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nicad13 · 2 years

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Crossroads: Chapter 13

The Lessons of Nightmares

Summary: The clan of Rollins-Djarin process prior events. Cara joins the crew, gets to know Rayne, and clears the air with Din. They hatch their plan for Gideon.

Rayne can’t sleep again, and we know what that means…

Notes: Canon-compliant through Season 1, alt version of Season 2. Posting some old fic before the sequel, which will hopefully be complete by the end of Season 3. Start now so you're ready! AO3 link in the Source at the bottom.

Beautiful sketch (one of my favorites!) by @catstanbulite

Tags/Warnings: nightmares, sexual situations, revenge is a dish best served cold

Rating: Mature

And I feel like I'm being eaten By a thousand million shivering furry holes And I know that in the morning I will wake up In the shivering cold

The Cure, Lullaby

---

Yadier woke from one darkness only to find himself in another.

But this was a different type of darkness. A warm darkness. A kind darkness. A safe darkness.

His parents, not wanting him to wake alone after his ordeal, had brought him in with them before succumbing to sleep, and he found himself in-between them now, sandwiched between his father’s warm bare skin and his mother’s soft cotton shirt.

His memories of before were vague and foggy. His father motionless on the deck, mind muted and unreachable. His mother’s weak struggles against their captors, how he felt her pain as his own when the trooper hit her with the blaster. Once again being trapped in the scary table that held him down, once again being stared at by the strange man with the strange round things on his face whose mind raced between fear and awe and cold calculation. And then everything had faded away.

But now he was home. On the Razor Crest. He was safe. He knew his parents had come for him. His parents had saved him.

And even as they slept, he sensed that the bond between his parents had strengthened. The rift between them had narrowed.

He was hungry. He squirmed and yawned, stretching his arms and legs. He was too tired to do much of anything else besides try to say “frog,” “yogurt,” and “buir.” Either one of the foods in his belly given by either parent would be absolutely fantastic right now, and so the words spilled out of him, still unable to get them quite right, but he knew they would get the message soon enough.

Both of his parents woke.

Rayne felt her son’s hunger creep into her mind. “I’ll take him to eat something.”

Din brought a hand up to the back of her head and pressed his mouth to hers, and she couldn’t help but sigh into the kiss. He held her there for several moments before pulling away. “You sure?”

“Yeah. I need a snack, too. You want anything?”

“I’m good. Thank you.”

She gathered their son in her arms, picked Din’s cloak up from the corner, threw it over her shoulder, and ducked through the curtain separating their room from the galley. She didn’t bother with the lights even when past the curtain; what little of the blue and white ripple of hyperspace that could filter past the flight deck door set a nice mood, and neither mother nor son needed much in the way of illumination anyway.

Frog or yogurt, huh?

Rayne chose the latter, scooped some into a bowl that they could share, and holding the baby on a hip with one hand and carrying their snack in the other, padded barefoot onto the flight deck. She settled into the pilot’s chair, wrapping Din’s cloak around them both to ward off the chill, and let Yadi get to work levitating his own spoon from the bowl to his mouth as hyperspace flowed around them.

They ate in companionable silence, snuggling in the worn cloak that smelled like Din, like wool and leather and beskar and sweat. They eased back into the reunification of their minds, both realizing what they had come to share, understanding that they hadn’t been aware of it until their separation. Yadi pressed closer to his mother even as he continued to eat and gaze out the windscreen, and his mother wrapped her mind a little tighter around his, warm and welcoming.

Rayne felt the question from his mind, not so much in the specific word, but very much in tone. Why?

She sat with it for a while, rubbing her thumb along his back so that he knew she wasn’t ignoring him in her silence, but putting her answer together. The same reason you and Din-buir have been moving around for so long. Someone wants to steal your gift. We’re not sure what he wants to do with it, but we’re pretty sure it’s not good. He took us by surprise. I’m sorry it happened. We’re going to stop him soon. We’re going to make sure he won’t bother us again, and then we’ll be free.

Yadier’s mind brightened, even if his outward expression remained sleepy as he continued to float spoonfuls of yogurt into his mouth. How?

That, kiddo, was an excellent question. Not sure yet, ad’ika. But you’ll know when we figure it out.

Wanna help.

I know. She patted his back. You might just get your chance.

---

The sun beat down on him.

No armor. No helmet.

He had just run a wooden spear through a giant.

But it wasn’t enough.

Somehow, it wasn’t enough.

He stalked in circles around the giant, screaming. A language he didn’t understand. A rage borne of insufferable loss and injustice boiling through him. This giant was the cause of it, and the death he had just sentenced him to with a poisoned spear through the heart simply wasn’t enough.

He wanted more.

Oh, god, he wanted so much more.

And so he continued in circles, screaming out his rage for all to hear.

His circles drew too close and the giant caught him by the ankle and brought him to the ground. He got back up but it was too late. The giant had him by the neck with one hand and put the other fist through his face.

His teeth exploded out of his mouth in a spray of blood onto the stones.

The giant threw him back to the ground and pinned him down. Pinned his head to the stones and brought his thumbs to his eyes, pressing in and gouging them out-

Din sat up in the dark, screaming.

Rayne pushed herself out of the way, screaming.

Din brought his hands to his face, panicked in the dark, unable to see anything, making sure his eyeballs were still in their sockets, his teeth still in his jaws, his skull still intact.

Rayne sensed his motions, forced her breathing back to normal, hearing his panting breaths. “Hey…” she reached out, warning him of her approach. “Hey… you’re ok. It was just a nightmare.” She put a hand on his shoulder, gentle but firm.

He did not flinch away.

“Ffffffuck,” was all he could say.

“Yeah,” she agreed.

“Where’s Yadier?”

“He’s…” She reached out. “He went back out to his pod on the flight deck.”

Din fell back to the mattress with a grunt, bringing his hands to his face. “Sorry.”

“No worries.” Rayne lay back down with him, draped an arm over his chest, pressing a kiss to his shoulder, thinking it best to stay away from his face for the time being. “Wanna hear something crazy?”

“I dunno…”

“I had the same dream.”

“What?”

“Killing the giant with the spear. Getting pulled down. Teeth knocked out. The… eye… thing.”

“Fuck,” Din breathed out. “Is having other people’s nightmares a thing for you?”

“Not till just now.”

“Did you just… see it, or…”

“I felt as much as I saw.”

He let out a sharp exhale. His mind was spinning. His heart was pounding. He’d not quite gotten used to the idea that his emotions were no longer his own with Rayne in close quarters, especially in the dark, when the helmet was off. Now he couldn’t even keep his nightmares to himself.

Well, if his mind insisted on spilling itself into hers, he might as well go all in.

He rolled to his side, pulled Rayne’s knee over his hip, and pressed his forehead to hers. Waiting. Breathing. She slid her hand up to the back of his head, held him in, threaded her fingers through his hair, and then brought her lips to his.

Everyone was on-board.

Rayne focused on the man before her now, once again reminded of his violence. The hands that had immolated and decapitated a Stormtrooper were the same hands that had applied bacta patches to her skin later on, were the same hands that, at this moment, roamed her body, formed around what few curves she had with a gentle firmness. He was both violent and kind. Both deadly and tender. Even more… he was vulnerable, despite his impenetrable physical defenses. That these things were not mutually exclusive drove her mad with the desire to understand him, to pull him apart so she could best determine how his pieces were supposed to fit back together again, to recognize that some of his bits were damaged beyond repair, and his other parts would have to re-mold to salvage everything else, to make him whole again.

She was a Sentinel to her core. The instinct to fix broken things coursed along with the blood in her veins. Din Djarin, like the ship he owned, was broken in many ways, beaten and abused for decades, and would never return to full function. But, again, like the ship he owned, he was well-built, powerful, and had enough for her to work with. She had a good sense for what could be fixed and what couldn’t. A sense for what was within her abilities to keep them both running. They were both long-term projects, would both require constant care, and would both continue to run well enough if they got it.

For his part, Din’s mind wandered. Which, really, was the point of this moment, so long as it wandered away from what woke him up. His hands wandered over muscle and bone, and his mind wandered back to how fluid Rayne had been in the corridor full of Stormtroopers, in the face of a barrage of oncoming blaster fire. All of her clumsiness dropped away. Nothing but pure Force and strength and grace remained. Not a single shot had gotten by her precognition. The way she had allowed him to read her movements, the perfect screen for him to get his own shots through. The merciless, deadly team they made together. A melding of opposing fighting styles combined to form a whole that was greater than the sum of its parts. With some work, they would complement each other perfectly.

Once again, the notion that the Jedi and the Mandalorians were meant to be united bloomed in his mind.

It could work. What had happened aboard Gideon’s ship proved it.

He focused once more on the Jedi before him. His Jedi. Proud to be her Mandalorian. Once again, they consummated the unification of their people. Oh, he wanted nothing more in this moment than to consummate it over and over, whatever it took to move forward, to leave the horror and pogroms and destruction behind, and to revive his people and hers, and he lost himself in the rush of it all.

---

She listened to him breathe in the dark when they finally pulled apart, draws lengthening as they both relaxed.

She would never get tired of the sound of him breathing without the helmet.

As had become her habit, she slid her hand up his throat to trace the planes and curves of his face. She caught herself at the line of stubble at his jaw when his breath paused, belatedly remembering the nightmare that had led to all this. “May I?” she asked, voice soft in the dark.

He swallowed and relaxed. “Yes.” He was on his back, but he turned his face towards her to give her better access.

She traced a different pattern every time, but he understood the point. You didn’t look at a familiar person to figure out what they looked like. You looked at them because you wanted to see them. He couldn’t let her look. But he would let her see as much as possible.

She ran the back of her knuckles along his jaw. “Getting shaggy.”

“Mm. I’ll shave before we land.”

“How’s your hand?”

“It’s fine.” He’d taken the bacta patch off of it before falling asleep and the burn had healed over completely.

“How much fuel did you empty into that guy’s helmet?”

Oh, here we go. “The whole thing.”

“Was that smart?”

“No.” He turned his face away, anger tingeing his voice.

She slid her hand down to his ribs, pulling in as she placed a kiss on his shoulder. “It’s ok to be angry about what he did. I understand that. Just… try not to get carried away with that kind of thing. You don’t know how many other people you’re gonna have to roast in one day.”

He huffed through a smile, admitting to himself that she was right about that one. He reached for her hand, pressed his lips to it, then placed it back against his jaw. “Duly noted.” He turned into her palm. “You’re ok with the severed head?”

This time she huffed a laugh against his shoulder. “I guess if we’re discussing efficient means of sending a message, sure. And I get that… I get that you were… communicating, there.”

“But…”

She took a breath. “One thing the Jedi got right was that if you’re going to kill someone, kill them in cold blood. Don’t let it get too hot. Rage kills are messy. They backfire. I think that’s what your nightmare is about.”

“It’s a warning.”

“Yes.”

He considered it for a moment. The argument was perfectly valid, but it sat oddly on his shoulders. “So when someone beats the shit out of me you’ll kill them with a cool head?”

Another deep breath. “Cool enough to not make a mess of it, yes.”

“And when they do it to Yadier?”

He took some satisfaction in the length of the pause that followed.

“I… may have less success with that. But I’ll try. Just enough to not fuck it up.”

---

The rest of the trip to Nevarro was spent mostly in the dark. Yadier alternated between his pod on the flight deck and with his parents, coming and going as he pleased. Din was surprised that the baby chose to spend as much time on his own as he did. Rayne had a hunch that the flight deck offered better access to the Force, particularly while at hyperspeed. It was no coincidence that the hyperspace lanes followed the veins of the Force, links between worlds used to hold and bind the galaxy together. The flight deck’s transparisteel canopy was less opaque to it than the rest of the ship’s hull, and Rayne suspected that Yadier used the opportunity to soak it all up. Having his parents spending more time up on the same deck made it easier for him to get back and forth, so returning to it after checking in with them became his habit. He was growing more secure. And in that security, was gaining the courage to explore.

Rayne mostly slept, still wiped out from the interrogation and bacta-phrine shot.

Din circulated, depending on what the other two were doing. Yadier usually seemed to crawl into bed with them just as Rayne was drifting off, so Din would take the opportunity to rest with them. On the occasions that his enemy sorcerer son was asleep on the flight deck and his Jedi was asleep in their room, he would drift down to the hold, sit at the table, and continue to read the Mandalorian history files that Reesha had given him.

The material within was… sobering.

The Siege was, of course, more complex than the slaughter of Mandalorians by the Republic that Gideon had implied. It was as much Mandalorian versus Mandalorian as it was Death Watch versus the last vestiges of the Republic as it mutated into the Empire. Hell, Death Watch itself was split through the middle, and Din hadn’t quite yet figured out which side he came down on.

If either.

It was all very confusing.

It was hard not knowing quite which group of people he wanted to kill.

He could only take it in small doses.

So when reading got to be too much, he blew off the steam with the drills that had kept him company for all the years of solitude he had spent on the Razor Crest. Hauling himself up on the pull-up bar. Crunches. Burpees. Whatever it took to wear himself out. Then he would stretch, shower it all off, and head back up the ladder.

If he found Rayne awake and on her own, he would go along with whatever she was up for. They both seemed unusually… handsy in these hours. He chalked it up to the recent Imperial entanglement and had no complaints. He allowed himself to appreciate her desire for close contact, mostly without any particular goal, mostly just necking in the dark. He supposed it made sense. They’d gotten straight down to business after knowing each other for only a few days, had been at it for a month and change, but had been unable to do any proper kissing until recently. Having the opportunity to take the time to just… take things easy… was nice.

It did, of course, sometimes lead to more, and that was nice too.

And so the clan of Rollins-Djarin recharged their batteries.

---

Din and Rayne strolled from the Razor Crest through the gate to Nevarro City.

Yadier let out a low groan and pushed himself all the way to the back of his pod, ears flat against his shoulders.

This was not his favorite place.

“I know, buddy,” Rayne dropped a hand into the pod to let him take her finger for a moment, recalling all that Din had told her about what happened here. “We won’t stay long.”

She looked over the pod to Din, noticing the same swagger he always took on for any walk longer than a few meters, feeling his eyes scan the crowd without turning his head. He seemed… tense, but ok, all things considered. No barely-contained rage. No endless repetitions of dar’manda pounding through his head.

They stepped through the entrance of the cantina to see Cara slam a man’s face into the bar. They paused to let her finish her business as she got down into the guy’s face for a conversation.

“Oh my god,” Rayne breathed. “She’s magnificent.”

Something about her tone made Din look at her askance. “Should I be jealous?”

“She could snap me in half if I wasn’t Force-sensitive.” She swallowed. “She might still be able to snap me in half.”

“Should I be jealous?” he repeated.

She smiled and winked. “Maybe.”

He smiled to himself as he led her down the rest of the steps.

It was the wise Mandalorian man who surrounded himself with women who could kick his ass.

Releasing the last of her troublemakers for the day, Cara turned to greet them with a smile. “Hey kiddo,” she ducked and waved into the pod. “Mando.” Rayne watched as they clasped hands soldier-style. “You’re looking a lot better than the last time I saw you.”

Din tiled his head. “Rayne’s good at putting things back together.”

Rayne raised her hand for the same clasp and received it, returning Cara’s unsurprisingly firm grip. “I’ve heard good things.”

Cara lifted an eyebrow. “They’re all lies. I like your ink, though.”

Din had advised Rayne to wear a sleeveless shirt to show off the Rebel Starbird on her shoulder, and seeing a smaller version of it on Cara’s cheek, she understood why. She lifted her chin to indicate her acknowledgement of it. “X-wing mechanic on a carrier,” she said, answering the unasked question. “Mando said you were a shock trooper.”

