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polaroid15 · 3 years ago

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Parker Luck

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

Read on Ao3 HERE :)

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

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

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

For once, denial has gotten him nowhere.

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

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

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

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

--------

Peter calls it ‘Parker luck’.

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re killing me here.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

--------

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

He wishes there was a section on Parker luck.

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

“Maybe.”

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

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

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

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

“He’s a good kid.”

“I know.”

“He’s making you soft.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---------

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

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

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

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

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

Tony shoots off into the sky.

---------

Peter thought they had everything under control.

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

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

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

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

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

“You can say that again.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But-”

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

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

“Mr. Stark-”

“Don’t do anything stupid, kid.”

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

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

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

And then he’s gone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Benny.”

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

“I- I know.”

“Oh yeah?”

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

“I try too.”

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

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

“Brave?”

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

Benny sniffles. “Are you scared?”

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

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

“Mom!”

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

“Of course,” is all he can manage.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I can try.”

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

“No. Tony said-”

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

“Peter tingle?”

“Be right back.”

“Wait!”

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

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

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

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

“Steve!”

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

“Not without you.”

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

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

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

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

Then Peter sees it. A manhole.

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

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

There’s a couple moments of silence.

And then the world erupts.

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

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

He’ll remember wishing he had called Tony.

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

And then there’s nothing.

----------

“Peter. Come on. Work with me here.”

Awareness brings pain. He strays.

“Nope. No. Peter. Open your eyes.”

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

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

“Thank God,” Steve says.

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

“It’s you I’m more worried about.”

“Mm. Why?”

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

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

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

“He’ll be here soon.”

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

“What happened?” Peter asks.

“You don’t remember?”

“Not really.”

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

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

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

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

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s not- it’s not nothing-”

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

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

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

“Rogers?”

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

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

“We’re airtight.”

“For now.”

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

“What’s wrong with Peter?”

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

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

“Rogers-”

“I got it, Tony.”

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

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

“Go for it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tony!”

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

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

“I’m not leaving you.”

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

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

“Peter-”

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

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

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

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

“Tony-”

“Go.”

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

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

Please. Please.

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

Please.

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

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

Tony is safe.

And it’s all that matters.

-------

“Peter. Don’t do this.”

“Breathe, Queens. Oh God-”

“Steve. What do I- I can’t- I can’t-”

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

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

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

“Kiddo. Baby. Please.”

It’s all water down a drain.

A swirling, murky mess.

And it takes Peter with it.

-------

Parenting for Dummies: Chapter 12.

Love them unconditionally.

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

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

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

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

“Has he woken up yet?”

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But it is. It was.”

“I know.”

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

And then he leaves.

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

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

“You’re okay,” he murmurs.

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

“You don’ look angry.”

“Furious?”

“Nope.”

“Enraged?”

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

“Well, the feeling’s mutual.”

Peter looks up. Tony tightens his hold.

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

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

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

“That woman is nothing but a liar.”

“Mm. I believe her.”

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

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

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

And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

#peter parker #spider-man #tony stark #irondad #irondad fic #hurt peter parker #peter parker whump #protective peter parker #bamf peter parker #protective tony stark #steve rogers #captain america

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absolutelyfizzing · 4 years ago

Text

No flirting

Sam Wilson x Bucky's relative!reader

Description: Out of timeline! Reader is Bucky's great niece (his sister's granddaughter) who he found when he got to NY. She is staying in the tower for a week or so to take a sort of vacation. While she is there, she meets a certain flying man of the south and she starts to fall for him, much to her uncle's dismay.

Warnings: fluff? Sort of old fashioned Bucky, maybe a little ooc sam? I tried but idk if it went okay. This is awful writing, it was late and I don’t know how to write dialogue!

Word count- about 3000

MASTERLIST

You pulled into the parking garage of the avenger tower with a smile on your face. It had been a couple weeks since you had seen your uncle, well your grand uncle, because he had been off on a mission with Steve and the Falcon. You'd never met Sam Wilson before, only hearing about him from Bucky and Steve, but you figured he had to be pretty great to be an avenger.

You got your bag out of the trunk after you parked and began to make your way to the elevator. You had a room that remained pretty empty when you weren't there. Because of your closeness with most of the team, it had been offered to you permanently. You declined in favor of having your own place in Brooklyn and just staying at the tower whenever you needed a break from work or your friends or something. You waited patiently for the elevator doors to open on the right floor excitedly, knowing FRIDAY probably alerted Bucky you were on you way up. Your suspicions were confirmed when you were tackled in a pile of super solider as Steve and Bucky hugged you tightly. Steve had become family as well to you, just as much as Bucky was. You loved them both very much but at the moment they were squeezing the life out of you.

"Excuse me, I am a non enhanced person." You gasped out "I need air please."

At this they let you go, dopey grins on their faces.

"How is my favorite niece?" Bucky asked with a smile on his face, knowing it bothered you a little bit. You saw him as more of a friend than an uncle so being reminded that he was related to you and also was 100 and something years old was a little exhausting.

"Oh shove off. I'm great but I'd love some help getting this to my room?" You hinted while lifting your large bag.

Steve didn't hesitate to pick it up, absolutely no sign of effort on his face as he did so which frustrated you to no end.

"Thank you Steve" you chirped as he smiled kindly back at you and the three of you began to make your way to the room you would be occupying for the next week.

"So how's your mom?" Bucky questioned genuinely.

"You mean your actual niece? She's good, struggling to enjoy retirement at the moment." You smiled at the mention of your mom.

"I would have thought she would be enjoying it. Teaching always seemed like an exhausting job to me." He mentioned.

You agreed but then remembered "Says you, you've been on the job for over 80 years."

He gave you a side glare and then grumbled, "Touché"

You had arrived at your room, it was just the same as the last time you saw it besides the sheets having been changed, the room vacuumed, and the bed made. You smiled lightly. Tony was as softhearted as they come.

Steve put your bag down and they looked at you waiting for you to do something.

"Well come on! I wanna go say hi to the team!" You gushed as you grabbed their hands and started hurrying towards the living room of the floor where you knew most of the team members would be found on any given day.

As you walked in you heard multiple squeals and you were hugged by two redheads. Natasha and Wanda both loved you as you were about their age and were a little less jarring than most of the men they spent the day with. "I missed you guys." You whispered to them as the hugged you, Bucky and Steve having moved off to the couch to chat while you caught up with everyone.

"You missed us?! We have so much to tell you! What has taken you so long to come back here?!" Wanda whined a little.

"Buck wasn't around for the last couple weeks, he was away!"

"So? We are here and you're welcome any time, you know that!" Nat scolded. You knew she was right but you didn't want to intrude.

"You could never intrude." Wanda responded and you glared that she read your mind. She gave an apologetic look but you knew it was mostly fake. You were then pulled away from them by a rather large hand, when you turned around you saw the blond god who you were so fond of.

"Lady Y/N! How great to see you! So glad I was here when you were visiting." He said merrily. You wrapped him in a hug, it was a rare occasion that he was actually here when you stopped by. Other than them there was only one other person in the room, someone you presumed to be Sam Wilson. He was smiling at you already, waiting his turn to introduce himself. When you pulled away from Thor he walked over and you took a moment to admire him. He was tall and strong looking but his eyes were gentle and he looked like he gave good hugs and made people laugh. He stuck his hand out to you.

"Y/N, right? I'm Sam." He smiled. You smiled right back and shook his hand.

"No no no, no flirting." Bucky called from the couch, glaring daggers at Sam in front of you, your hand still holding onto his as you both looked over.

"Buck I didn't even do anything!" You whined, slightly embarrassed as you blushed. Sam noticed and just smiled again but let go of your hand.

"So you’re the Bionic Man's niece, yeah?" You smiled and nodded.

"Great niece, technically. My grandma is his little sister." You smiled and Bucky groaned.

"God that makes me sound so old."

"That's cause you are old!" You countered and Bucky just grumbled under his breath something about how he could still kick it with the kids.

You made eye contact with Sam again but looked away shyly and moved toward the kitchen in the common area to get yourself a cup of water. The conversation around the room buzzed and the only person who wasn't occupied was Sam as he followed you over to the kitchen.

"A shame I haven't met you before, I’ve been missing out." He smirked. He seemed a little cocky but you didn't mind. In fact you found it kind of attractive as it complimented your shy personality pretty well.

"Well don't worry I've heard all about you, Bird-Man. My relative has a grudge." You smirked as you sipped your water.

Sam rolled his eyes, "Oh he's just grumpy cause I can beat him in a fight."

"That sounds about right. I can't imagine what else he could be holding against you."

"Pretty soon he's gonna be mad at me for trying to flirt with his niece but I don't think I care much." He smirked.

Your eyes widened but you couldn't hide the smile he gave you very well.

"Oh Sam, I think he would kill us both."

"A worthwhile death." He continued.

"You're gonna have to step up your game then cause from where I'm standing, I don't wanna piss of my uncle with a vibranium arm over just anything." You challenged, wanting to see if he was serious. He smirked at you.

"Challenge accepted." He said and then he didn't leave your side for the rest of the day. This was much to the frustration of Bucky but you were an adult and he had other things he had to do anyway so he left it be besides the constant glare at the man who always seemed to be beside you. He followed you around like a lost puppy as you said hello to the avengers you hadn't seen yet, including meeting Peter for the first time. By the end of the night he was already through your shell and you were conversing with him with no effort. You could feel that this was not going to go well later but you couldn't help yourself.

"You know I'll take you up in that flying lesson sometime, sounds like fun to me." You smiled at him and he beamed back.

"That's why I offered it, I'd love an excuse to spend some more time with you."

"You don't need an excuse, you know. You could just hang out with me." You blushed and he did a little bit too. Without another word you headed to the room he had just walked you to and opened the door.

As soon as you closed it you smiled giddily and slid down the door, you could see Wanda and Nat talking to each other before looking at you. You had planned to have a sleepover the first night you were back and they had been waiting for you for like a half hour.

"Spill!" They both shouted at the same time.

You grinned before telling them about how Sam was being so sweet to you and that you were starting to get feelings for him.

"But it's only been a day, why do I already feel like this?!" You complained

"Y/N, he's been all over you all day, I'm sure he's in the same boat!" Wanda pulled you up from your spot on the floor and brought you over to the couch in your room.

"Yeah he's been following you around with puppy dog eyes. And it's really starting to piss off bucky too, as if they need another thing to hate each other over." Nat sighed.

You felt doubt start to creep in, Bucky was your family and you didn't want to go against his wishes. But Sam was so sweet and arrogant at the same time and the thought of him made your heart pick up speed.

"I'm not gonna act on it yet. I don't wanna make Buck upset over nothing. I'll wait till the end of the week and if it's still a thing I might consider talking to Sam about maybe going on a date." You said, getting quieter and quieter with every word. Both girls yelled out their excitement and began planning your outfits and actions for the next week so you could "keep him interested" in you. You went to bed exhausted but ready to take on the week of figuring out if your chemistry with the superhero was real.

The next week was torturous. Sam was just as flirtatious as he had been the first day and he got bolder and bolder as the week went on. He had asked you out a number of times, each time you responded with some non answer to try to buy more time. Bucky was getting progressively more frustrated about the flirting between you two until day 5 of your stay.

You and Sam were watching a movie together, you told yourself it was just as friends. You were on opposite ends of a couch and you could feel yourself getting more and more tired. Eventually you fell asleep during the movie and Bucky happened to walk by as you did. Sam noticed you asleep and smiled at the sight before he wrapped you in a blanket. Bucky sighed quietly and made his way to the kitchen to get water, not having been noticed by Sam yet who was too occupied with you. As Sam lifted you off the couch and began to carry you to your room, Bucky found it harder and harder to believe that the mans intentions were anything but pure. And he had never seen you so smitten. He begrudgingly decided he would not stand in the way of you two and he might even have to convince you to ask Sam out if you kept up the shy act.

The next day you awoke in your room. Not knowing how you got there you looked around. You remembered falling asleep on the couch while you were watching something with Sam. There was a note on your nightstand so you reached over to pick it up, heart rate increasing as you read the note.

"Didn't want to wake you, I hoped you slept well

- Bird Man"

You smiled as you read the note and began to make your way out of bed. You noticed there were socks on your feet even though you were sure you hadn't put them on. You almost got lightheaded at the realization that Sam put socks on you feet last night before you went to bed so that you wouldn't get cold in the night. The thought made you blush at how domestic it was but you wanted to thank him. You made your way down the hallway, still in your pajamas pants and hoodie you'd worn last night and you knew your hair was a mess. Still when you got to the kitchen and made eye contact with sam, his eyes brightened a bit and a smile came across his face.

"Thanks for getting me to my room last night." You blushed shyly. You could feel your heart going faster and faster as you looked down at your socks.

"I would happily do that every night if it meant I got to take you out on a date." He smiled, already expecting you to avoid the implication again. You smiled at him and then glanced over at Bucky who was already looking at you. He winked and nodded and you knew what he meant.

You made eye contact with Sam, "Tomorrow night at 7, you can take me to dinner." You said while looking into your mug of coffee you had just poured. You looked up at Sam to see his reaction as his face fell neutral before he grinned. He quickly corrected his face too look like he was less excited.

"I knew I'd get you to crack eventually" he pointed out. You rolled your eyes before turning to walk toward the couch.

"I can take it back" you began before he interrupted you.

"No no, no need to do that, I have a great place in mind for dinner." He quickly said and you just smiled up at him lightly. The rest of the day was spent daydreaming about your date tomorrow.

The next night you were getting ready for your date, you had a flattering dress on and had your makeup done up, just finishing before there was a knock on your door. You checked the time and sure enough it was 7:00 sharp.

You mentally prepared yourself and took a deep breath before opening the door to reveal a fidgety Sam Wilson. The sight made you laugh a bit as he had never looked so nervous. It made you feel a bit better that he was nervous too. You took a moment to look each other over. Sam's eyes drifted south until he reached your legs and then back up to your lips. His eyes stayed there for a second before moving back up to your eyes. You had just finished gazing over his built frame that was squeezed perfectly into his suit. You nearly swooned. He had a bouquet of your favorite flowers ready which you shyly took and put into a vase in your room, thanking him quietly. There was a single moment of nerves before you broke the silence.

"You look very handsome." You smiled as you made eye contact with him, your hands fidgeting.

"I can't even believe I managed to get a date with a girl as pretty as you." Sam smirked before offering his elbow to you, which you promptly took. When you reached the elevator you both saw Bucky standing there with his arms crossed.

"Have her back by 10:30. No funny business." He glared at Sam before looking at you. "Have fun sweetheart, you know how to throw a punch if you need to." He smiled at you as Sam gulped. You gave Bucky a peck on the cheek before you and Sam both entered the elevator and it was on it's way down.

You ended up having dinner at Sam's favorite southern food restaurant in the city. More specifically, Louisiana barbecue. You loved the food and you didn't even feel pressure to eat pretty as you and Sam were having such a good time. You both were wildly overdressed but that was part of the fun. He payed for dinner and you promised to get the next one which had him smiling like a fool cause it meant you would go on another date with him.

After dinner he took you out to a dancing bar, but it wasn't fast paced or gross like many seemed to be in the city. Instead they played slower songs and it was less loud. You were grinning ear to ear as you slowly danced together, pressed together as close as you could be. At about 10:00 you began to head back to the tower. You decided to walk there because you didn't want to get home too fast and it was such a nice night out. You had never felt safer than with Sam at your side either.

When you made it back up you the residential floor of the tower, you saw Bucky sitting in the common space with a glare on. He made eye contact with you and when you smiled at him he winked and made his way to bed, not missing a chance to glower at Sam on his way by. You could feel Sam growing nervous next to you as he walked you back to your room. You turned around to face him and his hands were fidgeting. You took a deep breath to gather your courage before leaning up to him and kissing him deeply. He responded immediately and wrapped one of his hands around the back of your neck. You kissed until you had to come away to breathe and you both made eye contact. He smiled at the event that just happened and he took your hand in his before kissing it.

"I think that was the best date I've ever been on." He smiled.

"Well you're gonna have to top it next time." You smirked. He looked back at you and had a faraway look in his eyes. You said your goodbyes and you went to bed with cheeks that hurt from smiling so much.

He did indeed top it next time, and every date after that.

#sam Wilson #sam x reader #sam wilson x reader #sam imagine #sam Wilson imagine #Bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #marvel #avengers #avengers x reader #the falcon and the winter soldier #fluff #fluffy #Bucky fluff #sam fluff #sam x reader fluff

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writingfromkitchenator · 4 years ago

Text

Sirius ~ Ask Me

1,300 Followers Challenge!

Round 2

Masterlist

Requested by Anon

Words: 1,931

Warnings: Neutral Reader, neutral arsehole OC, fake dating, fluff, supportive Sirius, supportive friends, brief magic fight

“Sirius, can I talk to you for a second?”

Sirius, James, Remus and Peter looked up from dining table, finding you standing there, looking just a touch nervous. If it had been anyone else, one of them would've made some sort of comment, but this demeanour was so unlike you, they all knew better.

“Yeah, sure.” Sirius said, standing and grabbing a slice of toast.

A look of relief crossed your expression before you lead the way out. Behind you, James nudged Sirius, with a wink, and Sirius rolled his eyes at him, quickly following.

You led him away from the Great Hall and into the nearest classroom, quickly checking to make sure no one was around.

Inside, your anxious only seemed to increase.

Sirius threw what was left of his toast into the bin. “Are you alright Y/N? What's going on?”

You let out a shaky breath before meeting his gaze. “I just want to start this by saying, I'll completely understand if you say no.”

He blinks, pink tinging his cheeks a little, but he nods. “Okay...”

“I...” You sighed and wrapped your arms around yourself. “Look, you've probably heard that Robin has been asking me out for a while now?”

It was no secret. “A few times if I've heard correctly.”

You nod and start to pace the room. “I keep saying no, I'm not interested, but for whatever reason they have it in their head that that means they can keep on trying. It's getting to the point that I'm extremely uncomfortable and I don't know what else to do about this.”

“A good hex would sort them out.” Sirius said flatly.

“Yeah, and get me into trouble at the same time,” You frowned. “Do you know how much shit my parents would get at work if I did that? They work together, and they aren't easy to get along with at the best of times.”

Sirius frowns. “Okay, so what do you need me to do?”

Your hesitation was clear, and your hands wrung together a little. “As I said, you can say no, but it seems the only to get Robin to stop to show I'm already with someone else.”

He stares at you, trying to keep his expression blank. “You want to date me?”

“Unofficially,” You said quickly. “We just...pretend that we're dating. Just till Robin backs off.”

“Huh,” He said thoughtfully, still keeping his expression blank. “And why would you ask me this?”

“Because James is already dating Lily, and Peter and Remus can't act for shit.” You said. “You're the only one I trust with this Sirius.”

Sirius wasn't a fan of this, he knew it was probably a bad idea, but there was something about you saying you trusted him that made him chase all those other thoughts away. “Okay, I'll do it.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Just like that?”

He smiled. “Just like that. Although, do me a favour?”

You nod, still stunned.

“Don't tell Remus he can't act. He'll get most upset.”

The laughter felt good, and you shook your head, smiling. “Not a word.”

News went around the school like wild fire that you and Sirius were dating. Sirius Black, the local flirt, had finally settled in with someone. The two of you played along with it, but both of you were aware that there was a furious glare often sent your way.

After a particularly bad Potions lesson, Sirius caught up to you and wrapped a friendly arm around your shoulders. “You okay?”

“I'd be better if Robin hadn't been glaring daggers into my back all lesson.” You grumbled. “I have no idea how I got through that lesson.”

