endgame, but no one died because ignorance is bliss.

Summary: In the attack of 2012, you were given powers that you couldn’t understand at such a young age.

Possible Triggers / Warnings: Cursing, Mentions of blood and harm, Loki having a Thanos moment, Vision and Wanda being your new parents- but not really, slight OP reader- but only because i am dumb

☼-☪-☼

highschool sucked, well that’s a given but what sucked even more was going to highschool in New York where the Avengers usually fought their battles. In 2012 when the first major attack happened. When Loki, the god of mischief used the tesseract to bring the Chitauri to Earth.

you remember it vividly for a 6 year old child. Your mother and you had decided to go school shopping since you’d be starting kindergarten. You would have gone when you turned five, but you had a late birthday. After shopping for nearly an hour your mother decided to get you a donut from a local bakery.

you had both walked in and your mother sat you at a booth with your bag of supplies. She walked to the counter and began to order what she wanted along with your favorite kind of donut. The shop had a glass wall in the front so you could see outside, you thought it looked pretty cool.

at one point you looked up from the piece of paper you had been drawing on and towards your mother. She had just turned around holding a paper bag and a cup of coffee. She gave you a warm smile as she walked towards you. She looked at the window behind you and her face suddenly turned pale.

she dropped the cup and bag onto the ground. You watched as coffee spilled all over the tile floor, but had no time to say something as your mother ran over to you and grabbed you from the seat. She held you close to her chest and ran out the store, not bothering to grab the items she left.

you were so confused on what was happening until you saw a tall unhuman like creature with grey skin and gold headpieces. The Chitauri. Your mother ran down the sidewalk as large ships flew through the sky. Buildings were being shot through and debris was falling from above.

being just a little girl made the whole ordeal much worse. Your mother ended up running into an alleyway. She went behind a dumpster and crouched down, placing you on the ground. “Alright- it’s going to be alright” she grabbed your face and planted a kiss on your forehead.

the dumpster that you both were behind flew into the air and you were face to face with a Chitauri. It raised it’s gun and shot at your mother. It hit her in the middle of the back, causing her to fall to the ground. You watched as your mom fell to the ground and blood began to pour from her back.

she slowly lifted her head and reached to touch your face “You have to run Y/n! Go!” she yelled as the Chitauri drew closer. You turned to look behind you. Run. That’s what she wanted you to do, but you didn’t want to leave your mom. She was hurt and was the only family you had.

ever watch those youtube videos of children trying to be protective and everyone finding it cute? Yeah those. Well this would have been cuter if you weren’t facing an alien that could shoot you in the face with it’s out of world technology.

your tiny 6 year old hands lifted up a piece of plywood from the ground and began to swing it around yelling at them to “Get away from my mom!” thinking back on it, you thought the Chitauri was more confused than threatened. It still walked towards you, raising it’s weapon.

that’s when something- someone dropped in the middle of both you and the Chitauri. It was a man with shoulder length black hair that was slicked back. He was wearing strange clothing that was dark green and black with some gold lining.

he turned to the Chitauri and waved his hand “Run along creature” he said in a formal tone. You kept the plywood in your hands as you didn’t know if this strange man was a threat or not. The Chitauri nods to him once before turning away and running out the alley, probably to terrorize other people.

the man turned on his heels and faced you. You had now noticed the golden scepter in his hands. It was curved at the top which was silver with a sharp edge and bottom and hand a bright blue stone in the middle, encased within the gold. He stalked towards you with an overly sweet grin.

(cue Thanos moment)

“You’re just adorable aren’t you?” he spoke, mostly to himself rather than you. He crouched down to meet your gaze, his eyes an icy blue color. “Were you just about to challenge that Chitauri?” he asked, a slightly amused tone lacing within his words. You nod once, being the shy kid you were and stranger danger. duh

he nods along with you before looking behind you to see your mother unconscious and on the floor. He doesn’t say anything involving her and looks back towards you “How old are you?” he questions. Your hesitant at first, but tell him “6...and a half” one of his eyebrows go up slightly in shock.

“Children who are willing to stand up to a creature much bigger than them are what we call little warriors. It’s honorable. If only you weren’t a mortal, so feeble and fragile” he spoke so formaly that your child mind was finding it hard to keep up with him.

his icy blue eyes slowly moved away from you at at his scepter “Hm” he hums before holding his staff up to you. You take a small step back, reasonably scared of the silver blade it had. How else did he think a kid would react. You weren’t quite sure why you hadn’t run away by now honestly.

“Do not show fear. That is what will get you killed. Now little warrior. If you wish to protect the ones you care most for. Place your hand on the stone” he spoke, pointing towards the blue gem on his scepter. In other circumstances you would have ran away, but your eager child mild thought about your mother.

so you touched it

you felt a swirling and painful feeling shooting through every inch of your body, causing you to left out a harsh scream. Your vision was covered in a blue like storm. Like a tornado that formed around you. You could no longer see the mystery man and could no longer feel your feet on the ground.

but just as fast as the feeling came it left and began to see black spots cloud every inch of your vision. You felt yourself drift out of consciousness and you black out. The man- Loki watched as you fell to the ground. He reached down and felt for a pulse. Still alive.

he got up and walked over to your mother, waving his hand over her wound and watched it disappear. He places a illusion and a type of force field over the alleyway and leaves to be his freaky weird self at Stark tower.

☼-☪-☼

2023

(Aka Kody’s version of Endgame that makes no logical sense)

after being ‘blipped’ out of existence for five years you were still adjusting to the change. Your school- Midtown High School had created a program for kids how still needed to finish there senior year. You were placed in a new classroom with a couple of kids you knew and didn’t

the only names you could remember was Ned, Mj, Flash- he was a dick, Betty, Liz, Brad, and Peter. You didn’t know any of them personally but had heard thee names enough to look at their faces and remember them. You all were in a class together all day except for lunch and a free period.

you didn’t really care much for making friends because you never had the time. After being blipped back you found out your mother wasn’t and she had been put in a home. You took care of her for a couple years until she died in her sleep from a stroke.

once you got back you took on a couple jobs to try and raise enough money to buy a small apartment for you. One job was a checking books for damages at a library and the other was stocking shelves at a supermarket along with the occasional dog walking and errand running.

needless to say you were busy and guilty for what had happen that day to your mother. You tried telling her about the man that had talked to you which you later found out was Loki the god of mischief and he wasn’t the greatest of people, but he hadn’t been back to earth since.

the powers he gave you were more of a burden then blessing at most times. With the ability you could now throw energy projectile blasts, manipulate others minds, use telepathy, astral project and teleport. It was a lot for a six year old so you ended up never using it.

that was until you were thirteen and walking to school. You saw a cat in the road laying down. The worst part was a car was coming quickly, speeding actually down the road and the cat was not moving. Your poor animal heart couldn’t take it and in an instant you teleported in front of the cat.

you picked it up and teleported back on the sidewalk. You weren’t quite sure how you did it, so chalked it up to spur of the moment thing. You ended up keeping the all black cat and naming it Snape. He turned out to be a little shit so it fits.

after that you started practicing and developing your abilities. Your logic was if you have them at least learn how to use them even if you don’t want them. You had refused to use them unless absolutely necessary though. You didn’t want to draw attention towards yourself.

☼-☪-☼

6 months later

outfit

you pushed open the door to the classroom with one hand and a box of donuts in the other. “Is Mr. Harrington here yet?” you ask out loud earning a couple no’s in return from what you assumed was Mj and Betty. You nod once and shut the door. You look up and walk towards the table your friends were at

yeah yeah, you decided to finally get close to these people you were stuck with. Some a bit more than others....Anyway, you took a seat next to Mj and place the box on the table “All your guys favorites. I know i’m amazing- hold your applause please” you say, holding up your hand.

Mj rolls her eyes and slides a coffee cup towards you “Here, since you got donuts” she shrugs before reaching into the box. You smile and grab the cup. It was still hot. You hear the door open again and turn your head to see Peter and Ned walking “Hey guys! Y/n got us donuts!” Betty exclaimed.

they both look up. Peter looks at you and you both lock eyes for a moment before he adverts his gaze quickly. Imagine having a crush on a guy who is a nervous wreck? You found it cute though- in a non weird way. “Oh! cool. Thanks Y/n” Ned says and takes a seat next to Betty

you give him a half smile as Peter takes a seat next to him. All of you grab a donut and begin to eat. After a couple minutes you hear Peter yelp and look towards him. He reached under the table and rubbed his leg, giving Mj a glare, who gave him one right back.

“So Y/n. Since midterms is coming up and we've all stuck together this year Peter was thinking of having a small get together at his house while his Aunt is out of town” Ned suddenly spoke up, taking your attention away from Peter and Mj’s death stares. Your face twinges a bit “When is it?” you ask.

“This Tomorrow” he says. You had always turn down offers like this because you feel guilty going out while your mother was stuck in a home unable to walk even though she told you to be a teenager multiple times and to stop worrying over her so much, but alas you were a stubborn one.

“I’m working that day-”

“No your not. I have your work schedule, both of them” Mj cut in with her emotionless smile as she took a bite of her donut. How did she know your work- nevermind. You forgot Mj was a genius sometimes and a class A weirdo, but she was your weirdo. “I have to ask Nancy then-”

“I called her. She said it was okay”

you blink mindlessly for a moment before Betty spoke up “You have Nancy’s number?” she asked, leaning into the table. Mj shrugs her shoulders “She’s a nice conversationalist” she says vaguely. You all stare at her for a couple seconds before you think of another excuse.

“It’s Peters party thing.” You say and looked towards the brown haired boy who had been just listening to the chaos “Do you even want me there?” you ask him. Peter’s eyes widen briefly “Of course i want you there!- I- uh i mean yeah your my friend” he sputters slightly, Ned facepalming behind him.

Mj grins as she finished her nice fried treat “I win” she says and you exhale “Fine i’ll go. It would actually be nice to get out the girls home” you admit, leaning back into the chair “Nancy still a raging bitch?” Ned said, making Peter and Betty chuckle. His laugh was nice- so was Betty’s of course eh ha.

“Mr. harrington is coming! Hide the box!” Brad yells as he peaks out the door. You all quickly scramble to shove the box in your bag.

☼-☪-☼

at the end of class while you were packing your things when you feel a tap on your shoulder. You place your notebook back down and turn behind you. There stood Peter Parker staring back at you nervously “Um- Hi” he says and you smile lightly “Hi” you say back to him.

he reached behind and scratched the back of his neck “So uh- about my party thing tonight” he starts. You nod slowly “Yeah the party thing” you repeat. “Ned’s thinking about bringing Betty as his date” Peter sputters out. You purse your lips together into an emotionless smile.

“Okay...” you trail before going to grab your notebook again when Peter slides it off the table and into his hand. You slowly turn and raise a brow “Thank you?” you say and hold out your hand. “Would you like to be my Betty?- Date! i mean date. Would you, Y/n be my date to my party thing”

a smile formed on your lips. Not in a million years did you think Peter Parker would break from his shell to finally say something to you. In all honestly you would have made the first move if he didn’t make it so damn hard to figure out if he actually liked you.

“I’d like that very much. As long as i get to see your lego death star” you say. His face goes from nervous and fearing rejection to slight confusion. He lets out a small laugh “Are you using me for my death star?” he asked, his tone a bit more confident than before.

you gasp, your mouth agape in mock offense “How dare you accuse me of such things Peter Parker- but yeah your right.” you say jokingly. His smile turns into a wide grin that he is unable to control. You held out your hand again and Peter gives you the notebook.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then?” he asked as you open your bag to place the notebook next to your folder before zipping it up. You look at him and nod “Yeah you will. Who knows, maybe i’ll wear something nice” shrugging, you turn around and head out the door.

as soon as you walk out all of that cool and collected confidence melted away and you were left smiling and laughing like a giddy school girl all by yourself.

☼-☪-☼

Peter Parker asked you out. Peter Parker asked you out

you were walking home, humming along to the music blasting through your earbuds. You couldn’t hear any of the loud ass lovely sounds of Queens. You reach into your jeans back pocket to grab your phone when someone shoulder checks you hard.

you went to curse out this rude stranger when you realize they were running with a worried look. You take out the earbuds and your ears are instantly filled with cracking noises and peoples screaming. You look up and the building next to the one you were standing next to was on fire.

it was an apartment building and the top floors were engulfed in flames. You saw a crowd forming outside of the lobby and cue into there conversation. A woman was crying on the ground while another woman held her “Our sons are still in there! There on the top floor! Please you have to get them!”

the woman seemed to be pleading to a officer who was keeping people from going inside along with multiple other police men and woman. “Ma’am the fire department is on there way. There is a delay due to traffic. You’ll just have to wait” he says which just makes her cry out, her wife grabbing her tighter.

“Where’s Spiderman!”

“Spiderman isn’t fireproof!”

you felt your hands shake a bit. Those boys were stuck up there and you could do something. So why were you standing still? You could help, but you were so scared of losing control and causing more harm then good. All reasoning went out the window when you heard a boy cry for his mom.

you duck into an alleyway and dig through your bag. You grab your black hoodie and face mask you had always carried for some reason. You just needed something to cover your skin. You take off your flannel sweater and shove it in your bag before slipping the hoodie on.

you take the face mask and put the elastic bands behind your ears and press the metal bar against your nose so it molds against your face. You take a deep breath and pull the hood over your head. Inhaling deeply, you thought about being on the floor and in a blink of an eye, you were gone.

once you open your eyes you see flames licking up the walls and it instantly feels a million times hotter. “So this is what a rotisserie chicken feels like” you mumble. “Mommy!” a boy yells and a cry of another one follows. You walk down the hall avoiding the wall with flames.

you make it down the hall and go to reach for the door handle. As soon as your palm touched it, it seared your skin. You hiss and pull back your hand quickly. Looking at your palm you saw the red skin. “Shit. Why didn’t i just teleport in?” you thought aloud before poof you were in. You see two boys huddled together.

you walk towards them “Hey! Are you two okay?!” you call out. The older one, around ten maybe looks away from his younger brother who looked a little over three and at you “Help please. My brother fell asleep and woke wake up!” he cried before bursting into a coughing fit.

“I’m here to help. Just be calm okay? I’ll get you both out of here” you say to try and sooth the boy. He nods and tries to stand up with his brother. You step towards him and lift the little boy in your arms. You use your free hand to take the mask off your face and hand it to the boy “Put this on”

he takes it from your hands and puts it on his face. You hold out your hand and he grabs it. You give him a quick smile beforeing teleporting back onto the sidewalk. The fire department and paramedics were already at the lobby, getting ready to go in.

the boy lets go of your hand and runs towards his mothers “Mommy!” he yells and the two woman look up. “Georgie?!” the crying woman yells before they both run towards him. You look at the crowd and realize that people had just saw you poof into existence. You quickly look down before anyone can see your face.

shit shit shit shit

in a haste you walk over to the paramedics who were already walking towards you and hand them the little boy “he inhaled to much smoke” you spit out and turn around. Before you could take another step fucking Spiderman just drops down. This couldn’t get any worse.

“Hey- person! How did you do that!?” he yells but you teleport into the ally. You lift the hoodie from your body and drop it into your bag. You needed to go home before anyone came around.

☼-☪-☼

the next day

Peter had dealt with the situation and avoided press about who the mysterious teleporter was. Mostly because he didn’t know and didn’t want to spread panic amongst the public. So he decided to contact Tony the next day out of all people, cause duh. He was driven by Happy to the Avengers base.

once he got out he was waiting in the main area where they had there meetings, which is where we start off. Tony walks through the door followed by Natasha and Steve. Clint was with family at the moment and Tony just gathered who was here at the moment.

“So kid. No pressure, but if this isn’t serious as you say i will revoke your suit privileges for a week” Tony threatens making Peter smile nervously. “It is i swear. So i was walking home from school right? Yeah and this building was on fire so of course i’m the friendly neighborhood Spiderman so i went to go save them-”

“-skip ahead” Tony cuts in, Natasha rolled her eyes, folding her arms over her chest. Peter nods fast and coughs a bit before continuing “Anyway this random person in a hoodie like pops out of nowhere- like teleported into the building and saved these two kids and-”

Natasha raises her hand “This person you say saved kids? Why are we talking about this again?” she asked. Suddenly the door opens again revealing Wanda and Vision “Well this place needs tighter security” Steve says. Tony sighs and looks at them “No please come in were not busy or anything”

Vision steps towards the group along with Wanda “There’s an infinity stone on earth” he spoke rather vaguely. “Yeah it’s in your head and the other is with the Wizard- We’ve gone over this people! You need to read your debriefings” Tony points at Vision before leaning against the long table.

Peter just sighed as he knew he would be ignored for the next few minutes “I am aware of the of the Time and Mind stone location. There is something with the same signature as the mind stone on earth. Like Wanda’s but weaker and more docile.” he explains.

both Steve and Natasha give him terrified looks “Could it be a mishap from the time traveling? Wanda was anyone else given powers like you?” Steve asked. Wanda shook her head “Me and Pietro were the only people who survived, but they could have continued there experiments?” she suggests.

Tony shakes his head “Strucker was killed by Ultron and anyone who knew about it is the same way or locked up in federal prison. This is something different- wait kid” he says and turns to Peter “You said you saw somebody with powers today right?”

Peter nods to Tony “Yeah- i couldn’t really tell there face, but i’m pretty sure it was a girl?” he said, quite unsure of his own words. Tony reached into his pocket and pulled out a dry erase market before walking over to the clear board that was set up in the room.

he uses his mouth to bite off the cap of the marker and turns to Steve to spit it out at him. The cap bounces of...well cap. His chest to be more specific and drops to the ground. Steve narrows his eyes, shaking his head slightly at Tony’s behaviour, but that was normal.