“I was.”

“Karga’s not in today?” Din asked.

“He’s expanded his entrepreneurial activities since the Imps left,” Cara said. “He’ll be around this afternoon if you want to see him.”

“Not particularly. Hear anything from the covert?”

Cara shook her head.

Din dipped his chin. “I’ll go check in. I shouldn’t be long.”

The glance that he shared with Rayne was a short one, but Cara did not miss it.

The Mandalorian left, leaving the baby and two war veterans to settle into a booth in the back corner. Cara sat across from Rayne and fixed her with a look. “So. You and Mando, huh?”

“Yep.” Rayne kept her tone and expression mild, unsure of the lay of the land, remembering Cara’s attempt to aid Din as transmitted to her by Yadier, remembering Din’s keen sense of rejection when mentioning how Cara had said she would stay here. She nodded her thanks to the server as their drinks, straight whiskey for both, were placed on the table.

“See the goods yet?”

Rayne shrugged. “From the neck down.”

Cara let out an approving snort. “He’s out of his goddamn mind. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, I know.”

Cara’s eyes narrowed. This Rayne character sure didn’t look like much. She was easily a few inches shorter and a few years older than Cara. What she had seemed solid enough, but she only had a medium build, at best. Still, looks could be deceiving, and Mando had mentioned her abilities at both kicking ass and managing the baby. Mando’s judgment wasn’t always the best, though. “What makes you think you can handle what he dishes out?”

Rayne was half-way through a sip of her drink. “Oh…” she paused, considering, took a quick look around to make sure they had no one’s attention, then dropped her hand from the glass. The glass itself remained in the air, hovering, perfectly still, until Rayne lowered it back to the table. “Just a hunch.”

“Shit…” Cara whispered. “Oh, shit.” She took a slow pull from her own drink. “You’re just like the kid.”

Rayne laughed at that one. “No.” She dropped a hand down to the pod, sitting on the seat below the table, to run a finger along one of the baby’s ears. “He’s a lot more powerful than I am. But we are of the same kind.” She brought her hand back up to the table, considering the guarded anxiety radiating from the woman before her. “Look… a lot has changed for us over the last month and a half. Mando’s not always great about saying everything that needs to be said, and I’m not always great about picking up on social cues. If I’ve stepped on any toes here, I’m sorry…”

Now it was Cara’s turn to laugh. “No, it’s not like that. It’s…” She wasn’t quite sure how to say it without sounding like an asshole.

Rayne took a guess. “He has a tendency to get in over his head and you want to make sure I can handle myself when it happens.”

Cara let out a sigh of relief. “Yes. Yes, that’s exactly it.”

“That’s fair,” Rayne said. “And the answer is yes. I can.”

At that moment, a large silver bearing floated up from Yadier’s pod in Cara’s direction, and she snapped it out of the air before it cleared the top of the table and anyone could see it. “What’s this?”

Rayne smiled. “A peace offering.” She brought a hand to her own throat. “He’s sorry about what happened last time. He didn’t understand.”

Cara let out a sigh, taking her own turn to dip her hand down to the pod and give the baby a playful boop on the nose. “He saved my life. He saved all of our lives. We’re square.”

By the time Din returned twenty minutes later, the war vets were well into their third round, debating the merits of ground assault vs. blowing shit up from the air with an X-wing. They stopped mid-conversation as he stood at the head of the table, a meter-and-a-half length of steel rod in his hand.

“Time to go?” Rayne asked.

“Yes.”

The women downed their drinks, Rayne paid up, Cara ducked into the back office to retrieve and enormous gun and a small bag, and they left.

Rayne noticed that Din’s swagger was not nearly so pronounced on the way out as it was on the way in. She waited until they were through the gate and the crowd had thinned out significantly before voicing her question. “What was up at the covert?”

“Nothing,” Din said. “Everything is cleared out. No one was there. All I found was this.” He hefted the rod in his left hand.

“Is that made out of what I think it is?” Rayne asked.

“Yes.”

“Then we can use it to spar with my lightsaber. You need the practice.”

He gave a brief nod.

---

Back into hyperspace again. Their course set to a blank space on the map until they could figure things out.

Cara took a look around the Razor Crest. Not a whole lot had changed, aside from the lack of blurrgs in the hold and the fact that what used to be Mando’s bunk was now full of gear. Either Rayne’s sense of gunship decorum matched Mando’s, or if it was different, she didn’t see fit to force change on him.

For some reason, that made Cara happy. It shouldn’t have been surprising, really. Rayne was as much retired military as Cara was, even if in the more official “honorable discharge” capacity, as opposed to “AWOL.” The Crest was originally a military ship, and Mando had mostly kept it as such. Cargo nets along the interior of the hull, gear stowed so it was out of the way but easily at-hand, everything in its place, personal effects out of sight, if they existed at all.

It didn’t look like a home to a family, but this was no ordinary family.

This was a family on the run. Holding its breath. Not quite sure about what was holding it together.

But a family nonetheless.

Cara watched as Mando and Rayne moved about the ship, able to keep out of each other’s way even in the cramped spaces, or at the very least, being more than comfortable in each other’s space. Not in an outwardly affectionate way, but with an easy tolerance afforded to each other that would not be afforded to others.

Once all the gear was stowed and Din dropped the ship out of hyperspace to drift, he joined Rayne and Cara at the table. Yadier reached for him upon arrival with a plaintive “buir,” so he held his arms out as Rayne handed the baby over. Snuggled to his satisfaction, Cara watched as Yadi slid the Mythosaur pendant into his mouth.

The pendant Mando had pressed into her hands with his dying breaths. The pendant she had tied around the child herself.

“So. We need a plan,” Din said.

“Back up,” Cara said. “I want to know how Gideon caught up to you over Takodana. Does he have fobs on you? Is he tracking the Razor Crest?”

Rayne shook her head. “I built scramblers for Din, Yadi, and the ship, and-”

“Wait,” Cara interrupted. “You can do that? Jam a fob?”

“I can do that, yeah.” Rayne brushed it off like it wasn’t important. “I checked the Crest over when we landed on Nevarro. It’s clean. I think Gideon just put the pieces together. I abandoned a profitable business at the same time Din was sighted on the planet. I erased my shop records of Din and the Crest before we left, but every place else he’s taken it to would’ve had it on their books. I have a recorded history of wins at Methuselah. He probably took a guess about what I was when he figured out I got something the size of the Crest through the asteroid belt there. He seemed hung up about that. God… if the Jawas were still there when he showed up and he managed to get anything out of them…” She paused for a moment, horrified at the thought, then pressed forward. “He probably guessed I’d go to ground after that, which meant Coruscant and Takodana.” She paused again, thinking back to her interrogation, wishing she’d done more to probe Gideon while she’d had the chance. She’d just been so wrecked from getting gassed, bashed in the face, and tortured that it hadn’t occurred to her. Still… “I didn’t get the sense that he knew exactly where we’d be. He seemed really smug with himself that he’d managed to find us.”

“What kind of state did you leave his ship in?”

“We blew up the lab,” Din said. “Disabled the guns and tractor beam long enough to get away, but they’ve probably fixed that by now. Hid charges on the reactor but didn’t detonate them. Rayne wanted to wait for a more opportune time.”

Cara smiled. “You might just get the chance, assuming they didn’t find the charges.”

Din tilted his head. “What’ve you got?”

“I might have caught a former Stormtrooper who tried passing himself off as a Guild hunter.” Din snorted. It was the closest Cara had ever heard him come to a laugh. “I know, right? Anyway, I might have almost crushed his skull before he spilled a few beans. Turns out Gideon is based on Ilum.”

“What?” Rayne burst out. Din twitched, knowing he recognized the name, but not quite remembering why.

“You’re familiar with it?” Cara asked.

“It’s where we… where the Jedi would go as Younglings to find our kyber crystals. It was a holy place for us. Then the Empire mined the shit out of it to create the Death Stars. You can see the trench they dug out of it from orbit. Like, distant orbit. They desecrated it.”

Din slid his foot next to Rayne’s. For him to hear her use words like holy and desecrated, when she had otherwise largely tossed the spiritual aspects of the religion she was raised with out the window decades ago, was nothing sort of surreal.

Cara, whose home world had been desecrated to the point of destruction by the very weapon built out of Ilum, took Rayne’s reaction more in stride. “Yeah. Gideon’s there for the kyber. The Vibre ship he picked you guys up with is just his daily driver. He has a Star Destroyer for when he needs to move a lot of resources around.”

Din felt his gut tie itself into a knot. Gideon’s knowledge of Mandalorian records, possession of the Darksaber, obsession with Yadier’s Force abilities, collection of Force-sensitive DNA, Force resistance training, and now this business with Jedi holy ground… Din knew he was on to something with the unification of the Mandalorian and Jedi people. Gideon, though… Gideon was on to something with the unification of Mandalorian and Jedi weaponry.

This was bad.

This was really bad.

“Cara, did you notice the shape Gideon’s troopers were in, compared to other Imperial remnants?” he asked.

“Yeah. Armor was kept up well. Tight formations. Sheer volume. To say nothing of the E-web and the TIE fighter, and now this whole Star Destroyer. He has a lot of resources.”

“That Vibre was in good shape, too,” Rayne said. “Gideon is more than just a remnant. He’s a resurgence.”

Din hated to say what he said next. “Is this big enough to bring in the New Republic?”

“Prrrobably,” Cara said.

“Will your chain code hold up with them now?”

“Prrrobably.”

Rayne frowned. “Gideon would run. He doesn’t want a fair fight. He only shows up when he thinks he can crush his opponent outright. He’ll duck out if we show up with a carrier full of X-wings. And then he’ll just come after us again when we’re alone.”

Din slumped back with a sigh that acknowledged the truth to her words. “We can’t just bait him, then. We have to look compromised.”

Cara cracked a smile that nearly split her face in half. “That’s the best kind of bait. Here’s an idea…”

---

They shared. They plotted. They revealed themselves. They revised accordingly.

It was risky.

God, it was so risky.

They could all die horrible deaths.

Or they could finally be free.

---

When the plan was fully hatched, Din said, “If something happens to me, the armor belongs to Yadier. Helmet. Everything.”

Rayne gave a slow nod, coming to the realization that if she was to see his face in the near future, he would have to die first. It hurt too much to think about, so she set it aside for the time being. “If we manage to get the Darksaber?”

“Yadier’s.”

“Zavin has access to my account,” Rayne continued in the same vein. “He already has instructions to give you whatever you need for Yadier. Just let him know.”

“And if you both manage to bite it?” Cara asked.

Rayne and Din looked at each other, coming to a silent agreement.

“I’ll show you were we hid the coordinates Maz gave us,” Rayne said. “Take Yadier there first. If that doesn’t work out, take him back to Coruscant. Zavin and Reesha will take him and have the resources to keep looking for his people. They would welcome your help as well, if you’d be interested.”

“Good plan,” Cara said.

“And if you bite it?” Din asked.

Cara shrugged. “Tell Karga he’ll need a new enforcer.”

That settled, Din faced Rayne, catching her attention. “A moment on the flight deck, please?”

“Sure.”

He nodded in Cara’s direction to excuse their absence, and she raised her glass in dismissal.

Rayne leaned back on the console as Din slid the door closed behind him, then placed a snoozing Yadier in his pod on the starboard jump seat. “What’s up?” she asked.

He took a deep breath, crossing his arms and leaning back against the bulkhead, attempting to keep as much distance between them as possible. “We’re making end-of-life arrangements, here.”

“Seems that way, yeah.”

“Then you should know that you don’t know me like you think you do.” His tone was blunt. Hard.

Ah, here he was. She was wondering if he would show up again. The little boy who rejected the six families who tried to take him in. He’d popped up briefly as the man who had drawn his blaster against her as she lay cornered in the bunk. He’d popped up again as the man who led her along the lakeshore to protest his sudden acquiescence to friendship. Now here he was again, once more backing her into a corner in an effort to push her away, menacing and surly, brought about by a threat to some definition of himself flipping that switch in his brain that turned him from an almost-reasonable person into an asshole. She lifted an eyebrow. “What else do I need to know?”

“If it comes between me and Yadier, choose him.”

“Of course.” Any parent would.

“If it comes between me and you, choose you.”

“This feels like a confession,” Rayne said.

“Because it is.”

“Let’s hear it, then.”

Another sigh, a dip of the chin, but no words.

“Anything worse than selling a baby to Imps?” Might as well set the bar high to start with.

“I… don’t know actually. There’s… days were I don’t remember how I got from Point A to Point B, but there’d be a lot of bodies between them. Not all of them deserved it. Collateral damage. I can’t tell you if I put them there or not.”

Blackouts apparently were a thing for him, then. Another thing she’d asked him about point-blank that he’d evaded. Between this and the head injury, she actually had the beginnings of a list. “But chances are pretty good that you did.”

“Yes. And I didn’t care.”

“Are you asking for my forgiveness?”

“No. But you should know who I really am.”

“Are you still that person?”

“Sometimes.”

“Do you want to be a better person?”

“Sometimes.”

“Does collateral damage bother you now?”

He thought of the covert. It had never exactly thrived, but it had once been full of life. Then it was full of empty armor. Today it was just… empty. Because of what he had done. “Yes.”

Rayne shrugged. “In a civilized world, I’d be in prison a few times over. We don’t live in a civilized world. We could stand here all night and drag truth out of each other. We both have our dark places. The only thing we can really do is learn from them and move forward. That work for you?”

It sounded lame, but what else was there? “It’ll have to.”

Unable to pick a fight with Rayne, he went back down to the hold to try his hand with Cara.

She had disassembled the repeater gun and was cleaning it when he walked through to the weapons locker. The gun she had used against their previous encounter with the Imps. The gun that was Mando’s to begin with. He hadn’t asked for it back, had left it with her on purpose, a meager payment for all she had done for him and his son. “Everything good up there?” she asked.

“Yes.” He opened the locker and stared inside for a moment, looking for something to polish, looking for something to take the edge off of the anxiety running through him.

Cara seemed to sense it, seemed to understand that the pressure valve needed to be released. She was more than happy to poke around at it. “You two seem close. What’s it been? A couple of months?”

“Almost, yeah.”

“Your son likes her.” She had not forgotten the Armorer’s clan designations.

“He does.” He picked up a small blaster, turning it over in his hands. “Our son,” he corrected. “She adopted him.”

“Wow. That was fast.”

He put the blaster back in its place and turned to face her. “He wanted her to be his mother.”

“You agree with his choice?”

“Yes.”

“So you keep the helmet on when you bone her, or what?”

Instead of answering, he stepped into her space. “You had your chance. You knew I was going to ask you to come with me and you cut me off before I could do it.” And he realized that was it. What had really been bothering him since they picked her up. “Why did you stay on Nevarro?”

She rounded on him, eyes blazing. “You really haven’t figured it out?”

“Apparently not.”

She pointed a finger and drilled it into the center of his chestplate, pushing him back a step. “I saw you when you were almost dead. I still have nightmares of your blood all over my hands. You wanna know what I saw?”

“I suppose you’re going to tell me.”

Her frown deepened as she sunk her fingers into the cowl at his throat and twisted the material into her fist. “I saw a man who thought having a warrior’s death was more important than that little boy having a father.” Her voice shook with rage. “I saw a man choose his religion over that little boy for the second time. You did it when you sold him for the beskar, and you did it again when you abandoned him for your Creed. I have a lot of fights in me, Mando, but I can’t fight that kind of insanity. You are out of your damned mind, and I will not watch you let yourself die ever again.”

Din stood before her, helpless against the truth of her words. “I was wrong.”

Her grip on him loosened in surprise, then tightened again. That was too easy. “What?”