Sirius hums thoughtfully. “Well, how about we head to Hogsmead this weekend? Just the two of us.” He added quickly at your nervous look, knowing that you wanted to keep this as quiet as possible, it less likely to blow up in your faces then.

You sighed. “I don't know Sirius...it could bring more trouble.”

He gives your shoulders a squeeze. “That's what I'm here for. Everyone knows trouble is my middle name by now.”

It took a little bit more convincing, but after Transfiguration was no better, you agreed, just wanting to away from him.

The Three Broomsticks was relatively quiet considering how many students were out and about, but you certainly weren't complaining, relaxing as you sat in the chair next to Sirius. You couldn't even begin to put into words what this was all doing to you, but you more than grateful for Sirius' support.

“Thanks Sirius,” You said quietly, earning a surprised look from him. “I really did need this.”

He smiled. “No need to thank me Y/N. If that clod can't accept this, then there is something wrong.”

You sighed, leaning on yours hands. “I do wonder if Robin knows.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow. “How? I certainly haven't said anything, and I really doubt you have. We're the only two that know.”

“I don't know, it's just something about...” You trailed off and shook your head. “You're right. It's not possible.”

Sirius does a look around the pub and sees more than a few students that spoke a lot to Robin, a cheeky grin coming to him.

He nudges you gently. “You know, there is something we could do that would get tongues wagging.”

You looked at him, raising an eyebrow.

Sirius’ grin widens, and he sends you a wink. “We could make out.”

There was an awkward pause before you laughed, looking away shyly. “No, I don't want a kiss.”

Sirius chuckled. “You never know, you might like it.”

“While I'm sure your kissing is more than remarkable,” You said, purposefully looking at your drink. “It's not currently the most important thing on my mind.”

You felt him shift closer, his arm snaking around the back of your chair, his voice low. “Something else then?”

Laughing, you glance at him, finding him grinning. “You are terrible.”

Sirius shrugs, his smile not dropping as he moves comfortably back into his own. “I must have something going for me, or you wouldn't have asked otherwise.”

You smile at him, feeling genuinely happy, more than you had in a while. Then your smile dropped and Sirius quickly followed your gaze to the door.

Robin stepped inside.

“Oh, you've got to be kidding me.”

Robin strides over, looking smug. “So, this is the happy couple is it?”

“Why can't you just leave me alone?” You asked, annoyed. “I'm sure you have better things to do than plague my every step.”

“Oh, I do have better things to do,” Robin said, eyes on Sirius. “Including putting this bastard back in his place.”

“I'd like to see you try,” Sirius said lightly. “You aren't the only one with friends.”

Robin sneers. “Oh, you look all alone here, little Black, and if this is the only one to win Y/N over, then so be it.”

“No one is winning anyone over,” You said coldly. “Because I remain uninterested, no matter what you keep telling yourself.”

But Robin smirks. “Oh? You haven't heard? Little Black has been trying to earn your attentions here for a while. It may seem like his crush has worked, at least a little, but I wonder just how much dark magic was involved in it.”

“None.” You and Sirius both said, Sirius' face going a little pale.

“I'm here of my own volition,” You said. “And you better learn to respect that.”

Robin scoffed. “Like you would know anything about dark magic. We all know that you ride the coattails of everyone else in class.”

Heat flared in your cheeks, but you didn’t get a chance to respond as Sirius stands, his hands shaking.

“Says the one who’s only in some classes because Mummy and Daddy paid the school.”

Robin’s face went incredibly pale, very aware that several people were now looking over. “Like you would know anything about it. Why don’t you stick to your waste of space of a family in practising dark magic?”

Sirius reached for his wand, but he didn’t have to say anything, four spells hitting Robin at once, knocking them almost immediately out cold, several screams from other students sounding.

“I suggest the rest of you stay out of this,” James said, wand twirling in his fingers. “This prat had this coming. When someone says no, they mean it.”

Sirius stared at him, Remus and Peter next to him, slipping their own wands away. “What are you guys doing here?”

James grins and shrugs. “Seems like you needs a hand.” He nods at you. “Y/N too.”

Sirius frowns and looks at you, your wand still raised, breathing hard. He smiles and gently takes your hand, pushing your hand down. “I think you can put that down now. Pretty sure Robin won’t be getting up for a while.”

You swallowed and slowly slipped your wand away. “O-okay.”

“Hey,” Sirius brought your gaze to his. “You didn’t do anything wrong. That arsehole deserved it.”

“Damn right they did,” James was crouching next to Robin now, poking them with his wand. “We’ll get them out of sight for you, and don’t worry, we’ll take the fall from the teachers.”

Remus snorts, helping James pick up Robin as Peter moves and opens the door. “You mean I will offer an explanation that the teachers will mostly believe, but we’ll still all get detention. Again.”

James chuckles. “Come on Remus, you haven’t had a dull moment with us yet.”

You and Sirius watched them leave, Sirius letting out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “They are terrible. Can’t keep to themselves at all.”

“Does Remus really lie to the teachers that much?” You asked, watching as the rest of the students started going back to their drinks, as if not much had happened at all.

Sirius grins. “He is a much better actor than you give him credit for.”

You look at him, wanting to laugh, but still feeling in shock over it all, and not entirely sure what to process first. “So…you’ve liked me for a while huh?”

His grin falters and he rubs the back of his neck, pink flushing his cheeks. “I…well…maybe?”

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” You frowned at him. “Why did you agree to help me?”

Sirius shrugs. “I never thought you’d ever like me back, and I agreed because you’re still my friend. My feelings aside, I didn’t like seeing you so uncomfortable and in trouble, and the fact that you trusted me enough to ask me…”

You stared at him for a long moment, Sirius carefully avoiding your gaze. Slowly, you rested your hand on his. “Ask me.”

He looked at you, frowning slightly. “What?”

“Ask me.” You gave a small smile. “Properly. Without the expectation of covering my arse from a douchebag.”

Sirius opened his mouth a few times, before his frown deepened. “Technically you asked me that.”

You giggled. “Well, now I’m giving you a chance.”

Slowly, his frown eased and he smiled, moving a little closer. “Y/N…would you like to go out with me? For real this time.”

Smiling shyly, you nod. “Yeah, yeah I would. I’m sorry I put you through this.”

Sirius chuckled, his arm wrapping around your shoulders. “Don’t be, I did agree, and if anything, we both learnt we can already play the couple really well.”

Giggling, you felt yourself relax into him, and while you were still worried about what the consequences of hexing Robin would be, with Sirius here, it all just felt a little bit better.

#1300 followers challenge #round 2 #harry potter #sirius black #sirius #Sirius Black x neutral reader #sirius x neutral reader #sirius black x reader #sirius x reader

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bopbopstyles · 4 years ago

Text

7. Home for the Holidays

SERIES RATING: M (sex)

CHAPTER WORD COUNT: 10.1k

MASTERLIST | INSPO TAG | ASK TO JOIN THE TAGLIST

Y/N promised herself she would never date a musician. It was her one rule–her only rule, actually–when it came to dating. But then, Harry Styles rolled into her life and asked her to break it, just this once. And this is what happened.

a/n: thank you for all the love lately!!! <3 u guys

pls reblog to spread the word about only exception! 🥰

Harry and Y/N had discussed the idea of having some elaborate reveal that they were having a baby, but they decided to just do it in the fashion of buying onesies for their parents for Christmas gifts and letting their parents open them and discover the truth. Harry and Y/N spent hours one evening picking out onesies on Etsy that said things like “I love Grandpa!” and giggling over the prospect of telling their parents, excitement seeping out of them.

But first, Y/N knew she had to tell Hanna and Jamie. She suspected that they already thought something was wrong, after she had cancelled on all of their recent requests to go out for drinks. So when she asked them over to her apartment for dinner, she didn’t know what the mood would be. They arrived in normal fashion, though, Jamie bringing ice cream for dessert and Hanna bringing a bottle of wine for them to share.

When she plucked glasses from the cabinet—three, one for each of them—that’s when Y/N knew her time had come. “Not one for me,” she said calmly, turning away from the salad she was making.

Hanna looked at her, confusion across her face, and then at the wine. “But…it’s wine.”

Y/N nodded. “I can’t have any.”

Hanna gasped, the glasses dropping to the counter and barely avoiding cracking, and rushed to her friend. Jamie stood there, shocked, eyes flickering between Y/N’s stomach and her face. “You’re pregnant?” He asked finally, eyes wide.

She nodded, and Hanna dropped to her knees. “Can I touch?” Hanna asked softly, eyes on Y/N’s belly. She was the first person to ask, the first person who would feel the place where Y/N’s child was growing, but she didn’t mind. It was her best friend, after all. So she nodded.

“What’s it like?” Jamie asked, coming over to stand next to her, head cocked to the side.

“What, pregnancy?” He nodded. “Well, so far, it just means I can’t have wine and I vomit a lot. I’m also so fucking tired all the time.”

“When you were sick,” Jamie said, putting the pieces together in his head. “Shit.”

Hanna slapped him. “Stop it, you.”

“No, what is it?” Y/N asked, pushing Hanna away from her so she could turn to Jamie.

“I just…” Jamie ran his hand over his face, eyes flickering to her. “Harry knows?” She nodded. “And?”

“He’s over the moon,” she informed him, voice stern. She got it. He didn’t think Harry would want the kid, that she was going to be raising it alone. And maybe, if Harry wasn’t so goddamn stubborn, she would be. “I tried to tell him he didn’t need to be around, but he literally started crying at the prospect. He’s the one who convinced me to let him stay, to do it together.”

“Wow,” Hanna said, leaning against the counter. “I always knew he was wonderful, but that—that’s something else.”

Jamie reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder, his expression softening. “I’m sorry—I was worried about you. I’m happy for you, and Harry, as long as you are.”

She took his hand and pressed a chaste kiss to the top of it, something they always did to make up. “Honestly, I am. It’s not what I was expecting, but doing it with Harry, it’s not as bad as I was expecting. It’s actually kind of incredible.”

“Is the sex, like, insane?”

Her head swiveled to Hanna and Jamie gasped, swatting at Hanna’s shoulder. “Han!”

“What? Your hormones are like raging right? It’s got to be incredible.”

Y/N coyly smiled and this time both Hanna and Jamie gasped, their questions toppling over one another. She had never shared too much of her and Harry’s sex life with her friends, valuing his privacy, and that wasn’t going to change. But she did tell them, “It’s on a whole other level,” which earned clapped hands and shrieks. And she wasn’t lying. The added hormones raging through her bloodstream had her wanting him at every time of day, and Harry seemed even more infatuated with her than normal, touching and kissing her every chance he had. She couldn’t even count the times they had had sex in his kitchen, not being able to wait until they went upstairs, or the times he had dropped to his knees in the shower, desperate to taste her. Sex with Harry was always mind-blowing, good in a way she had never experienced before, but sex with Harry while pregnant neared an out of body experience sometimes. He could oscillate so well between kind, soft, cuddly, and this man who was simply dying to be inside of her, murmuring words in her ears that had her blood rushing straight down.

When her friends left, she called Harry and told him exactly what she had been thinking about, and he promptly drove to her apartment, not wanting to leave her desiring him and unable to quench her thirst. He took her on her bed, their teeth gnashing and hands scrambling over skin, Harry sucking harshly on her neck until she reminded him they were seeing her dad tomorrow, at which point he opted for a spot on her breast. Their increased size and sensitivity was driving Harry—and Y/N—mad, so he had his lips on them whenever he had the chance.

“How,” he exhaled as he drove deeply into her, the only sound audible in her room the sound of their panting and skin slapping, “do you feel better every time I’m inside of you?”

She knew what he meant. She could never tire of him, the way he fit inside of her, the way he touched her body, the way he made her feel. Fingers threaded in his hair and she yanked him down to her, begging for his lips to reach hers again. And when they did, she murmured, “You’re the best I’ve ever had,” against them. Harry groaned, deep and throaty, and pressed a deep spot that had her seeing stars.

Afterwards, Harry asked her to lay down and he slipped down her body, pressing his lips to the spot right below her belly button where their child rested. “Hi Peanut,” he whispered against her skin, Y/N smiling down at the sight of him talking to their child. “It’s Papa. Sorry if that disturbed you, just needed to show Mama how much I love her. I hope you can understand and forgive me.”

“Shut up,” she told him. “That’s much too crass for them still!”

“Shh,” he told her, finger to his lips. “I’m not done.” He bent back down and rested his hands on her hips. “Can’t wait to meet you. I’ve been dreaming about you, you know.” Y/N didn’t know that and she looked down at Harry in wonder, curious how she had gotten so lucky. “Dreamed you were a girl. Not that that means anything—you are whoever you want to be, Peanut. I’ll love you no matter who you are, always, unwaveringly.”

“You didn’t tell me that,” she whispered, hand curving over his jaw and tugging his head up so their eyes met.

He pressed a lingering kiss to her belly before crawling up to her face, fingers brushing across her flushed cheeks. “I wanted to tell Peanut first.”

“A girl, huh?” He nodded, and she smiled. “I’d like that, I think.”

“I think you’ll like whoever they are,” he told her. “Because they’ll be utterly perfect, just like you.”

She smiled into the kiss she gave him, hoping he knew that it wasn’t her they’d resemble in perfection, it would be him.

Harry was bouncing on his toes in both excitement and fear at the prospect of telling her father. He genuinely liked Peter, looked up to him even. Even as he grew older, he had managed to maintain his career, finding new and creative ways to make a living, which was not easy. Despite his success, he was still incredibly down to Earth and didn’t make you feel judged when you wrote with him—which was something Harry, as a relatively new songwriter, deeply appreciated. His imposter syndrome in the songwriting room was something he constantly battled, especially when he wrote with new people. But Peter put Harry at ease immediately, making suggestions in a way so Harry didn’t feel like an idiot, and praising him when he had genuinely good ideas.

So that was all to say, the last thing he wanted was for Peter to hate him for getting his daughter pregnant at 23.

Peter opened the door to his house beaming, the Motown Christmas Album playing in the background as Y/N and Harry stepped in, a flutter of hellos and hugs. “It’s been too long!” Peter said, giving Harry a clap on the back. “How was tour?”

“Good,” Harry said as Peter shut the front door. “Long.”

“Heard from Jeff you’re doing March to July this year,” Peter said, leading them into the living room where the tree was set up, the jolly holiday spirit wrapping around Harry like a hug. He and Y/N had decorate his place a bit, putting up a tree she went and got from the store and decorating it with ornaments, but he never went all out with decorating. Decorating any house that wasn’t his mom’s just felt wrong somehow.

Harry nodded, taking a seat next to Y/N on the couch, loving the way she leaned subconsciously into him when he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “Yeah, should be a long one.”

“Didn’t know you and Jeff were friends,” Y/N asked her father, taking a sip from the hot coco her father had placed in front of them.

“Decided I should get to know him a bit better ever since you and this one started spending all your time together,” Peter said with a chuckle. “Especially since you don’t call enough and give me the information yourself.”

“That’s a lie,” Y/N said, glancing up at Harry as if to reassure him that she was, in fact, a good daughter. “I call him all the time.”

“Don’t doubt it,” he replied, pressing a kiss to her hair. He was an affectionate person, and he had always appreciated the fact that Y/N never pushed him away, always seemed to lean in for more. Made him feel even more loved by her.

Peter set down his own cup of hot chocolate and made his way over to the tree. “Now, I know you have to head up to your mom’s, so should we get started on the presents?”

Harry and Y/N had decided to go to her dad’s on the way up to her mom’s house, driving up a rental car and fly out of San Francisco to London to cut down on the amount of time they had to drive. It was busy on the highways and honestly, Harry hated driving for long distances in the states, but for Y/N he’d do it. Driving on the wrong side of the road was something he never could fully adjust to and doing it for hours at a time took the utmost concentration.

“Yes!” Y/N replied, grabbing their gift for him from her purse and setting it under the tree. “But I want mine first.”

Peter chuckled and dug around for Y/N’s, the red and green wrapping paper making Harry smile. He liked that Peter wasn’t perfect at wrapping but he still made an effort, the crinkles in the paper and jagged edge of the paper authentic and loving. “Hope you like it, doll.”

Y/N ripped open the paper, a green slim box revealing itself in the paper. She shook it like a little girl, which made Harry laugh softly next to her, before opening up the box. Inside lay three concert tickets to the upcoming Taylor Swift tour, which had Y/N squealing, launching herself into her father’s arms. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She said, giving her dad a tight hug, Peter’s full body laugh filling the room.

“You’re welcome,” he said. “You never took me up on last year’s gift, so I decided to just make an executive decision. Harry, I know you’ll be gone, but I thought you could take Hanna and Jamie with you.”

Y/N nodded, a quick look to Harry that made his heart clench. “Yes, of course. They’ll scream when I tell them how good the seats are.”

Her dad chuckled. “I have no doubt.” Y/N gave her dad one last squeeze before settling back into her spot next to Harry, the way she interlaced her fingers with him sending him the message that She wished it could be him going with her, but she wasn’t mad. “Now, Harry.” Peter reached around the tree and grabbed a gift for Harry, wrapped up and looking like a book of some kind.

“Oh,” Harry said, reaching up to grab it, “thank you so much. You didn’t have to get me anything, though.”

“Nonsense,” Peter replied, waving the idea away. “You’re with Y/N, so you’re part of the family.”

Y/N shot him a knowing smile, the thought passing through both their heads at how right her dad actually was. Harry ripped at the paper, his fingers curving around a leather journal that quite resembled the one he lugged around with him everywhere he went. “Oh,” he said, looking up at Peter. “Wow. Thank you so much.”

“Of course,” Peter replied. “When we were writing I noticed you were about halfway through your old one, so I thought you were probably due to have a new one.”

He was right, in fact. Harry had planned to buy one back in London at his favorite shop, but it seemed that Peter had beat him to it, the mark on the back from the same place as his current notebook. “This is incredible,” he said, wiping at the tears threatening to spill from his eyes at the thoughtfulness. “So thoughtful. Thank you.”

Y/N threaded her hand through his, giving it a squeeze to remind him she was there and he glanced down at her face to help stitch his emotions back into place. “Now, Dad, we’ve got ours for you.” She scrambled up, grabbing the bag from under the tree that held their carefully selected onesie for him.

Peter ripped out the tissue paper, digging his hand in and reaching around for the gift. Y/N bit her lip and looked up at Harry who gave her a reassuring smile, reminding her with his eyes that Peter was going to be happy for them, just as they had discussed. “Oh!” Peter said when he pulled out the onesie that said “#1 Grandkid” on it and an ultrasound photo they had had printed for him. Tears welled in his eyes, looking up at Y/N and Harry in disbelief. “Really?” He asked, words breathless.

Y/N nodded and Peter yelped in excitement, rushing to grab them both into hugs, a flurry of love and warmth they desperately needed. “Due in June,” Y/N told him.

“Summer baby,” he said, to himself looking back down at the ultrasound photo in his hand. “Good. Could use one of those in this family.”

Harry laughed and Peter reached out, a soft hand on Harry’s cheek. “Welcome to the family, son.”

The word made Harry’s heart clench, the thought of being a permanent part of Y/N’s family a prospect too good to be true. “Thank you,” he replied.

Peter proceeded to pepper them with questions, cracking a joke about how he almost got Y/N a crate of wine as a joke from last Christmas but was glad he didn’t, and they chatted about what he was going to be called. They decided on “Pop”, something short and sweet, and a shortened of what Y/N had called her grandfather before he passed. Over brunch they talked about their upcoming trip to England and their plan to tell Y/N’s mother that evening. Peter nodded at the sound of his ex-wife’s name, and Harry thought for not the first time about the fact that both he and Y/N had parents who were divorced. He hoped it wasn’t a sign for him at Y/N—he wanted to stay with her forever. They hadn’t talked about the idea of marriage, but it was something playing at the back of his mind ever since they’d learned they were going to have a baby.