Tony draws a quick messed up bean shape and labels it the Mind Stone “So what we know is that the mind stone is stuck in ‘Not Jarvis’ over there” he says and draws a short line from the stone drawing to the words ‘Not Jarvis’ “Now for the people with the mind stone power. Go!” he points randomly behind him.

Wanda spoke up “Pietro and i” she says, her expression faltering a bit. Vision wraps his arm around her side and pulls her into him. He looked down at her and gave her a loving smile, one that she returned. Peter watched them for a moment. They had such natural love for two unnatural people.

he wondered if he would ever find something similar to what they had. When he thought about it hard enough his mind went to you. You had both gone to school together since you were kids, but were never close or talked in general. That was until junior year when you were placed in his english class.

Peter took into the fact that you were much quieter then you had been before. You would gaze off into the window and go unnoticed by anyone. You were never really there, just existing in the background. No romantic feelings were involved at the point just curiosity.

then both of you were placed in the program and he got to finally talk to you. Or so he thought. You were still the same, sat in the back, dozing off, but still managing to pass every paper with a C or higher. Peter found it strange that you had not changed one bit.

ever since the population was ‘blipped’ back people had been more daring and taking risks, claiming it was there second chance at doing what you really dreamed of and such, but you were just there....existence again. Still the same old girl.

could you be so content with your life that you would make no change? or was there something in your way, stopping from evolving in life? As you can imagine these thoughts filled Peter’s brain to the point that it physically hurt. Still no feelings at this point, just frustration.

that’s when Mj noticed his infatuation with you and she decided to take matters into her own hands, per usual. She talked to you after class and invited you to sit with them at their table. Peter thought there was no way you’d take the offer, but you did? Mj was either really convincing or God

the world will never know

that’s when romantic feelings were involved. Peter thought that you would act the same, but just around a group of people but he was so wrong. You actually engaged in conversation. Maybe that’s what was keeping you from making friends, being scared of making the first move.

he would always remember the day he saw you smile. It was like it lit up the whole room. All his senses were heightened- more then they already were as Spiderman and it was so weird. Everytime he was around you he felt euphoric in a way.

he fell hard

the next six months were spent obsessing over what to say, do, wear, even eat around you even though he knew you weren't the judgy kind of person. It wasn’t long until everyone around him except for you knew he had a crush on you, but you just thought he was a nervous guy.

oh god- he asked you out and you said yes. It was almost like he couldn’t believe you had actually said yes. Peter didn’t think he was a bad looking guy, just that you were so out of his league it was almost comical. What should he wear? What if you both got alone at some point during the party thing?

“Kid!”

Peter’s eyes averted from the floor and towards the small group. All of them were looking at him with concerned expressions He smiled sheepishly, reaching behind to scratch the back of his neck “Sorry- sir” he says. Tony exhales dramatically “Oh i’m sorry are we boring you?”

Steve shakes his head “He’s probably thinking about school or something. He’s still a kid Tony” he says giving Peter a nod- yeah school. Totally. Tony waves him away “Whatever. Now that your back on planet earth kid go suit up. Not Jarvis over her can track our mystery chick”

Peter’s face lights up “Yes Mr. Stark- i can use the bathroom first right?” he says. Tony blinked mindlessly for a couple seconds “Yes.....go” he waved him away. Peter smiles before waving to the rest of them politely. Natasha gave him a warm smile along with Vision and Wanda. Steve was scolding Tony.

☼-☪-☼

Peter had his suit on and made his way to the front where Wanda, Vision, and, Tony. “Where’s everyone else?” Peter asked, walking towards them “We want to keep a low radar” Tony said, adjusting some tech on his arm. Peter tilts his head and points at Vision “but he’s red- no offense!” he says.

Vision looked at his body for a moment “Oh yes. One moment please” he spoke and in a way of yellow magic his body switched from it’s natural red form to a human one. Peter’s eyes widened under his mask, taking a step forward “That. Is. So. Cool!” he shouts going over to spoke Vision’s arm.

Vision lifted his arm out for Peter to touch, finding it amusing. Wanda snickered to herself at Peter’s child like wonder. “Alright let's head out before the Kid starts drooling” Tony interrupts as Happy pulls up in front of the base. Peter quickly snapped his head towards Tony’s direction.

“If were trying to keep a low profile. Why am i here in my suit?” Peter questions, crossing his arms. “You are going to be on a building watching and observing. I signal you if i need you” Tony explains. Peter sighs in defeat, he was backup....again. At least it was something.

“Okay” Peter says. Vision faces Wanda and opens his mouth to speak, but before he could Wanda does “I know, you want me to stay here in case it’s dangerous” she spoke. Vision let out a small snort, holding back a smile. Did she know him that well?

duh. I want what they have

“Actually, quite the opposite. I think you coming is a great idea” he said, stunning Wanda into silence for a couple seconds “What?-” she looks up at him. Vision reaches down and takes his hand into hers. Peter watched, wonderly if he should give them a moment or not.

“If this person really has the same powers you then they are just as scared and confused as you were. They might find comfort in knowing they are not alone” Vision spoke, Wanda nodding along with him. She understood what he meant and she was glad to help them- the stranger.

“Okay”

“Already love birds and backup into the car. No flying or swinging today. Good old fashion driving” Tony ushered everyone out the building.

☼-☪-☼

outfit

you were holding a white tote bag full of groceries since you didn’t like the plastic ones, walking to the group home. You usually bought non-refrigeratable items every week to keep in your room since the other girls in the home like to steal food that wasn’t there's. It sucked, but you had no other options.

turning the corner, you started to walk down a pretty empty backway street. One hand on your bag and another on a switchblade in your brown jacket. A girl needs to protect herself in this day and age with perverted super straight men. More like super small.

you feel your phone buzz in your back pocket and reach behind to grab it. You tap the screen and notice a familiar contact ‘My Wife’ oh it was Mj. She had sent a text ‘Yo, for the thing tomorrow can you bring me that bread from the corner store around your place?’

did she just text you....for bread? My kind of woman.

you snicker to yourself and drop the handle down your arm and so you could use both hands to text her back ‘Yeah sure. I think you have a problem though. This is your fourth loaf this month’ you sent the text and shove your phone into your pocket.

looking up you see a woman with long reddish brown hair and a tall man with blond hair. They looked like a couple and were walking towards you. Out of pure social anxiety you were going to put your head down, but were stopped when the man spoke.

“Excuse me miss” he spoke, very formally and had an accent of some sorts. You stop a few feet in front of the couple. They probably wanted directions. They didn’t really look like new yorkers in your opinion. “Um yes?” you say with a polite smile.

in an instant a yellow color enveloped his body and he switched from the normal man to- to- The Vision!? You took a step back The Vision calling out to you “Please wait!”, turning on your heels to run away. You instantly hit some kind of hard metal, causing you to fall back onto your butt.

“Not so fast kid”

once you look up you see the one and only Tony Stark in his suit- so Iron Man actually. What the fuck was happening? Your heart rate began to speed up. Shit. “I haven’t done anything” you say quickly. This time the woman with reddish hair spoke- oh shit isn’t that the war criminal turned hero?

“We know you have some kind of ability, correct?” she asked. She had a slovakian accent. How did they know? Should you tell the truth? You didn’t like that Stark was in his suit, it just had ‘i already see you as a threat’ written all over it, but the woman seemed so kind and gentle with her words.

looking up at her, you nod slowly. The woman offers her hand for you to take and you do. She pulls you off the ground. Once your up she seems to study you “I’m Wanda, you are so young. How old are you?” you look down for a second before back at her. She was so nice “I’m 17″

The Vision- or just Vision stood next to Wanda “How long have you had these abilities?” he asked you, gesturing for you to walk with them “Since i was six, it happened in the 2012 attack” you explained. Wanda’s eyes widen a bit “Six years old? What monster would give a child that power?”

“Were walking now, great” Stark says and is ignored

you gulp as you walked alongside them, gathering up your courage to speak. It was still a touchy subject “The mind stone was in Loki, the god of mischiefs possession at the time, but i cannot see him sharing power with another person let alone a human” Vision but in.

“It’s a long story” you say, your face cringing slightly as the memories flooded “Do you wish to speak with us in a more private place?” Vision asked. Wanda gave you a warm smile as well. You nod once “Yeah that be great.” you say.

“Alright let’s roll out. The kid is dealing with a bank robbery a couple blocks away, but he’ll meet up with us once he’s finished. You two take her back i have to pick up Morgan from school or Pepper is putting me in the doghouse” Stark said before he flies up into the air.

☼-☪-☼

Peter had just swung down into the base through the opening in a skylight that Tony installed for quick access. Once he landed on the ground he pulled his mask off and pat the metal spider symbol on his chest. The suit folded into itself until all was left was the metal spider.

he turns into the hallway and makes his way to lab, figuring Tony would have resided there after there encounter with the person. As he walked he felt the hair on his arms and neck stand up in attention. Peter tingle. Peter reached behind him a grabbed an arrow mid air, turning on heels.

he turns around and sees Morgan with her training bow, giggling to herself “Hi” she says with a small smile. Peter smiled and looked at the arrow, the tip was dull so it wouldn’t have done any damage “Hi” he says back to her “Nice shot by the way” he adds.

Morgan giggles, pushing some of her brown hair from her face. Peter crouches down and hands her the arrow. She doesn’t take it and turns around so he could place it in her quiver. It was clearly made my Tony and had her name in red rhinestones. Super techy and cute.

Peter place the arrow in with the rest of them and Morgan turns back around “Do you know where your dad is?” Peter asked and she nods, not saying anything “What do you want for the information?” he questions with a mock serious tone.

Morgan’s face scrunched up, trying to make it look like she was thinking. After half a second shes smiling brightly again “Up!” she exclaims. Peter chuckles to himself before scooping Morgan up in his arms. He lifts her up and she points down the hall. “To the lab!” she shouts.

“Yes ma’am” he replies and began to walk down with her. While they walked Morgan began to tell Peter about her day at school and how Tony picked her up in his suit and everyone thought it was super cool. Seems like something Tony would do.

when he made it towards the lab entrance he spotted Wanda and Vision staring into the window that looked into the lab. Peter places Morgan down and she fists bump him before running into the lab. That seemed safe. “Peter your back, are you alright?” Wanda spoke. Peter looked away from Morgan.

Peter nods “Yeah nothing i can handle. Sorry i wasn’t there” he apologized. Wanda shook her head with a smile “The situation never escalated. We were able to take her in willingly. Mr. Stark is with her now” Vision explained. Peter raised a brow “So it was a girl?”

“She’s only 17. She got her powers when she was only 6. We haven’t noticed her because she never uses them” Wanda says. Peter’s brown eyes widen in size “Six years old?” he mumbled to himself. Wanda gestures to the window they were looking out of.

Peter steps towards them and turns his head to look into the window. He spots a girl propped up in a tube and unconscious. H/L H/c hair and- oh shit. Peter’s mouth fell open as he now processed what he was seeing in all of it’s reality. “Y/n?” he said to himself.

both Wanda and Vision look at Peter “Do you know her?” Wanda asked since before you went into the lab you told them your name and Tony had yet to pull up your name in the database. Peter nods and just watches in shock as Tony stands in front of the tube analyzing your DNA.

“Yeah- she’s in my class. I’ve known her a long time, but we only got close like 6 months ago” he explains, reaching up to run a hand through his hair “Shit” he huffs out. Wanda looked confused “How close?” she asked, sensing they were a bit closer then he said.

“i asked her out yesterday. I planned it for weeks just for this to happen” Peter sighs. Wanda places a hand on his shoulder “Does the fact that she has powers change the way you feel about her?” she asked. Peter shook his head “No- i just wish she told me”

“Fear takes over the mind. As well as rejection over something you cannot control” Vision says, tilting his head slightly “But sometimes you have to take risks. I was made without emotion, but i grew to love” he explains. “Her having such abilities should only bring you closer”

“but she doesn’t know i’m spiderman” Peter says with a nervous laugh “Well i think it’s time you tell her, but i can not tell you what to do just advise” Vision smiles politely and takes Wanda’s hand into his, placing a kiss on her knuckles. Peter watched for a moment before sighing.

what to do

☼-☪-☼

after tony took all the tests he could do he called up Strange to contact Thor since the god of thunder did not have a phone. They needed to get Loki to earth to explain how he gave a child such powers and/or kill him. That was mostly Tony’s idea.

Tony got real sensitive when he figured out a child- a girl his daughters age was given such an ability and it suddenly got personal. You were put into a guest room so when you woke up it wouldn’t be such a surprise and more cozy then a hospital bed.

your eyes open slowly and your met with a ceiling fan, which is slightly strange. Your room didn’t have a fan? You slowly sat up. “I wouldn’t move much” your head snaps in the direction of the voice and you see..Peter?! sitting in a loveseat next to the bed you were laying on.

“Peter? What are you?- Oh your internship right. I-” shit how were you going to explain to him why you were there. Peter shakes his head “I know why your here” he says. This whole demour was different. He didn’t seem nervous at all. You exhale deeply “Well shit”

“Yeah-” Peter raises his arm and a web shoots out from his wrist, grabbing onto the glass of water that was on the nightstand. He pulls it into his hand and hands it to you “Oh shit” you repeated “Your um- What!?” you were in complete shock. Why did he have to this after you just woke up?

he nods “Yeah- i’m Spiderman” he says, looking down for a moment before back at you. "You aren’t weirded out?” he asked. Your face dropped to a deadpan look “I can create portals and teleport. I’m surprised your not weirded out” you say back.

“You can teleport that’s like- so cool!” and there goes the geek in him. You chuckle to yourself as you take the water from his hand, taking a sip “Yeah” you say. “You don’t seem to like it do you? Wanda told me what happened” he asked. You shake your head.

“I never have. I thought i was weird. I never even told my mom” you say. Peter looked like he didn’t know what to say for a moment “Yeah i didn’t tell anyone either. Then Ned caught me, then May. Mj kinda found out on her own actually” he says, looking like he was thinking back on it.

“They all know!” you exclaim and he looked taken aback “They caught me when i flew into my window! Mj is just- Mj” he throws his hands in the air for a moment. You stifle laughter at his reaction “Okay okay. So the Stark internship is like a coverup?” you ask.

“Yeah. He tracked me down when i first started being Spiderman. Gave me a cool suit- multiple cool suits in exchange that i fight with him against Captain America. That was so long ago now that i think about it” he says. You nod along. Jeez this was a lot.

once he finished speaking you both sat there in silence for a minute or so “So-“ you start, putting the glass down “I might not be able to go to the party thing.” you say with a laugh. Peter laughs as well “Yeah i figured you couldn’t. Mr. Stark wants to keep you overnight”

you sigh. You didn’t really want to be stuck in a random place at night with being you didn’t know. Even if they were nice, they were still strangers. Peter notices the change in your expression and reaches to grab your hand. You feel your heart race abit as he does.

“I already cancelled the party. I told Ned and Mj the truth, minus the you part and they made up some excuse on how they would move it somewhere else and i wouldn’t be coming” he rubs his thumb over your hand. You look up at him “You didn’t- why would you do that?”

Peter inhales before speaking “Because you shouldn’t be alone right now and- and because i really like you Y/n. Like a lot- i have for awhile” he says. Is he confessing right now? Weird timing, but you’ll roll with it. “I really like you too Peter”

his face lit up like fireworks, you swore you could see an actual sparkle in his eye. He goes quiet again as his eyes slowly move down to your lips. He doesn’t say anything, but it is very obvious of what he wants “Peter” you say and he breaks out of his trance “huh?- yeah!?” he says with a nervous laugh.

“Kiss me”

he froze for a second before sputtering “Really?! because i don’t want to make you uncomfortable because i really like you and Steve said i should always respect women and their decisions ‘cause-” you grab the collar of his sweater and plant your lips on his.

you thought he wasn’t going to kiss back since he was just frozen. So, you went to pull away but were pleasantly surprised when he grabbed the side of your face, pulling you into a deeper kiss. Holy shit- the nerd had game. Peter must have been really into the kiss because he forgot that air was a thing.

you pulled away and he rests his forehead on yours, smiling like an idiot “I’m sorry i just-” “It’s okay Peter” you say before he could stumble over his words more. He smiles again and goes to kiss you again but as you go to lean in yo see a little girl in the doorway.

“Shit!” you jump back and Peter looks at you weirdly before you point at the doorway. Peter turns around and his face drops “Morgan. Shouldn’t you be waiting in the conference room for Pepper to pick you up?” he says. Morgan giggles and walks over to the bed.

she looks at you then Peter “She’s pretty” she says making you smile a little. Peter chuckles to himself “Yeah i know” Morgan giggles again before nodding “I approve” and with that she walked out the room, shutting it behind her. You blinked mindlessly for a couple seconds

“I feel honored” you say and Peter chuckles

☼-☪-☼

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☼-☪-☼

Kody- there will be a part two to this story if it is so desired.

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handcoversheart-76 · 4 years ago

Text

Peter starts wearing these sweaters- big and soft and warm. The sleeves hang a little bit past his wrists and the material has all of these little fuzzy lint balls, so when he steps into the sunlight that's streaming from the window he looks like he's glowing. Sometimes he'll wear one that's off-white and he'll look like the swirl of Sam's french vanilla latte with a sprinkle of cinnamon that he gets in an early morning (just a coffee with a little milk for Peter though), and sometimes he'll wear one that's dark green and rich, making the depth in his brown eyes widen and the intensity in his face deepen when he's lost in thought.

Sam spends a lot of time looking at Peter now. More than he did before. And he looked at him a lot before. He's not even ashamed to admit it. It's one of his official pastimes now- work on American Vandal with Peter, talk to Gabi about Peter, and look at Peter while he wears his sweaters.

He spends a lot of time wondering about Peter too.