“You’re right. My priorities were wrong.”

Her grip and expression loosened once more, but just a little. “What happened?”

“Turns out the Mandalorians who rescued me were the same ones who staged the attack on my village in the first place. Droids killed my parents. But they were programmed by the Mandalorians to do it.”

She let go of him entirely, her face a mix of shock and sorrow, instantly recognizing the implications. “I’m… god… I’m sorry.” He had nearly thrown his life away for a Creed that had destroyed it in the first place. “You’re still serious about the helmet?”

“I’ve been… re-evaluating.” It was only half of a lie. The full truth was that, after a lifetime of hiding, after discovering what he really was, he was too much of a coward to take it off.

“Does this mean I get to take it off if necessary?”

“If it’s necessary to save my life, yes. Try it otherwise, and I’ll kill you.”

“You suddenly sound so reasonable.”

He shrugged, turning back to the locker, waiting a beat before responding. “Helmet comes off in the dark. When I bone her.”

Cara snorted a laugh. “That was too much information.”

“You asked.”

She shook her head, returning to the gun spread out on the table. “You need to learn about rhetorical questions, Mando.”

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to.” His tone was light. He allowed himself another few moments before he continued. “You can call me by my real name. When we’re not… out.”

That gave her pause. She had found herself startled when Rayne spoke it earlier. The word had come out of Mando’s companion so easily that it was obvious that she was used to saying it. That it came naturally to her. “Is that what you want?”

His back was still turned to her, but that was ok. “Gideon calls me by name every chance he gets. I’d rather hear it more often from my friends than from my enemies.”

“Ok. Then you need to learn about rhetorical questions, Din.” God, that felt weird.

“Just showing you how reasonable I’ve gotten.”

“Oh yeah? And what happens when you get Yadier settled with his people? If I’m reading this right, I’m guessing Rayne will stay with him. You gonna leave her like you left Omera?”

Goddammit, she was worse than Zavin. It wasn’t the same, and she knew it. She was baiting him. Still, he took a measured breath, and when the answer came out of him, he was almost as surprised by it as she was. “I’ll stay if I can.”

---

They ducked back to Nevarro for a quick stop at one of the cities closer to the southern polar region to pick up some cold-weather gear. Then they set course for Ilum.

They set Cara up with a bunk in the corner of the hold, and once again, she made herself at home on Din’s ship.

It was a lot quieter this time around, with three blurrgs, an Ugnaught, and a droid swapped out for a Force-sensitive war veteran. Quiet enough that as the veterans started in on the bottle of whiskey stashed in the galley, they could hear Din as he read to Yadier up on the flight deck until the baby fell asleep, then in the fresher as he showered and brushed his teeth. Cara put her whiskey down the wrong pipe when Din wandered back out wearing nothing but his helmet, shorts, and a T-shirt, towel thrown over his shoulder.

His arms and legs were bare.

She had seen his blood before, had it all over her hands, but until now, had never seen so much as a sliver of his skin. His tan from Methuselah was fading, but everything not covered was still a light shade of golden brown.

Finally, full confirmation that he really was just a man under all the armor.

He was leaner than she thought he would be, until she remembered how he was lighter than she expected when she’d dragged him from the battlefield at Nevarro. Without the rest of his armor, the helmet made him look almost bobble-headed; too big for the rest of him. Looking at him now, she couldn’t believe how he’d managed to fight her to a draw back on Sorgan. She should’ve laid him out flat, given his size.

Cara’s eyes caught the beskar casing that hung at his throat, replacing the Mythosaur skull that now belonged to Yadier, the leather string it hung on still wet from the shower. Rayne wore a similar one. Cara didn’t know quite what it meant, but it was obvious that things had moved with a fair amount of speed since she and Din had parted ways.

The way Rayne looked at him like nothing was amiss, like it was normal to see him without being covered in beskar, without a weapon strapped to his hip, without ammunition draped across his chest or wrapped around his leg, once again drove it home; he had opened the door and let the Jedi in.

And Cara realized she had done the exact same thing. She had told Rayne all about where she’d been and how she’d taken it when Alderaan had been destroyed. About how she had joined and then left the Resistance. It had all come so easily. And Rayne had just… listened. Had measured out just enough booze for the both of them to strike the right balance between loosening up just enough but not too much. She’d shared enough about herself to keep it going, about her escape from the Jedi temple, about her late husband and subsequent discharge from the Resistance forces. These were not the kinds of conversations Cara had with people she’d known for less than a day. That’s not how she worked.

And yet, here she was.

Din and Rayne turned in for the night.

The Razor Crest was indeed quiet, but the hyperdrive engine had its own ambient hum. Situated as a solid-state slab, it was sandwiched between the upper and lower decks of the ship, and it dissipated any noise that would otherwise conduct between the space behind the galley above and the hold below.

There was, however, the matter of the hole in the floor just behind the flight deck.

And so it was that two small sounds, a short gasp followed by a low groan, sounds that would have meant nothing in isolation but were incriminated by their proximity, gave it all away to Cara’s ear late in the night.

The stab of jealousy she expected did not come.

She had to admit that her feelings for Din were highly… ambivalent. There was a lot to like about an honorable warrior, but Din’s brand of honor had more twists and turns than she felt safe with navigating. She’d watched him fall for Omera. He’d fallen hard. She understood his logic for leaving and she would’ve felt bad about her jab against him earlier had it not been for the fact that he’d not even asked about Omera when he’d come back to Sorgan. Even when Cara had brought her up earlier today, he evaded the issue all together, like she was no longer on his radar. Even if he was reconsidering now, his prioritization of the Creed over his son still left a gaping wound in her heart. And the way he had spoken of him to the Armorer… you wish me to train this thing? You expect me to search the galaxy for the home of this creature… His tone had held more ice than she ever could have imagined. This thing… this creature… His absolute detachment in that moment from the little boy he had fought so long and so hard to protect made her skin crawl.

She remembered the pain in his tone when she headed him off, telling him she’d stay on Nevarro. The broken sound of his reply. You’re staying here? She knew she’d hurt him, but he’d left her no choice. She could not bear the weight of whatever kind of baggage it was that made him pull the kind of shit he pulled with Omera and Yadier on her own heart.

She would stand by his side. She would fight for his causes. In those actions, she knew she could trust him.

But she would not live with him. She would not love him. Not in that way. Not when he was so obviously prone to abandoning the ones he loved.

She really, really hoped Rayne knew what she was doing.

If Din abandoned Rayne, Cara might just kill him herself.

---

Once again, Rayne was unable to sleep.

She reached for Din’s cloak folded in the corner, padded out to the galley, pulled the whiskey back out from its hiding spot along with a glass, and continued on to the flight deck, bathed in the blue and white ripple of hyperspace. Yadier was sound asleep in his pod on the starboard jump seat, so she wrapped the cloak around herself, settled into the port seat, poured out a shot, sat back, and tried to dull her senses.

Din woke up alone, understanding what it meant.

He slipped the helmet on, and went to the galley. Finding the whiskey missing from its place, he grabbed a glass instead, and was unsurprised to find Rayne on the flight deck. She looked up at his arrival but made no sound, a mutual head-tilt enough of a greeting for both of them. He swiveled the pilot seat around so it faced the exit, moved Yadier’s pod to it with the practiced gentleness of a father not wishing to wake his child, poured himself a shot from the bottle placed on the console, and set it by the now-vacated starboard jump seat. He stood there for a moment, naked but for his helmet and shorts, feeling the chill against his skin, and ducked out. He returned a few seconds later with the blanket from their bed and slid the door shut.

Rayne watched as he dimmed the lights on the console and adjusted the transparency of the canopy. When he thought he had it right, he turned back to the outline of her form. “How’s that?”

“Shadows only.”

He lifted the helmet off, placed it on the console, reached out for her hand, and let her guide him to her. He sank to his knees, pulled her knees around his ribs, slid a hand around the back of her head, let her pull him in, and pressed his mouth to hers.

Things could go very, very wrong tomorrow.

Part of him wondered if this would be their last night, wondered if what he had given her earlier was enough, wondered if there was anything he was supposed to say. Her hands came up to once again trace the lines of his face and he had the sudden urge to turn the lights on, show her what he really was, give her the chance to back out and leave him, leave them, go back to her previous life as if the last month and a half hadn’t happened.

Run, his mind screamed at her. Run away. Before I get you killed, too.

“Stop that shit,” she whispered against his cheek. “Am I a part of this family or not?”

“You know you are,” he whispered back, his voice broken.

“Then let me fight for it.”

Something in his chest tightened, threatened to crush him. He was so tired of the swings his brain put him through, one moment wanting nothing more than to shove her away for her own good, the next wanting nothing more than to fall into her for his own selfishness. The things he wanted to feel… the things he wanted to say… too horrifying in their unattainableness, things he did not deserve and dared not to ask for. She had already volunteered her life for him. Wasn’t that enough? Couldn’t he just accept that as being enough?

The first time he’d gone up against Gideon, he’d almost lost his life. The second time, she’d almost lost hers.

What would the third time bring?

He wanted so much to make her promise not to push it too hard tomorrow. To promise that his son would still have a mother tomorrow. He knew he couldn’t. He knew he couldn’t promise the same in return; that her son would still have a father. She, as a Jedi, could not make that promise to him. He, as a Mandalorian, could not make that promise to her.

“Do you have any idea…” he whispered. Any idea what this is doing to me?

“I do,” she said, and she brought his hands to her face. His thumbs brushed against the tears that streamed from her eyes. She did, because she felt the same.

They both lost it, inasmuch as warriors allow themselves to do so, silent, shuddering sobs, fingers threaded through hair, fearing not of their own deaths, but for the loss of the other, for the possibility of once again orphaning the small, green baby who had become their son.

The tide ebbed, and Din once more became aware of the chill against his skin, the deck hard against his knees. He stood with a grunt, pressed his lips against Rayne’s for one more moment, then stepped to the waiting glass of whiskey and downed it in one go. He poured himself another, then wrapped himself up in the blanket he’d brought out and settled into the starboard jump seat. He watched hyperspace ripple over the canopy of his ship, listened to the hyperdrive hum along, pushing them all through the split between space and time. He thought about what Rayne had said about the hyperspace lanes following the paths of the Force. “What do you see,” he asked her in the dim light, “when you can’t sleep?”

She took a deep breath and let it out. “Depends. Usually nothing informative. Lately nothing but Stormtroopers. Waves and waves of Stormtroopers.”

He considered the glass in his hand. Considered the last time he’d gotten himself absolutely shitfaced, just a handful of days ago. Considered how much he’d seen Rayne put away without it seeming to affect her as much as it should have. He realized he had no idea if that ability stemmed from enemy sorcery-enabled liver function, years of alcohol abuse, or both. He recalled Zavin’s comment about her previous poor habits following Hayes’s death. He wondered if the Force buffered her from it, drove her to it, or both. “Does drinking help?”

“A little.”

About as self-aware of an answer as he could expect, at the moment.

They sat in companionable silence for a while longer, the weight of exhaustion pulling the lids down over his eyes. When he could no longer ignore the call of the bed behind him, he hauled himself out of his seat, collected the bottle and classes, took them to the galley, then came back out to the flight deck. “I have an idea,” he said as he picked his helmet up off of the console, voice quiet. Instead of putting it on, he leaned back against the console, facing Rayne, and she watched his silhouette as he flipped through the configurations of the latches on its side. “Visor’s blacked out,” he said, handing it to her.

“What?” She reached out to accept the helmet, unsure of what she was supposed to do with it.

“Beskar is Force-opaque at long-range. Might help you sleep.”

She held the helmet in her hands, the object of her discomfort since they had met, helmets of similar purpose being the object of her nightmares since the age of ten. “You want me to put your helmet on.”

“Only if you want to try it. Just to sleep in. See if it keeps the Stormtroopers out of your head.”

She took a breath, closed her eyes, and slipped it over her head.

Complete darkness, as he had warned with the blacked out visor.

Complete blindness, as would be expected of the beskar.

She could not sense Din or Yadier, despite the fact that they were right there in front of her.

For the first time in her life, she was cut off from the Force. Isolated. Alone in her own head. The ambient hum of the galaxy’s chatter suddenly absent from her mind. Blind. Deaf. Numb. Caught in the free-fall zero G of space.

“Hey.” Din’s voice brought her back. “You ok?”

She turned to where she thought he was, and he was half-amused at, for the first time ever, how far off she was. “It’s terrible in here.”

The sound of her voice through the modulator shocked both of them, drawing a huff of a laugh from Din. “It takes some getting used to.”

She took a moment to try to settle into it, reminding herself that he’d spent the vast majority of his life locked in this thing, reminding herself that her face was, at this very moment, where his had been for so long. “Has anyone else worn this thing?”

“No.”

This space had been his and his alone for more than thirty years, and now he was sharing it with her.

Trying to help her.

“Ok.”

“Come back to bed?” he asked.

“Ok.”

He returned the console lights and canopy transparency to their previous settings, turned the pilot chair so Yadier was facing forward, gathered the blanket, and guided Rayne back to their room. Guided her through her darkness as she had guided him through his first night without the helmet on Coruscant. He helped her get settled, showed her how to adjust the pillow so it worked with the helmet instead of against it, and then pressed his forehead against hers, appreciating the cold steel against his skin, appreciating the role reversal, appreciating her willingness to try.

She lay still for ten minutes, alone in her own head, cut off from the rest of the galaxy, her head trapped in a can, until she could stand it no longer. She pulled it off. “I can’t,” she said, gasping for air. “I can’t…”

“Okay…” he said, relieving her of it and placing it back next to his side of the bed. “Too much?”

“Too much of nothing,” she said as she allowed him to pull her back against him, as she pressed into him as he spooned around her. “I don’t know if that makes sense…”

“It does,” he whispered, holding her as her trembling subsided. “I’m sorry it didn’t work.”

“It was worth a shot,” she said, taking his hand and pressing his knuckles to her lips. “Thank you for trying.”

Sleep eventually claimed them.

Din was right about one thing, though.

It would be their last night in this bed for the foreseeable future.

#the mandalorian #din djarin #grogu

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katherine-traylor · 2 years

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Hop-skippers

(small story I wrote last year)

We used to tell this story when I was a kid about these fish that could walk up on land. We called them “hopskippers.” At night they’d come up out of the water— ponds, rivers, wherever you were when you told the story. If you went out with a flashlight and stood over the water, you’d see them when they’d come up. Of course these weren’t real fish, just a way to trick some dumb kid into standing outside in the middle of the night. But that’s why I’ve been calling these things “hopskippers.”

I’ve got some in a bucket in the garage if you want to see them. They’re not much to look at. Most of them are about the size of your foot, but I’ve seen them as big as two, three feet. Mud-brown. They look a little like catfish with no whiskers. No scales, either. They slide right through your hands if you pick them up--they‘ve got this kind of slime on them, I guess to protect their skin. Some people are allergic to it, so better not pick them up barehanded. Not that you’d want to.

I don’t know how I got them in the first place. The next pond’s a good quarter-mile away, over past those trees at Hudson’s farm. But I’m not sure they could have come that far. Even if they breathe air, you’d think they’d dry out. However they got here, though, there’s about a thousand of them in that pond. All my other fish are dead.

Oh, yeah, they’ll definitely eat fish. Frogs, too. They’re voracious bastards. Lost three ducklings before I realized the hopskippers were eating them. We had to move the ducks into the barn. Set up a little pool for them in there, but I’ll have to find somewhere else to put them soon. Might have to sell them.