He didn’t want to get married just because of their child, but at the same time, he loved Y/N and couldn’t imagine wanting anyone else. She challenged him, loved him, made him a better person. Made him laugh like crazy, bought him all the weird foods he liked, gave the best massages. Reminded him that he had a life outside of work—a life he loved. The prospect of marrying her wasn’t scary to him. In fact, it sounded like heaven.

Y/N couldn’t help but watch Harry as he drove, one hand on the steering wheel, one on her knee. At first, he did it because she was bouncing her knee up and down, but then kept it there, and Y/N suspected it was because of the same reason that her fingers crawled up his forearm: to feel his skin under her fingers. The drive was long, probably eight or nine hours, but she didn’t mind it—nine hours to spend with Harry’s undivided attention, the coast whipping by them.

They got on the road by noon, hugs and teary eyes as they said goodbye, and she texted her mom they’d be there at nine and would grab dinner on the way, so no need to wait up for them for dinner. Harry told her to DJ and she put on their playlist first, belting out lyrics to all of their favorite songs, Harry even using her water bottle that sat in the center console as a microphone. His seat dancing had her laughing hysterically and his smile never seemed to fade from his face as they drove. After the playlist ended, she put on the NPR podcast she had been listening to lately, and Harry asked her political questions, still trying to wrap his head around American politics.

They stopped for dinner at In-n-Out and Y/N took the wheel for the remaining two hours of the drive, since she knew it by heart and Harry was getting a bit stressed. They switched shakes back and forth as she drove, chattering about their favorite holiday memories as kids and laughing at their embarrassing moments. She loved glancing over and seeing Harry’s eyes already on her, a twinkle in his eye she knew well—it was the one where he was overwhelmed by his feelings for her. He had told her one time when they were wrapped up on his couch and she asked him why he was staring at her like that, and it had made her pull him into a deep kiss, much like the one she wanted now. But she was driving, so she settled with kissing the back of Harry’s hand, the smile he gave her settling deep in her heart.

The porch light was on at her mom’s house, the simply blue post-war bungalow the perfect place for her mom to have moved into. It was the right size for a single woman and her dog, June, who they’d gotten shortly after her and Y/N’s day got divorced. Y/N usually stayed in the guest room, which she didn’t mind too much—she was proud of her mom for making a new life for herself in San Francisco. It just meant her bedroom at her dad’s house was even more special to her, the one remaining shred of her childhood.

“Nervous?” She asked Harry. He’d met her mom once, back in the summer before he left for Dunkirk press. They’d gotten on famously, but they definitely weren’t as close as Harry and her dad. One time she’d walked into his house to find him on the phone with her dad, jabbering about songwriting and the brilliance of Stevie Nicks.

He shut the car door behind him and walked to the trunk, popping it open. “A bit, yeah.” He pulled out their suitcases and shut the door, looking up to where she leaned against the car. “I just don’t want her to think I’m horrible for getting her daughter pregnant, ya know?”

Y/N scoffed, and walked over to him, hands on his cheeks. “H, it’s not like you were the only one having sex. It’s a two-way street—I’ve got just as much responsibility in this as you.”

He nodded, leaning into the press of her fingers on his skin. Together they walked up to the front door, Y/N knocking softly. The door swung open not even a minute later, her mom standing there beaming at them. “Mama!” Y/N wrapped her mom up in a hug, her mom’s blunt bob swinging as they rocked back and forth. Her mom was a hugger, always had been.

“Hi you two,” her mom said, embracing Harry next. “Come in, you must be exhausted from the drive.”

They made their way inside, the screen door slamming shut behind them. Inside it felt like her mom—a winter candle burning on the counter, the news softly running on the TV, a blanket thrown over the couch. A glass of wine sat on the coffee table half-empty and Y/N looked at it longingly. How was she going to make it until June without a nice relaxing glass of wine at night?

Harry was talking to her mom, telling her about the drive and how they’d stopped for burgers, her mom telling him about her preferred In-n-Out order. “Let me take you back to the room,” she said, and Y/N and Harry trailed behind her to the guest bedroom where a fresh set of sheets adorned the bed, a soft glow from the bedside table lamp. “Here you are,” she said, leaning against the wall as Harry set up the suitcases in the corner. “I’ll let you guys settle in for a minute. I’ll be in the kitchen, okay?”

Y/N nodded and her mom left the room, shutting the door behind her. She looked to Harry, who was sitting on the bed, a lingering gaze on her face. “What are you thinking about?”

“Didn’t realize you didn’t have a bedroom here.”

Y/N glanced around the room, the nondescript art making it obvious that it wasn’t Y/N’s room. There were no traces of her in it except for the framed photos on the dresser of her and her mom from her childhood, the ones her dad’s best friend had taken when she was seven. “When she moved up here it just didn’t make sense,” she explained. “Only two bedrooms, after all.”

“Mhm,” Harry said, grabbing her waist so she could nestle between his knees. “Kinda liked the idea of sleeping in your childhood bed.”

“Dirty, dirty boy,” she murmured against his lips, bending down to kiss him. “Well, don’t worry, we’ll be sleeping in yours to make up for it.”

He nudged at her neck, pressing a kiss to the skin there, a soft gasp leaving Y/N’s mouth. “Can you believe I’ll have my girl and my baby in bed with me?” He kissed the juncture of her jaw and neck and she carded her fingers through his hair, loving the way his eyes fluttered shut from the touch.

“Lucky man,” she said.

He kissed her one more time before saying, “Got that right.”

Hearing her mom in the kitchen, she pulled away from his grasp. “We should go out to my mom.”

“Gonna tell her now?” He asked, standing up from the bed.

Y/N considered it. It was late, but she couldn’t very well stand in her mother’s house and pretend. “Yeah. I don’t want to pretend.” She bent down, unzipping her suitcase so she could pull out her mom’s gift from where it was tucked in between her clothes. With a kiss between her shoulder blades, Harry followed her out of the room, their gift held tightly in her fingers.

She was nervous, she had to admit, as she walked into the room. Her mother had always wanted her to wait until she was older to have kids, to have a full career and life before she started a family. But she didn’t think that her mom would be unhappy with her once she told her—her mom had always been there for her, through thick and thin, every step of the way. This was changing Y/N’s life forever, so of course her mom would be supportive, she told herself.

“Mama?”

Her mom’s head popped up from where she stood at the sink, washing dishes from her dinner. “Room okay?” She asked, drying her hands on a dish towel.

“Great,” Harry answered, hand squeezing Y/N’s. “We wanted to give you your Christmas gift, actually.”

“Oh!” Her mom’s eyes widened, eyes darting to her small tree nestled in the corner of the living room. “Thought we could wait for the morning, but that’s fine. Can I get you anything? Wine, water?”

“Water is perfect,” Harry replied. He had promised to abstain from the same things she had to, a promise Y/N wasn’t sure he would be able to keep but loved the idea of. He had been so sweet when he’d made it, pushing the bottles of wine to the back of his pantry and swearing he wouldn’t touch a sip of alcohol until the baby was born.

Her mom filled two glasses with water and together they all migrated to the living room. Y/N could feel her heart hammering in her chest. This was more anxiety-inducing than telling her dad, who she knew wouldn’t say a word to her about it, be nothing but supportive. But her mom had a tendency to be a bit judgmental, a side Y/N had experience a few times in her life and one she hated. She swallowed her fear, though, and handed her mom the paper bag, the tissue paper crinkling in the room.

She leaned into Harry’s side as her mom opened the bag, thankful for the comfort of his arm wrapping around her waist softly, the reminder of him being there to support her.

Then her mom pulled out the onesie, “I <3 Grandma!” embroidered on the front, flowers all over the material, and her mom yelped in surprise. She looked up at the two of them, eyes wide, disbelief all over her features. “You’re pregnant?”

“Yes,” Y/N said, unsure how to read her mom’s reaction.

“This isn’t a prank? I’ve seen them on the internet before.”

Of course she had. “No, Mom. It’s real.”

Her mom didn’t said anything for a bear, her eyes flickering between the onesie and Y/N, and then to Harry and back down. “Congratulations, honey,” she finally said. “Harry, can I talk to Y/N alone for a bit?”

Harry stirred against her. “Uh, of course. I’ll be in the room, okay, love?” He pulled away, a lingering kiss to her head, and left the room, leaving Y/N and her mom alone.

When the door clicked shut, her mom finally spoke. “Are you sure this is what you want to do?”

“Yes,” Y/N replied without even thinking. “I thought a lot about it before I even told Harry, and we talked about it once I told him. He wants this baby, and so do I.”

“But your career,” her mom said, voice hardening and the sound making Y/N stomach curl. “It’s just starting out. Won’t this affect it at all?”

“I can still be a mom and work,” she said, pointedly. “You did it, after all.”

“I was 33 when I had you,” her mom reminded her. “You’re only two years out of school.”

Y/N sighed. This was the exact reaction she didn’t want from her mom, but at the same time it didn’t surprise her. “This wasn’t in the plan and I know the timing isn’t great, but I want to have this baby. I love Harry and he’s going to be an amazing father.” Her hand slipped down to cup her belly, where a bump wasn’t quite apparent but would be soon enough.

“When he’s here,” her mother said and Y/N glanced up from her belly to her mother, whose expression was blank.

“What does that mean?”

Her mother gave her a pointed look. “You know exactly what that means, Y/N. You’re going to be essentially a single mom. It’s not even like it was with your dad—Harry’s one of the most popular celebrities in the world. How is he going to be able to be here for you? For your child? And what about privacy—have you even thought about what it’s going to be like to raise a child in the public eye? How are you going to have playdates and send your child to school and let them live a normal life? It was so hard for me—you saw that. It was hard on you to have your dad gone all the time, and you always told me how you didn’t want that. And now here you are, doing it all over again.”

Y/N could feel her heart beating faster, the anger rising in her body. She hated it when her mom spoke like this about her father, as if all that happened in her life was all because of her dad, but she knew it wasn’t true. She loved her father, always had, despite her mother’s attempts to sow seeds of discontent in her. “Harry isn’t my dad,” she said, trying to keep her voice measured, but failing miserably. “He wants this child, Mom! I tried to shut him out, tried to force him to leave, and he wouldn’t let me! He wants to raise this child and he wants to raise it with me. We talk about things, you know—it’s not like you and Dad, living in a house where you don’t even talk to one another.” Suddenly it was spilling from her, all the things unsaid over the years, her anger at her mother’s attack on not only herself, but on Harry who had been nothing but good. “You don’t know Harry, so how dare you paint him to be someone he isn’t.”

“He may want this baby now,” her mother said, a lace of venom dripping from her words that Y/N hadn’t heard in years. “But what about whenever you’re telling him he can’t tour because you need help? And what about whenever you’re left at home, taking care of a child while the father of your child is off gallivanting across the world? Will you still want him around then?”

She pushed herself off the couch, the desire to argue with her mother not something she wanted to play into. She just wanted to get out of there, to grab Harry and go. The way her mother spoke to her about Harry made her see red, and she didn’t want to hear it anymore.

“Don’t you walk away from me, Y/N.”

At the sound of her mother’s words, Y/N whirled around, staring her mother straight in the eyes. “I’m not a child, Mom. I know what I’m getting myself into. I’ve thought long and hard about this decision, about how my life is going to change, and this is the decision I made. This is the decision I made with Harry. We’re talking about his tour, how he’s going to do it. We’re talking about the life we’re going to have together. But I also know who he is—he loves what he does, and I love that it makes him happy. I can’t ask him to give it up, even if it would be easier, because it’s part of who he is. If he didn’t have that, he wouldn’t be the man I fell in love with.

“I don’t care what you think about this,” she said and she realized the words were true. Her mother’s opinion of her didn’t matter nearly as much as it used to and she didn’t know when that had changed. “I’m doing this and I would love your support, but if it’s not there, I’ll be okay. But I’m not going to sleep under your roof while you speak about the man I love like that.” And with that, she spun on her heel and walked down the hall, heading straight for the guest bedroom where Harry was waiting for her.

When she pushed open the door, Harry was already on his feet, walking towards her. “We’re leaving,” she told him, ignoring the arms he held out for her. “Now. We’ll find a hotel—I just cannot be here with her right now.”

Harry nodded, not fighting her on it. He had probably heard the entire fight—the walls in her mother’s house weren’t thick. He helped her zip up her suitcase and find her phone that she had plugged in, tucking everything into her purse without a word. They left the room they had barely even settled into, suitcases behind them as they walked down the hall.

Her mom stood in the same exact spot, staring as they walked towards her. “Please, Y/N—“

“No,” she said, cutting her mom off. “I came here hoping you would be happy for us, but if you aren’t that’s okay. Just don’t call me until you are ready to welcome Harry, and our baby, with open arms.” She unlocked the door and pushed the screen door open, holding it as Harry exited behind her.

“Wait,” Harry said as she went to close the door. He pushed it open and stepped into the house, Y/N watching as he looked her mom straight in the eye. “I love your daughter, Trisha,” he said, “and I’m not going anywhere. I cannot wait to have a family with her, to love her for the rest of my life. And I hope you can come to accept that.” He pulled the door shut behind him, Y/N watching him with wide eyes and love in her heart. “Come on,” he said, tucking his hand in hers. “Let’s go.”

He pulled out of the driveway wordlessly, holding Y/N’s hand tight over the console. “I love you,” she said, her words making Harry glance at her. “Endlessly.”

With a soft kiss to her hand, she knew that she had made the right decision. “I love you more,” he said.

They found a hotel downtown, Harry running the room on his credit card despite her protests, and took the elevator upstairs to their room. Y/N was exhausted from fighting with her mom, even if it wasn’t long. She hated arguing with people, but especially her mom. And now she was sitting on a hotel bed as Harry set up their room, running through the argument in her head over and over again, playing over each of her words, analyzing each with precision.

“Baby,” Harry said, crawling across the bed behind her so his body surrounded hers. “Come shower with me.”

She leaned back into his body, letting him absorb her weight. “I can’t believe she said those things.”

“Me either,” he agreed, “but can we shower and then talk about it? Know you’ll feel better after.”

“I guess,” she said, letting him pull her off the bed and guide her into the bathroom, the look on her mother’s face when the door slammed shut behind her in her brain on repeat.

With delicate hands, Harry untied the laces of her Converse, peeling her socks off and not reacting when she tried to get him to stop, worried her feet smelled. Instead, he looked up at her and said, “Bit past that, love.” He pulled her sweater off, then her loose-fitting jeans, then made her turn around so he could unclip her bra and shimmied her underwear down her body, leaving her naked in the hotel bathroom. He shed his clothes in rapid time and turned on the shower, warm water cascading down from the shower head. “C’mon,” he said, stepping in and beckoning to her, his curls flattening under the water. “Let me wash your hair.”

The prospect sounded divine, so she followed him in, letting him position her so she was directly under the stream. He hummed a tune she hadn’t heard before as he squirted the hotel shampoo in her hair, running it through her locks tenderly.

“What’s that?” She asked, bobbing her head back so he could get better access to her locks.

“Hm?”

“The song that you’re humming.”

“Oh,” he said, pushing her head forward to let the water rinse out the shampoo. “Wrote it a few days ago.”

Conditioner was next, a blob in his hands before he started massaging it into her hair. “What’s it about?”

He was quiet for a minute, untangling each of the knots in her hair like he knew she did. “Our baby,” he said, words so quiet they were almost lost under the stream of water.

She turned around in his hold, eyes fastening on his. The water was warm on her skin as she looked up at him, wonder in her brain at the sweetness in his eyes as he ran his fingers up and down her arms. “Really?”

He nodded, a flush to her cheeks that she adored. “Woke up in the middle of the night and the tune just…came to me. Don’t quite have all the lyrics yet, though.”

Without a pause, she pulled his body into hers, struggling to find the way to show him how that made her feel. “Will you play it for me when it’s done?”

“It was goin’ to be your birthday present,” he mumbled.

“I guess I’ll wait,” she told him and turned back around to let him continue washing her hair. “I meant what I told my mom.”

“Hoped so.” He brushed his hand through her hair to let the conditioner run out of it. “Nearly made me cry.”

“Why?”

He paused. “So different from when you first told me,” he said, words rough in his throat. “To hear how you feel now, how you defended me to your mum, it meant a lot to me.”

“H,” you said, “I love you. No matter what.”

He didn’t reply, but she knew it wasn’t because he didn’t feel the same way, but because if he told her he would cry. She could hear it in his words, feel it in the air between them. Instead, he showed her how much he loved her by lovingly pulling out the knots in her hair, by washing every inch of her body, by even helping her shave her armpits, by wrapping her up in a hotel robe after and rubbing lotion into her skin. He passed her a toothbrush with toothpaste on it and side-by-side they brushed they teeth, soft gazes in the mirror. And then he turned off the light and pulled her into bed next to him, arms surrounding her body and holding her as she cried, her mother’s words swirling through her thoughts. He pressed kisses to her hair and murmured how much he loved her, how proud he was, what a great mother she was going to be. With each touch he helped heal her heart, push the words away, focus on the truth: that she was happy with him, no matter what anyone tried to convince her of. She just hoped he would stay around even when she doubted it.

The drive to Holmes Chapel brought Y/N peace, the English countryside a warm embrace, the settled and peaceful look on Harry’s face making her smile as he drove. She had been ignoring text messages from her mother since she had woken up, and being away from Wi-Fi meant her phone wasn’t buzzing with text messages and phone calls every few minutes. Suddenly, Y/N was thankfully for the fact that she didn’t have cell service in England, because it made her push away her worries and focus fully on Harry.

He was describing his mother’s home to her. The furniture collected from charity shops over the years, Anne having a knack for finding the thrown away and giving it a new home, despite his many offers to buy her new furniture. She liked filling her house with stories of the past, of considering the life a side table or a throw pillow had before it found her. Y/N thought it was quite sweet, and from what she knew about Anne it didn’t surprise her in the slightest. Gemma and her boyfriend Michal were going to be there when they arrived, both of the Styles children bringing home their significant others, something which apparently Harry hadn’t done in a while. When he revealed this, she smiled and told him that she was honored to be there.

It was a three hour drive that passed quickly, since Y/N fell asleep about halfway in, her head lolling on her shoulder as the countryside passed by. She woke to Harry’s voice, murmuring, “We’re here, love,” in her ear and unbuckling her seatbelt. “Time to go give my mum the surprise of her life, yeah?”

That idea woke Y/N up right away. She was admittedly nervous to tell Harry’s mother, especially after how telling her own had gone. Although from what she knew of Anne and Harry’s own accounts, Anne seemed to be much more willing to go with the flow, surprises rolling off of her quickly after years with Harry Styles as her son. So she tried not to dwell on it as Anne and Gemma rushed out of the house, enveloping Harry into their arms and then Y/N, a flurry of hugs and kisses to the cheeks that had her feeling like she was being welcomed home.

The house was smaller than Y/N expected, but somehow perfect. A wide white door and a lovely patio outside, white framed windows that reminded her of her own childhood home. There was red brick she loved and a large tree outside. “You look beautiful, dear,” Anne said, an arm around Y/N’s shoulders as she guided her inside. “Glowing, you are. You must tell me your secret!”

Pregnancy, she thought to herself, but instead just said, “Lots of moisturizer,” which had Anne chuckling to herself.

The house was just as Harry had described. Laden with rugs and family photos, a few of Harry’s awards on the walls, displayed with pride. A giant Christmas tree sat in the corner, hung heavily with ornaments and tinsel, Y/N smiling at the sight of an ornament with a young Harry’s face on it, her having a nearly identical one at home on her mother’s tree. Although she didn’t have time to notice it. “So this is it.” She turned and found Harry standing behind her, watching her study his childhood home. “What do you think?”