He wonders whether Peter's sweaters are actually as soft as the seem in the glow of the morning. He wonders if the inside is scratchy against the skin- or maybe it's fuzzy like the Sherpa pullovers Gabi and her friends wear. He wonders about the warmth collected there, about the way Peter will stand when he's deep in thought, his arms crossed, hands tucked under his own armpits, chewing at his bottom lip. He wonders whether the sweater smells like him at the end of the day- like old books stored in a library and eraser shavings and vanilla from the servings of his mom's tres leches that he brought in to split with Sam at lunch.

"-television light will make the film seem crisp, but we don't want the subjects to look like they're undergoing a surgery," Peter is saying, flipping through ring light options. A bulb busted on their old one- they've been placing bets on it to see how long it'd last. Sam said at least a week. Peter said three days. Giving over ten bucks for losing was worth it when Peter did that knowing little tsk at him that makes Sam's stomach flutter. "Maybe we can try something softer to change things up. Make things seem more inviting."

Sam absently wonders if Peter's philosophy works with clothing too- the softer the better.

It certainly serves to make things more inviting.

"-or, I don't know, harsh is cool, I mean, we want to be taken seriously, right?"

Sam has just enough mind to make a noise of agreement. Only half of him is paying attention. the other half is wondering whether Peter's neck is warm under the collar of his coffee colored sweater. maybe if Sam tucked his fingers under there, pressed against the warm skin, nudged against the beating pulse that's hidden away-

"-maybe I'll buy an elephant lamp and put it right in the middle of the room by the subject's feet so that when we film there's an elephant silhouette going across their faces."

Sam blinks. "What?" He croaks.

Peter glares halfheartedly. "I knew you weren't listening. Should I go light shopping by myself? Cause i wouldn't mind cashing this in as an spam favor."

Sam flushes, shaking his head, knocking his brain back on track. "I- no, I'm listening. Save your spam for this weekend or something cause I want to clock mine in for the week of winter break."

"The week of winter break?" Peter frowns. "What type of favor are you gonna ask for?"

Sam's mouth moves faster than his brain does, and he goes, "I might be cold."

"Y- you might be cold?"

"Yes." Sam says blankly. He wants to pass away. "Cold. That is what I will be on the week of winter break. Maybe. Possibly."

"Are you planning to be cold or is this just-" Peter cuts himself off, interrupting his own line of thinking the way that he does sometimes and Sam, not for the first time, wants to kiss his nose. "How am I supposed to help you with this?"

"Sweaters." And that's the only thing that comes out of his stupid, gay mouth.

Oh god.

Peter's nose wrinkles. "You mean my sweaters?"

Sam just nods miserably. He's so far down. He might as well keep digging.

"You..." Peter falters, squints, tilts his head like a Labrador puppy. "You want to cash in your favor by asking my for my sweaters when you're cold?"

"You always look really warm?" Sam says, voice rising and making it a question. It's the only excuse he can think of, sue him.

Peter is quiet for a moment. Thinking. Sam is also thinking. He's thinking about how quickly he could get out of this situation if he stood up, went over to the window, unlocked it and just pitched himself out face first. It would be fine he decides. He'd plead a bout of insanity and then Peter will write off this whole sweater spiel as a figment of Sam's mental break and everything will be like it never happened.

Besides, a broken face is better than a bout of embarrassment. A broken face would only last for, what, a year and some change tops? Embarrassment lasts for a lifetime.

Sam is still mulling over his window plan when peter peels off his sweater- which, oh my god malfunction, malfunction, there is a brief flash of skin right in front of Sam, oh my god- and chucks it at Sam. Sam fumbles to catch it, blinking with huge eyes.

Peter looks a little bit red as he adjusts his tee. "There- uh- so you don't have to waste your favor on being cold."

"oh." Sam doesn't dare look down at the sweater in his hands. "Um. Thank you."

Peter nods jerkily, eyes drifting to the side. "Don't mention it. Anyway, so- the light-"

And Peter turns away, determinedly moving right along while Sam is still stuck where he is, stuck in that moment. He turns his gaze down at the sweater in his hands, fingers clenching around the heavy wool. Peter is still talking and Sam is not paying attention, now overcome with the need to pull the sweater over his head as quickly as possible, like he'd be able to feel Peter still in it if he tried. When he does, he finds that the inside is soft like he expected, and the warmth of it melts into Sam’s bones- but the whole of it all was realizing yes, Peter is sugar sweet like homemade cakes and dusty from the morning show storage room and Sam thinks he's drunk off of this- really, it's almost too much to have.

Peter turns back around and for a brief moment Sam thinks he's been caught. Not just not paying attention, but also actively pining like a true weirdo of a best friend- smelling the sweater is going to be the final straw, he's sure of it, this is just getting pathetic now-

But Peter just pauses, eyes wide, a strange look on his face. "Oh." he says, like that is supposed to mean something to Sam.

"Pete?" He questions carefully. "You okay? You look like you're about to pass out."

"Yes!" Peter says, and it comes out strangled. "No! I mean- I mean, yes, I'm okay and no I will not pass out. Maybe. Um- you- you're- uh- are you warm now?"

Sam nods. "Yes. Very. This is- it's a nice sweater."

"You should keep it." Peter blurts. "It looks better on you."

Sam highly doubts that, but Peter has never seen himself walk into the morning show film room with that one black braided turtleneck, cheeks colored and half of his face tucked away from the cold. Peter has never seen himself take a break from researching to stretch up to the sky so far that the hem creeps up to show his stomach. Peter doesn't know that Sam thinks about slipping his cold hands under there, brushing along the plains of warm skin that he can only steal glances of.

"I don't think-" Sam goes to say but Peter is shaking his head, throat working.

"No really, and uh, borrow my sweaters anytime you need to. Any of them. All of them." He finishes, looking half mortified and half like he was impulsed to say this- like if he didn't get it out it would be rattling around in his head for days.

"When I'm cold?" Sam clarifies.

"When you're cold."

"Well, I should say, I get cold a lot." Sam says slowly. "Like, very often. Annoying often."

"It wouldn't be annoying." Peter reassures. "And I've got lots of sweaters- I can't wear them all at once. We can- we can share them."

Sam nearly passes out right then and there. The thought of tugging at Peter's sleeve in the middle of working and having him peel it off right then and there to give to him is- it's very-

well, Gabi would say that's very boyfriend-ish Sam in that tone she takes sometimes. Her, i-cant-believe-youre-sitting-here-pining-at-me-instead-of-going-and-talking-to-him, tone.

"That sounds good." Sam manages. And he manages to not sound too excited or lovesick or absolutely mental- just a normal, regular, casual tone for all the normal, regular, casual things that are happening. It's all good.

"Good." Peter says, and he also sounds normal and regular and casual. His arms are bare because Sam is wearing his sweater and Sam might be a little bit high on the feeling but it's okay, this can just be another normal, regular causal thing that they do. Exchanging clothes just like actual boyfriends do- literally no big deal.

And yeah, maybe he might call Gabi later to scream but that's normal and regular and casual too. It is all good. Seriously.

For now, he just slides off the desk and joins Peter at the computer, letting their shoulders brush and then just- not moving away. Peter kind of sways a little like he's dizzy but nudges back and presses there.

"So, this elephant light-" Sam says, glowingly happy and brilliantly lucky. He's got Peter and a new sweater and a crush that makes his head all scrambled and his chest a mess. "That doesn't have to just be a joke-"

"Sam, I'm going to kill you, honestly."

~ gifted to @grasslandgirl and @aberfaeth bc this fandom is how you met and that is the most adorable thing ever

#sam and peter favors #hc that spam favors are and when it's on an interchaging schedule so if sam asks for one then peter gets the next #JUST BEST FRIEND THINGS.#american vandal #my fics

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love-and-monsters · 4 years ago

Text

Demon Shopkeep

You stumble into a magic shop and find the friendly shopkeeper wants to test your magical ability! What happens when you find out you’ve got quite a lot of potential?

M demon X GN human, 4,579 words

Shopping in town was something you really only did on special occasions. You’d never been super enthusiastic about crowds. They were always noisy and they made you feel like something was crawling along your skin when you tried to move through them. But your best friend’s birthday was coming up and you wanted to get her a neat gift. So, you went into the shopping district in town.

Your work schedule was flexible, so you went into town on a Monday afternoon, when the crowd would be at its thinnest. But it was a warm summer day, and you hadn’t factored in tourist season. There were plenty of people moving through the street, chattering and pointing to some of the shops. It was nearly impossible to walk down the street without bumping or brushing against someone.

You managed to walk through the street for about ten minutes before the awful feeling of pressure pushed in around you. The people around you felt like a rising tide, like they were coming in closer and tighter all around you. If you didn’t get out, they were all going to crush you.

Panic surged through you. Blindly, you scrambled to a shop door and yanked it open.

A small bell jingled as you stepped inside. The shop was dimly lit. Even the sunlight filtering in through the showy front window seemed unable to brighten anything. The walls were painted a dark blue and there were shelves of curiosities on dark mahogany shelves. Little golden lights glittered along the ceiling and clumped around a counter. Leaning over the counter, looking perfectly at home, was a dark blue demon.

You were pretty sure he was a demon, anyway. His skin and hair were the same tone of blue, but the nubby horns that sprouted from his forehead were bone-white. His tail was long and thin and tufted at the end. As he looked up, a chunk of his shaggy hair fell over one of his silver eyes.

“Hello!” he said. He smiled, showing off all his sharp teeth. “Welcome to Astral Curiosities! What can I help you with?”

You threw a glance over your shoulder. The crowd was still present and you didn’t feel ready to go back out into it. You turned back to the demon. “Sorry. I just ducked in here for a moment. I wasn’t really looking for anything.”

That didn’t seem to deter the demon whatsoever. If anything, his smile got bigger. “Really? You’re a first-time customer, then?” He clasped his hands together in excitement. “Then let me show you around and introduce you to the store!”

He stepped out from behind the counter. He was wearing a button-up white shirt with a blue star design on the pocket. “My name’s Imp. It’s nice to meet you!” He stuck out a hand and, uncertain of what else to do, you shook it. “Welcome to Astral Curiosities! Oh, I said that already, didn’t I? Ah, well! Let me explain the store to you.”

He gestured broadly with one hand to the shelves. “All of these,” he began, “are tools for witches! We’ve got books, focuses, familiar summons, spell supplies, runic tomes, magic languages, anything you could need!”

There was a soft click as he moved across the hardwood floor and you realized he wasn’t wearing any shoes. His claws tapped against the ground every time he set a foot down. “We’ve got all sorts of items for specializations! Life magic, nature magic, aether, fortune telling, spirit magic!” He pulled a few items from the shelves and looked at them fondly. “What’s your specialization?”

You mouthed wordlessly for a moment. He was so enthusiastic, you felt a little sheepish trying to say a word against him. “I didn’t come in here for anything. I don’t even have any magic. I was just trying to get out of the way of the crowd.”

Imp turned to you. His pointed ears drooped back a little and, for a moment, you thought you’d finally managed to dampen his spirits. Then his tail whipped with excitement and he grinned. “Everything happens for a reason!” he said. “If you’re here, there’s almost certainly something that drew you in.”

The crowd, you thought. The crowd had driven you inside. But Imp was already moving toward the back and you had to admit that you were curious. He darted through a set of velvet curtains and emerged with a large, pale stone surrounded with wires.

He went to the large, wooden table in the middle of the room and sat down. You glanced back at the door, but decided you’d rather see what he wanted than go back into the crowd. Imp almost wriggled in excitement as you sat down across from him.

“This is a vocal stone,” he said, tapping it with a clawed finger. It was large, slightly bigger than your palm, and, though you’d thought it was white from a distance, it was actually multicolored. There were ribbons of every color of the rainbow shot through it, only appearing when it was set in the right light. “And these-” He gestured to the wires around it. “- are conductors. If you have any magic, this’ll spark it and we’ll see what kind it is.”

You looked skeptically at the stone. The whole contraption seemed pretty haphazard. Still, you were pretty sure you had no magical talent. Neither of your parents had any skill and you’d never had the typical magic hiccups that accompanied growing up as a magic kid. So you allowed Imp to take your hand and wrap the wires around it.

“Oh.” You gripped the side of the table. A rush of something moved through you, like there was something swooping under your skin. Your head spun and a wave of tingling spread over your skin. You felt something in you shift, almost like what your stomach did before throwing up. A wave of power rushed out of you, knocking Imp back out of his chair and sending the wooden shelves rattling.

You snatched your hand back. The odd sensation stopped, though your head was swimming a little. “Are you all right?” you managed, peering over the table at Imp.

He popped up so suddenly and with such force that he nearly cracked your foreheads together. “Goodness, you have one hell of a voice!” he said, apparently completely unperturbed by being bowled over.

“A voice?” you asked. He hopped back into his chair and gathered the vocal stone back toward him.

“Mm. It’s what a person’s specific magic is referred to as. Your voice. And you’re loud. One hell of a scream, really!” You blinked at him, a little confused. “Who told you you didn’t have any magic? You have a lot.”

You worked your mouth, eyes wide. “I didn’t… I don’t know. No one ever really told me. My parents didn’t have any and I never did any tricks as a kid. We just all assumed that I didn’t have any magic.”

Imp pursed his lips and looked down at the stone. “Hm. That’s unusual.” He lifted the stone and rotated it in his hands. The multicolored threads through it had changed, all becoming a uniform shade of light green. “Life magic, and very strong, too.” He looked across the table at you, expression changing from excessively enthusiastic to gently sympathetic. “You don’t like crowds, do you? Or zoos, or anything with a lot of living things? But I expect forests are nice for you.”

You blinked at him, a little startled that he managed to correctly call all that. “Well, yeah. I live in a forest, actually.”

“Plants are much less demanding with their presence than people or animals. Most life witches find themselves as loners with very impressive gardens.” His ears twitched rapidly as he looked at you. “I expect you’ve actually been choking it back for most of your life. It’s probably a good thing you came in here when you did. Can’t hold all that magic back forever and when it does come out, it can get messy.” He wrinkled his nose. “But you’ll be all right! Promise. I can be a good mentor. I mean, technically I’m into spirit magic, but they’re close! You’ll be able to get something out of it!”

He moved so quickly between thoughts that he was really starting to lose you. “What are you talking about?”

He’d sprung out of his chair, but, hearing the worry in your tone, he swung back around to look at you. “I’m going to mentor you,” he said. “In magic, obviously.”

You stood up. “I don’t need a magic mentor. I’m okay. I’ve gone this long without one. I’ll be fine to keep going.” You scrambled back out of your chair and started to back toward the door.

“Wait!” Imp sprang forward and grabbed your sleeve. “You can’t leave! I mean, I understand if you maybe don’t want me, but you’re going to have to get someone. You’re a powerful witch, even if you don’t know it, and if you’re not doing any tricks, that magic doesn’t have an outlet. It can’t go on just building up forever. You don’t need to do magic, but you at least need to find a way to let it out sometimes or everything will get worse.”

Carefully, you extracted your arm from his grip. “What do you mean?”

Imp stood still, except for his tail, which whipped wildly. “Well, you already don’t like crowds, right? People? It’s the magic, you feel it coming off all the people and pressing on you. Right now it’s just uncomfortable, but eventually it’ll get to be too much and that extra jolt of magic will just-” He made a hand gesture that seemed to indicate something exploding. “And the magic will be uncontrolled, so no one will be able to predict what will happen.” His voice started to rise again and he lowered it with obvious effort. “It’s not safe, really.”

You grimaced and lowered your head. “You’re willing to teach me?” Imp nodded rapidly. “All right.”

“Great!” He gave a tiny, enthusiastic hop. “That’s good. Um.” He glanced around the shop, pointed ears flattening back. “Do you mind if we do it at your house? It might get to be a little much and I don’t want to destroy the shop.”

“Fine,” you said. It meant you at least wouldn’t have to go back through the town. You scrawled your address on the piece of paper he offered, along with your phone number, and handed it over.

“Great! I’ll gather the supplies and be over tomorrow.” He glanced around the shop. “I’ve never mentored anyone before! I mean, I know how. I do, I swear! Anyway, I’ll see you later. Head back home and get some rest. It’ll be a lot of work.”

Not terribly reassured by that, you left the shop and returned to your home. It was secluded in the woods, with no neighbors but the trees. Technically, you still had some freelance writing to do, but you spent most of the rest of the night straightening up. You hadn’t had guests in forever and your house wasn’t exactly in a state for entertaining.

You jerked awake the next morning to the sound of very enthusiastic knocking. Bleary, you staggered out of bed and headed over to the door.

It was Imp. He was clinging to a bag that was bulging with books and strange implements. He was bounding on his toes, looking irritatingly cheerful considering that the sun had only just risen.

“Hello! I thought we’d get started nice and early. Make the most of the day and all!” He trotted past you into the house and dumped the bag onto the table. “Okay! Ready to start?”

You looked down at the books that had fallen onto the table. Several of them were rather childish, with thick pages designed for young hands. There were also several instruments with gemstones attached. They looked a little like measuring tools, though you weren’t sure what they were intending to measure. Magic potential, maybe?

“Sorry about the books! Most people learn when they’re young, so…” He shrugged. “But I’ll teach you most of the stuff! The books are just for later reference.”

He settled into a chair, tail whipping eagerly behind him. “How are you feeling? Had breakfast?”

You fixed him with an irritated stare. “I just got up.”

He blinked at you for a moment, then seemed to realize exactly how ruffled you looked. “Oh! I’m sorry! I have to get up early to work at the shop and all that so I usually assume everyone’s an early riser too.” He shuffled in his pocket for a moment and pulled out a phone. “I’ll order us some breakfast. Anything you want? The café in town delivers! And they’re very nice!”

“They have French toast?” you asked. He nodded. “I’ll have that, then.”