I don’t think anyone knows for sure where these fish came from. I’ve heard about ten different stories--China, Chile, ornamental fish ponds. Something about cargo ships, ballast water, I don’t know. They’ve probably been here for ages, though. I guess they had them down in Texas about ten years ago, and they moved on out from there. I think my dad mentioned them before he retired, but he’s not that great at identifying fish. I don’t even know how long we’ve had them.

Well, I really started paying attention when I found a bite mark on one of the cows. The big pasture borders on the pond on that side--see? So I went looking for a snake or... I don’t know what. Found one of these fish just sitting there, right where she’d been standing. I tried to kick it back into the water, and it hissed at me. Scared the hell out of me, I’ll tell you.

So I called the county--there’s that number that you’re supposed to call if you see one. They sent somebody out, but he said there wasn’t much they could do. Still deciding how to deal with them. So we’re on our own. The cows won’t go near the pond now, so I’m having to fill up the water trough by hand whenever they’re out grazing. I should probably put in another pump, but I haven’t got the money right now.

Well, you know with invasives they say you should try to find a way to eat it or use it. But these things taste like mud. I cut one open, and there were these black parasites wiggling inside. So I threw that one out, and cut another one open, and it had parasites. Took me about ten tries to find one that looked clean, and then when I grilled it it just fell apart. Tasted like shit. Gave me the runs, too, so I can’t even feed them to the dogs. I thought about chopping them up and using them for fertilizer, but I wouldn’t want to eat anything that grew on them. Seems unhealthy. So we’ll just bury them, I guess.

I’m worried about the kids. They play by that pond. I told them to stay out of the water, but they’re gonna keep dipping their toes in there till one of them gets bit. Cayleigh was sitting on that log down there, reading, and a big hopskipper came hopping up the bank and tried to take a bite out of her foot. So now they’ve got to wear shoes when they’re outside, and I’m thinking about saying no sandals. But it’s ninety degrees out. They’re gonna take their shoes off. So what am I supposed to do? Keep them inside unless they’re doing chores? They can’t spend the summer like that. I’m thinking about sending them on to their grandparents’ till I figure something out.

To be honest, I don’t know what we’re going to do. The drought’s so bad I’m definitely going to need that pond this summer, but there’s so much fish shit in the water now, the pump’s already clogged up. I got bit real bad when I took it out to fix it. Look at that. You can see that’s infected. Becky put some peroxide on it, but I don’t think it helped. Hope I don’t end up going to the doctor. I can’t afford that, on top of everything else.

Becky wants to move.

Look! Did you see it? Right over there. See, that little hop-flop-flop--that’s one of them. And look--there’s another one. Oh, yeah, they’ll come up out of there all times of day. You should have seen them back when the cicadas were out, just flinging themselves out of the water when they saw one. Ate them like candy. You could hear them crunching. It was the weirdest sound I ever heard. But sometimes I just see a hopskipper just flopping along, not eating, just wandering. Looking for another pond, I guess.

The worst thing is that they dig. They burrow into the sides of the pond, digging these big holes under the ground. I was walking over there one day and half the damn bank fell in on me. If you dig up the dirt down there, there’s about a fifty percent chance you’ll hit a burrow. I think they lay their eggs in there so nothing can eat them. Must be working, because there’s more of them every day. You can find the burrows if you put your hand down under the bank and feel around, but I wouldn’t recommend it. There’ve been a few people who’ve lost fingers to these things.

I met this guy out in Carrboro, said he noticed the ground was looking loose around his front porch. He went to fill it in and found a huge hole under the porch, and there was a three-foot-long hopskipper tucked right up inside. He thinks it was trying to get into the foundation. I’ll tell you what, I ain’t gonna have these things digging around my house. I was thinking about sinking a fence around the pond to keep them in, but that’s a few grand at least, and they’ll probably still get out. Maybe I can sink one around the foundation somehow. Can’t think what else to do.

I still keep thinking about that story. They said you had to hold the flashlight really still, and not look away or even blink. If you did, the hopskipper would get behind you and follow your trail back up to your tent. Later, when you were sleeping, it would chew a hole in your stomach and lay its eggs inside.

#horror #speculative fiction #invasive species #specfic

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sweetsbfreex · 3 years

Text

a styles vacation to Hawaii

Summary: a little continuation of this family. The styles take a vacation to Hawaii with mild bumps in the road.

a/n: no warnings, but harry is not famous in this. I’ve never been to Hawaii and do not much of the hawaiian attire/culture, i just did research and put what i found. If there’s any misconceptions or if i’ve offended anyone by accident pls lmk!

Pairings: Dad, Husband!Harry

“Honey, you have to let go so we’re not late for the plane” Harry grunts, trying to stealthily pull Ava away from her hold on Milo.

“No! We can’t leave Mimi” she cries out, cuddling her face into the pup’s fur even more.

“Mimi has to stay with nan, honey” From his tone you can tell he’s losing patience.

It’s a definite eyesore. The whole situation takes place on your mother's porch. You were all meant to say your goodbyes before the three of you–– no Milo–– go off on a small vacation to Hawaii.

Ava is holding on to the australian shepherd, not letting up one bit. You would think she glued herself onto him without anyone knowing, with how she latched on.

Milo in front of your mother's feet, enjoying what he thinks is a hug it seems. Only letting out long whines when Ava's sobs get out of control.

Harry is standing behind Ava, bent at the wait trying to pry her off her best friend.

You're crouched beside her, a hand on her back, trying to convince her to let go.

Ava's poor grandmother stands in the doorway. A look of agony on her face as she watches it all go down.

The–– now three year old–– has been throwing a hissy fit in the car, holding onto Milo's paw. Ever since Harry informed her how they were going to her nan's house to drop off Milo and then hurry to the plane. She saw the news like a terrible taste in her mouth, while she stared at you both in the rearview mirror eyes widened.

You know how much the two love each other, but you didn't expect her to throw a fit like this.

“Ava I know you’re upset but, you gotta let go honey so Mimi can have fun with grandma. Don’t you want to go on the airplane, hm? Weren’t you excited about it?” You ask her, beginning to unclasp one hand and go for the other, trying to bring into your arms.

But with quickness, she remembered the only way she would be able to go on this vacation. Without Milo, she wraps her arms around Milo again.

“Baby, Milo has to stay. Dog’s aren’t allowed in Hawaii” At this moment, Harry is willing to try anything.

“They’re not?” she asks, tilting her head back a little to see her father’s face.

“Nope, Milo won’t have fun there. He’ll have more fun with Nana” he tells her, bringing his thumbs down to wipe away the tears.

“...I wanna stay with Mimi!”

Milo doesn’t eject this idea, letting his chin rest on her small shoulder. You and Harry huff in frustration, glancing at each other. Your mother...well she’s had enough of whatever foolishness you and H are pulling right now.

“Okay enough of this” your mother starts, gaining everyone’s attention. “Ava, honeybee, Tell Milo and your grandma see you later and let go of him so you can have fun on your trip with your parents.” She says this with a stern, yet loving tone. Down to business and nothing else.

“Yes nana” she mumbles, placing a few kisses to Milo’s cheek and glides to your mom.

You and Harry look at each other in an instant, eyes wide at the way your mother fixed the problem in less than a minute. A mutual look of what the fuck, as in the what the fuck were you possibly doing wrong.

“Thanks mum.” Harry says sheepish, looking at the calming little one swaying in your mother’s arms.

“Yeah thanks mom” you say, standing up straight.

“No problem, Now get going, before she fusses again”

You all exchange your see you laters. Ava has yet another sweet moment with Milo. While Harry tells her she won't be staying in Hawaii forever and Milo won't stay with Nana forever. As you're driving away you all wave at the two, Ava yelling to Milo.

“Bye Mimi! See you soon! Don’t chase a squirrel when I’m gone!” She yells out the window, her arm waving in the wind.

You and Harry share a chuckle. Despite what she may think, Milo has never chased a squirrel in his life. She's watched it once on a cartoon and it somehow filled her heard with the imaginary scenario.

When both her grandmother and bestfriend are out of sight, she turns her head to the other window. A solemn look on her face, looking out the window like the Kermit the Frog meme.

You play the Frozen 2 soundtrack for the less pouty girl behind you. But when you don't hear the shrill sound of her singing, you look behind you to see an upset look upon her cherub face.

Her bottom lip is juts out, her hands fisted and arms crossed.

“You okay?” you ask her, turning in your seat to cradle her knee.

She’s dressed cutesy in a matching sweat set and a cute beanie rested over her plaits.

“No. I’m upset and I wanna yell” she looks at you, resting her case, before she turns her head back to its original spot.

Harry peeks at the interaction through the rear view mirror; an eyebrow quirked. One hand on the wheel while the other takes its natural spot in your lap, your fingers tangled with his.

“Why are you upset?” you ask.

“Because…” she groans, trying to figure out her ‘big feelings’. “You left Mimi and now he’ll hate me”

“He won’t hate you, you’re his favorite person”

“You guys don’t love me either!” She whines, glaring out the window. Wigging in her spot, causing your hand to fall from her knee.

“That’s not true! We love you” you exclaim, in a loving manner.

“Then get Mimi”

“Mimi is staying with grandma Ava, enough.” Harry’s voice catches her attention immediately. “ It's okay to be upset but Hawaii doesn’t accept dogs, remember?”

She only huffs, dropping her hands from her chest.

“Can you play the when I am older song, please mommy?” she almost whispers.

You accept her request, turning so you’re seated right. Playing the song and hearing her sing eases your glazed stare a bit. Releasing a breath and closing your eyes as you rest your head against the window adds a bit to your release.

Harry raises the entangled hands away from your lap, placing an adored kiss to the back of your hand. Sending a quick questioning look your way.

“I’m fine” you send back, in a smile. No mother wants to hear those words.

He can’t do much with him driving and with Ava in the car. So he places a kiss to the back of your hand once more, and extends his hand so he caresses the back of your neck.

“You’re doing a great job, stop being so hard on yourself” he encourages.

If your mom was here she’d give you a tip or two on how you and Harry are too soft on Ava. You couldn’t help leaving all the disciplining to Harry, you probably were definitely too soft on her at times.

Through all the pouting, belting of kid songs, and Harry's annoying jokes and teasing. Five hours later you've made it to the resort.

At the moment, Harry was checking you both in while you and Ava looked around the gift shop. When you feel someone’s arm come around your shoulder, you jump. But the feeling of his cold rings and brings you down.

“Scared me, don’t do that” a breath of relief follows as you tilt your head back onto his shoulder. He gets the memo immediately, leaning down for a peck to the lips.

“Made a friend in the lobby.” He tells you like nothing. Eyes shifting at his little girl looking through the stuffed animals and keychains.

“Are you okay?” you ask in disbelief.

“What?” he laughs, one eyebrow perched.

“Like in the head”

“I’m not following…”

“Why are you so good at making friends with strangers this easily? Seriously.”

He laughs you off like it’s nothing, but it’s uncomic. You wish you could blame it on being shy, but compared to Harry it was not that easy for you to chat up strangers enough that you become acquaintances.

Your husband could make friends with a duck if he wanted to. Everywhere you went. Whether in the ice cream shop a few miles away at home or the park where you took Ava all the time .He was always chatting with someone, in the end pulling you in.

He only laughs it off, beyond doubt enjoying the look on your face. “We agreed to save each other a seat at the Luau tonight, for whoever gets there first. Talked to the husband actually, but you’ll see”

“You’re insane” you tease him.

“Can I have this?” A teal, stuffed sea turtle is thrusts in the direction of you and Harry.

“How do we ask nicely” you say.

“Can I get this?” she smiles, a smile so sweet, your tooth hurts from looking at it. She’s the most adorable thing and knows exactly how to use it to her advantage.

“My sweet little baby.” Harry crooned, advancing to her, lifting her into his tattooed arms. Placing a series of kisses to her plump cheeks. She giggles, never wanting the affection to stop. “You can have it,” he tells her. “Let’s go to the till.”

“Harry you didn’t even check the price” you chimed in.

“Shh. We’re having a moment” he acknowledged. He outstretches his arm, so his palm meets your face gently. You laugh into it, before you smack his wrist away, then placing a light kiss to his wrist when he whines.

It’s some hours later. You’re all getting ready for the hotel’s hosted dinner/Luau tonight. The three of you took a two and a half hour nap.

You were touching up your light makeup while Harry got Ava ready. He lost two rounds of rock-paper-scissors and now must deal with the havoc that is dressing Ava.

“Baby, get the trousers mommy picked out for you” you Harey him tell Ava.

“Trousers?” She says the word with confusion, “Don’t have trousers babe? That’s a silly word.”

Then you hear the raspy laugh of Harry.

“Your pants, get your pants and your top too”

Not even a minute later do you hear Harry asking her to stop wiggling around.

Harry walks in the bathroom, a giggling Ava sat on his hip.

Harry adores a very laid back...dad look you could say. The back of the white wife beater he’s wearing get’s covered by a black button up shirt with flamingos patterned all over it. He’s also wearing a pair of shorts and his favorite vans.

Ava’s tucked into a set. a cami top with matching flared pants and sunflowers ornamented the black fabric.

“Oooh look at mumma, beautiful huh?” he asks Ava, extending one hand towards you, once you clasp your hands in his, he spins you letting his eyes sink in.

“Yeah!”

“Thank you both” you smile as Harry tugs you in for a swift kiss.

You had picked out an angelic, ivory crochet set. The top you’re wearing shows off your midriff and the long, flowy skirt matches with beautiful lace detailing.

You turn to Ava to give her a kiss on her cheek. “You look so handsome.” you tell Harry, letting your hand run through his hair. “And you look so adorable, you like your outfit?” taking her from Harry’s hands.

“Yeah, I like the flowers–– Can I have some too?” she points to the plethora of makeup products spread over the bathroom counter.

Looking over at Harry for his confirmation, he nods. You take the brush running it over the blush, before brushing it over her chubby cheeks and her nose.

“Tickles,” she laughs, pushing your hand away.

“Are you ladies ready to go?”

“Wow! Look the fires!” She points at the lines of tiki torches submerged into the sand, jumping as she sits on your hip.

The layout is stunning. There’s a stage for the performance, round tables spread out everywhere across the beach, and a buffet in the back.

Most of the tables are already filled, albeit the show was to start in like twenty minutes.

“There they are, over there” Harry indicated, his hand waving back at a family of four.

With Harry’s hand settled on your back, he weaved the three of you to the table.

“Hey Shawn.” Harry greeted, their hands clasped together as they brought each other in, clapping each other on the back.

Shawn was a tall man, a few inches taller than Harry, and very built. He had amazing brown skin, clear like a mirror, and was bald––which he pulled off effortlessly.

“This is my wife, y/n and my daughter Ava” he smiled at the two of you, while you shook hands with Shawn and asked Ava to say a hello. Which she did, like bursting a ball of energy as put her hands out for a handshake like she watched her parents do. It caused a laugh out of everyone. She didn’t know why they were laughing at her, but she enjoyed the attention.

“This is my wife Avni” you hugged, as close as you could, with a petite, expecting Indian woman. She was radiant as she smiled at you and Harry. “These are my kids Grey and Aster” you shook hands with them both.

Grey looked about Ava’s age, bouncy coils moving as he bobbed up and down in his seat. His sister, who looked in her tweens, sported the same hair texture. Aster more silent of the two sent her greetings kindly.

“And the third is still cooking in here” he laughed, setting his hands down on Avni’s early protruding belly.

With that joke, you understand exactly how the two of them got to know each other, as Harry joined in with his laugh. The wives chuckled amongst themselves.

“How far along are you?” you solicited.

“Three and a half months” Avni smiled proudly, rubbing both hands around her belly.

You cooed, “It’s amazing, you’re literally glowing. You're making me miss being pregnant” you joke.