“It’s exactly as you said,” she replied. “I love it.”

He pressed a kiss to her temple. “Want to see my room?”

“Desperately,” she replied, which had Harry chuckling.

“Mum,” he called into the house, “I’m going to show Y/N my room. Be back in a jiffy.”

“Don’t make too much racket!” She heard Gemma holler through the hall, “These walls are thin, in case you’ve forgotten!”

“Shut it!” Harry replied, Y/N laughing at their exchange, it making her wish for not the first time that she had a sibling. “Come on, love.”

They climbed the stairs, Y/N commenting on his yearly school portraits that decorated the staircase, which he tried to cover her eyes for so she couldn’t see them, but she managed to wrangle free. She had to admit that Harry was a downright adorable child, although when she looked at his face—dimple and crinkled eyes from laughter, she wasn’t surprised. The thought had her considering what their child would look like, which she couldn��t help but smile at the thought of.

“Whatcha smilin’ about?”

“Thought about what our child would look like,” she said softly, Harry’s eyes lighting up at the thought.

His hands found her waist, tucking her close to him, her back pressed against the wallpapered walls of the second floor. “And what are you thinking?”

“With your face,” she said, a finger running down his cheek, “and my brain, they’re going to be unstoppable.”

He frowned. “But your face is nicer.”

“They have to have your eyes,” she said with a pointed look. “I’m not willing to compromise on that. And your dimples.”

He smiled at her, the dimple in question popping out. “My dimples, eh?”

“Mhm,” she murmured. “Quite like them.” She stuck her index finger into the depth of it, the chuckle escaping his lips warming her body that was still cold from the December chill.

“I’ll allow it as long as they have your ears and your lips,” he said, a lingering kiss pressed to the latter. “Now let me kiss you in my childhood bed, for Pete’s sake.”

“Dirty, dirty boy,” she said, and let him lead her into his room. It was an alcove room, one he could barely stand up fully straight in, and somehow it suited him. The walls were a simple cream, but covered in posters of bands from eight years ago, when life was simple and he was still sixteen. An overstuffed bookcase sat against one wall and an oak dresser, most likely empty, sat next to it with photos of him and his family scattered across it. The main attraction though, was the bed, an oak headboard attached to it with plenty of pillows and a checkered duvet cover that reminded her of the ones she had seen in the dorm rooms of boys at college.

“Well?” Harry asked from where he leaned against the closed door. “Is it how you imagined?”

She turned and she couldn’t help herself—the appearance of Harry in a beanie and an oversized sweatshirt in his childhood bedroom with a shit-eating grin on his face made her want to have him in every way possible. “Better,” she replied before backing up until the back of her thighs hit the edge of his bed. “But better if you eat me out on your childhood bed.”

“Fuck me,” he breathed, feet moving quickly to reach her, hands on her cheeks before she could process it. His lips were sweet, wet from when he’d licked them before pulling her in, and his palms were calloused against her skin. But he felt like Harry—her Harry—and that’s all that mattered to her. With a nip at her neck, he fell to his knees in front of her, eyes darting up at hers as he shimming off her leggings and the blue cotton underwear underneath them. “Like these,” he mumbled against the skin of her inner thighs. “Might have to keep them.”

She gasped when his tongue licked up the length of her slit, the sensitivity from not having him on her skin in the past few nights combined with the raging hormones in her bloodstream had her keening for him. “They’re just cotton,” she said through gritted teeth when he sucked on her clit, toying with her. “Harry, Jesus.” “Not my name,” he smiled against her and Y/N couldn’t help but tug on his hair as if to tell him Shut it you narcissist, which just made Harry chuckle. The vibrations sent shockwaves through her body, her head falling back as a moan of his name left her mouth. “Gotta be quiet,” he reminded her, shoving two fingers in her mouth that she quickly accepted, lolling her tongue around them like it was a lollipop. The sight had Harry bucking into the end of the bed, which Y/N just grinned at, not missing it for a second. When Harry had his mouth on her, she couldn’t look anywhere else.

Then he darted his tongue inside of her and Y/N’s hand went to her breasts, which had grown from her pregnancy and Harry didn’t seem to mind, adoring how sensitive they were. “More,” she begged, voice rough in the room. “Please, please, H.”

“Comin’ love,” he said, sucking on two of his fingers before pressing one to her slit, the cold feeling of his rings on her hot flesh making her gasp. “Like that, baby? Like it when I fuck you with my fingers, my rings still on? The fingers you just had in your mouth?”

“Harry,” she groaned, trying to contain the sounds threatening to escape her. Not being able to hold up her body anymore she rested on her hands, propping up her body on his mattress. She knew that it made her breasts stick out, which Harry loved—he was a man, after all—and the sound of him grunting at the sight made her smile at him coyly. “Like the view?”

He sucked on her clit in response before twirling his tongue in a cruel circle around her labia. “Love the view,” he muttered against her, spit falling from his mouth. “Love you, baby. Fuck, look at you as I fuck you—like you’re made for me.”

“Close,” she said, the sound muffled against her hand she had thrown over her mouth to keep the sounds in. She was leaning on just one hand, unsteady and about to let go if he let her. She loved to let him control her orgasms, the sound of him telling her to come always sending waves of pleasure through her body.

“Yeah?” He said, inserting another finger and curling them so she was bucking against his hand, his name an echo on her tongue. “Come for me,” he murmured, fingers digging into her thighs to hold her steady, his rings imprints on her skin. “But you gotta stay quiet love—I’ll have you screaming for me when we’re home, okay?”

She turned her head into the duvet in an attempt to silence the scream rising in her chest, but when she came, it just simply wasn’t enough. Anne and Gemma would’ve probably heard her if they were outside the door, a muffled scream of his name flowing from her mouth. She bucked against his hand, chasing her high and Harry licked her through it, the cold saliva from his tongue and his rings inside of her making her body shake.

“Fuck,” Harry said when she finally came down, body pliant in his hands. “That was bloody incredible.”

He pulled his fingers from her, a hiss leaving her teeth at the emptiness inside of her. “That’s how you got me pregnant,” she told him with a laugh.

“But that involves my dick,” he informed her, crawling up her body so he could smother her face in kisses, the slick of her still on his chin.

“Yes,” she said, pushing him away. “But it was that and then your dick that got me pregnant. You’re good, you know.” She rolled over, a hand on his chest. “Not that you need to hear it. Your ego is already too big for this relationship.”

“Ha!” He grabbed at her sides, pulling her closer into him. “You love my big ego. And my dick.”

Her head dropped to his chest with a groan of defeat. “God, you’re such a boy sometimes, I swear.”

With a kiss to her temple, he sat up and tugged her along with him. “C’mon, we can’t stay too much longer or Gemma will never let me forget it.” She licked at his chin, letting the rest of her juices land on her tongue before following him downstairs, trying not the laugh at the way he walked, obviously trying not to let the material brush against his dick too much. She truly loved a menace, she thought to herself. But he was her menace.

In the kitchen, Gemma, Anne, and Michal were sat with cups of tea, two set out for Y/N and Harry that had now gone cold. “Took you long enough,” Gemma said. “Tea’s gone cold while you two got reacquainted upstairs.”

“Gem,” Anne scolded. “Don’t embarrass your brother.” Gemma rolled her eyes, but stood up to reheat their tea.

Harry wrapped his arms around Y/N and she leaned into him, loving how his hands subconsciously rested on her lower belly, right over where their child rested. “Mum, Gem” he said as Gemma returned with their now warm tea. “We have somethin’ for you.”

“Oh!” Anne set down her tea and surveyed the two of them. “But we don’t do gifts until the morning of.” That was still two days away, but obviously Harry was eager. Y/N had told him that he could choose when he wanted to tell Anne, and it seemed like now was the time he had chosen. He was like Y/N, she thought to herself, unable to keep a secret from her parents for long.

“I know,” Harry replied. “But want to give it to you both now.”

Gemma shrugged. “I don’t mind an early gift,” she said.

“Perfect. One second,” Harry told them, disconnecting his arms from Y/N’s waist. “It’s in our luggage. Meet me in the living room?”

They all nodded and Harry disappeared, the sound of a zipper in the other room. “Well, he’s certainly excited,” Anne told Y/N, coming over and giving her a smile. “It’s good to see him so happy.”

Y/N couldn’t help but wonder how often Anne had seen her son unhappy over the years, how many women had broken his heart, how many times the world had broken him down. Harry had shared some of it—the disappointment over Zayn leaving, the women who had ripped him to shreds since Harry gave his heart so willingly—but not all of it. She supposed with time, she would learn it all, but she was no longer eager to uncover every stone of him that she was when they were starting out. Now, she knew she would have quite a long time to know every part of Harry, and the idea quite appealed to her.

Anne and Gemma sat on the couch, Michal in one of the armchairs, and Y/N took the other one, the one closest to the fire burning in the hearth that stockings hung from. After growing up with solely warm winters, it was nice to be someplace cold for a change.

Harry wandered in with the last two bags, one for Anne and one for Gemma. Gemma’s was Y/N’s favorite, the one that said, “I love Auntie” in multi-colored letters and confetti all over it. She fully planned on finagling it back from Gemma so she could actually dress their child in it one day. “Here you are,” Harry said, handing both the bags over before going to sit on the arm of Y/N’s chair, her hand in his.

Gemma looked at her mother. “On the count of three?” Anne nodded, a playful smile, and they counted down, Harry squeezing Y/N’s hand in anticipation.

“Oh,” Anne said when she pulled out the onesie, the one nearly identical to Y/N’s mom’s. She looked up at Y/N and Harry and there were tears in her eyes that made Y/N want to cry. “Really?”

“You’re pregnant!” Gemma shrieked, dropping the onesie before bounding over to Y/N. “Oh my god, I’m going to be an Aunt! A little niece or nephew!” She grabbed her into a hug, laughing with joy in Y/N’s ears. “Best Christmas gift. Oh my god, Haz!” Gemma pulled her brother into a tight hug, and Y/N’s eyes rested on Anne who was full on crying at the onesie in her hands.

Harry saw it and went over to his mom, his arm around her shoulders. “You’re going to be a grandma,” he told her, which only made her cry harder. “Mum?”

“Happy,” she reassured him, before taking his face in her hands. “So happy I could explode!” This was the reaction Y/N wanted, she thought to herself, surveying the scene of pure joy. “Y/N,” Anne said, arms outstretched. “Come here, love!”

Y/N practically floated to Anne, the prospect of a mother’s arms around her exactly what she needed. Anne bundled her up in them, tears still streaming down her face as she gave her a tight hug. “We’re due in mid-June,” she said when Anne pulled back, it being the only thing she could think to say.

Anne beamed at her, eyes darting between her and Harry. “My word,” she told them. “This it the best surprise. A little baby! My baby boy,” she said, taking Harry’s face in her hands and kissing his cheeks, “is going to be a Dad.”

Harry’s eyes caught Y/N over his mother’s shoulders, a reassuring gaze that told her he knew what she was thinking. That he wanted to remind her it would all turn out okay. And when she looked around her to the happy scene, the fire in the hearth and the joy on the faces in the room, she knew he was right.

Harry purposefully woke up earlier than Y/N on Christmas morning. He had been trying to figure out when to give the key to his house (not that she didn’t already have one, but it was the idea that counted) and finally he had settled on Christmas Day. So when he awoke, snow falling softly outside his window, he scrambled out of bed to grab the key he had wrapped up in a box the night before with his mother’s help.

“Harry?” Y/N’s sleepy voice came from the bed, her hand sticking out to the place where he’d just been lying.

He loved that she always craved his presence in her sleep. He had noticed it early on, the way she held him in her sleep, always burrowed deeper into his body, was hesitant to let go of him in the morning. With the box in his hand, he crawled back onto the bed, occupying his old space. “Morning, sleepyhead,” he said, placing the box on her pillow, right next to her head.

Her eyes fluttered open, eyelashes brushing against the pillowcase. Then her gaze met the blue box tied with a white ribbon sitting on the pillow, and her eyes widened. “What’s this?”

“One of your Christmas gifts,” he said. “Didn’t want it to be in front of the whole family.”

She sat up, pushing back the duvet cover revealing his old school shirt that she had worn to bed. When he had told her to pick anything she wanted, she had gone through every shirt in his drawer before settling on this one, loving how soft the material was from years of use. Harry loved how she looked in his clothes, but seeing her in the mornings with messy hair and adorned in his Holmes Chapel Comprehensive School shirt made his heart clench.

He didn’t know how she would respond to the gesture, the request for her to move in with him. To his brain, it made sense—they were having a kid together, after all—but he also knew how Y/N was about these things. It meant commitment and she was always hesitant to take that next step. “Open it,” he told her, sitting up too so their bodies faced one another.

Her fingers grasped the edge of the box, eyes flickering to his face before pulling it open. Inside lay the key to his house, golden and ridged, the one that fit perfectly into the lock on his front door. “Harry…”

“Will you move in with me?”

For a few beats, she just stared at the key, but when her eyes raised to his, he knew what she was going to say. “Yes.”

He leaned over and kissed her, one filled with love and passion and everything he was trying to say. She dropped the box to the bed and let him press her back into the mattress. “Can’t wait to make you come in our bed,” he mumbled against her cheek, drawing a chuckle from her, but she didn’t stop him she he drew her underwear to the side and dropped to his knees, wanting his girl to start her Christmas off right.

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NEXT CHAPTER COMING JULY 25TH @ NOON CST

#Harry Styles Fan Fiction #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles writing #harry styles smut #harry styles drabble #harry styles dad

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another-emotional-wreck · 4 years ago

Text

My Only Sunshine -- chapter 1

Warnings: Mentions of blood, language

Word Count: 2.5k

Author's note: this fic takes place during 1983 but I need to clarify some things. In this universe, DOFP never happens because Peter was born in ‘66 instead of ‘56 to avoid anything weird between him and OC. Also, while the events of First Class take place, Erik eventually just comes to stay with the X-men and lives there full-time. He’s still Peter’s father, it just happens later than it does in canon, and no one knows yet.

Nyah Walker's physical appearance for anyone who wants it :)

1 | 2 |

***************************************************************************

We passed through the front gates and I sighed once again. I was already pissed, and the gloomy weather really wasn’t helping.

My dad rolled his eyes at my attitude. “It’s for your own good, Nyah. Not just yours, but for me and your siblings, too.”

“I know,” the sound was muffled from behind my fist. The trees were blurry and covered in snow as we drove down the path leading to the school. “Couldn’t we have waited till the end of the school year, at least?”

“You know the answer to that question.”

I turned towards the window again, hating the fact that he was right. The school was a large part of why I was in this situation in the first place, but it didn’t matter. I don’t even know what really happened-- how come I got expelled just cause the school didn’t wanna believe me?

The rest of the car ride was silent, but the falling snow brings a feeling of peace over the awkward quiet. We finally reach our destination and I see a building that looks as if it was built in the decades before I was born. I stepped out of the passenger side and somehow the building managed to practically double in size. The sky seemed to be getting darker and the building started to lean over me and I got dizzy up at it and it wasn’t until my dad greeted the man in front of us that I snapped back to reality.

My dad extended his hand to greet a man in a wheelchair. “Grayson Walker,” he said.

“Professor Charles Xavier.” He smiled, and it seemed genuine.

Just behind Charles stood another man wearing a dark brown vest under a beige jacket. He was fidgety, and couldn’t meet my eye for more than about a second.

While I studied the man, Charles stuck his hand out to me. It took a nudge from my dad to realize that he was trying to get my attention.

“And your name is?” He asked politely.

I hesitated before speaking. “Nyah Walker.” Sure, Charles seemed nice enough, but there was something about him that seemed strange. Not bad, just different-- as if he were hiding something.

“Wonderful to meet you, Nyah. The man behind me is Hank McCoy.”

“Hello, both of you.” He offered a small smile which I couldn’t help but return, but even he seemed to have something else on his mind.

“I suppose we ought to get inside,” the Professor broke the silence, turning the joystick on his wheelchair. “I’d hate for any of you to catch a cold.”

Despite the bitter cold, I had completely forgotten about the snow. Wrapping my coat tighter around myself and adjusting the bag on my shoulder, my dad and I followed Hank and the Professor through the doors of the mansion.

The place managed to look bigger on the inside than it outside. A staircase in the back of the main hall split in two directions, leading to what I assumed was the dorms and classrooms. Hank and the Professor led us farther down to an office, having both my dad and I take seats on the same side of the desk.

“So,” the Professor began. “Nyah, if you wouldn’t mind, could you walk us through what exactly happened that day?”

I opened my mouth but nothing came out. “Take your time,” said Hank. “it’s uh-- it’s not something that’s easy for everyone to talk about.” At that, he gave the man next to him a pointed look.

“Right...” I began. It definitely took me a little while longer than it should have to gather my thoughts. “Well, uh. About a month ago I got into an… altercation. Some prick--” my dad made a point of clearing his throat. “A kid from my homeroom, Jackson Dill, made some sick joke about my mom.”

I noticed Charles rest his chin on his fist. “I swear I’m not an angry person, but he just kept pushing. Saying stuff about how funny it was that my mom was dead, cause usually, it’s the dad who’s gone in families like mine.”

Hank looked confused. “Families like--” Charles cleared his throat and glared at Hank.

“I did my best to keep my cool. My friends came to my defense cause the teacher just so happened to not hear anything, but it still ended with me storming out of the classroom. Naturally, my teacher chose that time to look up from her papers and followed me out. Not sure how, but I ended up in the bathroom. The halls were pretty dark, so maybe I just lost my way?”

My gaze slowly moved from the men in front of me to my shoes and my voice got quieter as I began to mutter more to myself. “Honestly-- the more I think about it, the more I realize that I don’t even remember walking from the classroom to the bathroom.”

Hank opened his mouth to speak, his brow furrowed. The Professor held his hand up. “Let her finish, Hank.”

My stare flickered between the two before I continued. “Instead of locking myself into a stall like someone with common sense, I was hunched over the sink. My head was spinning and my stomach was churning and I had heard of people seeing red when they get angry enough, but that felt like something so much worse.”

There was so much darkness, I could hardly lift my head enough to look in the mirror and see that my eyes were all red and my hair was everywhere-- I think my nose might have been bleeding, not sure though. The most noticeable thing was that the lights started flickering…” My words petered out at the end of the sentence.

Was this even worth going over again?

“What’s the matter?” The Professor asked when I stopped. “Is that all?”

“No,” I muttered. “It’s just that things get a little… hard to believe from this point. I don’t even think my dad believes me.”

“That’s not true Nyah, I just--”

“Yeah. You just think I don’t know what I’m talking about. I get it.”

The two men in front of us looked mildly uncomfortable, so I took that as my sign to keep talking. “There was no weird weather or anything. Actually, it was pretty nice for December, so the weird thing with the lights went out outta nowhere. It wasn’t until a while later that I began thinking that the flickering might have been caused cause of me.”

God, my mouth was so dry. Since when did my heartbeat get that loud?

“The school says that what got me expelled was what happened to the teacher who came after me. In my defense, no one really liked her. She was always rude and her class was hard for no reason other than the sake of being difficult.” My dad, never one to appreciate my jokes, glared at me.

I sighed. “The point is, she came into the bathroom and grabbed my arm. I’ve never been a huge fan of being touched in the first place, and the fact that I felt like my body was being turned inside out wasn’t exactly helping.”

“Almost automatically, as if-- like I knew what I was supposed to do-- my eyes locked on her shadow-- don’t ask me why cause I don’t know. The next thing I knew, she was on the opposite side of the bathroom, unconscious. My eyes grew wider than I ever thought possible and in an instant, I was back in the classroom. Things were back to normal, except my teacher was gone and the entire school was pitch black.