Imp took a few minutes to put in your order and you excused yourself to shower and get dressed. When you returned to him, he had organized everything on the table and was peering in your cabinets.

“You don’t have a lot of food,” he said. “You should take better care of yourself! Do you just live off ramen?”

“A freelance writer doesn’t make a lot of money,” you said. “I have a garden I get vegetables from sometimes.”

“Well, that’s good,” Imp said. There was a knock at your front door and he sprang off. You followed him just in time to see him fling it open.

The delivery man was a cervitaur. He had a runner’s build and a his front hooves tapped constantly at the ground. The bag of food was slung over his back, like saddlebags. Imp greeted him like they were old friends and took the bag. “Never delivered here before,” the cervitaur said with a polite nod to you. “Had a good night, Imp?”

His meaning hit you a moment later and you felt yourself flushing. Imp just laughed. “We’re doing magic training! You might be delivering here more often if we keep the tutoring up.” The cervitaur nodded to you with a cheeky smile, then took off, vanishing within a few moments.

“Sorry! He’s a bit nosy. Always likes to get into other people’s business. Especially romantic. Ignore him.” Imp spread the food over the table and you ate. You had to admit, the food was really good.

“Let’s get on with the magic,” he said after you cleaned up. “For our first lesson, we should probably just focus on getting you used to feeling the magic.” He extended his hands out toward you, palms up. “Hold your hands out like this.”

You mimicked his position. He picked up one of the measuring tools and tapped it against your fingers. After a moment of analysis, he lowered it. “You’ve got a lot of powerful magic. And because it’s life magic, I can be your test subject!”

You frowned. “Is that a good idea? I could have hurt you last time.”

He waved his hand dismissively. “No, no, it’ll be fine. I promise! We’ll start slow. You can read my mind or something!”

“I can do that?” you said.

“Well, you can get a sense of what people are thinking, feel their life energy and all that. That’s why you don’t like crowds! It’s all the energy pushing in on you. It’s uncomfortable, I bet. But once we start doing these exercises, you’ll feel a lot better! Promise!”

He offered you a green stone, probably jade, set in an intricate web of golden wires. “Hold onto that. It’s a focus stone, it’ll help you feel the magic.”

You took it from him tentatively. Almost immediately, you could feel something. A buzz of energy around you that you often associated with being deep in a crowd ran through you. “You feel it now, don’t you?” Imp said. “Focus on it. There should be a feeling of energy. Try to gather it around you and use it.”

It was difficult to gather something as intangible as energy, but after a few moments of focus, you could feel the energy shifting. It gathered into a sort of clump in front of you, energy you could project however you wanted.

Focusing the energy seemed to have the same effect as swiping away a thick bank of fog. Without the smothering blanket in front of you, there were points of energy prodding into your mind, each one subtly unique. You could feel each individual plant outside, and little tiny specks of energy you thought, a little uncomfortably, might be bugs.

But the biggest source of energy was right in front of you. Imp glowed like a miniature sun, which felt fitting given his personality. Surprised by the brightness and warmth, you focused in on it.

Images and sounds flowed from him, like looking into a rolling, constant river. Thoughts twisted and branched off each other in a confusing tangle. You fumbled to catch a proper train of thought, until you noticed your face.

Hurriedly, you caught onto it. Imp was thinking about your face. Not just your face. He was thinking about you. And then his thoughts wandered, transitioning from just looking at your face to thinking about you smiling at him. Emotions swelled under the thoughts, a feeling of attraction. A feeling of attraction toward you.

Startled, your focus broke and you felt the magic slip away. Almost immediately, dizziness swarmed through you and you leaned over the table. Imp patted your shoulder and you made an attempt to hide in your arms. Reading someone’s thoughts while they were thinking about you was weird, weirder than you thought it would be. How were you supposed to focus when you knew your teacher thought you were pretty?

“You did good!” Imp praised. “Really good! Not everyone can access their magic like that on the first shot. And reading minds is good for your first go!”

Your head popped up and you stared at him. “You knew I was reading your mind?”

He laughed. “You’re not very subtle! But I don’t know what you were looking at. People’s minds are very complicated, we think about a lot of things at once. And I’ve been told my mind’s got more on it than most!”

You frowned at him, trying to figure out if he was only trying to spare the embarrassment, but he looked utterly guileless. “Uh. I didn’t catch much.”

“That’s okay! It was your first time! It’s pretty impressive that you managed to catch my mind at all.” He tapped his fingers energetically on the table. “How do you feel?”

“Tired.” You leaned back in your seat. “But better?” There had been a tightness inside you that you hadn’t even realized was there until it released.

“You look better! You were all kind of drawn in before.” He hunched over, holding his hands close to his chest. “Now you look relaxed. And your spirit’s all…” He made a wavy motion with his hands.

“My… spirit?”

Imp nodded. “I’m a spirit mage. It’s actually life mage adjacent, but like… more specific? I sense auras, basically! And I can sense spirits, so I’m sort of like a medium! You’re much more in tune with life energy, the magic that comes off of living things. You can draw energy, donate energy, heal small injuries, that sort of thing. I’m better at spiritual aspects, especially healing curses! I actually freelance as a cursebreaker.”

“A cursebreaker?” you repeated. “That sounds dangerous.”

“It’s not! Well, it is a little. But spirit mages are resistant to curses. And I see auras, remember? I usually have a little heads up if someone wants to hurt me.”

“What does my aura look like?” you asked, curiosity spurring you on before you could stop yourself.

Imp leaned over the table toward you. His eyes were dark and glimmering, like polished onyx. “The whole colored aura thing is bullshit. It’s more like… A halo? Like, light or waves around you. Yours is very bright, but very constricted. The light doesn’t travel very far and… auras have this kind of wave to them, and yours was very still before. It waves a little more now, but it’s still very constrained.” He grinned. “It’s very nice to look at. Like an ocean wave under moonlight.”

It was an oddly poetic description, not one you had been expecting from him. You felt your face warm, and you were grateful that Imp no longer seemed to be paying attention. “Now that you’ve actually accessed your magic, we can do some exercises to improve your skills with it. They’re pretty simple, all just breathing and flexing your magic muscles. They’re kind of like push ups!”

“I don’t like pushups,” you muttered. Imp burst into laughter.

“This is easier. Promise! What you want to do first is take a deep breath and close your eyes…”

The exercises took only about an hour, but you felt like you’d run a marathon by the time it was over. Your muscles felt trembly and weak. “You did really well,” Imp praised. “I’ll be back tomorrow. In the meantime, rest up. And read a few of the books! They’ll help. Even if they’re for kids.”

He left and you promptly collapsed into bed. As tired as you were, there was a lightness to you that hadn’t been there before. It was like you’d just had a really good massage.

You skimmed through a couple of the books he’d brought by later. They were childish, but they taught some simple magic techniques. You sat in the garden until late at night, practicing on your flowers over and over.

Imp came back to your house the next morning, and the next after that, and the next after that. He never seemed to lose his enthusiasm, even bright and early. It was nice to have another person over. You’d avoided people for so long, you’d almost forgotten what having company felt like.

Every night, after he’d left, you went out into your garden and practiced on your flower bushes. It was a simple practice, but you were hoping it was impressive. Maybe it would be.

About a week after you’d started practicing, Imp seemed satisfied. “I’ve given you as much of a crash course as I can. All that will prevent you from getting overwhelmed with magic and you have at least a few spells you can do.”

Your stomach tightened a little with disappointment. Despite the short time you’d known each other, you had gotten sort of attached to him. He was sweet and enthusiastic and you found yourself looking forward to his arrival every morning. “Thank you for all your help. I know it was probably a lot for you to do every day,” you said.

“Don’t even mention it!” Imp waved a hand nonchalantly at you. “Magic users have a responsibility to help each other out. And you really needed help.” He clapped a hand casually over yours. There was a slight tingle of magic and you had to carefully avoid peeking into his mind. He had a tendency to project and it was a little difficult to stop from hearing him. “If you ever need anything else, you know where I am.”

He trotted off and you returned to your garden. The flowers you’d been working on for the week were nearly complete. You prodded at the petals, infusing them with a little more energy. They perked up under your touch. It was a small gift, not one you felt truly exemplified the depths of your gratitude toward him, but it was something. Satisfied with it, you went back inside.

The next morning, you gathered up the flowers into a pot. It was much easier to do it with the life magic to guide your hands. You could tell exactly where the root networks were, and how the plant was responding to the touch. Carefully, you potted it and picked it up.

Going into town would have been a nightmare a week ago. It still wasn’t fun. As the amount of people started to increase, you could feel your shoulders tensing and your breaths coming in shorter. But the feeling of pressure around you was much less. You didn’t have the automatic urge to turn and run back home.

You opened the door to the shop and stepped inside. The bell at the door rang and Imp looked up, ears twitching. His face broke into a wide smile when he saw you standing there.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you again so soon! Everything okay? Did something happen?” He trotted across the shop toward you, and you shifted the plant behind your back.

“I wanted to thank you,” you said. “For all that you did for me. You didn’t have to.”

“I couldn’t leave you hanging,” he said cheerily. “What are you hiding behind your back?”

He tried to move to peer behind you, but you carefully sidestepped out of his way and backed up to the checkout counter. “It’s something I thought you would appreciate,” you said, setting it down while still blocking it with your body. “It’s something I tried to do with my magic. It worked better than I thought it would.”

“I did say you were strong,” Imp said, trying to peer over your shoulder. “Show me!”

You stepped aside, revealing the flowers. Manipulating colors was apparently a simple form of life magic, when done on plants, at least. Keeping something small was much more difficult than creating something large, but you’ were pretty happy with what you’d managed. The plant was a perfect miniature rose bush, with tiny roses blooming in the deep blue of Imp’s skin and hair.

His mouth popped open and he gave a squeal of delight. He sprang forward, examining it with a childlike glee. You couldn’t help a small laugh. “Oh, they’re beautiful! And you made these? Well, you helped them along, anyway. I love them! They’re so wonderful! It’s very skilled for your first project! Oh, imagine if you made more of them! Mini flowers! It would be soooo cute!” His tail waved with excitement. “Thank you!”

“I’m glad you like them.”

“I love them!” Imp’s smile faded a little. “Oh, but I’m not very good at caring for flowers. I don’t know much about them.” A worried look crossed his face. “What if I kill them?”

“If you’re going to help me with magic, then maybe I can help you with flowers,” you offered. “I’ll show you how to repot it and care for it and all that.”

“You can come over to my place this time!” Imp said, cheering up immediately. He scooped the flower pot up into a hug.

“I’d like to see your place,” you said. Imp skipped in place, grinning broadly.

“It’s a date!” he said, then he hesitated. He glanced at the roses and when he looked back at you, you could see and sense the hope and fear warring in him. “Is that all right?”

You gave a small smile. “Are you asking me on a date?”

Imp lifted his brows. “Are you saying yes?”

“Yes.”

Imp’s face broke into a relieved smile. “Then yes!”

You gave him a smile back. “I’m looking forward to it.” And through your magic, you could feel that he was looking forward to it too.

#exophilia #demon #demon boyfriend #demon lover #monster lover #monster boyfriend #male monster #OC

239 notes · View notes

baeklooming-day · 4 years ago

Text

Best Friends, Right? | Baekhyun

✿ Summary: You hate him so much that at some point you start to ask yourself if you love him.

→ Inspired by Best Friends, Right? by the dearest Amy Winehouse. I very recommend to listen to this beautiful song at least once. ♡

✿ Genre: 90s!AU, Best Friends!AU, Fluff??

✿ Word Count: 3.9k

✿ A/N: I feel like this story might present some behaviors which are not good or healthy, so this is a disclaimer. Remember that toxic relationships are very unhealthy and if you find yourself in one you need to bounce asap!!

„Best friends, right?”

You quietly said to yourself as you went through the garden to his door.

You planned on getting inside as soon as possible, given that you were being an obvious genius once again and of course, left your warm coat at home thinking that you won’t freeze. You were mad at yourself right in that moment, feeling the cold air twice as much, trying to prevent your body from shivering uncontrollably. You were wearing merely a white off-shoulder top, together with a matching white skirt and a pair of equally matching, white heels.

You rubbed your exposed arms a little, trying to produce some temporary warmth but failing at the mere attempt.

„Oh snap, snap, snap, SNAP-” You kept on muttering to yourself, as you tried to get through all the grass and a little sidewalk full with small pebbles, in one piece without tripping and accidentally breaking an arm or a leg. You simply wanted to finally arrive at the door, let the comforting warmth embrace you, and forget about everything that happened in between. But as you wobbled forward through the garden, you couldn’t help but pause for at least a brief minute and look around at all the flowers that bloomed earlier when spring was in the full bloom.

You honestly didn’t have a single clue how he always seemed to manage to maintain and generally care for this garden, knowing very damn well what kind of a person he was. To be completely honest, you were sometimes surprised even, that he hadn’t set it on fire yet with all that unnecessary smoking which he did.

You paused for a one more minute, admiring the brilliant flowers with big petals of a deep amaranth color.

You rubbed your arms once again, imagining that if you didn’t get into the warmth soon enough, your own cheeks would be colored in a very similar shade, worthy of all these flowers.

You didn’t actually even expect Baekhyun to be at home. Sure, the two of you settled down for that exact hour in the evening for you to drop by, but you could count the times where he was truly being reliable on your fingers of one hand. At some point, you simply stopped caring at all, also given that he gave you his spare keys, so you never had to worry about freezing on the front porch waiting for him to kindly arrive and let you in.

You took another step forward through the green lawn, and another little step, and another. By your fourth step you seemed to have had somehow measured the distance wrongly, maybe assuming that you could jump over the thousand small pebbles in your heels and be already at the door.

Well, you couldn’t have been more wrong.

As soon as your right feet landed on the ground, your heel seemed to have landed on a one single betraying pebble, which almost sent you flying backwards on the green lawn wet from dew, in your wholly white expensive outfit.

The awful thought of having to spend the night cleaning the green grass stains from your clothes briefly flashed through your head, just as you were preparing yourself for the fall which you obviously couldn’t stop anymore.

But instead of feeling the painful impact of the hard ground on your body, you felt a comfortable warmth, and a touch lingering around your waist.

„You really don’t own other shoes, do you?” You heard a velvet like voice next to your ear, speaking just an ounce above a gentle whisper.

„Baekhyun.” You said through your teeth, trying to gently shove his hands away which were now being placed on your sides.

You rolled your eyes as soon as you felt his arms slide firmly around your waist once again, his nose nuzzling into the crook of your exposed neck.

You hated it when he did that. You hated it so much, that you couldn’t even put it into words anymore. Your best friend, ever since you were in your teens, had become even more despicable than he already was, thinking he was allowed to cling onto you in questionable manners whenever he pleased.

But you were best friends, right?

„Baek, I would appreciate it very much if you screwed off and let us finally go inside.” You said.

You felt the hold loosening, soon his soft face appearing in your sight. „You’ve got the keys, you could go ahead.” He just shrugged.

„Um-” You started, but bit your tongue before you could let anything else slip. You took the keys out of your purse, not failing to notice the paper bag in Baekhyun’s hand. „What is it?” You asked.

„This?” He held up the said bag, taking a quite big yellow box out of it. „I went to get some new stuff.” He sent you a smug smile.

God, how you hated when he smiled like this.

„So this is the mission messed up lungs the continuation, yeah?” You asked rhetorically, crossing your arms on your chest. „Last time I checked, you had a whole box of Rizla at home. What a waste of money, you stupid.”

„I’ve already smoked everything.” He shrugged as if nothing happened, throwing the yellow box into the bag again and proceeding to the door to unlock it.

You followed closely behind him, letting a relieved smile fall onto your scarlet tinted lips as you felt the nice warmth embracing your body.

You took off your heels, briefly massaging your sore feet from running in them whole day. Your nose immediately scrunched, your pretty face showing an expression of disgust as soon as you heard the click of a lighter and smelled an unpleasant scent of a cigarette.

That boy, you were almost sure that he was smoking some other things too, but you could never bring yourself to properly ask him. Maybe because usually, as soon as you noticed something suspicious you decided to bounce out, letting him deal with whatever he decided to bring upon himself alone. Even if you asked him to talk to you, he usually didn’t want to tell you anything.

But you were best friends, right?

You put your white heels to stand ready by the door, who knew if you were about to storm off soon enough because of something that he said or did.

You followed then to the kitchen, where you found Baekhyun lighting up another smoke. You sent him a look full of disgust, to which he only replied with a cloud of smoke being blown in your direction, and a wide lazy grin on his face.

„What you are doing is super disgusting, Baek.” You said, nonetheless leaning on the marble kitchen counter next to him, bumping shoulders.

„Way less disgusting than some things I’ve seen when I was out.” He said.

„Out at night?”

„Yeah.”

A small frown fell on your scarlet lips. „What about tonight? It’s nearly night already.” You asked.

„I know. I’m staying in tonight.” He had already finished the second smoke, sometimes you were even a little amazed at how someone could smoke so quickly. „When do you plan to bounce?”

You sent him a look in disbelief. „Oh, so first you are calling me and practically begging to come as soon as possible and now you wanna have me out already?” You said it a little louder, tensing a little. „What, are you bringing in some random girl for one night?” You asked, feeling the urge to simply knock those stupid smokes out of his hands and storm off on the spot.

Baekhyun didn’t seem to be very concerned about your rapid change of behavior, instead of giving you any answer right away, he put both of his hands on the kitchen counter by your sides, in result trapping you between his arms once again. „I would have to be super desperate to do that, don’t you think?” He asked in a lazy tone.

„And you aren’t?” You widened your eyes.

He raised his pointing finger, staring you in your eyes before responding. „No, but I will be eventually, if you stay longer at night.”

What was all of that supposed to even mean?

„Baek, tell me, what other things did you smoke today? Because you aren’t making any sense.” You said, scanning his face.