“Okay! Enough of that. One little devil is enough.” Harry tickles your side, as a result you jab his side with your elbow gently, as he grins down at you. “We’re gonna go get some food,” he informs the couple.

Now everyone’s sitting around the table anticipating for the show to start. Conversation running pretty smoothly. The four of you were even able to make a few plans for the week you are here for. You had gotten a high chair for Ava to sit and eat in, but she wasn’t having it. Failing around while reaching for you.

In result, she’s now sitting in your lap, bouncing side to side. Munching on her French fries, chicken, and sipping on her pineapple juice.

“Taste good?” Harry asks his toddler.

“Mhm” she hums, shoving her thumb into his face.

“I can tell” he chuckles, extending a napkin to wipe her face clean.

You tilt your head down closer to hers, to see sauce around her mouth, some of it on her cheek even.

“Daddy.”

“Hm, baby?”

“Mimi would like this, he loves the chicken mommy gives me”

“You give Mimi your chicken?”

“No”

You both laugh it off, not seeing the point in correcting her.

“Who’s Mimi”

“Mimi is our dog, he's big and he can talk!” Ava answered, her voice ringing with excitement.

“Dog’s can’t talk!” The high-pitched voice of Grey argued, eye brows pitched together.

“That’s a fib, Mimi talks to me all the time!” she defended.

Thankfully, the show was beginning, two young women and four young men came out on stage. Dressed in their traditional Hula attire.

You and Avni shared a grateful smile, knowing neither of you would know how to suppress their little spiff.

The dance is mesmerizing and it was nice with the sun almost setting as a background. Light hues of orange shaded the sea as the night took over the rest. Everyone watched in awh, clapping when it was appropriate. The women’s skirt flowed amongst the air like water.

Harry’s arm propps on the back of your chair. During the performance you feel his fingers run against the back of your neck.

You turn your head towards, trying not to disturb the entranced little girl on your lap. “What?” you mouth.

“It’s beautiful” he whispers to you.

“I know” you tell him, smiling when he rolls his eyes at you.

At some point in the show, the original dancers plus a few more stepped off the stage. An array of Lei’s on their arms, watching as they put Leis around their chosen person’s neck. During this time a woman walks behind Harry, setting one around his neck.

You laugh at the shocked look on his face and the way he fixes his posture. She places a grip onto his arm, making him stand up so she could guide her to the rest of the others. Avni gets chosen too.

The smile on your face makes your face hurt as you watch Harry “dance” up there. The man definitely didn’t have the bet rhythm but he’s having fun and you loved that.

“Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!...” Ava cheered on her father, clapping her hands. Harry looks towards her, waving. She gets even more excited chanting his title louder.

She's Not interrupting anything, you’re surprised he heard her in the first place. But also not, she always knew how to project her voice when needed.

A little over a minute goes by when Ava raises her hand and keeps it up there until you’re able to flag down someone for a lei, which you both get. The both of you walk up to Harry and you set Ava on the ground.

A slight circle forms as you three hold hands together. Just swaying. Sometimes letting go because Harry wanted to spin the two of you. It’s a beautiful image, you're sure. All the glee you could hold in your body transpires in the way you danced with them.

When you’re walking back to your hotel room, your arms are hooked with Harry’s and your head rests on his shoulder. An almost asleep Ava in his arm. He stops to bring his free hand around your neck, pulling you in for a kiss.

“Thank you for giving me this, I love you” he whispers against your lips.

Last night, after the dinner and the Hula, Ava had facetimed Nana. To be honest, she had wanted to say a goodnight to Milo, but talking to her grandmother was always a plus. She was still dressed in her outfit, you and Harry getting ready for the night, so you could then focus on her.

She sat up against the headboard, Your giant phone–– compared to her hands–– held in her tiny ones. You were looking through her duffle bag for her pyjamas when you heard…

“Look Mimi, I saved you chicken”, her small teeth bared, holding up a piece of her chicken from dinner. Your phone is now being propped up against a pillow.

You looked up to watch her pull a piece of chicken from her...pant pocket.

That was the point you reavulated yourself as a parent and had to think about what kind of kid you and Harry were possibly raising.

“Harry!” you called for him.

He walked out, an eyebrow quirked.

“Look.” you hiss, voice low.

‘God…’ Harry thinks. “Where’d she get that chicken from?” he asks, running his towel over his hair.

“Her pocket! Why are you so casual about this?”

“Angel...you had a baby with me, what’d you expect?” he questions, seriously questions you this.

“You’re fixing it then, Mr. mini-me”

Presently, you’re all at the beach. Three towels and three umbrellas lay in/on the sand. You’ve rubbed sunscreen on Ava twice now and have had to remind Harry three times. After last time there was no way you’d be rubbing aloe vera on him all night.

“Baby you’re dripping it.” You sigh, reaching over to wipe her chin of the chocolate ice cream she was eating, from a cup you might add. “Do you want me to feed it to you?”

“No, thank you” she replies, kicking her feet out.

You’ve all swam a bit, but now are on a mini break from the water and saw they were selling ice cream close by.

It’s pretty quiet between the three of you, too busy enjoying your treat.

She gasps, “Daddy you’re a fibber” Ava says indifferently, slurping even more of her ice cream from her spoon.

He guffaws, caught off guard from her statement. He shifts towards the two of you. The way the wind blows his hair and the sun makes the green in his eyes even brighter catches you off guard–– the sight of his abs doesn’t hurt either.

You also knew it wouldn’t be long until his hair gained some highlights and his freckles would be more prompt. You couldn’t wait.

“How’m I a fibber, messy?” squinting down at her.

“Look!”she points, “There’s a puppy right there”

There is, you turn your eyes to where her fingers point to see a woman walking a black Dachshund.

Harry turns his head towards him, a sad look on his face. “You’re right baby. I’m a fibber. I’m sorry”

Ava hurls from her seat to latch her arms around his neck, “It’s okay daddy, now Mimi can come next time” she tells him.

If there’s one thing about Ava, it’s how much she hates sadness. Unless it’s from her. Then it’s perfectly okay. She hates sadness so much, she particularly had a dislike for the character from Inside out. Until you had to explain to her how sadness is something that is okay and needed from time to time, Like in the movie.

After her round of affection towards Harry, she emplaces herself into his lap.

“Daddy. Mommy.”

You both hum an answer.

“It looks like a hot dog” she eyes the dog while it trots down the sand.

“It does huh?” Harry answers, brushing her flyaways back. All while you laugh into your palm.

Your hands feel tingly when you wrap it around Harry’s neck, pulling him into you. His head lays against your shoulder.

Definitely a vacation to remember and cherish.

if you enjoyed pls don’t forget to reblog or give feedback if ur up to it <3

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subspencer · 3 years

Text

Neighborly Favors

baby!spencer x fem!reader

based on this request from @spencergubler

spencer discovers what his neighbor does for a living, and she offers to give him a show EDIT: i realized after posting i switch from using third person/‘she’ to second person/‘you’ halfway through. my excuse is i was sleep deprived. hope you can overlook the error!

wc: 2.3k. cw: none

He's only ever seen his neighbor in passing, catching the flash of her coat as she enters her apartment while he's leaving his, or seeing the top of her head as she's walking by on the street when he looks down from his window. Most people don't take enough interest in their neighbors to care to get to know them, and normally Spencer wouldn't care either. Except this neighbor plays some pretty interesting music, which he can hear through the thin walls connecting their apartments.

He's not exactly sure what she's doing when she's playing her music loudly, but it doesn't sound like she's with anyone. And not that he's trying to invade her privacy, but he also doesn't hear anything happening that's remotely as sexual as what the music is. It kind of sounds like she's working out? He's not sure.

What little information he has on her only inspires his mind to think of her more often. To solve the mystery of his next-door neighbor, who comes home just as he's leaving for work, who he thinks always looks pretty despite never having seen her face.

Unfortunately, his sweet, innocent mind doesn't consider what most would think is the obvious answer. He has to find that out himself after he finally sees her, properly, in the hallway, trying to break into own apartment by picking the lock.

"Are you locked out?" He manages to speak calmly even though his mind is racing looking at her. She has on a short coat that stops just above her knees, and a pair of heels that look incredibly tall. All he he sees between are long, bare legs.

"Yeah.” She sighed, dropping the bobby pin she jammed into the lock. “Can I wait in yours until the maintenance guy comes?"

And he has no idea how he doesn't just pick up his feet and start running, but he actually lets her in, and now it's just the two of them sitting on his couch, multiple feet apart as they try to find conversation to fill the awkward silence.

"So... what do you do for work?"

"I'm a dancer."

"Oh... like ballet or-"

She looks at him like he's grown a second head and laughs, "I'm an exotic dancer."

"Oh."

He folds his hands in his lap and is suddenly extremely red. From the embarrassment of looking stupid in front of her, for one. And a bit because now he's thinking about her, in those exact high heels she has on, dancing in a dark room.

"These aren't the shoes I wear for that."

His head snaps up at her, terrified he’d said those thoughts out loud. He must not have realized he'd been staring down at her shoes for a moment too long, and that given her profession, she can tell when a guy's looking at her a certain way. Lucky for him, she finds his bashful innocence to be endearingly cute.

"They're a lot taller than this. I just wear these to get to and from work. You can see them sometime," she shrugs. Too coolly offering to show Spencer what she looks like when she dances.

He really doesn't know what to say, it probably should not have been what he ended up saying, "So the music from your place then?" He blinks at her, hands holding his knees so he has something to do with them. When she doesn't answer right away, he offers his signature frog smile, feeling incredibly awkward still.

"Sorry, didn't realize it was so loud." She looks genuinely apologetic, and it makes him feel bad for saying it like that.

"No, I mean- I mean is that like, the music that..." She knows what he's trying to ask, but it's just so much more fun watching him squirm trying to figure out how to word it in a tactful way. "Is that what you listen to at work?"

God, he's so cute, managing to find the most unassuming way to ask that. "It's what I dance to, at work, yes."

"Cool." He has no idea why he asked that. Or where to take the conversation from there. Now he's just sitting in that silence again, staring pointedly at his floor as he ignores the new mental image of her next door, kept apart from him by only a paper thin wall as she practices her routines in her living room.

Spencer's not a creepy guy, he's really not, but he feels like one when he's picturing his neighbor naked while she's sitting right next to him.

And who is she helping when she takes off her coat (because Spencer's apartment is eighty degrees)? Certainly not Spencer, who is half-expecting her to be wearing her uniform underneath. He's relieved when it's actually just a dress. And then he hates himself for thinking it wouldn't be.

She’s too sharp to not catch the look that flashed across his face as she took it off. Curious, excited. Maybe a little lustful. Nervous, for sure. But curious is what she was going to cling onto.

“Do you at least like some of the songs?” She said behind a devilish grin.

“I uh... I haven’t heard any of them, before-”

"What's your favorite?"

Spencer let out an airy chuckle, shrinking under the pressure that she wouldn't let up. He can't answer that question without incriminating himself a little bit. It was easier to laugh and brush it off like she was joking.

"Spencer, I know you have a favorite," she pressed, scooting a tad closer. Her chin rested on her hand, propped up by her elbow resting on her crossed-over knees. "If you tell me I might show you the routine."

The lump in his throat is visible as he swallows, Adam's apple bobbing up and down. He wipes his sweaty palms on his knees before suddenly you're grabbing them, calling his attention as you stand up in front of him.

"I was going to practice anyway. I'm working on a new routine." His eyes can't get wider as you pull him up from the sofa and drag one of his dining room chairs to the center of the living room. "Maybe you can tell me if it's good."

As you queue up the song on your phone, Spencer does the only thing his mind is capable of doing. To sit down and wait for what's coming. Music starts playing softly from your phone speakers, and you move to the light switch in his living room, gesturing to ask if it's alright as you hit the dimmer.

Even in the dim light, Spencer can see how beautiful you are. He can make out the features of your face if he trains his eyes hard enough, and that's exactly what he's doing. Trying to watch your face, even as you're sauntering towards him, hiking up the hem of your dress.

"You okay?" Your tone was playful and light, two things Spencer did not feel capable of being right now. He felt completely serious as you placed a hand loosely on his shoulder, dragging it along his body as you circled the back of his chair, across his back and bracing his neck. Cupping under his jaw so tenderly before letting go. It lit up each nerve ending that came across your path.

You were behind him again, sliding both your hands down the front of his chest with soft pressure, dragging them down as your lips came to ghost near his neck. Your face just barely touched his skin, grazing it in a feather-soft way that made him tickle.

Each cell in his body came to attention under your touch. His eyes almost drifted shut to succumb to the feeling, but then you stood in front of him, swaying your hips gently as you sunk down towards the floor, bracing your self with a hand on each of his knees

As you came up, your hands slid up his thighs, using him as a brace to bring your body closer to his, diving towards him with your chest to his face. You moved slow on the way up, giving him time to appreciate the cleavage revealed by the skimpy dress as you did.

His eyes were still locked on yours, cowering under the attention and to nervous to look anywhere else.

"I-I don't know what to do with my hands," he chuckles, blushing hard.

You hum, turning around and taking a seat on his lap, pushing your hips slowly back until they met his crotch. You gave him a soft grind before letting your back fall to his chest, wrapping one arm around his neck. Taking his free hand into your own, you placed it gently around your thigh before trailing it up your body, allowing him to push the hem of the dress further up as your hands travelled towards your chest. You let his fingers toy with the lace edge of your panties for a second before ghosting them over the swell of your chest, skimming just briefly and teasingly, before dropping his hand back to his side.

Lifting up from your hips, you suspended your body over his, rolling in slow motion just above his lap, barely making contact with his body as he watched you. Still using his chest to bear your weight with your arms hooked around his shoulders, able to crane your neck to the side and place soft kisses on the shell of his ear before sighing deeply into it.

On instinct, his hands fly up, gripping your waist and bringing you back down to him against his hard dick. Immediately, he dropped his hands, feeling suddenly rude for being so forward and demanding. Instead, he was rewarded with a gracious bounce of your ass against him, a few times before grinding deeply against him.

Just as a groan fell from his lips, your fingernails scraped against his shoulder, ducking under the collar of his shirt to feel the bare skin. His hips buck up in reaction, and he's quickly embarrassed again.

"It's okay," you coo, running your hand through his hair. He follows your fingers as they run through the strands, chasing after them, so you provide him with a gentle tug. He bites back a moan and you tug harder, determined to make it fall from his mouth.

He lets out a surprised gasp and his arm wraps over your waist, weighing you down so you couldn't move too far from him. You almost want to tease that clients are never allowed to touch the dancers like this, but you fear that then he might stop. So, you don't.

Just for his benefit, you give him a deep, exaggerated moan right in his ear as you roll against his dick, allowing your free hand to wrap over the arm gripping your waist so tightly. When he starts subtly shifting in his chair, you can feel him getting closer.

He starts rolling his hips in time with yours, pushing them into you as you shift yours back, pressing your bodies ever closer. His eyes flutter shut as he bunches up the fabric of your dress, knotting it in his hands as he tries to hold himself back.

You break another rule when you wrap your lips over his earlobe, sucking it softly into your warm mouth before releasing, "It's okay."

It's all the permission he needs, both of his arms now pinning you against him. He gasps as his hips jut up, staggered and out of rhythm, a few times before he lets out a strangled moan, spilling his release inside his trousers.

It was never your intention to let it get this far, but you're so glad it did when you see his face, covered in a light sheen of sweat and pupils blown with lust. His naturally plump, pink lips are red and swollen from biting down so hard. That slicked-back hairdo he had before is now tousled up from your fingers knotting through it. He looks nothing like that shy, innocent boy who opened his door to you just thirty minutes ago. He's something else entirely, panting for air as he comes down from his climax.