Things happened. The teacher claimed that I shoved her-- as if I could throw her all the way across the bathroom, and the final decision was to expel me without pressing charges. About two weeks after all of that, my dad got a call from someone saying that they could help me.”

The whole thing was insane. Everyone was talking about it, especially how Mrs. Rio came out of it with a fractured spine and I just-- appeared in the back of the classroom looking shaken and sporting a bloody nose.”

The last time something like this happened, some kid blasted a hole through the stalls in the boys’ bathroom.

Hank and the Professor looked at each other for a while, seeming to have an entire conversation with nothing but their eyes.

Bits of words and phrases came out of their mouths.

“She’s… than anything we’ve…”

“But are we sure we… nothing’s ever…”

“We’ll just have to… and… as we go.”

My dad broke into the conversation. “Excuse me,” I could hear the impatience in his voice. “What’s going on?”

“Well, she’s enrolled.” The Professor said finally, turning towards me. “That is if you’d like to be.”

*********

“You’d be allowed to leave whenever you choose, of course.” The four of us walked in line with the Professor. “We would never make you do anything against your will, but I do hope you understand that everything we do here is for your safety.”

“Of course,” I said. “I understand.”

The bell rang signaling the end of the school day. Kids of all ages flooded the halls and at that moment I couldn’t help but think that I may have been in over my head. The students here used their mutations so… freely.

Apparently, I said that last part out loud. “Yeah,” Hank smiled at the passing students. “No one’s shunned here, Nyah. You’ll be in an environment where you can learn and grow along with everyone else.”

My dad turned to me. “I think these people will be good for you. Might as well try it out, right?”

A grey blur flew past us making everyone’s hair and clothes blow everywhere.

“Yeah,” I croaked. “Might as well.”

*********

“And this is your new room!” the white-haired girl smiled at me warmly as she stood in front of the open door.

I nodded awkwardly, taking in the room. It was small enough for me, with the bed in the corner and a window that had a view of the yard-- full of children running around in winter coats and laughing.

A little boy caught my eye. His head was tossed back and his mouth was open, and it took me a moment to realize that it was still snowing and that he was trying to catch snowflakes on his tongue.

I couldn’t help but smile to myself, which I immediately stopped once I noticed Ororo staring at me awkwardly. “Thanks again, uh--”

“Ororo. Ororo Munroe.”

“Thank you, Ororo.” I tossed my duffel bag on my bed and plopped down right next to it. Ororo still stood in the doorway, almost unsure.

“Everything alright?” I asked.

“Of course,” she said, her smile fading slightly. “It's just that you seem, uh, nervous.”

I thought I had been hiding it well enough. “How’d you know?” I asked. “Is knowing people’s emotions your, what’s it called? Your uhm…”

“My mutation?” She grinned at my sheepish nod. “No, but would you like to see it?”

I nodded again. God, I felt like a little kid, barely knowing what to say or using my words.

Ororo’s grin managed to grow even bigger. “Watch this.”

Her feet left the ground and she crossed her legs under her. A ball of lightning formed in her hands and grew as she expanded them. Her smile grew into a frown as she concentrated on making it bigger, eventually making it the size of her head. She clapped her hands together just as her feet came back to the ground, sparks flying like fireworks.

I clapped in excitement as Ororo took an overdramatic bow. I giggled once again as she walked over to me, her eyes asking for permission to sit. I nodded.

“So what exactly is your mutation?” My smile faded and Ororo’s face grew worried. “Oh no, I’m not trying to pressure you! You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, I was just--”

I smiled slightly. “It’s alright, I just have no real idea how to explain it.” a sigh left my lips as I fell back on my bed, staring up at the ceiling. Feeling Ororo do the same next to me, I turned towards her.

“It’s only happened a few times since the incident at school. I still don’t know how my teacher ended up against the wall on the other side of the bathroom, but I swear I don’t remember touching her.”

She thought for a moment. “Telekinesis maybe? I know someone who can do that.”

“I’m not sure.”

“Wanna try it?”

*********

I had been staring at the pencil in front of me for about five minutes before I turned to Ororo in exasperation. “I feel stupid.”

“Yeah, you don’t look much better.” Ororo deadpanned.

I shot her an annoyed look and she raised her hands in mock surrender.

“Alright, alright. Just sayin’.”

I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. “Welp, telekinesis is off the table--”

“Same thing goes for mind-reading, elemental manipulation, teleportation--”

“Yeah, okay, I get it.” I snapped.

Ororo looked mildly annoyed at my reaction before her gaze softened. “Hey, we’ll figure it out, you just need time.”

“That’s easy for someone who both knows how to use and enjoys having their powers.”

She snorted. “I’m not exaggerating when I say it took me years to become comfortable with my abilities. I was terrified of who I was-- what I was-- for so long. But here, while it has its flaws, I felt at home. Accepted. Being around people like you can do so much more than you think.”

“Yeah,” I mumbled. “I guess you’re right.”

Ororo looked at me for a moment before shooting up from where she sat. “I have an idea!” Her eyes were wide and I could see the gears in her head turning.

“Something tells me I should be worried…”

“No no, it’ll be fine, but I just remembered--” somehow, her eyes managed to grow wider than before. Something about her eagerness to try whatever she had in mind was slightly unsettling. “Whenever new students are having trouble using their powers for the first time, the Professor will make them feel whatever they were feeling the very first time their mutation emerged.”

“Wait a minute.” I squinted, trying to figure out exactly what she was getting at. “So you--”

“Think we should try and replicate the emotions you were feeling the day your mutation first arose? Yes. Yes, we should.”

“But… you don’t have any sort of mind control. How are we gonna do that?”

“I’ve already got that figured out!”

Ororo took one look at my anxious face and rolled her eyes playfully. “You’ll be fine. There’s just someone I need you to meet.”

#peter maximoff #peter maximoff x oc #oc nyah walker #xmen #xmen fanfiction #peter maximoff fanfiction

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margarethelstone-2 · 3 years ago

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Our Sleeves Were Wet With Tears | Chapter 2

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Taichi's gaze was filled with astonishment once more as he listened to Chihaya's nearly aggressive ramble, unable to wrap his head around the situation he'd found himself in so unexpectedly. He heard the words and thought that he understood the substance – he knew what Chihaya was referring to and comprehended the meaning behind her words. And yet... Something about this whole scene was just too bizarre, too unrealistic for him to believe that it was happening for real.

Too strange to have him take it for more than yet another of his feverish dreams.

Had she really gone to his house so spontaneously, after he had as much as ignored her for the past few weeks? Had she really risked meeting eye to eye with his mother, when it was obvious how uneasy the latter had always made her feel? And why had she decided to come see him now, so long after their fateful conversation in the clubroom and with so much happening since that dreadful afternoon?

Was it in any way connected – or worse, prompted – by the photo Arata had undoubtedly sent her as well?

And if so, what was the connection?

It wasn't like the message had contained any special words or wisdom, or even anything particularly nostalgic. It was a simple photo of Arata and his teammates, with a simple greeting meant to encourage them to do their best on their part so that they might meet at the Nationals this time. It was very much like the one he and Chihaya had sent him during their first year... but that was as far as the nostalgia went.

Of course, it was possible that Arata had sent Chihaya a different email, with more than just the few words he, Taichi, had received. After all, he knew for certain that Arata had spoken to her after the Master qualifiers and since that conversation had clearly taken its toll on Chihaya, it wasn't difficult to determine what he had said. He was also aware of the advantage Arata had always had over him and that Chihaya did favour him, even if she didn't fully realise it herself...

...and still, he couldn't help but think that it was not the case this time.

It was the similarity of it to the message they had sent him that made him so sure. It was not a taunt meant at him, or another display of affection addressed to Chihaya and only shared with him for propriety's sake. There was a much simpler, and much more genuine intention hidden behind it: an honest wish to inspire his friends in the same way they had inspired him before, mixed perhaps with the pride he must have felt for both himself and his new charges.

One friend reaching out to the other ones.

Friends.

Taichi's jaw tightened, his soul filling up with disgust and shame.

Had he really forgotten that that was what the three of them were, first and foremost? Friends?

Or was he just too tired pretending that he was all right with such a setup, because deep down, he realised that even as a trio, they had never been entirely equal?

Was he too much of an egoist to accept that?

"What the heck does that even mean?" he said out loud at last, letting out a hollow, mirthless chuckle that resembled a snort more than anything else. Chihaya had already managed to reach the front gate and was just about to step onto the pavement before it but now, she stopped mid-stride; if he had waited a few seconds more – or if she hadn't held back from running like she obviously had – his words wouldn't have reached her. He almost expected them not to anyway, despite her still being relatively close.

They did, however.

In for a penny, in for a pound. He had no choice but to go for it now.

"Why do you think I needed to hear that now?" he continued, careful to maintain the air of indifference or maybe even irritation, while Chihaya slowly turned around. "I didn't say I was a coward, just that I didn't want to be one. And of course I've changed since primary school; I'm not some Peter Pan who never grows up."

He could feel her stare at him, but refused to meet her gaze this time, all too aware of the effect it had always had on him. Feigning nonchalance, he adjusted the strap of his bag, hung over his shoulder and set off, descending the stairs one by one, as if he hadn't wished to get out of there just as much as Chihaya did.

The very sight of her was aggravating to him.

He knew it wasn't fair, that it really wasn't her fault that she could not respond to his feelings in kind. She had never led him on or pretended to care for him when she hadn't. She did care, she always had, and in a way, Taichi felt like an ungrateful scoundrel every time he remembered everything she'd done for him so far, never mind if it was a small smile meant to comfort him or a crazy, complex, completely over-the-top karuta tournament organised specifically in order to celebrate his birthday with him, in the most Chihaya-like way he could think of.

She wasn't the one to blame for all this.

And yet, every time he saw her, the memory of his stupid, impossible dreams came rushing back to him, always accompanied by the one of them being crushed to bits just a few short weeks prior.

It wasn't her fault, and still, he couldn't find it in him to forgive her.

Still, in the corner of his eye, Taichi saw the expectancy painted all over her face, the same perfect mixture of perseverance and dread he'd had a chance to observe more than once now. He went right past her, resolved not to grace her with a single glance, no matter how rude or cruel it might seem, and stepped onto the pavement she hadn't managed to reach in time.

He was indifferent.

He wished to be indifferent.

So why did he still listen closely, awaiting her to make the move, to turn and look after him, to catch up with him and shower – no, bombard – him with another set of half-baked wisdoms and untimely arguments? Why had he slowed down, anxious, restless, apprehensive, aching to hear her say another word, no matter how absurd it might be?

He had been so good at avoiding her lately, at numbing the overwhelming feeling of solitude by simply making sure she did not come into view – so why did he feel like he was missing her already?

Was a fleeting encounter like this all it took to make all of his endeavours worthless?

He was hopeless.

Hopeless.

Just like all of his love for her had been.

Oh, screw it.

"There's a playground nearby, if there's anything else you want to talk about," he offered, the pathetic, self-disrespectful moron that he was. "I doubt there would be any kids there at this hour, and there are actual benches to sit on. Or I can just walk you home if that's what you prefer."

He set off right after, no longer knowing if he wanted her to respond or not. A part of him hoped that she would, that there was more she wanted to say than that random, abstract proclamation she had surprised him with – that there was more thought behind it than she had made it appear at first. Simultaneously, his other half (a third? a quarter? a mere, pitiful percent?) screamed at him to pick up his pace and leave that cursed place before Chihaya could even answer, to run away and pray that the consequences of his stupid decision from the previous minute would not catch up to him.

Torn like this, he walked on, the rationality of his mind battling with the naiveté of his heart and the ardour of his soul. Step by step, he moved forward, hearing nothing but the sound of his blood pumping in his ears and his own sharp, uneven breathing. If he focused hard enough, he could distinguish his own, weary step, but even that seemed to come from a distance much wider than the one hundred and seventy centimetres separating his feet from his ears.

No matter how hard he tried, he could not hear anything from behind him.

So she hadn't followed him.

She didn’t come to chat, to pour her heart out or to clear things up with me, mostly because there's nothing to clear up in the first place; she came because she felt she needed to, because at some point, she'd decided that it was something a good person would do and obviously, she decided to spontaneously follow the wacky idea her mind had presented to her.

A totally spur-of-a-moment kind of decision, honest but rash, misguided and ill-conceived, just like about everything Chihaya does.

He felt his heart shrink, as if it was squeezed in quite a literal sense, and yet, he refused to admit to his hurt, even if only to himself. There was no reason why he should've felt surprised, no excuse for the disappointment that was threatening to take over him. He knew her; he knew what kind of person she was. Bright, outgoing, sincere. Blunt to a fault and so very, very caring that it made his head ache at times.

Still, her consideration was just like her entire self: impulsive. She always went all out and never put much reflection behind it.

As for Taichi, he still couldn't quite determine whether he found it frustrating or just very, very endearing.

Perhaps it was a mixture of the two.

The fact remained, however: the only way he could find his way to her thoughts was through incidents like this. After all, he could hardly imagine Chihaya spending her nights lying awake in her bed, unable to stop thinking of him.

Certainly not in the way he thought of her.

He fought the urge to kick the pebbles under his feet, regardless of the fact that there was no one around to see him if he had, much less to care about it. The street he strolled through was empty, and since it was getting late, there was no reason to believe that the state of things should change. However, Taichi knew better than to indulge himself with his whims, no matter how insignificant they appeared to be. He'd been raised to be that way; and no matter how much he wanted to change, no matter how grand was the amount of effort he put into achieving it, there were things about himself he simply couldn't reform.

He couldn't tell if it were those traits that had made him the unlucky loser he undoubtedly was now; but at least they helped him cope with the fallout his misfortunes had brought.

Which was exactly why he needed to stop wallowing in self-pity and focus on getting on with his own life instead, just like he'd been striving to do recently. He'd done a pretty good job so far, studying harder than ever both for his regular classes and the cram school, fooling everyone that it was his exams that had made him quit the karuta club.

Good gosh, he'd actually let Master Suo persuade him into not giving up on karuta after all, and only changed the environment of his practice instead.

He was fine, or at least, he was going to be.

The recollection of his latest, little successes made his faith grow a little, bringing back that tiny bit of optimism he'd been looking for so desperately. His chin rose a little while his pace turned brisker...

...only to have him halt in surprise at the sound of a dull thud and a hiss that came from behind him.

Taichi turned around almost involuntarily, completely taken aback and therefore totally incapable of forming even the vaguest expectation of what he was about to see. Had he had more time to think about it, he probably would have come with more than a few reasonable explanations of the sound.

For one, it could have been an ordinary jogger, whom he couldn't have seen when he'd exited through the cram school's gate, but who'd caught up to him silently while he was occupied with his own thoughts afterwards, and who now tripped over something and now was groaning in pain. It might have been a passer-by who'd emerged from around the corner, carrying an object so heavy that they had eventually dropped it on the ground.

For all he knew, it might have been a kid running from his friends in another round of tag. Out of all people, he surely was aware how fast little children could move; how quickly and unexpectedly they might invade other people's space.

All of these he could have thought of, and yet, he still wouldn't have guessed the real cause of the noise that had startled him so.

Of course, the culprit simply had to be the one person he'd been trying to ban from his mind.

How had she even got there without him realising her presence until now?

And yet, it was her, undoubtedly, undeniably her. Ayase Chihaya, the love of his life and the greatest, most unpredictable dork of a friend, now hunched and squatting, with one knee rested against the hard concrete surface while she eyed her other one attentively, instinctively pressing her scratched fingers against the more severely injured skin on her leg. With the few metres separating them (and his still fresh bemusement) Taichi needed a moment to fully absorb the scene before him, as well as its less obvious details. Despite the initial falter, his instincts soon took over him, however, and pushed him towards the wounded girl, before he could even see the grimace on her face or observe the way in which she chewed on her lower lip.

In no time was he kneeling down before her, pulling her hands away from the wound by her wrists so that she wouldn't accidentally infect the cut with one hand, while he rummaged through his hastily unzipped bag with the other one, searching for the towel and a water bottle he was sure he'd packed in there earlier.

"Taichi, no! Wait!" He heard her protest against his actions, only to ignore it completely. "It's just a scratch, nothing serious, I can handle it myself just fine here!"

"Like hell you can," he muttered in response after he'd finally found the objects he'd been looking for. "You've just pressed your dirty hands against a fresh wound, you idiot. I don't even want to know what you were planning to do next."

"No, but -"

"Just do me a favour and don't press them like that again now, will you?" he cut her off sternly. "I can't exactly hold your hands and dampen the towel at the same time, I'd need at least one other pair of arms for that. So stop arguing and keep your dusty fingers away for just a second, while I do my job over here."

Chihaya opened her mouth to argue with him some more but shut it right after under his severe glare and bowed her head obediently instead. Seeing that her opposition would not last – or at least, that her revolt would not rise again for a while – Taichi let go of her wrists and focused on wetting the fabric in his hands, before applying the now cold towel to Chihaya's injured knee. She winced under his touch, her head jerking up once more and her eyes glued to his intent countenance.

He saw her movement in the corner of his eye, felt the shudder that jolted all of her body, however, he refused to look up himself, instead making sure that his own gaze remained plastered to the cut he was supposed to be taking care of.

Not that clearing up the skin on her leg was doing any good to his sanity, mind you.

"How on earth did you even do that?" he muttered the question under his breath, if only to make his attention shift to something else, desperately hoping it would be enough to drown out his rebellious thoughts for a short while at least. "There's literally nothing you could have stumbled upon and you don't usually go tripping over your own feet; I know you can be careless sometimes, but you're not a klutz."

"I just wasn't paying attention," Chihaya answered him, her tone slightly offended, but still quieter than he might have expected. "My shoelaces had come undone and I stepped over one."

Taichi sighed, almost impatiently.

"And fell like this? What were you doing, trying to break the world speed record?"

"I tripped! Why does it matter how I fell afterwards?"

"Because I've seen you trip about a hundred thousand times since we first met and it was always due to some crazy stunts you were doing and never because you were simply distracted," he continued to parry her arguments; with every second it became more difficult for him to maintain his grumpy, cool attitude and not let his lips curl into an amused smile at both her behaviour and the memories he'd just recalled himself. "You were constantly running around, jumping over fences and climbing trees and half the time your shoelaces weren't tied, and yet you hardly ever let that get in your way. And now you want me to believe that you've hit the ground with your knee and cut it because you'd stumbled over it? When you were walking?"

"I don't know why you find that so improbable," she replied, shifting her eyes up at him for a second only to have them cast down a moment later. Unlike her most recent retort, this one was once again quiet, so much so that it was almost a whisper.

"I never thought Chihaya was capable of speaking quietly enough to be drowned out by a bell."

Was that it? Was that how she was now?

Was he responsible for that change in her?

He shook his head resolutely and lowered his own gaze onto her knee once more. He realised he was giving in to his nonsensical fears again, finding alterations where there were none, simply because he'd felt the change so acutely. Sure, Chihaya's voice was much softer than what he was used to; but to think that it was a general transformation was a little too much. It wasn't like she couldn't speak loudly or even downright shout at him – she had proven that much with the entire 'you're not a coward' scene, and even with the little comebacks she had thrown at him a short while earlier.

She wasn't mad at him, she hadn't taken offence. She wasn't avoiding him like he had avoided her, nor was she trying to daunt him with her curt, frosty answers; if anything, she'd given him the impression that she wished to talk to him but had no idea how to do it without overstepping his boundaries.

As if she had been afraid of him.

Was she?