Now it was Baekhyun to roll his brown eyes at you. „I just don’t want you in the flat when I’m home at night.”

„Oh, and why’s that?”

„Telling you is pointless.” He said. „I can’t win, so I don’t wanna tell you anything.”

You just couldn’t believe him anymore. „This is the thing, Baekhyun.” You spat in an unpleasant tone. „I can’t even think about how you feel inside because you don’t wanna tell me anything. You never tell me anything.” As you finished your sentence, you felt that you wanted to just go, go and not see or talk to him anymore today.

You stepped away, walking quickly to the kitchen door ready to take your shoes and get out.

„Y/N.” You were stopped by Baekhyun’s velvet like voice, the way he used to pronounce your name in that manner where he unnecessarily prolonged every syllable really made you more mad than it should have.

You hated it, you hated everything what he said or did.

But you were best friends, right?

„I don’t like the way you say my name.” You said firmly.

„I always say your name like this, take a chill pill.”

„And it always hella annoys me, so much that I’m about to open up a can on you every freaking time.” You fired.

Baekhyun crossed his arms on his chest, letting out a deep sigh. „You’re so over sensitive about literally everything, you know?”

„And YOU, you’re always looking for someone to blame whilst you’re the one who’s entirely wrong under every freaking aspect of life, Byun Baekhyun.” You mirrored his gesture. „I can’t wait to get away from you.”

„Nothing’s stopping you.” He said in a tone full of audible venom.

„Unsurprisingly, you hate me too, huh?”

He didn’t need to repeat himself, you stormed off quicker than you arrived, making sure to slam the wooden door shut as loud as you could.

You were angrily stomping through the garden once again, thinking about how much you hated him as you let out a sudden scream when something landed on your head.

His beloved dark red warm jacket.

You turned around and looked up at the window above you. In the open window there was Baekhyun, with a new smoke between his soft lips as he shouted something to you.

„Wear the damned jacket before you catch a cold, you stupid idiot!” He yelled before slamming the window shut and disappearing from your view.

„SCREW YOU, BAEKHYUN!” You yelled back, whilst you aggressively slid your shivering exposed arms into the sleeves, zipping it all up.

You hated everything about him.

But you were best friends, right?

By the time you arrived at your apartment, the night fell completely on the whole city, the mere source of light being the few lanterns on the street and twinkling stars above.

And moonlight.

You looked up at the pale countenance of full moon, wrapping Baekhyun’s jacket tighter around yourself.

Surprisingly, it didn’t smell like smoke what you could have expected. It smelled just like... him. Just him. And you absolutely hated to admit it to yourself that you found comfort in the sweet and familiar scent.

You wondered if he told you the truth and was really going to stay indoors tonight, recalling the times where he occasionally lied to you, only for you to receive a sudden late call from one of his friends asking you to come and collect him because he was so spaced out half laying on the table.

You always made sure to let him know properly about what absolute mess of a person he was being, but first in the morning the next day. You didn’t know how and why you managed to put up with his antics for the longest time. But always during times like this, when he slid his arms around your waist half asleep on his or your couch, letting his head fall to rest on your chest and slowly drifting away into dreamland, you found yourself gently caressing his soft hair.

It was easy to smoke it up, forget everything that happened in between, but unlikely other people he always somehow remembered what he did and said.

He always remembered, but he never took any blame for it.

You unlocked the door to your apartment, throwing your white heels into the corner and taking off Baekhyun’s jacket.

As you passed by the mirror, you paused, looking at your reflection and brushing off your hair from your exposed shoulder. You took a step closer to the mirror, collecting all your hair as if to make a ponytail, to inspect the purple marks located a little further on your neck.

You were lucky that your hair covered them all when down, if they were any more bit on the side and front of your neck, you would have to play with foundation again to mask them.

You absolutely hated it when he did that during his frequent episodes. You hated it so much.

You gently traced the marks with your fingers, recalling the events of last weekend when everything seemed to be okay with the two of you hanging out at your apartment, until he pulled out another smoke from his jacket in your living room.

You hated it more than anything when he smoked indoors, particularly when it was YOUR indoors. You immediately snatched it away from his hand without any warning, in result landing flat on his lap when he pulled you back.

Sometimes you asked yourself what was the real reason behind your usual fashion sense, because knowing that you were just wearing another one of your deep cut elegant tops and a skirt, something might have had appeared in your best friend’s mind as his hand found itself on your exposed leg and his soft lips on your neck.

You hated it, you hated it so much that you didn’t tell him to stop.

But it wasn’t that much of a big deal. Or at least you tried not to think about it as of a big deal.

After all you were best friends, right?

Nothing more happened between the two of you on that evening, besides the colored marks on your neck and his hands on your body in a manner in which best friends limit would be long overstepped.

Your school friend used to always tell you that this relationship was unhealthy, and that you were just fooling yourself the longer you stayed by his side.

There were so many decent boys around, the ones who didn’t smoke, didn’t lie, and didn’t kiss you just to smoke it up again and forget about everything that happened in between the next morning.

In the past, you would simply refuse to acknowledge this, telling friends that it wasn’t like that. But then, they would tell you that this relationship was addictive.

You couldn’t tell what you really thought about it anymore, but you knew that even if you and Baekhyun were usually communicating when you needed to fight, you would prefer to fight with him for the rest of your life rather than have a calm time with someone who wasn’t him.

Your mixed thoughts were interrupted when you took your phone and dialed the number to your mom.

You felt the need to talk, and you knew that she would always listen.

„Hello?” You heard your mom’s soft voice on the other line.

„Hi, mom.” You said. „Do you have a minute?”

„Of course, sweetie. What’s new?”

You hesitated for a moment, but decided to just be clear. „Mom, did you know that you loved dad right away?” You asked.

A small pause. „Well, if you want me to be honest, actually...” She paused again, and you just knew that she was smiling. „Actually I used to hate his guts when we were young. He was annoying me with even the smallest things he said or did. But...”

„But?”

„But one day I stopped and looked at him, at all those things that made me mad, and I realized that there must be something much more to my „hate”.”

„And then?” You asked, impatiently.

„And then... And then we decide to figure it out together, and that led to you being here. But why are you asking?”

„Baekhyun.”

„What is it with Baekhyun? Did you fight?” She asked, a little concerned.

„Mom, we fight every time we talk.” You answered. „Do you think we have an unhealthy relationship? A toxic relationship?” You added after a while. You thought of mentioning the best friends boundaries being long overstepped on various occasions, but you held yourself back. Not because you thought it would disappoint your mom, but because you could tell that she knew.

„You and Baekhyun have been practically inseparable since you were four, and I don’t think that you are in an unhealthy relationship, but in a young and very careless one.” She said. „You hurt him, and he hurt you, because neither of you knows how to love.” She paused, this time you could swear you could HEAR the smile in her gentle voice. „But you love each other like crazy, am I right Y/N?”

„No duh, mom.” You tried to ignore the instant nervousness flowing all over you. „I mean, we’re best friends, right? Just best friends.”

„And Baekhyunnie thinks so too?”

„Mom!”

„Okay, okay.” She laughed. „I’m sure you two can figure it out, but in order to do that you need to communicate. Not fight, alright?”

„Yes, we will try. Thank you for listening, mom. Have a good night.”

„You too, darling. Remember that I’m always here if you need me. Good night.”

You stood there immobile with your phone for a moment, just staring at the wall.

You would probably continue to just stand there in your spot, if not the sudden sound on your window which interrupted your thoughts.

It sounded as if a small pebble was thrown against the glass, and another, and another.

You were feeling a little flabbergasted, dazed and confused by your own galloping thoughts and the sound, still staying in your spot with your phone in one hand.

Your attention was brought to the phone, as it lit up showing a new text message.

Baekhyun.

»Will you open the godforsaken window.«

What?

As if some invisible switch had been flipped, you immediately dashed to your window which was making weird sounds just a moment ago. You opened it in one swing, looking down and seeing Baekhyun standing outside in the chilly air, with just a white t-shirt on.

So much about yelling at you for being stupid for forgetting jackets, when he was the one freezing outside right now.

„What are you doing here?” You shouted to him through the window.

„I tried to call you zillion times but you never picked up!” He shouted back, holding up his phone.

Right, that must have been whilst you were talking to your mom.

„I was talking to my mom!”

„Well, are you done now?” He shouted, as proceeded to go to the entrance of the building. „I’m coming in!”

„Jeez, fine!” You answered, closing the window and shuffling to your door to unlock it for him.

As soon as you opened the door to your apartment, you heard the sound of the glass door downstairs being pushed open, followed by quick steps leading upstairs.

You stood by the doorframe, waiting, finally Baekhyun reaching the last scale and letting out the air in deep huffs. He must have been running like a madman all the way up here.

„So, what’s the emergency that you just-” You couldn’t even finish your sentence as he slid his arm around your waist - a gesture way too familiar by now - and pulled you back inside, closing the door behind him. You didn’t even know when he swung his other arm around you, leaning his back on the closed door and firmly locking you in his embrace. You were pressed to him so closely, that you could feel his racing heartbeat.

„We need to talk.” Was the only thing he announced after calming down slightly.

You tried to ignore your own heart starting to go insane, instead giving him a look full of disapproval. „Oh, so first you make a total clown out of me, call me to come, then tell me to go, and now you are barging in and demand we talk, yeah, what a wonderful best friend that you are-” You were blurting out, at the same time angry and happy to see him.

„You’re too good at pretending you don’t care, have I ever told you that?” He asked, his voice coming back to sounding like smooth velvet.

„You came to fight?” You asked. „We already did today. There’s enough resentment in the air.”

For a brief moment you were just looking at each other, as if trying to read the other one’s thoughts. You realized the position you found yourself in with him, and even knowing that the two of you had already been closer than that, this time it felt almost intimate, different.

Baekhyun was still leaning on the door with you in his arms, his eyes somehow unreadable, looking into yours.

You didn’t have a single clue about what might have been going on in his mind, but you certainly wouldn’t expect to hear the next question which left his lips.

„Do you love me?”

You were frozen, your eyes locked on his brown ones, not knowing what to say but knowing the answer.

You were clenching the material of his white t-shirt in your small fists, when you felt the hold around your waist loosening, instead his soft hands coming up to gently cup your cheeks. „What’s with that surprised face?” He asked.

„You know what all my faces mean. Why asking?” You muttered, looking away.

„You didn’t answer my previous question.” Baekhyun gently turned your head to look at him again. „Do you love me?”

You found it funny, how one simple sentence couldn’t seem to be able to leave your mouth. „I lov-” You paused, instantly feeling your cheeks heating up as you the sparkle in his eye. „I-”

„Okay.” He said. „If you don’t want to answer me with words, you can answer me in another way.” He added, making you let out a squeak with the next thing he did.

The moment he finished the sentence, his warm lips locked with yours, making you freeze at the contact but relax and give in as soon as you felt his hands caressing your hair and the nape of your neck, so gently just as if you were made of glass and he was afraid of accidentally damaging you.

You didn’t even think when you kissed him back, feeling your heart running a marathon when you felt him smiling before he closed the distance once again.

You couldn’t tell how long you had been standing there in your corridor, leaning on the door in each other’s warm embraces, but when you finally looked at Baekhyun with those sparkles in his brown eyes and your smudged scarlet lipstick on his lips, you knew that this time something clicked.

You hated it. You hated it so much that you loved him too dearly to ever leave him, no matter what happened.

Because you were best friends, right?

A/N: remember to reblog if you enjoyed! thank you for reading!!

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liusaidh-writing · 4 years ago

Text

Call it True - Chapter 3

[Prefer AO3?]

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2]

Here is Chapter 3! I am sorry it’s so late. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy. Chapter Four is on its way soon, too!

*****************************

Claire and Jamie exchanged texts and phone calls in the following days and nights. Unable to connect in person, they did what they could to remain close. Claire's night shifts ended after a week, and she was relieved to be back in the world of daylight once again. She also hoped this meant she and Jamie could get together again. And soon.

I'm free! Well, until my time rolls around again, anyway. Next two days off, and not a single thing planned!

She hit send with a grin and imagined what she and Jamie might do on her time off. Go to dinner? Watch a movie, preferably curled up on a couch. What movies did he like? She started compiling a list of possible options while she rode along in Lesley's car after her final night shift had ended in the early morning hours. They’d picked up a grumbly Harry at the sitters before heading to Claire’s flat.

Lesley, in the driver's seat, reached back to grab Harry's snack cup before it was flung to the floor by a frustrated toddler. The car swerved slightly as she turned back in her seat, causing Claire to gasp before Lesley set it right again.

Lesley thrust the snack cup at Claire, snapping, "Did you not hear me? I was asking you to grab it from him! Where's your mind been these last few days, anyway?"

Claire grasped the cup in her hands, dropping the phone in her lap. "Sorry! I just...didn't hear you! I’d rather the snack cup take the hit next time instead of us!"

"You're sitting right next to me, and unless you've gone deaf in the last ten minutes, you're just not paying attention," Lesley said in a sing-songy voice, ignoring Claire’s comment regarding her driving, but making an obvious effort to keep her tone light. She sighed, flipping the wipers on to clear the windshield of mist. It was annoyingly rainy, only a mere drizzle, but oddly cold for a spring morning. "Feels like winter outside, does it not," she remarked, attempting to change the subject.

"Yep...pretty cold."

Claire's mind wandered back to Jamie in the sweater he'd worn on their date. It had looked so cozy, and Claire wondered how it would feel on her. She blinked rapidly, forcing herself back to the present.

"So, you had been telling me earlier about...custody?"

Lesley sighed, grudgingly answering Claire's question.

"Yes...I told you everything, but you were off in lala land half the time. Not surprised you don't remember. If you're here with me now, I'll tell you again."

"Yes, please, I'm really listening." Claire shoved her phone between her leg and the seat, hoping that having it out of sight would help her stay focused on what her friend was saying.

"Well, Frank has decided he wants full custody of Harry. Make me some kind of weekend Mum." Lesley gritted her teeth thinking about the very idea of it. "Like he's capable of taking him on full time," she said, gesturing at Harry in the back, who'd fallen asleep. “He wouldn’t last an hour before he was calling me, begging for help.”

"He doesn't have grounds, surely! He can't just...make stuff up!" Claire was indignant, knowing how great of a mother Lesley was, and how perfectly lousy Frank was at everything from keeping Harry fed when he had him to keeping promises to Lesley about drop off times.

Lesley shook her head and rested her left elbow on the car door as they sat at a stoplight. "It's absolutely insane. He thinks because he makes more money that he should have Harry. That my schedule at the hospital isn't 'suitable for a toddler.’ He's just making sure I waste my money on legal fees fighting him instead of spending it on taking care of Harry so I'll look bad," she finished, glancing at Claire with an incredulous expression.

"Well, you know I'll do anything to help, Lesley!"

They had reached Claire's building, and as Claire got out she reached back and lightly ruffled Harry's hair, giving Lesley a smile and thanked her for the ride. She grabbed her things and headed to her door, feeling her phone signal that she had a text message as she walked. She quickly unlocked her door, slung them to the floor and hungrily unlocked her phone to see a message from Jamie waiting to be read.

Good to hear, Sassenach. I suppose you’ll need to go home and sleep. How about I come by later this evening?

Claire quickly sent a reply and beamed at...well, no-one. She locked her door and dreamily waltzed to the shower, eager to strip off her scrubs and wash the night away.

“Jamie and I are hanging out tonight!” she squealed, raising her arms in victory over her head. She gave a little twirl as she moved past her bedroom. Taking off her top, she flung it on her bed. Claire felt like a teenager - she was sure her cheeks were pink and her mind raced with all the possibilities of the evening. She nearly replied to Jamie that she didn’t need to sleep, but...that wasn’t true. She was dead on her feet and her shift last night had been especially brutal with several stressful patients. She sighed, realizing she deeply regretted not having made the effort to really meet Jamie earlier. Why had she wasted so much time? Now that they were friendly, she couldn’t seem to get him out of her mind. Lesley hadn’t been wrong when she’d said Claire had been in la-la land. She reminded herself to thank Lesley for saving her ass more than once at work in the past week. If it wasn’t Jamie’s calls or texts, it was her own imagination getting her in trouble. Over the phone, Jamie had told her all about his family, his nieces and nephews and sister. He had a best friend named Ian, who happened to be his brother-in-law. And a father he clearly cared a lot about. Claire had never known that sort of reality, growing up as she had. She revelled in Jamie’s stories of his boyhood, clinging to bits of him that he unknowingly exposed.

For instance, Claire was sure that Jamie was secretly in love with his father’s farm, though he had claimed he didn’t care to run things when the time came, that he’d gotten his flat in the city to escape that reality. He talked of it with such pride, and Claire wondered why he didn’t live there full time, as much as he was there. It held fond memories of his mother, and it was his connection to his extended family, and she knew family meant a lot to him.

She couldn’t exactly relate - though she had loved her uncle a great deal - but it was almost surreal hearing about hectic holidays or birthday celebrations Jamie got to experience growing up. Claire was rather envious at times. Her holidays usually involved Uncle Lamb flat-out forgetting them, and though he always remembered her birthday, he wasn’t the greatest at remembering to mark the date in any meaningful way other than a sweet ‘Happy Birthday, darling,’ and a pat on the cheek. She quickly made a mental note to ask Jamie about his birthday sometime.

Pulling back the shower curtain, she sighed as the steamy hot water washed away the night at the hospital; it succeeded in making her drowsy enough to fall quickly asleep.

---

Claire woke to a rather loud knock at her door. She rolled out of bed, hair all akimbo, eyes squinting as she opened her room darkening curtains. Padding towards the door, she quickly wrapped herself in the throw from the couch before turning the knob. There stood Jamie, a slight smile on his face that immediately fell when he caught sight of her.