When his eyes open again, they still look at you as softly as they did before. With the same admiration, and maybe now a deeper level of want.

You've never been one to be at a loss of words, but you truly don't know what to say now that you've seen your very cute neighbor come undone under you. And that he looks at you so sweetly despite what's just transpired. You keep it light and playful just as before as you climb off of him, searching for your phone and purse while he excuses himself to the bathroom to clean up.

While he's gone, you hear the maintenance guy coming down the hall, and you have no reason to stay. Just as you go to leave, he comes back out, and he hides his disappointment poorly because you look like you're making a quick escape. But when you see him, your hand leaves the doorknob and you turn to say goodbye.

His long legs carry him across the length of the room quickly, stopping just short of you, and you notice just how tall he is as he towers over you. His eyes flicker between yours and your lips, wanting to kiss you, but unsure where the boundary lies.

You lean forward to kiss him, the gap between you narrowing and your eyes drifting closed.

"Can I take you out?" he stops you in your tracks. He starts panicking internally, taking your stunned silence as a rejection. "Like, on a date? Is that... is that okay?"

Then you finally lung forward, crashing your lips over his as you bring him down to you by his neck, pulling him closer. His mouth chases yours as you separate, and you leave a trail of sweet pecks over his lips and chin, smiling at him and nodding, "It's okay."

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@suburban--gothic @ssa-sarahsunshine @mercy-burning @reidspurple @mediocre-writer @honeyboysteezy @calm-and-doctor @drayshadow @s1utformgg @you-sunshine @altsvu @reidtheprettyboy @goose-eats-god @sonnydoesrandomshit @rigatonireid @muffin-cup @amoeebaa @reidingmelodies @reidyoulikeabook @seasonfivereid @anaagraceeberr @spencerreid9 @sonnydoesrandomshit @luvofyourlifeliv @averyhotchner @spencerreidat3am @honeynico @realismisanexcusefornotbelieving @gubeskneescrew

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fic #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds x reader #mgg #matthew gray gubler #mgg smut #matthew gray gubler smut #matthew gray gubler x reader #crimina minds

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taaroko · 3 years

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Kid Loki fic: Love Is a Dagger

Loki spoilers through episode five!

Summary: Loki and Sylvie have made it past Alioth thanks to Old Loki's sacrifice. Three more people Kid Loki has lost, but he's pretty much used to it by now.

Between "I killed Thor," Old Loki fulfilling his glorious purpose, Lokigator being the absolute goodest boy, and that glimpse we got of Mjolnir and Throg, "Journey into Mystery" left me feeling very inspired. I hope you like it!

Word count: 1131 Characters: Kid Loki, Lokigator, Throg

(Here’s the Ao3 link, or you can read it here.)

Loki should have helped them. He should’ve gone back when the old man did, but he was too afraid. He’d been running from Alioth for what felt like half his life—just the sort of existence he deserved after what he’d done.

“Hah! You fell for it! ...Thor? Thor! Stop it! The dagger was only a joke! Brother, get up!”

His throat grew tight and he scrubbed the back of a hand over his eyes. He bent down and picked up the battered helmet that was all that remained of the old man. Alligator Loki let out a wailing growl.

“I know,” said Loki. “I’m going to miss him too.” He’d met dozens of versions of himself down here, and he would be happy if he never saw most of them again, but the old man had been a friend. They’d looked after each other, and he didn’t treat Loki like a helpless child. The two new ones hadn’t been so bad either. He hoped they succeeded, wherever they were now.

“Come on. We shouldn’t stay here in the open.”

He got an inquisitive growl in reply.

“If they haven’t already killed each other, yeah.” He wasn’t deeply attached to the bunker where they’d been staying, but it was as decent a place as any to stay safe from Alioth. They could at least check to see whether the other Lokis were still there. Maybe set a trap in case they tried to come back.

They trudged across the fields of detritus. Alligator Loki got tired of walking before long and let Loki carry him. Loki didn’t mind. A lot of new things had fallen here since the last time he’d been out this way. He decided to have a look in case he could use any of it, which would give the other Lokis time to finish each other off if they were still fighting.

He found a functioning vehicle that looked like it could handle rough terrain pretty well and some interesting circuitry he might be able to rig to explode. Alligator Loki found an entire refrigerator full of meat that was still edible. Loki shrugged and heaved it onto his shoulder to load into the back of the vehicle. Once it was secure, he was about to ask if they should call it a day when he heard a quiet sound nearby. Like muffled croaking and something tinkling against glass. Alligator Loki looked up from the pieces of meat he’d been making short work of, a bit of one still dangling from the side of his mouth.

“I’m not sure,” said Loki. He held a finger to his lips, ducked down low, and conjured a dagger. They approached the source of the sounds slowly. Nothing jumped out at them to attack, and the sounds led them to a small ridge of rubbish. Loki looked at Alligator Loki, who nodded his big snout. Loki braced himself, then leapt out from behind the ridge.

There was nobody there. He frowned and looked down. His eyes widened and the dagger vanished from his hand. “Mjolnir?” he said. He had only seen the warhammer once before, when Father had shown him and Thor the relics in the Vault. According to stories he’d heard from other Lokis, the hammer was meant to be Thor’s, if he lived long enough to wield it.

Loki wished he hadn’t come this way. He could handle the endless copies of himself, but a Thor? He’d sooner let Alioth catch him than face one.

“Brother, please wake up! I didn’t mean it I swear!”

“Let’s get out of here.”

Alligator Loki didn’t move. He made an odd chirruping sound and bumped a glass jar with his nose. This resulted in a series of frantic croaks and ribbets. Curiosity overcoming his desire to leave, Loki grabbed the jar. Inside was a frog dressed in a winged helmet and full armor. Royal Asgardian armor.

He froze while the frog continued to beat webbed fists against the glass. Alligator Loki swiped at Loki’s foot and yipped impatiently. Heart pounding, Loki twisted the lid off the jar and reached in to scoop out the angry frog. The moment his fingers touched the slimy skin, he received a moderate zap of electricity—bad enough to be slightly painful but nowhere near enough to do real damage. “Hey!” he protested. The frog hopped out of the jar and landed on Mjolnir, still croaking angrily and stamping his webbed feet.

Alligator Loki lost what remained of his patience and bit Loki lightly on the leg. It was obvious what he wanted. Loki shouldn’t do it. He should run straight for the new vehicle and get as far away as he could. The ache in his chest wouldn’t let him. He raised a hand and felt for the enchantment around the frog. It wasn’t a spell he’d ever personally cast, but shapeshifting was easy, and apparently doing it to someone else wasn’t that much different. It took him a few minutes to study the spell. He found the loose threads of seidr in it and pulled. Green light engulfed the frog, and then a blond adolescent boy was standing in front of him.

“It’s about time you undid your stupid spell!” he shouted, his face bright red. “Were you really that jealous Father gave me Mjolnir that you had to ruin—” He broke off. “Are you crying, Loki?”

Tears were indeed pouring down Loki’s face. He fell to the ground and pulled his knees tight to his chest. “I’m sorry, Thor,” he said, his voice cracking horribly. “I’m so sorry.” Why was he being so stupid? It wasn’t even his Thor!

“I’m very glad you’re sorry for turning me into a frog,” said Thor, “but Loki, what’s going on? Why do you look two hundred years younger than you did this morning? Where are we? Why’s there a little alligator in a horned helmet hugging my leg?”

Loki wiped his eyes and accepted the hand Thor was holding out, letting himself get pulled to his feet. He stared up at Thor’s earnest, confused face. He was at least a foot taller than the Thor Loki remembered, and his hands and feet were far too big for the rest of him, but he was looking at him just the same as he always had. Suddenly it didn’t matter to Loki that this wasn’t his Thor. (And judging from the way Alligator Loki’s mouth was hanging open in a silly grin, it didn’t matter to him either.) “I can explain everything,” he said, “but it’s going to take a while and we need to get somewhere safe first.”

Thor bent to pick up Mjolnir (the weight of it made him sway a little; he obviously wasn’t used to it yet) and beamed at Loki. “Lead the way, Brother.”

I can't believe I made myself cry writing about a character who's only had ten minutes of screentime. I love this show.

This is most likely staying a one-shot, since I'm already 200K+ words deep into my other alternate timeline Brodinsons fic and it does not need competition for my creative energy, but it miiiiight end up being a couple chapters longer, because there are one or two more things I'd like them to do, especially if the final episode doesn't do anything else with Kid Loki.

#kid loki #brodinsons #throg #lokigator #loki series #loki spoilers #loki #thor #loki fanfiction

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theyreonlynoodlesmike · 4 years

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Omg your requests are open! I don't nwwk fi you have alot of requests in yiurnask box but if you dotn and are feeling up to it could you write a poly lost boys scenario where Paul comes across a mermaid, thinks he's high as a kite, brings her to the cave thinking he's just tripping until the boys are shocked that their brother has a mermaid in his arms. Where it goes I'll leave to you but I'm obsessed with your writing 😃🥡

High Tide (Poly!Lost Boys x Fem!Mermaid Reader)

Word Count: 1448

Warnings: slight kidnapping??

You really didn't know how you'd gotten into this situation. Everything had been a blur after the blonde, a boy who had introduced himself as Paul, practically swooped you up and kidnapped you.

You were a mermaid, so you were used to having to escape from humans, mainly sailors, but it was made painfully clear that this boy wasn't human when he'd picked you up off your rock and had lifted off into the sky.

After you'd finished screaming about having him put you down, you'd managed to get his name and he'd managed to get yours. He had said that he just wanted to show you to his "boys" and he'd promised,

"Don't worry, pretty hallucination mermaid lady. I'll bring you back to your rock as soon as they see you. Shit, your tail is so cool up close. I've never had visuals like this before-" And you decided that fighting with him was a lost cause. You could feel his grip on you, and you didn't doubt that he was strong. Plus, even if you could wriggle out, you really didn't want him to drop you. You didn't fancy the idea of hitting the water from how high you were, especially since the clouds were closer than the waves below.

So, instead you wrapped your arms around his neck and let your head fall onto his shoulder. It was easy to find out from his ramblings that he was a vampire, though you could've figured that one out yourself. But he proceeded to tell you about the rest of his coven, and you guessed that if he didn't think you were a hallucination he wouldn't be telling you some of the things pouring from his mouth.

While he was certainly chatty, you found yourself pulling back to look at his face. Sure, he was talking your ear off, but at least the view was nice. He had a sharp jaw, light stubble and a straight nose. Not to mention two crystal blue eyes that seemed to light up with the rest of his face. And, well, his smile wasn't bad either. But you were pulled from your thoughts when Paul suddenly ducked down, falling fast and heading straight for the cliffs edge. You screamed and shut your eyes, gripping onto his shoulder tightly as he dove haphazardly into what you realized was a cave. He circled for a moment before he dropped, and you only peeled your eyes open when Paul said,

"Guys, I know I'm totally tripping right now, but I swear to God there's a mermaid in my arms." He said, but he was met with silence. You looked around, wondering if perhaps it was his friends that he was hallucinating. But no. There were three other handsome vampires in the room.

One sat in a wheelchair, one sat on the ground with a pigeon in his hands, and the other was standing and holding a skateboard. You could already tell who was who as Paul had spent nearly the entire flight over telling you about them. The one with the curly hair was his bestfriend, Marko. You noticed his cherub face, and his big, doe eyes. They were boring into you, a look of confusion plastered onto his face. His jaw was sharp, and his face seemed almost, you were nearly embarrassed to think so, sculpted. He looked the most boyish, but you knew better than to underestimate a vampire. No matter how angelic they looked, they could be vicious. Your eyes went to the brunette next. This had to be Dwayne. You could tell from the color of his hair and also because Paul had pointedly explained that he never wore a shirt. His face was completely unreadable, but his eyes seemed surprised. They kept looking between you, Paul, and your tail, and you tried not to flush from the intensity of his dark browns. From just his face alone, he seemed to be one of the more obviously intimidating members of the coven, but you couldn't deny that he was handsome. Next, it had to be David. His mouth was partially open, his cigarette hanging from his gloved fingers. He looked as if he was going to say something, but had been rendered speechless. His face was soft, but was rugged from stubble. His hair was styled and bleached, and he wore three different pieces of leather. Whatever his face had in softness, he made up for it by dressing to intimidate. And his eyes. They were exactly the same shade of blue as the ocean. You avoided them and looked around, and realized that Paul was standing on some sort of ledge. There was another second of silence, and then the brunette dropped his skateboard.

It took a total of nearly fifteen minutes to explain to Paul that he was not tripping and that there was a mermaid in his arms. Paul seemed unwilling to believe them, and was quick to assume that they were trying to trick him. All the while they each tried to convince him, and wrap their own heads around the concept, you had been passed from boy to boy. It was a heat of the argument thing, with each of them passing you when they felt they needed their hands to talk, until you ended up in Dwayne's arms. He hadn't said so much as a word, and stared down at you as if he was waiting for you to disappear. When you meekly said,

"Uh, hello." The conversation had momentarily paused. You guessed they hadn't known if you'd be able to speak, but their argument resumed once more, with Dwayne being the only one to whisper back a small,

"Hi." In a deep rumbling voice that nearly just made you embarrassed from the sound of it. But, once he finally realized that yes, you were real and that yes, he had technically kidnapped you from the beach and that no, none of the boys knew what to do and no, none of them seemed particularly eager to let you just swim away, David simply asked,

"So, do you plan on staying in Santa Carla?"

And before you knew it they were filling up the fountain with ocean water so they could spend the rest of the night getting to know you better.

They asked plenty of the usual questions, and you asked a few of your own. Not nearly as many as they did, simply because Paul had already answered most of them. The night ended with Marko sitting on the floor and leaning against the fountain edge. His fingertips glided against the surface of the water, causing small ripples as he stared at you. Finally, he asked,

"Are mermaids always as pretty as you?" And you couldn't stop the flush from reaching your cheeks. You brushed your hair away from your face and waved him away, but he gave you a small grin and reached out to copy your action. His fingers lingered for a moment, before they retreated away. It didn't take long for Paul to ask,

"So, is this like a princess and the frog deal where, if I kiss you, I get a wish or something?" And you laughed at the question. You knew him well enough by now to know that he was just looking for any type of excuse to flirt with you. Same as the other blonde besides him. Paul sat on the fountain instead of on the floor, one of his feet pressed firmly on the ground and the other lifted to the fountain. After catching David's eye for a moment, you decided to flirt back.

"I don't know. I've never kissed anyone before so there's only one way to find out." You said with a small shrug, and you giggled when you watched as it barely took him a second to realize that you were inviting him to kiss you. But, as he leaned down, Dwayne took advantage of his lack of balance and pushed him into the now full fountain. He landed partially on top of you, but caught himself before he could crush you. Paul was quick to bounce back, flipping his now half-wet hair, pressing a peck to your cheek, and letting out a stream of curses as he leapt out of the fountain to grab the brunette. You laughed at their rough-housing, but your eyes caught David's once more. Again, his words echoed inside your head.

So, do you plan on staying in Santa Carla?

For now, you supposed that you did. You sent him a shy smile, and he was quick to return it with a grin of his own.