Taichi risked another glance at her and saw that she still wasn't looking at him or even at the wound he'd been treating for her. Instead, her gaze was turned to her right, focused on some distant spot he couldn't name unless he followed her gaze with his own eyes. Afraid she might catch him staring, he looked down again quickly, however; he could figure out what had arrested her attention later on.

He had enough to think about as it was, without adding any additional information to the mix.

"There, it's all clean," he announced after a moment, taking the wet towel in his hand away; he pressed it back to her knee almost immediately when he saw that the seemingly unserious injury hadn't stopped bleeding. "It looks like it's a pretty deep cut you've got there. Nothing that would need stitches, but you certainly should have it wrapped up, and not only because of the possible infections. That is, unless you actually want to walk around Tokyo with bloody streaks all over your calves. I don't have anything of the sort so-"

"I do!" she cut him off, energetic again. Taichi raised an eyebrow at her sudden cry and she turned away, blushing. However, she continued, "I do. Just hand me my bag, please?"

He did as he was told, and passed on the bag that had somehow ended lying behind him. Chihaya grabbed the item zealously and began to search its insides, flipping the books and other tools she kept in it with as much hurry as if her life really had depended on it. Taichi regarded her curiously, suddenly indifferent to whether she decided to meet his eye this time.

It took her a good while before she found what she'd been looking for; it was a perfect opportunity for him to have a closer look at her at last.

No matter how silly his behaviour was, Taichi made good use of that time.

She was a mess; there was no doubt about that. No longer panting like she had when he'd seen her first (something Chihaya had been trying very hard to conceal and perhaps even thought that she'd succeeded, only Taichi obviously knew better), she still seemed to be anything but relaxed. Her hair looked as if she had combed them with her hands (which she'd done often enough in the past to make his guess more than likely) and her cheeks were grey from the dust, though again, it looked like she had attempted to clean it in some amateurish way.

He wondered if the slightly darker traces he saw on her cheeks really might have been the remnant of her tears, like he feared they were.

Gosh, she really cried too damn much, never mind how serious the reasons were.

He was roused from his meditation when Chihaya finally pulled out the small first aid kit which she'd been looking so frantically for and straightened up a little, relieved. She sure was glad with herself, a softer, more placid expression finally reflecting on her face as she opened it and drew the bandage and gauze packs she needed from it, and even waved them before his eyes as if to tell him that she could take care of herself now.

That darn moron.

"I can deal with it now," she said, confirming his suspicions. "If you just take the towel away from my knee I can wrap it up just fine. But you really have to move away."

"And how do you plan to do that with your leg bent like this?" he asked, simultaneously ignoring her suggestion completely. "You're still kneeling."

"I can straighten my leg anytime, so-"

"And lay it flat on the ground? Good luck moving your hand underneath when you try to go around it. Also, are you really carrying a first aid kit in your school bag?"

It was the first time Chihaya met his eye since her unfortunate fall and boy, was she vexed. "My mum made me carry one around after I stepped onto a nail and had to block the blood flow with my classmate's spare t-shirt in middle-school. She wasn't very happy with that."

"Your mum or the classmate?"

"Neither. But at least I learnt to carry these things around, and since I know how to use them, I'm going to wrap my own injury now. I just need to stand up and-"

Without a word of warning, she leaned on one arm and pushed herself off the ground, leaving the startled Taichi to stare at her helplessly. She hissed at the pain when she put more pressure on her wounded leg but said nothing, determined to carry out the plan she had formed in her head without letting her friend interrupt.

Only, his hand was still pressed against her knee... and he wasn’t going to do anything to change that.

"You're impossible," he told her instead, the faintest shadow of mirth flashing in his eyes.

"Move your hands, Taichi, I'm bandaging my knee," she ordered him, feigning deafness.

"You'd need to dry your skin first."

"I know that!"

"Not what I heard."

"I am, but I still need you to move away. Why aren't you moving away?"

"Who knows." Taichi shrugged, raising his eyes so he could meet Chihaya's weary glare. "Maybe I'm just being awful for the fun of it. Or maybe as usual, I'm the sensible one here and realise that you're gonna need help with that stupid cut. And since the only way to make you give up is by this kind of opposition, it's exactly what I'm doing now."

Chihaya's fingers tightened around the packages. "But why?"

"Who knows," he said once again. "Perhaps I'm just too used to looking after you to simply walk away and leave you to deal with it on your own. After all, I know you well enough to realise how incompetent you are."

That little jab at the end of his reply was meant to lighten the mood, to avoid a situation in which his earlier words would sound like yet another confession on his part. He wanted to make sure it didn't sound tender – that the 'looking after you' part was a statement coming from a long time buddy rather than from the love interest he so wished to be, from an easygoing, disinterested comrade and not a suitor she was so afraid of.

He wanted to turn it into a joke, and yet, it only took a second for him to realise that his tactics hadn't worked.

She didn't answer him; didn't snap or turn away, didn't huff, offended by his remark – but she didn't laugh, either. He saw her knuckles turn white as her grasp tightened even more and opened his mouth to apologise...

...but then she straightened her arms, shoving the bandages right before his eyes, while she looked away from him, again.

She nearly hit him on the nose and yet, he was too stunned to care.

"You do it then," he heard her mutter under her breath as she moved the package even closer to him. "Just... be quick about it. It doesn't need to be that precise, I only need it to last until I'm home."

He wanted to contradict her, to say that the main reason why he'd insisted on helping her out was to make sure that the dressing around her wound would not be a shoddy one; but something stopped him. Whether it was the way in which she was so determined not to meet his eye again or how her hands trembled when he finally took the cursed bandages from her, he couldn't tell; but he couldn't be more sure if Chihaya had told him that directly.

His jokes hadn't been too terrible a strategy overall – one more challenge, however, and he could lose it all.

So he remained silent, attentively drying her skin with fresh gauze before pressing another piece against the injury and wrapping it up with utmost care. It didn't matter that it was her bare skin anymore, or that the rim of her skirt was moving gently right above his bowed forehead. He was a friend, a companion. He was willing to call himself a nurse, for goodness' sake – as long as what he did was of any benefit to her.

Now wasn't he a failure.

Bet someone else, someone like Sudo, would never let anything like that happen, he thought to himself. He probably would have left her at that gate and walked away without a word, unless it was to roast her with one of his terrible lines. Actually, I'm sure nobody I know would've acted as stupidly as I have, whether it would be Nishida or Komano, or – Arata...

"All done," he announced a little too hastily, deliberately breaking his own train of thought before it could take him too far, and stood up. "I hope it's not too tight, but if it is, just tell me and I'll fix it. We don't want your leg to go all stiff and blue while you walk back home, right?"

"No, it's good. It's perfect," she answered, shaking her head. "Thank you."

Her head and gaze were still lowered when she spoke to him, so Taichi couldn't quite tell what her expression was and so he couldn’t use that knowledge to guess how she actually felt. At first, he was sure she would turn away as soon as he was done treating her wound, and just set off towards home without further delay, or that she would at least step back, no longer needing to stay in his close proximity like she had before.

They really were standing quite close now, so close that one step forward would make her forehead rest against his collarbone, literally.

And yet, she still didn’t allow him to see her face. He waited patiently for another moment, even though his heart was threatening to jump out of his chest any moment now. He stuck around, motionless and quiet, giving her every chance to flee like he expected her to, awaiting the moment when she would leave his personal space.

He couldn't imagine her wanting to be there, not after how he had treated her today – how he'd been treating her ever since the day she had rejected him.

And yet, she was still there.

"Chihaya," he whispered eventually. "Do you want to talk?"

It was a simple question, an obvious question. It was a ridiculous one, too – after all, they'd been exchanging statements back and forth, so technically, it was way past time for asking it. However, he certainly knew that it was not a simple chat he'd had in mind; and maybe it was naive of him, but he still believed that Chihaya understood it, too.

She didn't answer him immediately, and not even after some time had passed. It wasn't because she hadn't heard him, of that he was sure... but that didn't mean that he had more than the vaguest idea of why she tarried, either.

Was his question not so simple after all?

He didn't dare to lean forward, on the off chance that she would decide to look up at him after all, in which case their closeness really might become too much for him. His eyes remained fixed on her, however, boring into her hair as if to jinx her into replying at last. She didn't move; she didn't look up.

And for the longest time, she didn't make a sound.

Until...

"Yes. Yes, I do."

#Our Sleeves Were Wet With Tears #chihayafuru #taichihaya #mashima taichi #ayase chihaya #more reposting #more new arrrrt #margaretwrites

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bisexualbumblebee-writes · 3 years ago

Text

2015/2021- Joel Fry x OC

Joel Fry x Isabel Abbott

Description: The six year difference between Joel and Isabel beginning their relationship to being happily married.

Word Count: 2k

“Welcome back to Candid everyone! My name is Erin Miller,” the interviewer greeted the camera with a bright smile at the camera for her podcast/video. “Today is a very special episode because I am going to discuss the latest season of Game of Thrones. Not only that but today I’m joined here by the cast of Game of Thrones: Peter Dinklage as Tyrion Lannister, Emelia Clarke as Daenerys Targaryen, Iain Glen as Jorah Mormont, Joel Fry as Hizdahr zo Loraq, and Isabel Abbott as Kiyara Tallhart!” The crewmembers applauded as the cast waved when their names were called.

“Thank you guys so much for being here, all my fans and I are huge fans of the show,” she continued, finally looking at her guests.

“Happy to be here,” Emelia responded, the others agreeing afterwards.

“So much happened in this season,” Erin said before exhaling deeply, which made them laugh. “Lots of stories and even more heartbreaking deaths. Specifically the last two episodes. Oh man, I cried,” she emphasized.

“You should have seen the cast when we were filming,” Peter spoke, leaning closer to the microphone as he did so. Emelia nodded knowingly.

“Well today I wanted to talk to you about one specific episode. Episode nine, ‘Dance of Dragons.’ The attack of the Sons of Harpy on the fighting pit.”

“Oh boy,” Isabel muttered, which caused Erin to chuckle.

“Oh boy indeed. Can I just say, it literally happened so quickly. I mean, I blinked and people started getting murdered. Then Loraq is killed!” She ranted. “He was such a semi-good character and I was so sad to see him go.”

“So was Isabel,” Emilia teased. Isabel jokingly glared at the girl then pushed her shoulder, a blush dusting her face.

“Shut up Em,” she grumbled shyly.

“Oh, care to explain?” Erin asked with the same smile Emilia had.

“Yeah, Isa,” Iaian added. Isabel looked around, realizing that everyone was not staring at her expectantly.

“Oh my god I did not come here to be attacked like this!” She exclaimed with a giggle, attempting to hide her embarrassment.

“You were sad about Loraq’s death?” Joel questioned with a teasing smile, though there was a sincere look in his eyes.

“Okay listen,” she started deadpanned, which made the others burst out laughing. “Here’s the thing. During their time on the show, Hizdahr-”

“They’re on a first name basis now?” Peter questioned. Isabel took a second to flip him off before looking at Erin once more, this time with wide eyes.

“Wait, do children watch this show?”

“Yeah sometimes kids watch my show,” Erin responded amusedly. Isabel gasped and covered her mouth.

“I’m so sorry!” She looked at the camera with the most worried expression anyone had ever seen from her. “I’m sorry parents and children that just saw that.”

“No no no it’s okay!” Erin exclaimed, trying not to laugh. “If parents let their kids watch Game of Thrones I’m sure they’re immune to you flipping the bird.” Isabel nodded, though her shoulders slumped in defeat and she mumbled another apology.

“Aww Isa,” Joel cooed, patting her back soothingly. “Continue.” Isabel straightened and pushed her hair behind her shoulders.

“Anyways, Hizdahr and Kiyara got pretty close. Like she brought him food while he was imprisoned and they bonded over their fathers and they talked a lot in their free time. That meant that Joel and I got to talk quite a bit and I’d say we got pretty close,” she trailed off, looking at Joel for confirmation.

“Yeah,” he responded with an affirming nod, hand dropping from her back.

“Yeah,” she repeated, also nodding. “So we got close. No matter what, death always makes me sad, I mourn people I don’t even know. So seeing Hizdahr die up close was very emotionally stressing, and I was crying once the cameras cut. I did the same with Kit after John Snow died because we got close during season four.”

“This season was just a huge blow to Isabel’s emotional state,” Emelia spoke.

“You guys are laughing but that is absolutely true,” Isabel added matter-of-factly.

“While we’re on the subject, am I the only one who noticed all those looks Loraq gave Kiyara?” Erin inquired, looking around.

“Wait what?” Isabel laughed, but her question went unnoticed.

“No! Oh my god I’m so glad you brought that up,” Iaian exclaimed. “Literally, I cannot tell you how many times we had to do retakes because Joel wouldn’t stop looking at Isabel on and off camera.”

“Wait wait wait, are you serious?” Isabel questioned with an almost stupidly wide smile.

“Oh yeah, definitely,” Peter confirmed.

“That’s the entire reason people thought that Loraq and Kiyara were going to get together,” Erin explained. “People were shipping you guys on Twitter. Then Joel, you tweeted that picture of Isabel bringing you lunch. People started shipping you in real life.”

“Aww Joel, do you like me?” Isabel joked, but her smile faltered when she realized that the man genuinely looked flustered. “Are you okay?” She asked worriedly, leaning away from the microphones beforehand. Joel’s already red face reddened even more.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Are you worried about me?” He started off seriously but became goofy during his question, which made her giggle and shake her head.

“Jesus guys,” Peter groaned dramatically. “Just skip the formalities and date already!” Isabel blushed deeply and looked at Joel, who was already looking at her.

“How about this Friday at 8:00?” He inquired with a goofy smile. Isabel’s jaw dropped as the other whooped and hollered at his question. Then Emelia hushed them to let Isabel answer, everyone watching them eagerly.

“Sounds good. I’ll text you my address,” she responded coolly despite the fact that she was screaming on the inside.

“I can’t believe that just happened on my show,” Erin muttered, looking absolutely blown away.

“Neither can I,” Isabel breathed out with a small giggle. “You should have seen it the first time he actually asked me out.” That sent the others into chaos, everyone talking over each other while Isabel and Joel watched.

“When did you guys start dating!?” Emelia yelled, which caused Isabel to flinch then laugh at the girl.

“He asked me out after ‘Mockingbird’ wrapped,” she laughed out in the same excited tone. Emelia mouthed the episode name then looked at her with wide eyes.

“Are you serious? The second episode he was in? And you didn’t tell me?” One would think that all that yelling would calm down laughter, but on the contrary, Isabel was nearly out of breath.

“I’m sorry!” She exclaimed. Erin was still laughing when she decided to step in.

“Wait, so do you mind walking us through what happened?” She asked, and Isabel admired his sincerity. She glanced at Joel, silently asking permission. When he gave her a nod of confirmation, she looked around at the others.

“So, obviously we originally met during season four, when Hizdahr zo Loraq was first introduced. We talked a couple times between scenes, but then he isn’t really heard from so Joel wasn’t really there. Then season five came around and we got to know more about each other and he finally asked me out after the fourth episode. And that’s it,” she explained with a shrug. Iain just stared at them appalled.

“I am just in shock that you guys managed to keep it so exclusive,” he spoke, shaking his head as he did so. Joel shrugged from beside her.

“Well, we wanted to wait until the right time. Just to see if we could work, you know?” Isabel’s already wide smile widened when Joel’s arm slithered around her shoulders, only to pull away a second later. She looked at him confusedly then let out a small scream when he pulled her chair closer by the seat so he could comfortably rest his arm around her shoulders. She blushed shyly then hid her face as the others cooed rather loudly at them. Joel also cooed in her ear then pressed an affectionate kiss to the crown of her head. This was probably the best thing that ever happened to the both of them.

2021

“Hello once again everyone! My name is Erin Miller and I welcome you back to Candid,” Erin greeted happily with a wave that gave both Joel and Isabel a sense of deja vu. “Today I am once again joined by Joel Fry and Isabel Abbott who are here to talk about their new movie Cruella, which premiered in theaters and on Disney+ on May 28,” she paused to face the couple. “Hello you two, long time no see.” Joel and Isabel waved at the camera in unison then faced Erin with bright smiles.

“Yeah, at least since 2015,” Isabel answered.

“Yeah, you guys look good,” Erin complimented honestly. “And I hear that you guys are married now,” she cooed.

“Yeah,” Joel trailed off coyly. Erin giggled and clapped her hands.

“Can I see the rings?” She asked eagerly. Joel and Isabel nodded at each other then took off their rings to show both Erin and the cameras.

“Now, what is this engraved on the inside of it?” Erin questioned, leaning forward to get a better look.

“Mine says ‘you are my moon and stars that paint the sky,’” Isabel answered.

“And mine says ‘you are the sun to my moon, light of my life,’” Joel continued.

“They’re references to quotes we said during the show,” Isabel explained further. “So, during season four not long after we’re introduced to Hizdahr and they were talking about their fathers, she said the line, ‘Everytime a good man dies, they are added to the night sky to paint stars as pretty as the moon. That’s where I believe your father is.’ It was probably my favorite line of the show.”

“Oh yeah,” Erin reminisced. “I remember that. That was a good episode. Joel, what about yours?”

“This was actually during season five when Kiyara visited Hizdahr while he was imprisoned. She had brought him food and he asked her to stay for conversation. I don’t… remember what they were talking about…”

“What love meant to them,” Isabel interrupted before looking around. “Right?”

“Yeah,” Joel answered as the scene came back to him. “Yeah, so it was right after Daenerys said that she would marry him to hold a strong bond. They were preparing a room for him and Hizdahr was not very happy about the forced engagement. Kiyara came down to visit him and they talked about what love meant to them. Hizdahr said that when his father talked about his mother, he’d say that she was the sun to his moon and that she was the light of his life. Those words had stuck with him and he always thought that when he married, he’d feel the same about his wife.”

“Oh so these are based on quotes you actually said to each other?” Erin asked. Isabel blushed and nodded.

“Now, can I ask, why did you decide on Game of Thrones inspired rings and quotes?”

“Because that’s how we met,” Joel answered kindly as he and his wife put their rings back on. “If I hadn’t been cast as Hizdahr zo Loraq, then I don’t think we ever would have met because we had both been shooting different things before and after we were killed off on the show. Like, I was cast in You, Me, and the Apocalypse then Ordinary Lives. She was cast in Doctor Who for a while then Me Before You. Before that I was in Plebs and she was in Once Upon a Time. We didn’t have a lot of time between our schedules, but we made it possible, and look at us now. I owe the Game of Thrones cast and crew everything, because of them I met and later married the love of my life.” Both Erin and Isabel awed at him and the latter hugged him tightly.

“Aw babe! That was so sweet,” she exclaimed.

“You’re going to make me sad that I’m single,” Erin joked.

“Maybe you should get cast in an HBO show,” Joel joked back, making the girls giggle.

“Anyways, moving onto Cruella,” Erin said after a minute. “Yet again we are met with romantic tension with your characters Jasper and Angela.” Isabel shrugged, a bashful smile gracing her face. This would be a long day.

#joel fry #joel fry x oc #i'm joel fry trash

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tired-eyes-cold-as-ice · 4 years ago

Text

Finally Free

summary: He thought about how long it took him to accept it. Not realize, no, Alex Mercer has always liked boys, there was not a single doubt in his mind. He’s always known. He just hated that part of himself for the majority of his life. Or, Alex comes out.

warnings: panic attacks, implied/referenced homophobia, internalized homophobia, depression, strong language (Alex Swears™)

words: 5783

chapters: 2/2

notes: This was supposed to a cute one-shot where Luke and Reggie write Finally Free for Alex after he comes out to them because I was rewatching JATP (as one does) and noticed the song in Luke's journal and my brain went brrr. And then I started writing it? And suddenly Alex was horribly depressed and everything was miserable?? So, uh, yeah. I promise there is a happy, soft ending though because Luke and Reggie are good friends. I apologize for the Bobby erasure in this, I deadass forgot about him when writing.

read on ao3 <3

---

Chapter 1: What If?