"Oh God--"

"I'm sorry--"

They both spoke at the same time, Claire wrapping the blanket more securely around her shoulders. She had shorts and a small tee-shirt on, but no bra. She began to speak again, wondering if she looked as horrible as she feared. Jamie grimaced and took a breath.

"I am so sorry, I didn't wake you did I?"

"Oh, no. It's fine, really! I must look frightening..." Claire carefully took one arm out of her wrap and tried to smooth her hair in an attempt to calm her curls.

"NO! You look...stunning!" His eyes were wide, as though he’d seen a ghost.

"Oh, God no. Would you like to...?"

She gestured him inside, and quickly caught that he was holding a few things in his hands. A wad of blankets and a small thermal lunch bag were clutched in his arms as he shuffled inside.

"Let me just...go change. Have a seat, will you?" She moved towards her bedroom as she watched Jamie sit on her sofa, placing his things on the cushion beside him.

She closed her bedroom door, tossed the throw on her bed and leaned heavily against the door, her head making a distinct thumping sound as it hit. "Ow..." she muttered. "Hope he didn't hear that..."

She was jittery and her mouth was dry. He had that effect on her - one she couldn't put into words. Her stomach was consumed by a swarm of butterflies as she got dressed, brushing her teeth and washing her face. She raised her arms over her head checking her armpits for odor, and swiped on some deodorant, finishing with a quick spray of her favorite perfume with a flourish. She didn’t dare go back out there smelling like a hospital. She wasn’t entirely trusting of the shower she’d taken.

Taking a few deep, but not-so-calming breaths, she went back out to her living room, where Jamie waited patiently, thumbing through a magazine on her coffee table.

“I’m all for color in a room, but this shade of green makes me think of vomit.” Jamie was pointing at a photo of a painted room in some home decor article, curling his lip up in disgust at said shade of green.

He smiled at Claire, dropping the magazine and taking her in slowly, his eyes large and bright.

Claire looked down at her outfit - Jeans and a warm, deep red top. She’d been told it ‘brought out her eyes’, whatever the hell that meant, so she figured it was a good choice. She smoothed her shirt down and gestured at the magazine.

“Well, we don’t have to worry about that - I asked if I could paint when I moved in and was told no. Can’t wait to be able to live somewhere without blank white walls.” She waved haphazardly around the room, devoid of artwork, save for several of her own photos from various trips, and a few of Uncle Lamb, of course.

“It’s good to see you again, Claire.” Jamie stood up, moving towards her with his hand out. She wasn’t sure what he was going for, so she moved with him, meeting him in the middle. He clasped her hand in his, and they both paused for a moment, Claire watching his eyes dance as he gazed at her. He gave a small smile with one corner of his mouth, and quickly kissed her cheek.

“It’s good to see you again, too,” Claire sighed, her breath coming out in spurts. She felt him relinquish her hand, and she glanced at it, half expecting it to be bright red the way it radiated his lingering warmth. He stepped back just a bit, and gestured to the items he’d brought with him.

“It’s a little wet outside, but there’s a free concert at the park. Would you like to come? If you don’t want to sit on the ground, I have chairs.” He raked a hand through his hair and tapped the fingers of his right hand against his thigh. He hadn’t taken his eyes off her.

Jamie’s voice was shaky with nerves, and Claire quickly tried to put him at ease.

“I don’t mind the ground!” She figured Jamie could offer her spikes to sit on and she’d accept them if that meant he’d be there, too. “Let’s go, it’ll be fun!”

Jamie nodded, picking up the blanket and lunch bag. “Brought some goodies for us to snack on, too.”

“Oh, good. I’m starving! Haven’t eaten all day!”

Claire grabbed her purse as they walked to the door together, slinging it over her shoulder and grabbing her keys from the counter. She didn’t know what kind of music would be playing at this concert, but she didn’t care in the slightest. She was also rather eager to find out what was in that lunch bag. Her stomach gurgled, and she made a face as Jamie hid a smile.

He took her hand again, pulling her toward the door and out into the damp night. It was about 7 in the evening, and though the days were getting longer, the rain clouds obscured any remaining sunlight.

-----

Having picked the driest bit of ground he could, Jamie spread out one warm wool blanket, gesturing for Claire to take a seat while he unfolded the other one. It was as large as the one they sat on, and doubly thick. Claire shivered slightly as she watched him swirl the blanket around her shoulders. He sat down next to her - quite closely, so she could feel the heat coming off him, and he wrapped the other half of the blanket around his own shoulders, meeting the two ends in the middle between them. It was cozy, and the band had just started. She looked around, wishing they weren’t surrounded by other people at the moment. Claire looked at Jamie - who had been casually checking out the band. He glanced at her, then reached for the lunch bag.

“What do you have for us?” Claire’s stomach growled again, and Jamie chuckled as he unzipped the bag while Claire held the blanket in place.

“Erm...not much. Some crackers, cheese, grapes. A small bag of chips, if you’re in the mood for junk food?” He held the chips out to her and she hungrily ripped it open, popping one in her mouth with a satisfied grin.

“Mmmm...so good. I’ve not had anything to eat since about 6 this morning. I forgot to eat when I got home from work.” Because you texted me, she added in her head, and I wanted nothing more than to go to sleep quickly so I could see you.

Jamie went for a few grapes, munching them as he watched her devour the chips. She offered him one, holding it up to his mouth.

“Have one!” she exclaimed, wiggling it in front of him.

He went for it, and she quickly pulled it away. She laughed as he pursed his lips in mock irritation. “Give me that,” he said, pulling her hand towards his mouth again, taking the chip between his teeth. His lips slightly brushed Claire’s finger tips, and a shiver traveled through her body as they laughed together.

Their bodies were touching entirely now, from shoulder to toes, and Claire didn’t want to be anywhere else. She leaned against him, and he let her put her weight against his chest as he held the blanket with his left hand. His right arm wrapped around her waist. Claire felt flush, slightly feverish, silently basking in his glow. The rain was cold, the ground was colder, but she wouldn’t have known it with Jamie securely keeping them both comfortably warm.

The band played on, the bass pulsing through her. She didn’t know the songs, but nodded her head with the beat periodically. For all the sound, though, her mind was somewhere else entirely. She wanted nothing more than to turn around, place her lips on his, and fall into him. She glanced at the people around her again, most of them chit-chatting, drinking, or eating. She felt him squirm slightly, and glanced back at him as best she could in her position. She felt his arm leave her side, make its way up her arm to her shoulder, and then into her hair. He played with her curls as he stretched one long leg out in front of them, where his boot got wet with rain. Claire’s hands were in her lap - she was entirely unsure what she should do with them, so she clutched her middle as the swarm of butterflies (more like angry hornets, if she was honest with herself) engulfed her middle. Her eyes fluttered closed as Jamie continued twirling her curls around his finger.

“Hey, Sassenach, are you thirsty? I could go get us some drinks at the food cart?” Jamie gestured with his head, back behind them where beer and soda was sold at an exorbitant price.

Claire turned slightly and looked at him, his brows raised in question.

She took a breath, swallowing all her fear and uncertainty. The hornets in her stomach faded to a dull ache as she turned some more, raising her hands to his face. She’d caught him off guard, and as her lips enveloped his own, he was still for a split second before deepening the kiss with his hand still in her hair, clutching her curls now, tugging slightly. Claire breathed in deeply, the noises of the band and people around them fading into oblivion, a fuzzy mirage at the corner of her vision as she closed her eyes, unwilling to break their connection. His tongue danced with hers briefly before he pulled away. Claire, with her eyes still closed, felt him rubbing her cheek with his thumb.

“Oi, if we wanted to see that, we’d have gone to see a movie!”

Claire’s eyes snapped open, her head whirling around to her right searching for the person that matched the voice. A young teenage boy smirked in their direction, sniggering a bit as she eyed him. He held a full pint of beer in one hand, and cocked his head, daring her to say something in return.

“He’ll break up with ya tomorrow,” the boy said, laughing with his mates, one of them slapping him on the shoulder in congratulations for his stupendous observation. Claire’s brow knit in confusion.

“Why don’t you-” she was cut off by Jamie, who stood up quickly, pulling the blanket that was around them up into a ball. He put it down, and stretched his arms over his head, making himself appear even larger. The kid with the beer blanched, spilling a bit in his lap as he involuntarily jerked away at Jamie’s stone cold glare.

“Come on, Sassenach. Let’s go…” He gathered up the lunch bag, and offered her his hand. She took it, letting him pull her up. She was shivering now, his warmth having left her. She moved so he could pick up the other blanket, and they slowly picked their way through the crowd.

Claire was surprised to feel her chin trembling a bit. Was she going to...cry? God, not now, she thought. How silly. It had just been a kid trying to stir up trouble for a laugh. It wasn’t funny, though, Claire thought angrily. It made her feel ashamed, but for what? She’d simply kissed Jamie. She held her breath for a moment, as she wondered if Jamie had minded that she’d done that - in the middle of the park, surrounded by people. She let her breath out again as she felt him grab her elbow and tug her closer. Perhaps he hadn’t minded afterall. He wasn’t making excuses to leave, anyway, she thought with some relief.

She felt Jamie put her hand through the crook of his elbow as he guided her back towards their building. She still shivered, and Jamie pulled her in, their shoes meeting the pavement in unison.

“Don’t worry about him, Sassenach.”

Claire looked up when he spoke, gave a small smile, and leaned her head against his shoulder.

“It’s ok…” she mumbled, wondering what the rest of the night would hold. She’d be up all night now, and didn’t particularly want her time with Jamie to come to an end.

“How about we get that full meal in you? You must still be hungry,” Jamie offered. “Let me drop these things by my flat and we’ll go, yeah?”

Claire nodded. “Sounds good, Jamie.”

#Outlander #Outlander Fanfic #Fanfiction #Call it True #i have come to realize that this is horrible #and i am sorry #but i will keep trying #i am so rusty at this writing thing...#please forgive me #i'm not as good as most of you #but i try...#ugh

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darks-ink · 4 years ago

Text

Pulse - Ectoberweek 2020

Another day, another AU from my ideas file. Warning for general Accident-related spookiness. Also look it’s the fic where I let my followers decide if I was gonna write Tucker POV or Sam POV.

Rating: Gen Warnings: - Genre: Friendship Words: 2,395 Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Ghosts

[AO3] [FFN]

---

“So,” Tucker said, before falling silent. Hoped to prompt one of the others into speaking up instead.

“So,” Danny echoed. “What happened?”

“Why are you asking us?” Tucker flailed upright so he could look at Danny. “You’re the one who went into the Portal!”

“Well, yeah, but—” He gestured vaguely. “You two are acting weird. What happened after the Portal turned on?”

“What, you don’t remember?” Sam leaned forward, frowning at Danny.

Danny scoffed. “Obviously not.”

How could he not remember? That he’d come out of the Portal looking like he’d died, like the perfect image of a ghost? “Dude, you’re joking, right? How could you not have noticed?”

“Noticed what? Come on, just tell me!”

“He really doesn’t remember.” Sam reached over to tug on Tucker’s leg. “Tuck, what if it’s like a possession thing?”

“It’s not a possession thing,” Tucker dismissed immediately. “What kinda possession would change the host into a ghost as well. It’s just…” He trailed off.

Danny made a face. “I don’t think I like where this is heading. What do you guys mean, a possession thing? What happened, seriously?”

Honestly, Tucker didn’t think he could explain. And based on the look Sam was throwing him, neither could she. Still, he cleared his throat and tried. “Well, it was just… weird, y’know? When you came out of the Portal. You weren’t really yourself.”

“Your colors were all weird,” Sam continued at Danny’s quirked eyebrow. “Your suit had gone black with white gloves, your hair was crazy pale, and your eyes had gone green. And,” she flapped her hand, “there was also the fact that you glowed.”

“I… glowed?” Danny repeated, slowly and questioningly. “What, like a ghost?”

“Exactly like a ghost,” Tucker confirmed, crossing his arms and staring at Danny. He looked just like he always did. Warm and fleshy and not at all like what they’d seen just before. “And the way you were looking at us, you’d think that you didn’t recognize us. Either of us.”

“Weird.” Danny frowned, one hand closing around the wrist of the other. Almost like a nervous gesture, except one that Danny had never shown before. “I don’t… remember any of that. But clearly it went away. Right?”

“Yeah, no, exactly.” Tucker nodded quickly, uncrossing his arms so he could mimic an explosion. “There was a flash of light and then suddenly, there you were again. Back to normal.”

Danny hummed. “I… think I remember the flash of light? Maybe. But I thought it was the after-effects of the Portal.”

“Who knows, maybe it was.” Tucker shrugged, mentally crossing his fingers and hoping to god it was. “A one-off caused by the ectoplasmic exposure, or whatever.”

“We’ll need to keep an eye on it anyway,” Sam pointed out, shifting her eyes from Tucker back to Danny. “It might not happen again, but we don’t know what that was, let alone what kind of effects it might’ve had.”

“Right.” Danny nodded, once, strongly. “You two are here for the rest of the weekend anyway. We’ll see after that.”

---

The rest of the day passed by normally, and briefly, Tucker entertained the hope that it really had been a one-off. But during the night he woke to a bright flash of light, and lo and behold, there was the ghostly version of Danny again.

“Man, really,” he grumbled, rubbing the heel of his hand over his eyes to try and get the grit out. “You’re bright as hell, dude, couldn’t you have done this during the day?”

Danny’s glow brightened in response, his vivid green eyes narrowing in a frown. “I’m sorry?”

“Sure don’t sound very sorry.” And he didn’t. Mostly, he just sounded very confused. “Go wake up Sam, will you? If I’m suffering we all are.”

A slow, almost deliberate blink was his response, before Danny turned away to look at Sam. He shifted closer, his gaze wandering back to Tucker. Then, still watching Tucker, Danny stretched out his leg and kicked Sam in the shoulder.

Sam grunted, hand swatting at Danny’s leg. “I will kill you.”

“Um,” Danny said, pulling his leg back towards himself. And then continued pulling himself away from Sam, actually lifting off of his bed entirely, until he floated a foot or so above it.

“If you fall I’m not gonna catch you, dude,” Tucker told him, even though he probably would try to catch him, if Danny had gone high enough that he might hurt himself. Still, he didn’t need to know that. “Do you even know what you’re doing?”

“Yeah?” Danny turned to frown at him again. “Yeah, definitely.” He sounded plenty convinced, too.

Didn’t sound nearly as confident when Sam grabbed his arm suddenly, lunging up from the floor where she had been lying. Danny yelped, tugging himself free with a bout of something which Tucker was sure was ghostly intangibility.

“Alright, that’s cheating,” Sam claimed, opening her hand, still holding it out in Danny’s direction. “Give me your hand.”

“Why?” he asked her, slowly moving the hand back in her direction, eyes narrowed. They glowed brightly in the dark of the room. “What’re you gonna do?”

She snatched his hand up, fingers burrowing past the hem of his white glove. “Checking something.”

Oh. She was… oh.

“No pulse,” she reported, before moving her fingers to tug on the edge of Danny’s glove. “And this seems to be part of his body.”

“Well,” Tucker said, before pausing to swallow past the block in his throat. “I guess his pulse will come back when he goes back to normal? He seems pretty ghostly right now.”

Sam hummed, pinching the sleeve of Danny’s jumpsuit, ignoring the look Danny was throwing her way. “The clothes is a ghost thing too, I think. The Fentons always claimed that their shapes were simple and only had one layer, or something like that.”

“Right, yeah, I remember that.” Maybe they should’ve looked into the whole ghost thing a little more. Danny was looking very much like a ghost right now, and Tucker kinda wished he knew more.

Like if his friend was gonna be okay.

“I don’t understand what’s happening,” Danny said, flat and a little hopelessly. He jangled the arm Sam was holding, but didn’t seem very intent on throwing her off.

“Welcome to the club,” she said with a snort, pinching him again. “You don’t feel this?”

“No?” Danny frowned at her, utter confusion clear on his face. “Am I supposed to?”

“Something here seems weird,” Tucker commented. He paused. “Weirder than it already was. Danny, man, what is up with you?”

“Who, me?” Danny asked, twisting around to look at Tucker again. “I really don’t know what’s happening.”

Sam paused, releasing her pinching grip but still holding on to Danny’s arm. “Danny, what are you saying?”

“Danny?” he repeated, tone questioning. “Why are you calling me that?”

Tucker felt his heart stop. He stared at Danny, incredulously, but there wasn’t even the slightest hint of joking.

“Because… it’s your name?” he managed, feebly, not looking away from Danny. “You’re our best friend, Danny Fenton. Don’t you remember?”

The ghost of his best friend blinked at him, then at Sam. “I… no? I don’t remember anything.”

“Sooo… About the Fenton’s theory that ghosts don’t remember anything,” Sam said, voice quiet. Uncharacteristically shaken. “I mean… Before, Danny didn’t remember this either. It’s like… two separate states?”

“Oh, yeah, I remember now!” Danny exclaimed, still looking at Sam. “I saw you two earlier, briefly! But then light flashed, and now I’m here.” He looked around, curiously. “Where is here?”

Well, way to drive the point home, buddy. “Okay, so. The accident made it so that he’s, what, both human and ghost, and the two states just kind of switch around? Fuck, Sam.”

“I know,” she hissed back, cautiously releasing Danny’s arm. “Stay in your room, okay Danny?” Seeing him frown, she added, “That’s this room. Stay in this room, okay?”

“Sure,” he agreed easily, floating off to peer at some of the decorations Danny had in his room.

“Do you think we should tell his parents?” Tucker asked, scooting closer to Sam, keeping an eye on Danny. Or, Danny’s ghost, he supposed, since they apparently weren’t the same person. “I mean, if this starts happening more… He won’t be able to recognize them, or convince them of being Danny.”