#the lost boys #the lost boys 1987 #the lost boys paul #the lost boys david #the lost boys dwayne #paul the lost boys #the lost boys marko #david the lost boys #dwayne the lost boys #marko the lost boys #the lost boys imagines #the lost boys x reader

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singtheskyandfightlikehell · 4 years

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BatFamily Headcanons: Stuffed Animals

In an attempt to productively combat my recent writer’s block, I’m practicing writing the batfam characters through short character study fics (which I will post once I make enough) and comparative headcanons. I might end up making short fics out of these, as well, since some of them got a bit long anyways

Today I decided to explore how many stuffed animals each member of the batfam (plus an adjacent character or two) has, what they think of them, how they got them, etc. I’ve got eleven characters on this list (and I’m still missing some, sorry)

Bruce:

Bruce put aside stuffed animals when he was eleven, deciding it was time to become serious. However, since acquiring children, he has been gifted a number of stuffed animals, ranging from a small and realistic brown bat to a child-sized bear wearing his cape and cowl. None of the children know this, but he keeps them all in a prominent position in his walk-in closet. Sometimes, when he has a particularly nasty fight with one of his kids, or he discovers something (like an injury) that they were hiding from him, he’ll tell the stuffed animals all the things he struggles to tell his children in the hopes that, one day, he’ll figure out how to express himself when it actually counts.

Alfred:

Alfred has no stuffed animals of his own, but he keeps the old, worn teddy bear that was once Thomas’ and later Bruce’s, alongside the somewhat lopsided bunny that Martha attempted to sew for Bruce when he was two. They sit side by side in a spotless glass cabinet filled with other memories that various members of the family have at one point or another attempted to cast aside.

Dick:

Dick has a pair of stuffed elephants, Eleonore and Zitka, and a teddy bear of his own, all from the circus. Most of the time they sit on the shelf under one of his nightstands, but when he has a particularly bad day, he’ll hold them all tightly until he falls asleep. If he’s crying, he finds it slows the tears to press kisses to the tops of their heads, or just smoosh his whole face into them. Sometimes, if he’s having a particularly good day – especially if no one else is sharing in his good mood – he’ll tell them about whatever made him happy. The rarest occasions are a bittersweet combination of both, the moments when he dwells on his happiest memories of his parents. When this happens, he is more likely to address them than his family, talking to them like old friends who were “there” for the things he’s recalling. It reminds him of the parties he would host as a small child, attended by his stuffed animals and his parents and sometimes other people from the giant family that was Haly’s, and for just that moment he’ll feel suspended somewhere between grief and content.

Barbara:

Barbara had lots of stuffed animals growing up, but as she got older, she gave most of them away. The only one she kept was a little otter that her father gave her for her first birthday. She doesn’t remember this, of course, but they have an old home video of that day which she’s seen a few times, and she know it’s one of her dad’s favorites to watch when he’s feeling nostalgic. She does remember the way she used to drag the otter with her everywhere she went when she was about four, and it’s so worn now that all of its original fluffiness has disappeared. She sets it up near her main computer and uses it in place of a rubber duck.

Jim:

When Babs decided she was too old for her stuffed animals, Jim was instructed to give them away at one of the Gotham children’s toy drives he helps run as commissioner. Only about half of them ever make it out of the house, because he keeps looking at them and remembering little moments that involve each of them. He has two boxes full of them that he swears he’s going to bring to the next drive, but he’s been swearing that for over ten years now.

Jason:

When Jason first arrived at the manor, he swore up and down that stuffed animals were dumb kids toys that he was way too old for. The first time Dick showed up at the manor after Jason was there, he brought a plush dog he’d picked up on the way there, unsure what to get his surprise new brother but not putting an excess of thought into it either. After all, he wasn’t about to ask Bruce what Jason might like. Jason made a show of scorn and tossing the toy in the trash, but when Dick was gone he dug it back out. When he was sleeping, he clutched the dog protectively against his chest like it might be snatched away at any time. When he wasn’t sleeping, he kept it hidden in a box wedged under a floorboard beneath the bed, alongside his other contraband. It was there when he died and it’s still there now. Every time he’s in the manor, he thinks about sneaking into his old room to retrieve it, alongside some of his other old belongings, but he never does. His reasoning alternates between not caring, being too old for toys, not wanting to set foot in his old room, and not wanting to get caught caring after all these years.

He does however have an obnoxiously long bright red snake that Roy won at some sort of archery carnival game while they were supposed to be tracking a suspect. He’d griped at Roy for wasting time with frivolous games, a complaint that was very on brand for their relationship. He’s pretty sure Roy saw through him, though, and understood the real reason he was so antsy to leave the carnival, given his soft apology later that night. He also recently acquired a floppy stingray, a gift from Lian for his latest birthday. She told him that she’d gotten to pet a stingray at the aquarium where she’d bought it, and it reminded her of him. Specifically, she’d said he was, “Kinda dangerous and maybe a little scary, but actually really soft to anyone who’s nice enough”. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that description, but the gift had a place of pride, resting atop an old model of his helmet that Roy had “defaced” with a sweet message that always made Jason smile.

Cass:

Cass grew up without stuffed animals, and was honestly a little confused at first about why she might want one. The first one she ever got was a tiny key-chain cat that was given to her by a little girl she saved. She was unsure what to make of the object itself, but she treasured it as a symbol, proof that she was doing good in the world. It was Steph who convinced her to look for more, to look for stuffed animals in her “style”. Eventually, she got two of the most different ones she could find: an iridescent octopus packed tightly with beans and made of a coarse fabric, and a large fluffy goose that squished like a cloud and was made of the softest fabric imaginable. She likes tossing the octopus lightly in the air to feel the weight of it, and faceplanting into the giant goose. She also has a big bear holding a plush heart that Steph got her for their first Valentine’s.

Tim:

Tim’s relationship with stuffed animals is a bit more complicated. He had five growing up: a dog, a bear, a lion, a rabbit, and a lamb. They had names, stories, personalities, and they were his friends (his only friends, at the time). When he was seven, he woke up one day to find them gone. His mother scolded him for his tears, explaining that he was too old for baby toys, and that his attachment to them would only hinder his path forward. For years, he felt ashamed whenever he thought of his grief towards them, because he knew they were just toys, he knew he was being a baby about it, and yet…

It wasn’t until he was fifteen years old and stumbled across an article about autistic people and the projection of feelings onto objects that he understood why he had been willing to sneak out at night to search through pawn store after pawn store and – once – the landfill in the hopes of seeing his beloved toys again. As a teen in the Wayne household, he knew he could get as many stuffed animals as he liked, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so after what had happened before. He got one giant, floppy moose, barely half a foot shorter than himself, that he clings to like an octopus when he manages to lay down, whether he succeeds in falling asleep or not. Additionally, on a night after Jason made amends with the family, Tim returned to his room to find a fifteen inch plush latte with a cute little face on the mug portion and a sticky note on top that simply read: Sorry for trying to kill you a bunch. My bad :) He keeps it on top of his dresser, and while he doesn’t really hug it, he did discover it was the perfect object for chucking at his siblings’ heads whenever the situation calls for it.

Steph:

Steph loves stuffed animals. While she never got any of the fancy brand name ones, or the luxuriously soft ones, or the hyper-realistic ones, her mom had a tradition of buying her one for every birthday, Christmas, and Easter. She soon had quite a collection, and – like Tim – she gave them all names and personalities. She played out complex scenarios with them and the few dolls she had, designing an intricate world of wild concepts and plots. She also used her stuffed animals to conquer her fears, like thunderstorms and darkness, by pretending they were all more scared than she was, so she had to be brave for all of them. Steph still has her whole collection, as well as quite a few “nicer” (though equally loved) ones that she has acquired from various Waynes. At this point, pretty much everyone in the Wayne family has given her a stuffed animal at some time or other. For a couple of years now, she has taken to posing with her massive collection and making fake family Christmas cards to send out to everyone she knows, where she will update them on the well-being of any plushie they’ve given her.

Duke:

Duke also has a great love of stuffed animals, although he doesn’t match Steph for quantity. He only had a few beloved animals growing up, all of which he’s held onto (a panda, a penguin, a turtle, a frog, a leopard, and a pikachu). Since being fostered by Bruce, Duke has taken to searching out and buying only the rarest stuffed animals he can find: an anteater, a platypus, a manatee, a sloth, and an axolotl have made the cut so far. Bruce knows about this and has taken to keeping an eye out for anything interesting whenever he’s out. After accidentally mentioning it at a gala one time, it has since become his favorite topic, as getting drawn into an intense discussion with Bruce Wayne about where to acquire strange plushies for his son elicits one of two reactions from his guests: delighted awws or hilariously awkward attempts to steer the conversation back to high society definitions of business and pleasure. At Duke’s request, a large shelf was built around the top of his room, so that all of his stuffed animals can sit comfortably and be clearly seen.

Damian:

Damian was much like Jason when he arrived at the manor in more ways than one, but his determination to prove himself above stuffed animals was certainly on that list. He sneered at his siblings’ attempts to treat him like the child he swore he wasn’t. And honestly, even after he began to lower his walls just a little, he still wasn’t particularly fond of stuffed animals. Sure, he privately thought they were cute, and sure he might (might) find himself holding one at night if it happened to have been left in his bed by an annoying sibling, but in general he preferred live animals to fake ones. Real animals had personalities and feelings, fake ones did not, it was as simple as that, no matter what Stephanie claimed. But as time went on, Damian found himself acquiring a small army of stuffed animals against his will. Some of his siblings (Jason, Tim, sometimes Duke) gave them to him because they found it funny to watch him growl about how he was not an infant in need of deceitful comforts. Some of his siblings (Dick, Cass, sometimes Duke… sometimes his father as well) would give them to him because they knew he liked animals so they assumed he’d like imitations of animals as well. Steph would just give them to everybody, every now and then. But regardless of motive, Damian soon found his room overflowing with stuffed animals that were moderately cute but ultimately pointless.

It wasn’t until a patrol a few years after he’d taken on the mantle of Robin that he discovered a solution. Tim had hidden a tiny stuffed bear in the medical supply compartment of his utility belt, a felt bandage wrapped around its little head. He hadn’t been wounded, but the young girl he’d rescued had been bleeding from a wound that looked worryingly dirty. The bear had fallen out of the pouch, right into her lap, and she’d stared at it with wide eyes, surprise halting the flow of her tears. She’d held onto it the whole time he disinfected her arm and bandaged it, and afterwards he had insisted she keep it. For the first time that night, she’d smiled. After that, Damian began taking a few of his many stuffed animals out on patrol with him, ready to hand out to any and all injured, lost, or otherwise traumatized children once he’d rescued them from their troubles. Eventually he began running out of toys he’d been gifted, even though he kept getting new ones, so at some point he begins to regularly sneak out for the sole purpose of acquiring stuffed animals to hand out. He never tells his siblings, but he suspects they’ve found out anyway, when the presents they give him drastically decrease in size.

#batfamily #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne #duke thomas #cassandra cain #stephanie brown #barbara gordon #jim gordon #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth #jayroy #stephcass #my headcanons #i stole elements of the hc for dick tim steph and duke from my own personality lmao #also the only portion of this that draws on canon (to my knowledge) is the stuff about dick #i've seen stuff about him having a stuffed elephant with both of those names so i decided to just give him two #can't go wrong with extra elephants #but yeah i hope there's nothing that like blatantly contradicts any of this stuff #i'm trying to speed read a bunch of comics rn but i keep reading like 50s-80s era primarily #so there's a number of characters i haven't really gotten to yet #also i've discovered i find green arrow comics more entertaining so lowkey i keep reading those instead oops #i have a very convoluted list of what i need to read to hit the major plot points of batfam and arrowfam #but i also lowkey feel like major plot point comics are gonna tell me less about characterization #filler episodes are where its at #but there's no reading order lists that give me 'best filler issues' sorted by character

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itsthewritergal · 4 years

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Beautiful Friendship - F.W x reader

Y/N Huffed into her textbook as the laughs filled the library. The Weasley twins were showing off some of their new products to the younger kids who should be studying, but had now become distracted by the selection of sweets laid out in front of them. She had never been the biggest fan of the twins, it was nothing against them expect their constant targeting of her for their pranks. Last year she had ended up in the hospital wing twice, once with hair that would stay green and the second time with a rather tasty broken ankle from where she had slipped on some of the slime in the hallways. Other than that, they had charmed her books to disappear or her robes to be far to big or far too small.

Pushing the thoughts of the twins out of her head and With a scowl directed towards them she attempted to turn back to her Charms essay, one which she should have finished a few days ago, yet still lay blank in front of her.

Finally getting rather fed up with her lack of being able to concentrate she stood up and made her way over to the loud table

“There are many other places for you two to do that, please can you just leave the library in piece. Some people are stressed with actual study” She snapped, her tone much more harsh than she had meant it to be

“Yeah sorry, let’s go Fred” George said with an apologetic smile. With that Y/N turned around and sat herself back on her table.

------

It was late, Y/N had completely lost track of time, her stomach growled at her. She was so wrapped up with finishing her homework that she ended up working through dinner. Remembering that she had some left over chocolate frogs from her last trip to Hogsmede she quickly made her way to the common room.

Ducking through the portrait hole she could hear the commotion from the Twins before she saw them. They were shouting excitedly to a group of innocent first years about their snackboxes. Y/N did her best to sneak past without being seen, but Fred caught sight of her.

“Hello hello, did you finish your actual study” He smirked, Y/N rolled her eyes in an attempt to get up to her dorm unscathed

“Fred leave it out” George said noticing the way Y/N shoulders slumped sadly

“I want to know what was so important, let’s see it” He continued ignoring his brother, with a flick of his wand , Y/N’s essay was out of her bag and now in his hand

“Give it back Fred” She huffed with a tired look

“Was this it?” He laughed “That’s hardly going to get you a decent grade is it now little Y/N” He teased

“I’m really not in the mood for this, give it back” She snapped leaping forward to grab it off of him

“Ooh someone’s got a grump on” He teased holding it out of her reach, not noticing how her tired mind was now filling her eyes with tears, she just wanted to go to bed.

“Please” She said dropping her arms, knowing she wouldn’t be able to reach it

“Here” George snatched the essay off of his brother with a smack to the back of his head, passing the paper back down to y with yet another small smile.

As Y/N made her way up to the dorms, essay clutched firmly in her hand she could hear Fred moaning at his brother for ruining the fun.

------

Y/N walked with a few of her friends towards breakfast. She had woken up with a rather awful headache, and a growling stomach. Sitting herself down, she began piling her plate with all kinds of food. But as soon as she went to eat them they floated back to their original places. She could hear the snickering of the twins a few seats away

“Not feeling hungry?” One of them laughed. One of her friends passed her a bread roll, which she began eating quickly before it floated away

“You know they’re only harsh on you because you don’t see the fun in it” One of her friends commented

“Yeah it’s really funny taking away someone’s food” She said dryly,

“You know perhaps you’re just a bit up tight sometimes” She said, with a shrug. her other friends looked between them waiting for something to happen.

“Get lost” Y/N snapped, standing up and making her way out of the hall.

As she stood in the corridor, a first year made it’s way up to her.

“Snape asked me to give this to you” He said passing her a note then hurrying off.

Unfolding it careful, she read it with a sigh.

PLEASE COME TO THE POTIONS CLASSROOM BEFORE LUNCH. I HAVE A STUDENT WHICH NEEDS TUTORING.

She shoved the note in her bag, debating whether to lie and say she never got it or to turn up and say she didn’t want to tutor anyone.

------

The morning couldn’t have gone worse. The lack of food from this morning had made her stomach growl the entire way through charms, her headache was progressively getting worse, and now none of her friends were talking to her because she was ‘rude’ at breakfast. All she wanted to do was curl up in a ball and cry. She walked towards the dungeons slowly, half hoping that Snape would forget all about the tutoring.

Knocking on the door, she heard a quiet come in.

As she opened a door instantly she was covered in something green and sticky. The bucket which clearly had been hovering over the door was now lying at the feet of the twins who were laughing hard. Looking down at herself, Y/N felt the tears threatening to fall.