To say that he was scared shitless would be an understatement.

To say that he was so terrified he felt like his heart would force its way out of his body right through his throat would be closer to the truth, though no analogy could accurately describe Alex’s feelings as he stood before his two bandmates. Alex scanned the room, eyes darting from Luke’s guitar in the corner of the studio, to his drum set, the extremely beat up dartboard on the far end wall, even his own shoes—anywhere but the two boys sat in front of him with worried expressions painted all over their faces. Subconsciously, he started fidgeting with the hem of his sweatshirt, rubbing the soft pink fabric between his shaking fingers. Breathe.

He breathed in, words forming in his mind. He opened his mouth to let them out, but nothing happened. He tried one more time, still nothing.

His eyes welled up with tears and he blinked them away angrily, letting out a frustrated groan. Why did it have to be so fucking difficult?

As he reached up to rub away at his eyes, trying to will the tears to go away, a quiet voice broke the silence in the room.

“Alex, if… if you’re not feeling up to it right now, we can just go play and you can tell us some other time.”

Alex couldn’t help but snort slightly at that. Luke Patterson has never sounded this gentle and under different circumstances, Alex might’ve started teasing him for going soft but not now. Not when Luke’s eyes were filled with genuine concern and it was clear he was using all his willpower not to just jump up and pull Alex into his arms since that’s how Luke Patterson comforted people who seemed upset.

And, well, Alex was upset.

He glanced over at Reggie too, the dark-haired boy mirroring Luke’s expression though Alex could see there was more to it under the surface. Reggie wasn’t just worried, he was scared. When Alex joined them in the studio earlier and announced he needed to talk to them in a very serious tone, Reggie instantly deflated and curled in on himself like he did every time someone mentioned his parents or raised their voice even slightly.

Alex felt like an asshole. In fact, Alex felt pathetic. All he needed to get out were three words. Three simple fucking words and it would be all be over. Three words and his friends could stop worrying. Three words and his friends might abandon him.

Either way, it would be over.

He breathed out shakily, ducking his head to avoid the concerned looks. No words came out.

He knew Luke and Reggie would never abandon him. He doubted the two could even moderately dislike him. They were best friends, brothers, family. In fact, a part of Alex thought they already knew, somehow. But there was another part hidden away in the darkest corner of his mind that wouldn’t let him believe any of that and made him doubt. What if?

“N-no... no, sorry,” he finally mumbled, clearing his throat when he realized how hoarse he sounded. “I need to tell you now, it’s just… it’s hard.”

Hesitantly, he lifted his gaze to look at the boys again. They both offered him small, supportive smiles—though Alex could see that Reggie’s was far from genuine—and waited patiently.

For hyperactive teenage boys, they knew how to be patient when the situation called for it. Alex loved that about them. He loved them, he needed them.

What if?

He thought about how long it took him to accept it. Not realize, no, Alex Mercer has always liked boys, there was not a single doubt in his mind. He’s always known. He just hated that part of himself for the majority of his life. Wrong, bad, disgusting—that’s what he’d hear in church every Sunday. That’s what his father would repeat whenever they’d see two guys holding hands on the street, whenever Queen would come on the radio. That’s what he’d hear in school most days. Sometimes directed at him, sometimes not, but Alex heard it every time. He heard every slur, every bad joke, he remembered every shove, every punch, whether they were directed at him or not. He saw, he heard, he felt.

Wrong, bad, disgusting.

Don’t look, don’t touch, don’t feel.

Wrong. Bad. Disgusting.

And then Luke Patterson started appearing in his classes and always sat himself right next to Alex with the dumbest of grins permanently plastered on his face. The same grin he gave the new kid, Reggie Peters, when he walked in on his first day and had no other choice but to sit in the row beside Luke and Alex.

Suddenly, Alex couldn’t hear the slurs and the shoves because the noise was drowned out by Luke laughing at whatever nonsense Reggie just let out of his mouth. It was drowned out by Reggie singing one of his silly country songs and Luke playing the guitar to accompany him as they ate lunch together. Alex could no longer hear the jokes and names because Luke was yelling in his ear about some new band he discovered while Reggie laughed softly in the background.

The world fell away piece by piece and all that was left was their little bubble. Their own little world where Alex could laugh and play his drums and just be. Their own little reality where Alex could grab Luke’s hand and would be rewarded with a hug instead of a punch to his stomach. Where Reggie would cuddle up to his side when he was upset and let Alex run his fingers through his hair until he calmed down. Their own little world filled with music where Alex could look and touch and feel.

What if?

He shook his head no. There was no way. Breathe.

He closed his eyes.

After what felt like an eternity, Alex finally managed to speak up.

“I, uh… I am gay.”

The room was quiet, and Alex did not feel brave enough to open his eyes. He couldn’t.

He couldn’t bear seeing the hatred in his friends’ eyes that was undoubtedly there.

Wrong. Bad. Disgusting.

Memories were flooding his brain. Every bad joke, every shove, every slur, every punch was forcing its way back into his mind from where he tried to repress them, clear images flashing in front of his eyes.

He couldn’t breathe.

His lungs were crying for air, but his throat wouldn’t let any pass through. His chest felt heavy, his hands were shaking, he couldn’t breathe, he—

He was in someone’s arms.

Alex’s eyes shot open with panic and a painful gasp escaped his lips in a desperate attempt to get some oxygen into his lungs. His head was spinning, his body was shaking, his legs felt weak and yet Alex didn’t find himself collapsing on the floor because someone was holding him up. Someone was hugging him. No, not just someone. Luke. Luke was hugging him, and he could feel Reggie taking one of his hands into his own and squeezing it gently.

“Alex, breathe.”

He latched onto that voice like it was a lifeline, forcing his raging mind to stop and focus focus focus and finally drew in a sharp breath.

---

They just stood there for a while. Alex had buried his face in Luke’s neck as he tried to steady his breathing, though he was no longer fighting the tears streaming down his face and soaking Luke’s shirt. Reggie was still holding his hand, squeezing it every so often in reassurance, but it didn’t take long before he also wrapped his free arm around Alex, drawing him close.

“You’re okay, Alex.”

“We love you, dude.”

Alex could scream.

They held him with such tenderness, like he was the most precious thing in the universe, and he felt safe in their arms, he felt loved.

When he finally tried to pull away, Luke tightened his grip around him for just a moment, like he didn’t want to let him go. He gave in eventually and resorted to just holding Alex’s hand like Reggie, whose eyes were red from crying.

They both squeezed his hands at the same time, and Alex couldn’t help but smile at that.

“Thanks, guys,” he hummed, looking up at two of them.

Reggie blushed and smiled at Alex, shrugging as if to say of course. Beside him, Luke broke out into that stupid idiot grin of his and Alex made a note to smack himself any time he felt like doubting these two idiots again.

As if.

---

Chapter 2: Finally Free

Alex comes out to his mother. It doesn't go well.

(Oh, and if you’re wondering about the band practice note, read this chapter.)

Thank you for reading <3

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koriandrsucker · 4 years ago

Note

Hey it’s miss geek here I’ve finished the story I will need to post it in sections so I will label them part 1 by MG part 2 by MG etc

Thank u so much! It was really sweet. Reading Jason getting some love is always the best. If you want me to erase this, I will, but, I’ll post it whole here.

AU where Kori is the best baby sitter in the entire universe… or is she?

by Miss Geek.

“What the hell is this Harper”

“Well I’m pretty sure it’s called playing Jaybird”

“No you moron I mean why is Kori here” Jason growled in Roy’s ear away from the giggles and laughter.

Roy gives him his signature shit-eating grin and replies “I would have thought Bruce would’ve given that talk Jay, Ah well seems I have to do it you see young grasshopper when two people love each-“

“Shut up Harper, I meant why is Kori in your house” Jason was seething, to say the least.

“Ok jaybird listen Lian wanted Kori to babysit her. Jade and I couldn’t say no to her she gave me the eyes ” Roy said, looking at his girlfriend and daughter chatting animatedly with Kori.

Jason sighed, he knew those eyes pretty well. Lian Harper was one of those very few that could get through the lone wolf that was Jason Peter Todd. The five-year-old knew she had him wrapped around her small pinky finger and Jason, being her godfather, only added to the fact he could not say no to her.

“Ok, whatever she’s here to babysit that means I don’t have to be here. I’ll see you-“

“Uhhh well yeah you see about that-“ Roy said sheepishly.

Jason turned his steely blue-eyed gaze at his best friend (if he’s being honest his only friend) and said, “what did you do Harper."

“Well if we are being accurate I didn’t do anything it was your goddaughter that requested to you both being here,” Roy said while he glanced at his girlfriend getting ready to leave for their date and giving Kori any last minutes things she would need to take care of Lian for the night.

“So, Kori and I are babysitting Lian,” Jason looked at Roy in absolute skepticism.

“No...Kori is in charge and technically babysitting Lian you are just here for Lian's entertainment. She said, and I quote, ‘unca jay is funny’“ Roy said smirking the whole time.

“Why can’t I be in charge I can take care of her just fine on my own. I survived the streets on my own until I was 12 so I can handle babysitting her myself for a few hours” Jason protested.

Roy looked to his best friend/brother/partner in crime and replied “I love you like a brother Jaybird and I know without a doubt you will protect Lian with your life but..you can be a walking hazard at times”.

“What? How?“

“Well there was the time you burnt water while trying to heat her milk in her bottle-“

“That was years ago Harper, give me a break-“

“Ok, what about last week when you put the toaster on fire trying to make Lian cheese toasties”.

“I still can’t figure out how a five-year-old knew how to use a fire extinguisher. In my defense, that incidence speaks volumes about your household Harper”

Jason really didn’t want to be alone with Kori.

It’s not that Kori was horrible to be around, in fact, she was the nicest person Jason has ever met. Korina Marie Anders was a pleasant girl who he had been acquainted with six years ago at his adopted brother's 21st birthday. She introduced herself to him and Jason found himself lost for words for the first time in his life, much to the amusement of his entire adopted family.

Even to this day he still thought about her but he was always wary to talk to her for many reasons, one of them due to her history with his brother, “Prick” Grayson (no he didn’t get his name wrong, in Jason's mind that is the name he had christened his older adopted brother). Kori had a brief dating history, by brief meaning literally under three months. The reason why they broke up was unknown to everyone.

However, Jason was not afraid of his brother. If he didn't approach Kori, it was more the fact that he convinced himself of not being good enough and that she would never see him in that way. After all, if she didn’t want Grayson, who all of Jason’s life had known to be Bruce’s golden child, the best son, the prince of Gotham, and everyone’s favorite guy, why on gods green earth would she want him. HIM. Jason Peter Todd, the street kid Bruce Wayne took in, the troublemaker, the dark prince of Gotham.

The only people who he can handle their presence are Roy, Jade, Lian, Alfred, and maybe Tim, on a good day. It’s safe to say Jason got rid of any hope to catch the eye of Korina Anders, but that did not mean his crush went away.

He got out his trip down memory lane as Roy spoke again.

“I don’t really think your problem is about me trusting you.”

“What do you mean,” Jason narrows his eyes at his friend.

“The real issue is you can’t trust yourself around Kori,” Roy replied.

As his best friend, Jason did confide in Roy his crush on the redhead and since then Roy was on a mission to get the two together. Unfortunately, Jason always dodged every plan Roy had. Well, all except this plan. Unbeknownst to Jason, Roy knew what he was doing putting Lian into this. It would make Jason unable to say no.

His plan was working so far, he only hoped it would work in everyone’s favor. Jason’s silence was enough to convince Roy that he still had feelings for Kori. With that reassurance, he called over to his girlfriend.

“Hey babe come on, we will have to leave now, our reservation is at 7. Thanks again Kors for the recommendation and for looking after Lian tonight.”

Jade turned to Kori gratefully. “We honestly can’t thank you enough it’s been a while we have been out without Lian.”

“Babe, please, she knew how to swear in Vietnamese at three years old, and I sure as hell can't speak a word of Vietnamese, so where would she get THAT from.” Roy retorted, knowing full well he won that argument and the look on his girlfriend meant she knew it too.

Instead, she rolls her eyes at him and turns to her daughter. “Lian be a good girl for your aunt Kori and uncle Jason, ok? Mommy and daddy will be back soon, and Kori, you have both our numbers don’t hesitate to call if you need us”.

“Ok, mommy, I’ll be good me. Aunt Kori and unca Jay will have buckets of fun, won’t we?" As she turned to her uncle and aunt.

Kori answered with, “yes, we will Lian”

Jason was still wrapping around his head that Lian called Kori her aunt.

“Aunt Kori?” Jason whispered to Roy.

Roy’s reply was not what Jason expected. “Well, actually, Jade and I were hoping that title will change to godmother if all goes well.”

That left Jason lost for words while Kori and Lian waved goodbye.

Lian turned to her uncle and aunt. "What are we gonna do first? Can we play princesses? Oh, what about pony island instead or how about -?”

Lian Harper was a talker and Jason didn’t know how to control, as he liked to call them, Lian's sugar rush mode.

Kori turns to Lian and says “Did you finish your homework from school?"

Lian went sheepishly quiet and told Kori “Umm, no aunt Kori.”

Kori gave Lian a smile.

“Well, if you finish your homework we can do what you want.”

Lian thought carefully for a minute and to Jason’s surprise, she calmly replied. “Ok aunt Kori, do you pinky promise?”

She stuck out her pinky only for Kori to take and wrap it around her own. Satisfied that her aunt Kori won’t break her promise, she moved into the kitchen to start her homework. Kori then turned to Jason who had a blank expression.

Kori was concerned so she asked, “Hey Jason everything alright?”

“How did you do that,” he asked still in a daze.

“Do what?“

"Get her to listen to you. She never does that willingly, she usually needs to be bribed.”

Kori smiles at him and he feels his knees buckling. He sometimes forgets the effect she has on him.

“I’ve had a lot of practice with my brother”.

“Ah, right.” He replies and resists the urge to ask her what’s been on his mind.

Instead, she speaks. “Lian tells me you are favorite uncle,” Kori says with a knowing smile.

Jason gives her his signature smirk and tells her, “I’m her only uncle that she sees regularly, so there’s no competition. Not really”.

In a way, Jason has indeed been there for Lian since the beginning and she sees her other uncles, from Dick to Wally, only time to time as Roy isn’t hostile towards them anymore but still, the friendship will never be how it once was. Jason knows fully well how burnt bridges are beyond repair.

However, Kori shakes her head “No, I’ve seen her interact with others. It’s not the same way she looks at you. You should have seen her face when Jade told her you’ll be coming over. Her face lit up like the Fourth of July.”

Jason gives her a genuine smile, something she has not ever seen on the man before her. Always a smirk or a tight smile. So seeing this new smile she realizes it’s an expression she would like to see more of. Hopefully.

Before Jason has the chance to say anything, Lian comes back from the kitchen, finishing her work.

They all decided to play some games much to the embarrassment of Jason. Lian made both of them play pretty pony island. Kori thought Jason cooperating with Lian's demands was adorable. Jason thought he might die.

Kori then went to start making dinner for them all.

Lian turned to her favorite uncle and said “I like aunt Kori, unca Jay”

“Me too, kid.”

“Can you marry her then?”

Jason didn’t think it was possible to choke on air but he proved himself wrong.

“Wait what??? Who told- hold on a minute” Jason tried to get his bearings right before answering his goddaughter. “What are you talking about.”

“Daddy said you like her, so if you marry her she can come round all the time with you right?” She asked innocently and again she used those eyes.

Jason sadly replied, “I don’t think she likes me like that, kid.”

“Why not? your the best unca ever”

She ran over to him to give him the biggest hug she could give. Jason had a habit early in life not to live up to people's expectations because he felt he always fell short on those expectations. However, with Lian, it seemed he could do no wrong and with that, he hugged her back as much as the five years could handle.

That’s how Kori found them and she didn’t want to split them until they did themselves. They both turned to Kori as she explained dinner was ready.

Dinner surprisingly went smooth Lian didn’t make a fuss. It was then time for bed and Lian wanted a story. Jason knew her favorite story was Robin Hood, so as he read the story animatedly to her, Kori watched on the sidelines, smiling the entire time.

Lian then got put to bed as Kori left the room Lian turned to her uncle.

“Unca Jay, aunt Kori is the best babysitter in the universe but you're the best unca ever. I love you unca Jason,” and she drifted to sleep.

Jason smiled, kissed her forehead, and slowly crept out the room.

To his surprise, Kori was right outside the room.

“I told you, you're her favorite uncle. Not that I blame her,” she said with a smirk.

Is she flirting? Jason can say he wasn’t sure, so he tested his theory.

“Oh really,” he said.

“Around the people you love, you don’t pretend to be something you're not. It’s clear as day how you feel about them. You don’t hide behind a mask” Kori replied.

Immediately, Jason had the answer to his question about her flirting with him.

This must be why Prick Grayson and her broke up. Grayson was known to hide behind a mask, he portrayed one image but had another behind closed doors. As friends, it would not be as much of an issue, however, in a relationship, it’s another playing field and with a relationship with Korina Anders, who wears her heart on her sleeve, Jason was sure it caused them to clash.

“It’s difficult to show emotions when you're being raised by Bruce Wayne,” he isn’t sure why he was sticking up for Grayson or maybe it was for himself.

“Well you seem to be doing alright for yourself,” she said shyly.

“I won’t lie to you it’s not like that every day. Some days are better than others,” he admitted.

This is why he didn’t want to be alone with her. Stupid Harper.

"Why won’t you lie to me, I wouldn’t be offended if you did,” she said looking confused.

Without his brain's permission, he blurted out “You’re too good to be lied to.”

His face sure turned the color of Kori’s hair.

Kori smiled at him and admitted, “I heard what you said to Lian about me not liking you in that way. I wasn’t eavesdropping, I promise."

She suddenly turned, ashamed of Jason thinking the worst of her. However, Jason just wanted to crawl in an imaginary hole. Anywhere, please, Lord Almighty, but here with her.

“Please Kori just forget you heard that” Jason pleaded.

“Why” she whispered.

“Because I’d rather forget than you reject me.”

“Who said I would reject you” Jason looks at Kori stunned.

Kori is looking at her feet because she, like him, spilled her feelings.

“Are you serious? Since when?”

“Remember last summer in Gotham? You came back for a visit. I tried to go up to you but it was hard, I didn’t know if you saw me in that way, you always had that too cool for school vibe since I met you. I’m a nerd with an Astrophysics degree. Like I said I didn’t think u would look my way”.

Jason was floored. He never thought this would ever be a conversation but now it’s out in the open. He can’t help but wonder what if.

So right then and there he decides to throw caution to the wind and take the risk.

If anybody knew Jason Peter Todd, they would know he loves to take risks. He moves closer to Kori until there are barely inches apart and whispers to her.

“Trust me, I’ve been seeing you that way for six years, I’m pretty sure I won’t change my mind”.

Kori now was blushing and she couldn’t fight it down. This man in front of her could bring out emotions she never knew she was capable of but she accepted it.

“Me neither.”

She whispered back, afraid if she talked any louder their moment could break. And so with that, reassuring him, his feelings were reciprocated he went in for a chaste kiss. However, the moment his lips landed on hers, Kori turned it more passionate. Even if he was not expecting that from her, Jason allowed Kori to explore all she wanted, after all, he thought she might as well get used to what will be hers and hers alone.