Sam made a face. “Yeah, but… I dunno, Tuck, what if they try to hurt him? Experiment on him?”

They watched Danny poke around in his own room for a moment. Quietly, Sam continued, “Maybe he can hold it off. He didn’t shift until now, right? Maybe Danny’s control slipped while he was asleep. If we tell him to be careful he’ll stay out of trouble, right?”

“I don’t know, Sam.” Tucker sighed, deeply and wearily. “I really don’t know. Man, we’re just fourteen. Why are we dealing with this kinda stuff?” He looked over at Sam’s stricken face. “I mean— It’s not our fault. It’s not anyone’s fault, okay? Don’t blame yourself. We couldn’t have known.”

“Yeah, but—”

“No, Sam. Either everyone’s to blame for this, or no one is.” He pointed at Danny’s ghost, who was now trying to peel off one of the glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling. “He could’ve refused to go in. I could’ve stopped him. His parents could’ve done a better job of locking up the lab, or the Portal, or anything. This isn’t just your fault, okay? Stop blaming yourself.”

Sam hummed, a disbelieving sound, but she didn’t protest, so Tucker would consider it a win.

Silence fell again as they watched the ghost frown at the sticky star on his hand. Then, almost hesitantly, he stuck the star to his chest.

“Man,” Tucker said, then paused when he realized he didn’t know where he’d been going with that sentence.

“Yeah,” Sam agreed quietly. Then, raising her voice some, she called over to Danny. “Hey, aren’t you tired or something? Let’s go to sleep, Danny.”

Again, bright green eyes turned to them. “I’m not tired,” he said simply. “Ghosts don’t sleep.” Then he frowned, and added, “I thought I wasn’t Danny? Not really?”

“Sorta kinda.” Tucker shrugged. “You’re like, his ghost, I guess? You don’t want to be Danny?”

“Seems confusing,” the ghost admitted, lowering himself until he floated at eye level to them. “He was Danny first, right? And I’m just his ghost. So I could be like… Phantom, or something.”

“Phantom,” Tucker echoed, dryly. “You really want to go by a synonym of ghost?”

The ghost in question shrugged. “Why not? And you said my—his—last name was Fenton, yeah? So it’s kind of a pun.”

Tucker groaned, even as Sam laughed, softly. “I should’ve figured, man. Your love for puns is immortal and undying.”

Phantom grinned at him, revealing green gums and pointed fangs, which Tucker somehow hadn’t noticed before. “Well, something had to carry over, yeah?”

“I guess,” Tucker agreed, sounding much more disgruntled than he felt. It was weird, yes, but it was also kinda nice, to see a little more Danny in Phantom. “Look, you might not need sleep because you’re a ghost, but Sam and I do. Can we trust you to stay in this room and out of trouble?”

“Of course,” Phantom immediately assured him, before pausing. “Um. What constitutes as trouble, exactly?”

“Staying in this room should be good enough for now,” Sam said, gesturing around them. “But if anyone who isn’t us comes in, or knocks… I dunno, hide? Go invisible, maybe, if you can maintain it for long enough.”

“Your parents are ghost hunters. If they see you, they’ll probably try to hurt you,” Tucker tagged on. “You look just like Danny, but they’re not gonna stop and consider that, especially if you won’t have his memories to convince them.”

Phantom’s expression grew serious, and he nodded. “Got it. Stay here, stay out of sight.”

“Try not to be too loud, as well. Making a lot of noise will probably lead to them coming here to make sure we’re doing alright.” Sam narrowed her eyes. “And we’ll be trying to sleep, and loud noises don’t help with that.”

He nodded again. “Stay here, stay out of sight, don’t be loud. Anything else?”

“If you think you’re gonna switch back to Danny, maybe try to get yourself back to the bed? But other than that, no, I guess that that’s it.” Tucker sighed, sitting down on his pile of blankets. “Good night, Phantom.”

“Good night, Tucker, Sam,” he replied, floating away a little but not taking his eyes off of them. Apparently he was curious to see what sleep meant. Great. Brilliant.

Tucker shook his head, tucking himself back into his nest of blankets. From where he laid, he could see Sam do the same.

When they both remained still for a while, Phantom lost interest, going back to checking out the room. His room.

Through squinted eyes, Tucker watched him. Phantom hadn’t even noticed that he hadn’t taken off his glasses. Didn’t know the importance of it, probably.

On the other side of the room, Tucker could see Sam watching as well. They both knew damn well that they wouldn’t get a minute of sleep, not while Danny was… not Danny. While Phantom was around.

Tucker wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting from Phantom. He seemed to follow the Fentons’ ghost rules pretty closely, except he didn’t appear malevolent in the least. Even while he thought that no one was watching him, he did as had been asked: remained in the room, remained quiet.

Admittedly he didn’t do a great job of getting himself back to the bed when he shifted back, because light flashed and Danny Fenton collapsed onto the floor with an uncomfortably loud thud, but, well. He might not have noticed it was coming.

Tucker exchanged a grimace with Sam, then both of them got up to check over their best friend. Danny was fast asleep, grumbling under his breath when they nudged him. He would probably have a bruise from the landing, but hey. Could’ve been worse.

Wrapping his fingers around Danny’s ankles, Tucker watched Sam grab Danny’s wrists, and they lifted him back to the bed. And when they stepped away, Sam nodded at him, and said, quietly, “He’s got a pulse.”

Well. Tucker certainly slept better afterwards.

#danny phantom #ectoberweek2020 #dp fanfic #phanfic #phic #dark writes #someone plz confirm for me whether these are appearing in the tags properly or not #i assume it's working but you never know with this website

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snelbz · 4 years ago

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lovely {8}

a @tacmc x @snelbz collaboration

Find previous chapters here: Lovely Masterlist.

Feyre couldn’t do anything but stare across the room. The pure elation at seeing her art, a piece that she’d poured her heart into, hanging in a museum, was snuffed out as she found Tamlin and Ianthe across the room.

“Stay here,” she breathed, barely noticing as a petite dark-haired woman came up beside Rhys. She handed him her wine and was across the room before she processed what she was doing.

Her new friend’s eyes went wide as she saw her walking towards them, but Feyre ignored her, gripping Tamlin by the elbow. “Tam, can I talk to you for a minute?”

A look of sheer surprise crossed Tamlin’s face as he turned and found Feyre standing there. Any notion she may have had that this was planned and she released a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. He blinked and said, “Sure,” before turning to Ianthe and saying, “I’ll be right back.”

When she glanced over at her, the friendliness in her eyes had been replaced with ice.

They stepped off to a corner and before he could say anything, she said, “She’s not a good person, Tam.”

He blinked, grass green eyes wholly confused and asked, “Ianthe? How do you even know her?”

“I feel like I should be asking you the same thing.” She crossed her arms over her chest and glanced across the room, thankful to see Ianthe hadn’t noticed Rhysand. Yet.

Tamlin hesitated, then began rubbing his temples. “Feyre, not that it’s not a joy to see you, but last time we were near each other it didn’t turn out great, so if you’re stalking me-.”

Feyre barked a laugh. “Seriously? You think way too highly of yourself, asshole. Do I need to remind you that you were the one that fainted on my porch not long ago?”

He grimaced as he looked away.

“I’m...here with a friend,” Feyre said, at last.

Tamlin’s lips thinned. “Rhys, then?”

“You need to get rid of Ianthe,” she said, arms crossed, ignoring his question altogether.

To her surprise, Tamlin laughed. “Let me get this straight. You break up my date, while you’re on a date, to tell me that I should get rid of my date...even though you have no feelings for me, whatsoever?”

Feyre blinked. “Yeah, she’s aw-.”

“What gives you the fucking right?” he snapped, his eyes narrowing.

“She has a baby,” Feyre hissed. “And it’s….not a good situation. It’s complicated.” Oh, and by the way, the father is my sister’s boyfriend, and my boyfriend’s best friend. How’s that for complicated?

Tamlin just shrugged. “Yeah, I know. I hear the baby daddy is a little asshole.”

“That’s not true.” Her voice was cold.

He snorted. “Is it Rhys? Wouldn’t surprise me if he couldn’t keep it in his pants.”

“Is there a problem over here?”

Her voice wasn’t nearly as sweet as it had been in the bathroom earlier. Now it was sickly and reminded Feyre of artificial sweetener.

“No, Feyre was just getting ready to leave,” Tamlin said, not taking his eyes off of her.

“You’re making a mistake, Tam,” she breathed.

Ianthe asked, “Wait, this is Feyre?”

The tone made Feyre pause and she turned to her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

The smile on her face was cruel as she said, “I shouldn’t be surprised. The best gold-digging whores are always the prettiest.”

Feyre wouldn’t have been able to stop the words if she tried. “You’d know, wouldn’t you?”

One day, when Feyre needed to paint a model of rage, she’d use memory of Ianthe’s face.

“Everything okay, Feyre, darling?” Rhysand’s hand settled low on her back, fingers wrapping around her hip, and she knew that he knew Tamlin was watching.

This has become a dangerous game, and while Feyre didn’t want to make a scene, she couldn’t remember a point in her life where she’d been so angry.

Ianthe’s eyes dragged to Rhys and she said, “Oh, look who it is.”

Rhysand ignored her completely. “Tamlin.”

Tamlin nodded to Rhysand, although he wasn’t happy about it.

Rhysand, though, wasn’t phased. His smile was radiant when he said, “Feyre and I have a reservation, we really should be going. Great seeing you. I-.”

“This is your boyfriend?” Ianthe asked, looking from Rhysand to Feyre. “You went from Tam to this piece of trash?”

Feyre’s body stiffened, and Rhysand’s hand around her waist tightened. His voice was still light when he said, “Wasn’t Az supposed to drop Ash off to you tonight? Or, did he just drop him off to your parents, since they’re basically the ones raising your kid.”

The only thing that brought Feyre back down to earth was the look of pure hatred in Ianthe’s eyes as she took a step closer to Rhysand. Even Tamlin reached out a hand to stop her.

“Let’s go, Rhys,” Feyre whispered, her words still hard, but not wanting to start a full on fist fight in the middle of an art gallery.

Without another word, they turned and left, Rhys practically dragging Feyre. He was pulling out his phone, dialing before they’d reached the city streets.

“Who are you calling?” She asked, both of them pausing to breathe as they looked out over the Sidra.

“Azriel.” He put the phone to his ear. “This changes everything.”

—————

Cassian had offered Nesta a drink, but when he opened the cupboard, he found absolutely nothing. Naturally, that meant that a run to the liquor store was a necessity. There was one a block away from his apartment, so he and Nesta were walking, hand in hand, beneath the starlight. She was still wearing that oversized sweatshirt, her hair in a messy-bun on the top of her head, and Cassian was absolutely breathless.

“You’re walking slow,” she said, quiet laughter lacing her tone. She tugged on his hand, but he didn’t move any faster.

“I’m taking my time,” he said, grinning. “Slower I walk, the more time I get to spend with you.”

Nesta snorted. “True, but the faster we get to the store and back to your apartment, the quicker I get tipsy and loose.”

Cassian arched a brow. “Is that you telling me I’m getting lucky tonight?”

She rolled her eyes. “You act like you don’t get lucky every night.”

With a smirk, Cassian decided she was right.

The errand didn’t take long after that, and when they got back to the apartment, Nesta flopped next to Cassian on the couch and said, “I want to take a bath.”

Cassian made a face, which had nothing to do with the whiskey he raised to his lips, and said, “A bath? You want to sit in your own dirt water?”

She raised a brow and said, “I want to get naked, relax and drink wine.” There was emphasis on the naked part.

He bit his lip and thought about his dingy little bathroom. “My bathtub isn’t very big.”

Her lips tilted up slightly at the corners and she said, “Oh, are you taking one with me?”

He sat his whiskey on the table and dragged her on top of him. “You don’t just get to tell me you’re going to get wet and naked and not expect me to want to join.”

She giggled and kissed him before she sighed, “You’re right though. Your bathtub can’t fit us both.” He was about to suggest a shower together when she said, “The hot tub at your pool can.”

He snorted. “Can’t get naked at the pool though.”

“Says who?” She cooed, and stood. Walking back toward his bedroom. When he followed a moment later, he found her tying her bikini strap behind her neck.

He stopped in his doorway and lifted a brow. “You weren’t kidding.”

She quickly spun around, adjusting her top over her boobs. “I don’t kid about relaxing in warm water with wine.”

Cassian chuckled. “You’re not supposed to bring wine down there.”

“Just like you’re not supposed to get naked?” She asked, with an eyebrow raised.

“You’re feeling daring tonight,” he laughed.

She rolled her eyes. “Get in your swimsuit.”

When he emerged from his room in his trunks, Nesta was finishing pouring an entire bottle of wine into a large water bottle he kept for the gym. He laughed quietly and she handed him a cup of his own. He raised an eyebrow and she said, “It’s straight whiskey.”

With a chuckle, he said, “Of course it is.”

He grabbed a couple of towels and they walked down to the pool. At half past eight, in early autumn, Cassian was surprised that it was empty. While he picked a chair up and pulled it over to the hot tub, Nesta was already stepping into the bubbling water, a sigh of contentment leaving her as she settled in.

He joined her, sipping from his travel mug full of whiskey, and draping an arm around her. After about ten minutes, he figured she’d forgotten about her wet and naked claim when she looked around and lifted her hips from the built in bench. She dropped her soaked bottoms along the edge of the water.

Cassian raised an eyebrow and waited as she reached behind her back and untied the strap. The water was just high enough that when she dropped the wet fabric on the concrete, he still couldn’t see anything.

She looked at him and breathed, “Well?”

He blinked, then slowly began to shake his head. “You know, when I met you, I thought you were an uptight piece of work. Now? You’re a wild woman.” He reached into the water, shimmied out of his trunks, and pointedly plopped them down next to the scraps of her bikini.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” she crooned, inching closer to him.

He grinned. “I never said that. I’m starting to come to the conclusion that you were a wild woman all along, and now I just get to see your true colors.”

With a quiet laugh, she climbed onto his lap and straddled him. “Our first night together was a drunken fiasco.”

“Oh, I remember it well,” he said, eyes bright, as her arms wrapped around his neck. “But you also bitched at me for ruining your shoes the first time I met you, so my assumptions were valid.”

She scoffed. “They were a one-hundred-and-sixty dollar pair of boots.”

“There’s your problem,” he murmured, leaning up and brushing his lips against hers. “You spent too much on your shoes.”

She snorted but let him pull her into the kiss, lost herself in the way his hands gripped her hips, in the way he tasted like whiskey and how kissing him made her light-headed.

The pool gate creaked and then crashed closed and both Cassian and Nesta jumped slightly, looking towards the sound.

Another couple entered the pool, though they went to the pool, thankfully, rather than the hot tub.

Nesta breathed, “Shit,” and took a large drink of her wine. She reached for her suit, but Cassian grabbed her hand, pulling it back under the water. “What are you doing?”

He smirked and said, “I thought you liked baking a wild woman.”

Her eyes went wide and she warned, “Cass…”

He gripped her hips and ground her into him. The whimper that left her had him grinning.

“Stop it,” she whispered, although her eyes were humored.

The couple was nearing-elderly. If they even knew what was going on, they probably found it romantic, or appalling - either way it could have been worse, but Nesta was still pushing against his chest.

“You got yourself into this mess,” Cassian mumbled. “Now I’m tipsy and too far gone.”

“You’re impossible,” she warned, her fingers running through his hair.

He shook his head, grinning. “Don’t worry. I’ll wait until they’re gone to stick it in you.”

“Stick it in me?” she laughed. “How romantic.”

“Oh, I’m very romantic.” His hands wandered down to her ass and grabbed her, possessively, which made her laugh out loud.

“You know, I’ve had fantasies like this,” she said, feeling that wine coursing through her body, making her lighter, more daring.

“Is that so?” he asked, his hands moving up her sides.

“Yes,” she whispered, cocking her head to the side.

“And what does this fantasy of yours look like?” he asked, quietly.

“Sort of like,” she sat up slightly, gripping him in her hand and sliding down his length. His eyes fluttered shut and she breathed. “You fucking me and me trying my hardest not to get us caught.”

“Nes, they’re, like, a hundred,” he grunted, explaining why they shouldn’t, but gripping her hips and rocking her back and forth regardless.

She didn’t say much else as he head fell into the crook of his neck and her lips found his pulse point. His eyes fell shut and he gripped her ass, urging her to move quicker.

As long as she rocked and didn’t bounce, they should be fine. He was listening to the couple, not really hearing them, but making sure they weren’t suspicious. They should be fine, Nesta was getting close, he could tell by the way she was whimpering quietly and squeezing his cock. But as long as she didn’t bounce, they’d be-.

She reached back and he felt her cup his balls and he couldn’t stop the thrust he slammed up into her or the hiss that left him.

Nesta cried out and he immediately wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her to him. He didn’t look over to the couple, he knew they’d be staring, so instead, he buried his face in her shoulder. He was hoping to make them so uncomfortable that they’d leave, and just a minute, later he heard the gate opening again.

As one they turned, finding the pool empty again and Cassian pinned Nesta’s hands to her sides before she could do anything. He slowly pulled out and pushed back into her, breathing “Let’s discuss the fantasies before we act on them next time, yeah?”

A little smirk appeared on her lips. “But what fun would that be?”

His laughter was quiet as he thrust himself up into her. Nesta’s eyes fluttered shut, her lips parting.

“At least then I’d know what I’m getting myself into,” he muttered.

“Is that a complaint?” She asked, breathlessly.

“Absolutely not,” he whispered. “You’ll never hear a complaint from me.”

The bouncing began, Nesta holding onto his shoulders, him holding onto her ass. Cassian’s head fell back against the concrete, his eyes falling shut.

It didn’t take long for the whimpers she’d been fighting earlier to become full-on moans and groans now and he was so thankful the couple had left as he lifted Nesta and pulled her nipple between his teeth.

She hissed through her teeth. “You can’t properly fuck me out here,” she whined.

“Should have thought of that before you jumped on my cock,” he said, face between her breasts.

“Your apartment is twenty yards away,” she groaned. “Pull your cock out of me, wrap it in a towel, run upstairs and then fuck me against your kitchen counter.” She tried to stand, but his hands held her down.

He smirked. “Is that another fantasy?”

“Not getting arrested for indecent exposure when when they come back is,” she said, pushing against his shoulders.

“You’re talking like we’re teachers or something,” Cassian grinned, then it faltered, as he was second guessing himself. “Fine. But when we get to my apartment, all rules are out the window.”

Nesta’s grin was devious when she whispered, “Fine.”

She settled down on him all the same, nestling in as low as she could go. Her eyes were wide, not batting for a second as she eyed Cassian. “Take me upstairs, then.”

“Okay,” Cassian breathed, his hands still resting on her hips as she rocked, back and forth.

A moment passed before Nesta whispered. “We’re alone.”

“Yeah,” Cassian breathed. “We are.”

Nesta groaned and finally stood, quickly grabbing one of the towels and wrapping it around herself, as well as her wine and hurried towards his apartment. He chuckled and did the same, remembering to grab their swimsuits, and when he entered the apartment, indeed finding Nesta lying back on his counter with her legs spread, he locked the door and continued fulfilling any and every of Nesta’s fantasies she would share with him.

~~~~~

Azriel had already closed up his shop for the day. The front door was locked, the open sign had been turned around, and it was only him and Elain, who was sitting in the chair at his station, watching as he finished prepping.

“You look nervous,” he said, glancing up at her through his dark lashes as he put on his black, latex gloves.

She cleared her throat. “I’m...not.”

“You’re a horrible liar,” he chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. He asked her to unlock her tablet and one last time, they looked at the tattoo she’d fallen in love with all those weeks ago. “So we want the flowers and the pearls, but no watch? Right?”

Elain looked down at the stencil on her shoulder. She ran her finger along the curve of her arm, of the fall down to the upper arm. “Yeah, but shouldn’t it come down lower?”

He smirked. “What did I say about biting off more than you can chew?”

She blushed as she remembered his words in bed that morning. “I’m not,” she murmured. “I just know I want it on my shoulder and my arm.”

He pressed a kiss to her exposed shoulder, beneath where the stencil ended, and said, “Next session, baby.”

She sighed and nodded, sitting back and staring at her shop across the street. Elain heard a couple of loud buzzes and then Azriel’s gloved hand settled on her shoulder. She glanced up at him and tried her hardest to look brave.

When he snorted and asked, “Ready?” She knew she’d failed but she nodded none then less.

She gasped when the needle touched her skin, and her cringing was so evident that Azriel asked You okay? every thirty seconds. After about half an hour or so, though, her shoulder was numb, and she was finally able to relax.

She watched him as he worked. She could tell he took pride in what he did, and he was amazing at it. His brows were furrowed, the lines of his face hard as he concentrated. Every now and then he would look up at her, just to give her a little smile, before getting back to work.

“Will your sisters be surprised?” He asked.

“Probably,” she confessed. “I’ve never exactly been the type to do such a thing. I was talking to Lucien on the way here and he wouldn’t stop asking me if I was serious.”

Azriel chuckled and they fell into a comfortable silence, Azriel’s music playing on his phone behind them. Every now and then, one of them would ask a question and after a couple hours, Azriel was handing her a mirror. “What do you think?”

Elain pulled the strap of her camisole out of the way, though it had been pushed to the side the whole time. “Oh, that’s weird,” she breathed.

Azriel chuckled and asked, “Good weird or bad weird?”

She tilted her head to the side and said, “I like it. How does it look?”

Shaking his head, he began to clean up and said, “I’m a bit partial, but I think it’s one of the best pieces I’ve ever done.” He snapped a few pictures before carefully wrapping it.

“I’ve got a tattoo,” Elain breathed, standing and walking towards the full length mirror hung on the wall.

“You do,” he smiled, coming up behind her and wrapping an arm around her waist. He pressed a kiss to her neck, on the side that wasn’t throbbing currently. “You look pretty damn sexy if you ask me.”

“Is that so?” She asked, smiling faintly at their reflection.

He nodded, his kisses trailing down her shoulder. “It suits you.”

She turned to him, her hands sneaking behind his neck. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” he whispered, and kissed her, softly. “Let me shut everything down and we can grab a bite to eat?”

“Can it wait five more minutes?” She asked, pressing her body up into his.

His grin was radiant as he picked her up, her legs wrapping around his waist, and took her to his desk in the back where he plopped down in his spinning chair and kissed her, slowly, sweetly.

He took a hell of a lot longer than five minutes.

_____

As Rhys and Feyre we’re pulling up in front Elain’s house, Nesta was climbing out of Cassian’s truck. He walked around to the passenger side and waited with her, talking quietly until the other two reached them.

“I know that we’re the least likely daughters he’d explain things to,” Nesta mused, “but do you have any idea why we’re having a good, old fashioned, family dinner tonight?” She quoted the text Isaac had sent to his daughters, asking them to meet him at Elain’s and to bring their significant others, if they had one.

“I have no idea,” Feyre mumbled, as they began to walk towards the door. “But Elain texted me twenty minutes ago. Az had to bring Asher, Ianthe dropped him on her last minute.”

“Dad’ll have a field day with that,” Nesta muttered, as she walked up the porch with Cassian, the others just behind them. She didn’t bother knocking as she pushed open the door, falling into the living room, where Azriel was lying on the floor, talking to a babbling Asher. He looked up as they all entered and slipped off their shoes.

“Hey. Elain’s in the kitche-.”

“It’s about time!” Isaac swept into the room, cutting off Azriel’s greeting. He went to Nesta and gave her a hug, then Feyre, both of whom stood there half frozen. They definitely noticed that Isaac completely ignored Azriel, and when he caught sight of Cassian, Isaac’s head cocked to the side.

“You work with my daughter,” he said, plainly.

“I do,” Cassian said, holding out his hand. “I’m Cassian.”

Isaac slowly looked down at Cassian’s hand and blinked, dismissing it completely. “And you must be Rice?”

Feyre’s eyes slipped shut and she sighed as he said, “Rhysand, actually, but most people call me Rhys.”

Nesta was already walking away from the door, heading straight for the kitchen, though for Elain or the wine he knew was chilling in the fridge, Cassian wasn’t sure. He sidestepped Rhys, clapping a hand on his shoulder as passed and headed for the living room.

Asher turned at the incoming steps and his face lit up as he beheld Cassian. “There’s my favorite little dude,” he crooned, picking him up and holding him against his chest. Asher continued to babble as he patted his chubby hand against Cassian’s face. He turned and reached toward Azriel, before turning back to Cassian, babbling some more. Cass raised an eyebrow and said, “Pretty sure he almost just said dada.”

Azriel nodded and stood, bending over to brush the fuzz and lint from his black jeans. “Yeah, we’ve been teetering right on the edge for about a week.” He stood and walked over to where Cass held Asher and said,“It’s okay though, because you know what he won’t say?” He looked at Asher, and in baby talk, said, “Ash, say dada.” The baby babbled excitedly, but couldn’t quite put the two sounds together. Azriel smirked and said, in the same playful tone, “Can you say mama?” Asher stared up with his big, hazel eyes and blinked. Cassian snorted as Az took his son and tried once more, “Say mama, bud.”

Cassian chuckled and said, “You get way too much joy out of that.”

“Nah,” Azriel shrugged. “I get just enough.”

“What is that?!”

Cassian’s head turned to the kitchen, to Nesta’s elevated voice. Azriel picked up the beer bottle sitting on the side table and said, “Well, I guess Nesta’s seen Elain’s tattoo now,” and put it to his lips.

Cassian lifted a brow as Feyre hurried into the kitchen, Rhysand joining them in the living room. “Elain got a tattoo?”

Rhysand halted. “Seriously?”

Azriel grinned as Asher grabbed onto his nosering. “Ow.” After gently removing his infant’s fingers from his jewelry, he said, “Yeah, gave it to her last night.”

A throat was cleared and all three men turned around, where Isaac stood, watching them. “You did that to my daughter?”

Azriel hesitated. “Yes. I’m a tattoo artist.”

There was a few seconds of silence as Isaac looked at Azriel’s arms, his hands, his neck, all covered in ink, and then he said, “Of course, you are.”

Rhysand’s eyes met Cassian’s, then to their own skin, which bore nearly identical markings to Azriel’s. And rightfully so, seeing as his own scarred hands had done all of the work on Cassian and Rhys and most of his own.

Azriel was going to let it go, was going to keep the peace for Elain’s sake, just like he’d done when Rhys had called him on the way home last night. But he couldn’t do that.

Clearing his throat, Rhysand asked, “I’m sorry, but what exactly is that supposed to mean?”

Azriel’s voice was quiet, but the hard warning was there. “Rhys.” Drop it.

Isaac scoffed, gesturing to him. “I don’t think it needs explaining.”

“I think it definitely does,” he said.

Azriel tried once more. “Rhys.” Let. It. Go.

The older man looked around the room at the three of them, made a decision and said, “The tattoos, the piercings, he’s a single father, and a tattoo artist? Because that’s what a man dreams of for his daughter one day.”

“Listen, you can dislike the way he looks without being a dick,” Cassian began carefully.

Isaac turned to him, and he knew immediately where Nesta’s short fuse had come from. “Oh, this is coming from the one who apparently has sex with my daughter at her - and your - place is employment?”

Cassian really wanted to make a joke about listing all the places he’d had sex with Isaac’s daughter, but decided the list was too long. Instead, he smirked and said, “If that’s the reason you hate me, that’s fine. But calling me out like that isn’t going to rile me up. Good try.”

Isaac opened his mouth to say something, but then Elain was calling from the kitchen, “Food’s ready! Everyone in the dining room!”

The men all stared at each other for another moment, the silence stretching on, but then Asher started fussing.

“Excuse me,” Azriel muttered, before hurrying into the kitchen to make Asher a bottle while the others went into the dining room, where the three sisters were piling dishes filled with food on top of the gray tablecloth.

The tension must have been clear, because all of their smiles faded.

“What’s wrong?” Elain asked. “Where’s Az?”

“Kitchen,” Rhysand mumbled, looking down at his empty plate as he sat. “Asher’s hungry.”

She nodded, looking at each of them, before backing into the kitchen.

She found him stirring up the contents of the baby food as Asher sat in his chair, holding his bottle, as he drank from it. He was gazing at Elain as she walked closer.

“Hey,” she breathed, running her fingers first through Azriel’s dark shaggy hair and then Asher’s. “What’s wrong?”

Azriel shook his head, taking the bottle from Asher’s chubby hands and holding the spoon in front of his mouth. He took a tentative bite and shook his head, reaching for the bottle that was sitting off to the side. “Sorry, Ash, I know you hate them, but you gotta eat them.”“Here, let me,” she said, sitting next to him and smiling. She held her hand out for the spoon.Az glanced from her waiting hand to her face and then back to Asher. “It’s fine, baby. Go eat with your family.”Elain could still see the look on his face, she could still tell something was wrong. She tried to make a joke. “Az, we both know I’m better at feeding your kid than you are.”He scoffed. “Great, he’ll think I’m a shitty, deadbeat dad, too. Add that to the list.”With a blink, Elain asked, “List? What are you talking about?”Azriel sighed and handed Elain the spoon. “Your dad is a dick,” he said, quietly, while Elain miraculously got Asher to eat his mashed peas.She sighed, refusing to meet Azriel’s gaze. “I knew it. He said something to you, didn’t he?” Azriel didn’t answer, and Asher was oblivious to the tension as he blew a raspberry, spewing peas down his chin. Elain looked over at him.“He talks without thinking,” Elain said. “And he’s judgmental. It won’t be a long night, okay? But, he seemed excited about this dinner-.”“He hates me,” Azriel interrupted. “He hates all of us. You should’ve seen the look of utter disgust when he found out I’m a tattoo artist. Then, of course, Rhys had to say something, and then Cassian got in trouble for fucking Nesta at work-.”“What?” Elain asked, trying to follow what he was saying as she wiped the food off of Asher’s chin. Just as Azriel was about to go on, Nesta peeked her head around the corner. “You two coming? It’s awkward, and we’d really love to shove our mouth’s with food so we have something to do aside from sit in silence.”

Elain nodded. “We’re coming.” She turned back to Azriel as Nesta disappeared. “Az-.”

“It’s fine,” he sighed, taking Asher out of his seat and holding him close to his chest with one arm, the other picking up the chair. “Carry his food for me, please?”

She wanted to talk it out, to ease his worry, lift his mood, but she only nodded.

Elain followed behind him, trying to listen into the conversation coming from the dining room. Only to realize there was, indeed, nothing but silence.

Azriel saw that the only seats open were to Isaac’s immediate right, which meant Asher would have to sit between the two of them. Or so he thought.

Elain stepped around him and took his son, re-situating the chairs so Asher’s high chair could fit snugly between their own chairs, as long as Elain sat next to her father.

Cassian cleared his throat. “El, that tattoo looks badass.”

Nesta and Azriel both closed their eyes and sighed, knowing Cassian always had to poke when he knew he shouldn’t. Rhys was smirking.

Elain’s cheeks turned the softest shade of pink. “Thanks.”

“I, personally, think you’re too pretty for tattoos,” Isaac said, plopping potatoes onto his plate.

“Pretty girls don’t usually get tattoos?” Cassian asked, taking a bite of chicken.

“No,” Isaac answered, simply.

“Can we just,” Nesta began, angrily cutting up her chicken, “eat in silence?”

“Family dinners aren’t meant to be silent,” Isaac said, shaking his head. “Besides, your friend there has a big mouth. I doubt he knows how to be silent..”

Cassian only grinned.

“That’s true,” Nesta muttered.

“So,” Feyre began. “How long are you in town for, dad?”

“Not long,” he said. “A month or two, maybe. It all depends.”

Rhys muttered something about leaving as soon as possible under his breath and Feyre stepped on his foot under the table.

Asher began to fuss and before Azriel could put his fork down to do anything, Elain was handing him his bottle. “Here, buddy. You can handle that while we eat, right?” He grinned up at her, chewing on the nipple of the bottle as he cooed.

Azriel couldn’t keep the smile off his face as he watched her lovingly gaze at his son.

“So, Azriel,” Isaac began. Az glanced up at him, honestly surprised he knew his name. “I can only assume his mother isn’t in the picture.”

Azriel took a swig of his beer and said, “No, sir, she isn’t.”

“Might I ask why?” He asked.

The table grew uncomfortably quiet, but Azriel just nodded, slowly. “We just...didn’t fit together.”

Isaac watched Azriel for a moment as the rest of the table picked at their food. “How long were you with his mother?”

Azriel cleared his throat. “Um, not...long.”

“Ah,” Isaac began, stabbing a piece of chicken with his fork. “So, you knocked up some random, poor girl then?”

“Dad,” Elain snapped.

“No, it’s fine,” Azriel said, quietly, although his hands were clenched into fists on his lap. “Yes, I made a mistake, and she got pregnant. I don’t regret it or find shame in it, though. Asher’s the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“Hmmm.” Isaac’s eyes narrowed. “I assume you don’t get to spend a lot of time with him.”

It wasn’t necessarily his words, but the way he had said them.

Elain’s face was in her hands.

Azriel’s words were hard as he said, “No, sir, I don’t. But I take advantage of every spare moment I get with him.”

Isaac opened his mouth to say something else, but Feyre said, “That’s enough, Dad.” He turned to look at his youngest daughter. “We came here to all have a nice family meal, but all you’ve done is...harass our boyfriends and make them feel extremely unwelcome.”

The smug look on Rhysand’s face, his arm draped around Feyre’s shoulders. It infuriated him.

Isaac slowly set down his fork. “I’m just making sure my daughters are well taken care of.”

“Oh, they are,” Cassian said, unable to stop the words as they flowed out of his mouth, unable to stop the sensual tone that went along with it.

Nesta jabbed him in the ribs. “You’re no help.”

“We’re grown women, dad,” Feyre said, ignoring both comments from across the table. “We can take care of ourselves and make our own decisions.”

“Is that so?” Isaac said. “Because last time I was here you were dating Tamlin, who was incredibly successful, if I may add, and you two were planning a future together. Now? You’re dating this…” He gestured to Rhysand, who only lifted a brow. “Bar-owner covered in tattoos who thinks far too highly of himself. Nesta is with that manwhore, and Elain…” He shook his head, looking over at his middle daughter. “A single dad? Tattoo artist? You’re getting tattoos! You, Elain! Is this really the best you can do? What happened to Graysen, huh? Clean-cut, well-educated, making six figures!”

Azriel’s body tensed as the room fell into silence. For a moment, nobody said a word. Then, with shaking hands and in a tone he’d never heard from her, Elain said, “You cannot come into my house and say-.”

Isaac began to cough, cutting off her words, and then it became uncontrollable, that cough. His hand gripped the edge of the table, the other pulling the napkin off his lap and holding it up to his mouth.

“Dad?” Elain breathed, her eyes going wide as the napkin became splattered with blood.

Seconds passed as Isaac tried to calm himself. Everyone was watching him, waiting, all anger and frustration and sarcasm fading away.

“Dad?” Elain repeated, quietly.

Isaac cleared his throat, crumbling the napkin in his hand. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t sure when a good time to tell you all was, but I guess this is it.” He picked up his glass of water and took a sip before continuing, quietly. “I’m sick, girls. And they caught it too late.”

#lovely #snacmc lovely #snacmc #tacmc snelbz collab #elriel #nessian #feysand

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