So Jason could agree with Lian that Korina Marie Anders was indeed the best babysitter in the universe.

Now he owed the smug Roy a huge favor.

Hmm, maybe playful revenge is how he’ll show his appreciation. After all, he can’t lose his touch now, can he?

#jaykori #jason todd #koriand'r #starfire

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margarethelstone · 4 years ago

Text

Our Sleeves Were Wet With Tears | Chapter 2

Chapter 2 / read on AO3!

Too strange to have him take it for more than yet another of his feverish dreams.

Was it in any way connected – or worse, prompted – by the photo Arata had undoubtedly sent her as well?

And if so, what was the connection?

...and still, he couldn't help but think that it was not the case this time.

One friend reaching out to the other ones.

Friends.

Taichi's jaw tightened, his soul filling up with disgust and shame.

Had he really forgotten that that was what the three of them were, first and foremost? Friends?

Or was he just too tired pretending that he was all right with such a setup, because deep down, he realised that even as a trio, they had never been entirely equal?

Was he too much of an egoist to accept that?

They did, however.

In for a penny, in for a pound. He had no choice but to go for it now.

"Why do you think I needed to hear that now?" he continued, careful to maintain the air of indifference or maybe even, irritation, while Chihaya slowly turned around. "I didn't say I was a coward, just that I didn't want to be one. And of course I've changed since primary school; I'm not some Peter Pan who never grows up."

The very sight of her was aggravating to him.

She wasn't the one to blame for all this.

And yet, every time he saw her, the memory of his stupid, impossible dreams came rushing back to him, always accompanied by the one of them being crushed to bits just a few short weeks prior.

It wasn't her fault, and still, he couldn't find it in himself to forgive her.

He was indifferent.

He wished to be indifferent.

He had been so good at avoiding her lately, at numbing the overwhelming feeling of solitude by simply making sure she did not come into view – so why did he feel like he was missing her already?

Was a fleeting encounter like this all it took to make all of his endeavours worthless?

He was hopeless.

Hopeless.

Just like all of his love for her had been.

Oh, screw it.

No matter how hard he tried, he could not hear anything from behind him.

So she hadn't followed him.

Of course she hadn't, you idiot, he berated himself silently, clenching his hands into fists and jamming them even deeper into his pockets. She looked like she wanted to get away from there as soon as she could, and only forced herself to stay and talk because she thought it was the right thing to do. She didn’t come to chat, to pour her heart out or to clear things up with me, mostly because there's nothing to clear up in the first place; she came because she felt she needed to, because at some point, she'd decided that it was something a good person would do and obviously, she decided to spontaneously follow the wacky idea her mind had presented to her. A totally spur-of-a-moment kind of decision, honest but rash, misguided and ill-conceived, just like about everything Chihaya does.

He felt his heart shrink, as if it was squeezed in quite a literal sense, and yet, he refused to admit to his hurt, even if only to himself. There was no reason why he should've felt surprised, no excuse for the disappointment that was threatening to take over him. He'd known her; he knew what kind of person she was. Bright, outgoing, sincere. Blunt to a fault and so very, very caring that it made his head ache at times.

Still, her consideration was just like her entire self: impulsive. She always went all out and never put much reflection behind it.

As for Taichi, he still couldn't quite determine whether he found it frustrating or just very, very endearing.

Perhaps it was a mixture of the two.

Certainly not in the way he thought of her.

He fought the urge to kick the pebbles under his feet, regardless of the fact that there was no one around to see him if he had, much less to care about it. The street he strolled was empty, and since it was getting late, there was no reason to believe that the state of things should change. However, Taichi knew better than to indulge himself with his whims, no matter how insignificant they appeared to be. He'd been raised to be that way; and no matter how much he wanted to change, no matter how grand was the amount of effort he put into achieving it, there were things about himself he simply couldn't reform.

He couldn't tell if it were those traits that had made him the unlucky loser he undoubtedly was now; but at least they helped him cope with the fallout his misfortunes had brought.

Good gosh, he'd actually let Master Suo persuade him into not giving up on karuta after all, and only changing the environment of his practice instead.

He was fine, or at least, he was going to be.

...only to have him halt in surprise at the sound of a dull thud and a hiss that came from behind him.

All of these he could have thought of, and yet, he still wouldn't have guessed the real cause of the noise that had startled him so.

Of course, the culprit simply had to be the one person he'd been trying to ban from his mind.

How had she even got there without him realising her presence until now?

"Taichi, no! Wait!" He heard her protest against his actions, only to ignore it completely. "It's just a scratch, nothing serious, I can handle it myself just fine here!"

"No, but -"

Not that clearing up the skin on her leg was doing any good to his sanity, mind you.

"I just wasn't paying attention," Chihaya answered him, her tone slightly offended, but still quieter than he might have expected. "My shoelaces had come undone and I stepped over one."

Taichi sighed, almost impatiently.

"And fell like this? What were you doing, trying to break the world speed record?"

"I tripped! Why does it matter how I fell afterwards?"

"I never thought Chihaya was capable of speaking quietly enough to be drowned out by a bell."

Was that it? Was that how she was now?

Was he responsible for that change in her?

As if she had been afraid of him.

Was she?

He had enough to think about as it was, without adding any additional information to the mix.

"I do!" she cut him off, energetic again. Taichi raised an eyebrow at her sudden cry and she turned away, blushing. However, she continued, "I do. Just hand me my bag, please?"

It took her a good while before she found what she'd been looking for; it was a perfect opportunity for him to have a closer look at her at last.

No matter how silly his behaviour was, Taichi made good use of that time.

She was a mess; there was no doubt about that. No longer panting like she had when he'd seen her first (something Chihaya had been trying very hard to conceal and perhaps even thought that she'd succeeded, only Taichi obviously knew better), she still seemed to be anything but calm or relaxed. Her hair looked as if she had combed them with her hands (which she'd done often enough in the past to make his guess more than likely) and her cheeks were grey from the dust, though again, it looked like she had attempted to clean it in some amateurish way.

He wondered if the slightly darker traces he saw on her cheeks really might have been a remnant of her tears, like he feared they were.

Gosh, she really cried too damn much, never mind how serious the reasons were.

That darn moron.

"I can deal with it now," she said, confirming his suspicions. "If you just take the towel away from my knee I can wrap it up just fine. But you really have to move away."

"And how do you plan to do that with your leg bent like this?" he asked, simultaneously ignoring her suggestion completely. "You're still kneeling."

"I can straighten my leg anytime, so-"

"And lie it flat on the ground? Good luck moving your hand underneath when you try to go around it. Also, are you really carrying a first aid kit in your school bag?"

"Your mum or the classmate?"

"Neither. But at least I learnt to carry these things around, and since I know how to use them, I'm going to wrap my own injury now. I just need to stand up and-"

Only, his hand was still pressed against her knee... and he wasn’t going to do anything to change that.

"You're impossible," he told her instead, the faintest shadow of mirth flashing in his eyes.

"Move your hands, Taichi, I'm bandaging my knee," she ordered him, feigning deafness.

"You'd need to dry your skin first."

"I know that!"

"Not what I heard."

"I am, but I still need you to move away. Why aren't you moving away?"

Chihaya's fingers tightened around the packages. "But why?"

He wanted to turn it into a joke, and yet, it only took a second for him to realise that his tactics hadn't worked.

...but then she straightened her arms, shoving the bandages right before his eyes, while she looked away from him, again.

She nearly hit him on the nose and yet, he was too stunned to care.

His jokes hadn't been too terrible a strategy overall – one more challenge, however, and he could lose it all.

Now wasn't he a failure.

"No, it's good. It's perfect," she answered, shaking her head. "Thank you."

Her head and gaze were still lowered when she spoke to him, so Taichi couldn't quite tell what her expression was and use that knowledge to guess how she actually felt. At first, he was sure she would turn away as soon as he was done treating her wound, and just set off towards home without further delay, or that she would at least step back, no longer needing to stay in his close proximity like she had before.

They really were standing quite close now, so close that one step forward would make her forehead rest against his collarbone, literally.

He couldn't imagine her wanting to be there, not after how he had treated her today – how he'd been treating her ever since the day she had rejected him.

And yet, she was still there.

"Chihaya," he whispered eventually. "Do you want to talk?"

Was his question not so simple after all?

And for the longest time, she didn't make a sound.

Until...

"Yes. Yes, I do."

#Our Sleeves Were Wet With Tears #chihayafuru #taichihaya #mashima taichi #ayase chihaya #now let's pray i can meet the deadline and finish the art for ch 3 this week

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val-kay-rie · 5 years ago

Text

how the cards fall [quentin beck x reader]

summary: two different people on opposing sides with the same objective; make the other fall in love with them.

word count: 2281

warnings: far from home spoilers!! and slight cursing bc of nick fury smh

a/n: ah, here we are again. it is confirmed that quentin beck owns my ass now, and honestly i’m not even surprised. i would also apologize in advance because i suck at updating, but for now.. enjoy!

GIF not mine!

“Sir, we’ve been thinking..” William started on behalf of the team.

“What?” Quentin quickly asked in return.

The short-statured man glanced at his teammates and, with a nod from Guterman, continued, “We were thinking on how to humanize you more.”

“Humanize me?” was the response William received, “Our poor hero has already lost his family, what else are you suggesting? We’re days away from our first Elemental attack.”

“We were thinking you could expand on that,” Guterman stated, “You lost your spouse, but what if you re-met them on this Earth?”

This sparked the interest of the man in the motion-capture suit, and he urged them to go on, “I’m listening.”

“It’d be an easy addition - to feign affections for someone,” William elaborated, “And if it were to be someone in SHIELD--”

“I’d have someone on the inside if things go south,” Quentin completed, William nodding in agreement. A wicked grin grew upon Quentin’s face as he said, “Well this is brilliant, boys.”

William and Guterman let out a sigh of relief and smiled at one another in excitement as Quentin began to brainstorm, “We have to be careful with this, it can’t just be the next agent I meet. We’ll have to research someone, study them.”

“Who’s Fury likely to call to Europe?” Guterman thought aloud.

William suggested, “Maria Hill?”

“Too risky, she’d never let her walls down,” Quentin shot down, “We need someone that’ll open up emotionally.”

“Agent Johnson?”

“Fury wouldn’t call her out overseas.”

“Agent L/N?”

“L/N, Stark’s friend right?” Quentin inquired.

“Yes sir, even attended the funeral,” William confirmed.

“That creates the perfect emotional vulnerability we need,” Quentin told the others, “And if they’re calling the kid in to give him EDITH, L/N would be a good incentive for him to stick around. They’ve known each other a while, Stark’s death only brought them closer.”

William and Guterman exchanged a look before William carefully asked, “We found the one, didn’t we?”

“We found the one,” Quentin confirmed with a smirk, “Find out everything there is to know about Y/N L/N.”

---

“I’ve seen better,” you told Fury after you stepped out of the car, Dimitri getting out of the driver’s seat behind you. You hadn’t seen the man in front of you since attending Tony and Natasha’s funerals, yet your first reaction was to lighten the air.

Fury gazed around at the makeshift base that they had created and with a small, quiet laugh said, “We’re making do.”

You let out a laugh and said, “It’s good to see you, Nick.”

“It’s good to see you too, agent,” Fury genuinely replied.

Fury led you through the tunnels and to the pop-up SHIELD base that they established in Venice for the time being. You walked and talked, “What are we dealing with this time?”

“More creatures from another world, can you believe it?”

You scoffed and remarked, “Just another day at the office.”

Fury gave you a knowing look as you arrived at the center of the base. You spotted Maria Hill and nodded at each other as a greeting as Fury led you over to someone new. Their back was currently turned to you, so all you saw was the long, draping cape as Fury said, “There’s someone I’d like to introduce you to. Meet Quentin Beck, Beck this is--”

“Y/N?” Quentin whispered, almost inaudibly. His eyes, that were full of shock, looked you over up and down, taking in each and every inch of you. His wide blue eyes met yours and, while his were filled with disbelief, yours were filled with nothing but confusion. He took a breath and composed himself, “My apologies. Agent L/N, it’s a pleasure.”

Quentin held out a hand for you to shake and you cautiously took it, still completely baffled as to why he reacted the way that he did upon seeing you. You couldn’t understand the longing look in his eyes, and were relieved when Fury cleared his throat and carried, “Beck is here to help deal with Earth’s new friends.”

“New friends?” you asked both Fury and the man in front of you for clarification.

“We called them Elementals,” Quentin informed you, and it was in that moment that he realized he still had a grip on your hand. He glanced at your hands for a brief moment, then reluctantly let go and told you, “Sorry again.”

Quentin then began to explain everything to you, and you half paid attention as your mind began to slowly drift. Why did this man act so peculiar towards you?

Your complete attention was regained when Quentin spoke of the catastrophe the Elementals had brought to his world. The stakes were incredibly high and you couldn’t deny the fact that it made you nervous.

“The Elementals cost me everything. It’s because of them I’ve lost my whole world, my friends,” Quentin’s eyes found yours again as he softly said, “my family.”

You quickly broke the eye contact and gazed at the holographic display in front of you. When you dared to steal a glance at Quentin, you could see him mindlessly fiddling with a ring on his finger. A ring that you could only assume was a wedding band.

This, combined with the odd introduction, was a bit unsettling to you. Your mind couldn’t help but leap to all kinds of different assumptions, you were nearly convinced that you and Quentin had known each other on his world. And knew each other well, at that.

“The next attack is happening here in Venice in two days,” Hill informed you.

“So what’s the game plan?” you asked, looking towards her and Fury as you deliberately tried to avoid any more eye contact with Quentin.

“I’ve dealt with these things before,” Quentin said, “so I should be able to deal with them again.”

Fury added, “Still, we’re trying to get Beck whatever backup we can, yet somehow everyone we know is other-wise occupied. Everyone, but Parker.”

“Peter?” you asked for verification. When receiving a nod, you went on, “Come on Fury, he’s just a kid.”

“A kid with remarkable powers that the world needs right now,” Fury responded. You gazed at the other two people currently in the little meeting, hoping that someone would see things from your point of view, but to no avail.

Hill had seemed to have her mind made on the matter, and naturally she saw eye to eye with Fury and took his stance. You couldn’t really say you were all that surprised, but you were still hoping she’d understand.

Quentin looked at you with nothing but sympathy, and you were really hoping that the new and spectacular hero would realize this wasn’t the most ethical of ideas. He remained silent, and you couldn’t say you were surprised here either considering he didn’t even know Peter.

Fury could sense your uneasiness about the situation, nodded his head towards the direction of more tunnels in this dark underground base, and said, “Walk with me, L/N.”

You let out a sigh and did as you were told, starting off towards the direction Fury had pointed out. Quentin’s eyes never left yours as you exited the area, something that both you and Fury couldn’t help but notice.

As soon as you were out of earshot to Hill and Quentin you said, “I get that Peter’s powers as Spider-Man are amazing, but at the end of the day he’s just 16-year-old high schooler in need of a break.”

“And I understand that,” Fury said as you realized he was walking you the out the way you came in, “I also understand that this is a global threat and we’re gonna need all the help we can get.”

An audible exhale left your lips before you admitted, “I just don’t want to see anything happen to him.”

“Which is exactly why I called you out here. Help Parker, watch his back, make him feel more comfortable,” Fury instructed.

“I just don’t understand why you’re trying to get Peter here when Beck seems to have everything under control,” you told him.

“Because I don’t completely trust Beck,” Fury confessed.

You two made it back outside and underneath the night sky as you asked, “Why not?”

“Everything about this situation and about him almost seems too perfect, too good to be true.”

You joked, “Why? Because he listens to you?”

“Because nothing seems to falter him,” Fury said, “or, at least nothing did.”

“What do you mean?” you asked for clarification, though you were a bit nervous to hear his response.

“The man had no weakness, could take down these damn creatures in a matter of minutes,” Fury replied, “Then you show up and literally take his breath away.”

“What are you saying here, Fury?”

“It’s evident that you and Beck knew each other on his world, and we can use that to our advantage,” he explained.

You were a bit confused as you recited, “Our advantage?”

Fury said, “If the man doesn’t have a weakness, we’ll give him one.”

You hesitated before you stated, “I’m not sure I’m entirely following you, sir.”

“You need to let Beck in. Make him trust you, confide in you, make him believe you’ll always be there in the end,” you were told.

“You want me to make him love me, the way he loved me on his world,” you realized, softly saying this statement aloud as your mind wrapped around what the man in front of you was asking.

“If that’s what it takes, so be it. We need a contingency plan, and that contingency is you.”

Several thoughts raced inside your mind, all pertaining to the same general ideas: There is no way you could pull this off. There has to be someone better qualified. There has to be a more effective contingency that doesn’t involve messing with his emotions.

“With all due respect sir, are we sure this is the best route? I can’t make someone fall in love with me,” you expressed your worries, “I’m no Natasha.”

“Which is a considerable advantage in your case,” Fury reminded you. “We’re out of options here, agent.”

You looked away from Fury and gazed up at the stars for a brief moment, letting out a deep sigh of realization. The truth was, you didn’t have a choice in the matter and had to follow orders.

When you glanced back at Fury, the smug look on his face made it evident his thoughts mirrored yours. You caved, “Alright, where am I staying?”

---

Dimitri dropped you off at a rather nice hotel, much to your delight. You went to the room that Fury instructed and pulled out the key card he had handed you out of your pocket, before holding it up the doorknob and being met with a satisfying beep that was accompanied by a small green light.

You stepped into your temporary living space, shutting the door behind you as you dropped your bag on the ground. Careful feet walked across the room as it was late, but the view outside of the window was calling your name. After gently pushing the sheer curtains out of the way, the beautiful city of Venice came into your sight.

A small smile of content reached your face because, though you didn’t exactly like the circumstances that got you here, you were more than happy to see Italy. An idea popped into your head as you realized this may very well be the only moment of peace you’ll get in the country, so you decided you’d take advantage of that.

Stepping away from the window, you made sure you had your phone and your keycard before heading towards the door, eager to get outside and explore the city while you had the chance. When you opened your door, you were met with an unexpected guest in the hall.

Quentin had gotten out of his whole superhero costume and stood there in a maroon sweater and dark jeans with a keycard in his hand. His back was initially facing you before he heard your door open and turned around, making it evident to you he was staying in the room across the hall from you. Of course.

“Oh, um, hi,” you so poetically spoke.

“Hey,” he said back with a smile, “Where are you headed?”

You put your hands in your pocket as you replied, “I was just gonna go walk around the city. Take it all in before things get crazy, ya know?”

“Oh yeah, I understand,” Quentin said, fidgeting with his keycard as he debating his next words, “You’re heading out there alone?”

“Yeah, well, this line of work starts to normalize solitude,” you spoke, suddenly growing nervous inside.

“Let me come with you,” the man before you suggested. Before you were even able to protest, he continued, “Come on, it’s late at a night and you’re in a foreign city. I’m sure you can handle yourself but at the very least, it’d put my heart at ease if I accompanied you.”

Your eyes met his as you thought of ways to get out of your current situation, but then Fury’s words and your new objective came forward in your mind. You internally panicked because you knew a late-night stroll with the newly deemed hero would undoubtedly progress you in your mission, whether you actually wanted his company or not.

You held back a reluctant sigh and opted for a slight smile instead before telling Quentin, “That sounds great.”

“Wonderful,” he grinned back at you, before slipping his keycard back in his pocket. He gestured out to towards the elevator at the end of the hall and said, “After you.”

---

thanks for reading | masterlist | part two coming... eventually

#quentin beck x reader #mysterio x reader #marvel x reader #mcu x reader #quentin beck #mysterio #jake gyllenhaal x reader #x reader #x you #reader insert #jake gyllenhaal

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