“You’re looking a little green there y” Fred laughed along with George

“You two think you’re so funny don’t you” She snapped, her voice much louder than either of them had anticipated “This isn’t funny, it’s annoying and tedious, and I’m done with being on the receiving end of your pranks. Find someone else”

“Why would we find someone else when your reactions are so great” George laughed

“You just don't think do you. I haven’t eaten since lunch yesterday thanks to you two. I’ve had a pounding headache all day, I failed my charms essay and now I’m covered in whatever the hell this is” She screamed, the tears finally falling. Their laughs stopped almost immediately

“Y/N” Fred said softly making his way over to the shivering girl

“Just stay away from me” She snapped turning on her heel and running back to the dorm rooms to find some spare robes.

“Do you think we went a little to far?” George asked his brother as they watched her run away

“I think so Georgie, I think so” Fred sighed.

-----

YN made her way hurriedly to transfiguration, her hair was still wet. She still hadn’t eaten, but at least she was wearing dry robes. Pushing the door open she hoped to see McGonagall with her back turned so that she could sneak in. Yet there she stood with a pursed lip smile

“Thank you for joining us. Miss Y/L/N, stay after class, please” She said turning herself back to the board.

YN slipped herself into a seat at the back, pulling out her quill and quickly attempting to catch up. When a piece of paper floated into her desk, with messy writing she read

u ok? :) F x

Crumpling it up she ignored it. She didn’t see the frown that fell upon Fred’s face. The guilt was eating him up.

The class was over quickly, YN made her way towards McGonagall with heavy shoulders.

“Professor I’m really sorry about being late, I had an accident in charms and had to go have a shower” She lied, despite disliking the twins she didn’t want to drop them in it

“Don’t let it happen again, I’ll let it slide this time, but next time I will be taking house points and you will be expected to attend a detention” She said, y nodded and made her way out the classroom. Only to be greeted with Fred standing in front of her.

“You got a free period?” He asked

“Yes, and I’m going to have a nap” She said in hopes that he would get the idea that she didn’t want to talk to him

“Walk with me, I’m going down to the lake. Please” He said, “You can have a nap later”

“Fine” she agreed sensing that he wouldn’t leave her alone.

-----

They walked in silence towards the lake. Fred settled himself down next to a tree, patting the spot next to him, Y/N sat a little way away from him with a wary look, she waited for something to fall on her, or for something to happen. Fred moved closer to her and with a flick of his wand produced a picnic blanket and basket filled to the brim with sweet treats which made Y/N’s mouth water.

“What’s going on?” She asked

“I’ve been awful to you. I’m not normally good at sensing when people have had enough, George is better than me at that. But neither of us noticed and I’m sorry” he said pushing the basket towards her “You said you hadn’t eaten, this was all I could take from the kitchens without them noticing. Also I had a word with Flitwick, said you weren’t too well when you did that essay, so you’ve got another week to write another one” He said shyly

“This isn’t another prank?” She asked picking up one of the pastries and studying it closely

“No!” he assured her, “No more pranks”

Taking a small bite she relaxed a little.

“Thanks for all this” She said

“I’m hoping this could be the start to a beautiful friendship” He grinned

“Only if I get to pick who you prank next” She laughed.

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley #fred x reader #fred weasley x y/n #harry potter imagines #fred weasley angst #fred weasley imagines #imagines

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yes-i-write-fanfiction · 3 years

Text

Best Villagers from every species in Animal Crossing

Only my personal opinions here, nothing else. Might even change my mind in the future.

Aligator - I have to pick Gayle as my favorite alligator. While Drago is cool, Gayle just looks so nice and friendly.

Anteater - Pango has such a cool color scheme that I really like. She’s also got a peppy personality which I really enjoy.

Bear - Grizzly was one of my first villagers when I started playing New Horizon. He reminds me of a grandpa! A grumpy grandpa!

Bird - While at first I was kinda unnerved by his white eyes I soon started to really like him! I like his pink beak and feet.

Bull - How can I not love Rodeo? He looks like an edgelord but he’s actually just a lazy villager. I would trust this dude with my LIFE.

Cat - While yes, Raymond is nice, Kabuki is awesome. He just has such a cool and unique look.

Chicken - Ken is kinda cute! He’s got his dark color scheme but then there’s the pink dots on his cheeks that makes it look like he’s blushing!

Cow - While the cows are not the most interesting looking villagers I do like Patty. She’s got this calm and kind look to her.

Cub - Call me basic but I love Stitches. He’s the most unique looking bear and I love the concept of him being a stuffed animal.

Deer - Oh dear, I’m gonna bet a few comments on this one... I pick Bruce. He just looks cool, ok? And I have a weakness for cranky villagers.

Dog - Lucky! My poor, tragic good boy! He’s either an undead or he’s simply covered in bandages because he’s gotten hurt. Either way, he’s unique.

Duck - Ketchup is cute and I like her orange cheeks, they are what really makes her whole look come together for me. It also looks like she’s wearing boots.

Eagle - Avery has these really cool patterns on his feathers and I like his more discrete color scheme.

Elephant - I like Tucker because he’s the most unique amongst the elephants as he is the only mammoth. Plus I like his caveman theme.

Frog - Raddle is hands down one of my favorite villagers. I like how he looks and his doctor theme. Would legit scream if I got him as a villager.

Goat - Billy was one of my two first villagers and he grew on me, ok? He doesn’t look bad and his personality is great.

Gorilla - Had to choose Boone, just had to. He’s very unique looking and just looks great overall. Cool dude.

Hamster - EASY CHOICE. Marlo is so fucking cool and one of my favorite villagers. Another one where I would scream if he joined my island.

Hippo - Rocko looks like the kind of character that would start out as a bully but would later apologize for being mean and become your friend. I love it.

Horse - Papi! He looks so polite! He says ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ when ordering at a restaurant. A good boy, 10/10.

Kangaroo - It’d have to be Kitt. She looks like a tired mom trying her best and she gives me the impression that she’d give the best hugs.

Koala - You know I had to go with my boy Eugene. I mean, look at him! Such a cool dude. I want to have what he has.

Lion - Look at this dude. Such a bastard gremlin man. He looks like he will steal my credit card information and commit fraud. Lionel is so funny.

Monkey - While she does look a little scary at first glance, I actually like Tammi’s design. Looks like she’d give you great advice.

Mouse - While only recently revealed, I really like Petri! I like that she’s got a scientist theme and her different colored ears are a nice touch!

Octopus - Octavian constantly looks like he’s pouting and it’s really charming. I like that he’s really interested in space, it’s such a neat detail to his personality.

Ostrich - Sprocket looks cool! Him being a robot is a cool idea (I like all robot villagers) and his color scheme is pretty neat!

Penguin - Now Tex looks like someone I’d want to be friends with. Seems super chill and nice, the perfect dude just to hang out with.

Pig - Agnes looks really good. I love that she’s wearing pastel colors since it goes so well with her black and white fur.

Rabbit - I was so close to choosing Coco but Ruby has recently stolen my heart. She’s not only cute but I like her personality and interest in the moon.

Rhino - Azalea has a nice color scheme and I like the detail of her horn being the center of the flower pattern on her nose.

Sheep - Normally I am not a fan of clowns but I really like Pietro! He’s a fun character and I would genuinely like to have him as a villager.

Squirrel - There are some really good squirrel villagers but I like Marshall the most. He just looks like someone I’d like to befriend if I were in high school.

Tiger - Bangle was one of the first villagers I encountered in New Horizon and she’s gained a special spot in my heart.

Wolf - BEST FOR LAST BECAUSE MY FAVORITE VILLAGER IS DOBIE! I looked at this dude and instantly knew I’d die for him. He’s my grandpa now. I’d listen to him tell tales of his youth and I would love to go fishing with him or tending to his garden. I want to hug him so bad. Dobie is a king and if he arrived on my island I’d start to cry.

#animal crossing

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redorich · 4 years

Text

Out of This World

Niki watches despairingly as her new roommate, one Mr. Wilbur Soot, once again pours water into his cereal. He seems to prefer it that way; Niki can’t help but wonder, not for the first time, whether her roommate is a literal alien from outer space, or just the weirdest motherfucker she’s ever met.

What kind of a last name is Soot, anyway? She thinks to herself unkindly. At least he doesn’t leave dirty clothes on the floor for her to clean up like her last roommate did. But seriously, Niki can’t tell if this man is a crackhead or not.

“Niki, can you pass the salt?” Wilbur says, breaking her out of her reverie. Without thinking, she plucks it from the lowest shelf of the tiny kitchen cabinet and hands it to him. She regrets it instantly when he begins to salt his cereal.

Breathing deeply so as not to grab him by his bony shoulders and shout, “What the fuck is wrong with you?!”, she flees the scene of the food crime. When Niki was in college, she was surrounded by people who asserted they had the world figured out. Atoms and gravity and wavelengths. But Niki knows that humanity is desperate to control the uncontrollable, define that which cannot be explained. Science, Niki knows, isn’t just throwing out what doesn’t fit, but rather taking all the data and asking the question, “Why?” So, she thinks, let’s consider the data.

-------

Niki sneaks trepidatiously to the door to Wilbur’s bedroom. Who knows what sort of unholy, confusing mess he’s got in there, lurking in wait for its next unsuspecting victim. A pinch of guilt hits her. Yeah, Wilbur may be a lunatic, but an alien? Really? It’s a bit uncharitable of her to think such a thing. Shaking herself, she knocks on the door.

“Yes?” Wilbur’s voice carries from inside the room. “Come in.”

Steeling herself, she turns the doorknob with a sweaty palm and is faced with…

A bed. A desk with a computer on it. Two pairs of shoes lined neatly near the closet. Wilbur is taking off his headphones-- he was playing Minecraft. How… ordinary of him.

“Hi, Wilbur. Sorry to interrupt, I just wanted, uh, to see how you were settling in.”

Wilbur smiles his pretty smile. “Thank you. Quite unaccustomed am I to the comforts of-- apartments.”

What Yoda-ass kind of phrasing is that? Niki thinks. A figurine of the marshmallow man from Ghostbusters stares her down from its place on Wilbur’s desk. She meets its eyes warily.

“Oh! Noticed my Ghostbusters statuette, have you?” Wilbur says brightly. “I have more in my closet, if you should like to see them.”

Niki is filled with a sick sense of curiosity. Yes, she wants to see whatever insane thing Wilbur hides in his closet, but she also doesn’t. She idly wonders if Wilbur has ever read The Cask of Amontillado. She feels like he has. This is not comforting.

Wilbur doesn’t sense her hesitation. A small corner of her brain thinks it’s because he’s unfamiliar with human body language. Without pause, Wilbur opens the closet door, revealing…

Niki’s first thought is, where does he keep his clothes? Because the closet is filled with Ghostbusters paraphernalia. The entire. Fucking. Closet. It wasn’t even that great of a movie?? How much did Wilbur spend on this, anyway?

Her roommate misinterprets her blank uncomprehending stare as a marveling gaze. He puffs up proudly.

“Such a profound impact have these movies made! I am truly fortunate to have met a lass of such upstanding artistic caliber, that you should also enjoy the Ghostbusters franchise.”

“Thank you for showing me this,” she says slowly. “I need to-- water the dog. I mean, I left the stove on. At my friend’s house. Uh, see you later.”

She beats a hasty retreat, leaving her apartment for Eret’s place. Something whispers in the depths of her mind: Doesn’t one of the Ghostbusters movies have aliens in it?

-------

Orange is her favorite nail polish color. Eret paints the nails on her right hand in that soft warm shade of orange as he listens to her complain.

“Am I being irrational? Like, do you think I’m going too far?”

Eret hums noncommittally, putting a little flamingo sticker on her index nail. “He does sound like an unusual person, but I don’t know if I would say he’s an alien.”

Niki nods her head, since she can’t gesture with her hands. “Okay, yeah, sure-- but he puts salt in his cereal with water. He has a literal dragon’s hoard of memorabilia from shitty movies that came out like three decades ago. And his vibe is just...off. Like when I talk to him, he’s there, but his head’s drifting off somewhere in outer space. God, I’m the worst.”

Eret protests. “Hey, hey, you’re not the worst. Look. I don’t know why this dude is bugging you out so much, but you said he didn’t seem dangerous, right?”

Niki nods dejectedly.

“So, we can figure this out together,” Eret says with a flourish, screwing the top back onto the bottle of polish.

The tender moment is interrupted by Niki’s ringtone. It’s from Wilbur; speak of the devil and he shall appear. Gingerly, so as not to ruin the wet paint on her nails, she picks up the phone and puts it on speaker. “Hello?” she says, motioning for Eret to remain quiet.

“Ahoy, Niki! Wherefore are mine frog legs gone?”

“What?” Eret mouths at her. Niki doesn’t understand either.

“Sorry, Wilbur, what was that?”

“My frog legs,” comes the crackly timbre of a phone in an area with poor reception. “They are no longer in the refrigerator.”

Niki sputters. “Why did you have frog legs in the-- no, never mind. I don’t know what happened to your frog legs, Wilbur.”

The phone line repeats static to her for a moment as Wilbur pauses. “Interesting. Perhaps they walked away, as legs are so oft wont to do. Niki, would you mind dearly to purchase some more? And perhaps, be you willing, some condensed milk?”

Eret silently gags at the idea of frog legs and condensed milk together. Niki doesn’t blame him.

“Okay,” Niki says.

Eret shakes his head at her, as though begging her not to torture herself like this. The moment Niki hangs up, the first words out of Eret’s mouth are, “That man is one hundred percent an alien. I am so sorry I ever doubted you.”

-------

With frog legs, condensed milk, and an Eret in tow, Niki enters her apartment the following morning with new-found assurance. The rest of the evening goes about as normal as it can, with Wilbur humming nursery rhymes and stirring a pot of, quite frankly, poison. Niki and Eret hide in the living room watching all the Ghibli movies until the only light left comes from the TV in front of them. The front door opens and the floors creak as Will enters. I thought he was in his room?

Eret seems to be on the same page as her. “I didn’t hear him leave,” he says, distant fear in his eyes.

Niki’s ears pick up a faint sound. “Shh!” she hisses. “He’s on the phone.”

Though the apartment is dark (the only light being the TV), Wilbur’s eyes glow like an animal caught on camera. Niki shivers. She only barely catches a glimpse before he ducks back into the entrance hallway, but what she sees unnerves her.

“Philza, calm down,” Wilbur says from the hallway as he takes off his shoes. “It is fine, she suspects not.”

A pause. The other person on the line, Philza, is talking.

Wilbur replies, “She was impressed with my Ghostbusters collection, you know-- Ghostbusters is a great movie, fuck off!”

Another pause. Wilbur sighs.

“Aye, I must admit you may have been right on that one. Pretending to be human is--”

“I FUCKING KNEW IT!”

Wilbur’s head peers around the hallway’s corner in a panic to see Niki and Eret. Niki is pointing her finger at Wilbur with pride on her face, and Eret looks as though he wants to be doing the same thing.

The two in the living room both flush a bit at the outburst, but Niki doggedly continues. “You’re an alien!”

Even though Wilbur’s phone isn’t on speaker, Niki and Eret hear Philza’s laughter from all the way across the room. Wilbur sputters and angrily hangs up the phone, before turning the corner to properly face the two humans. His eyes are actually glowing, it wasn’t a trick of the light, Eret observes. Of course, he also notes that Wilbur’s eyes are the size of dinner plates, and he looks about ready to jump out the window to run from them.

“I am… not an alien,” Wilbur says softly.

“Wh-- but you just said--” Eret says, then cuts himself off when Wilbur phases through the fucking floor.

“He’s a ghost,” Niki whispers, all the pieces clicking into place. Old English, weird taste in food, Ghostbusters are you kidding me. If Niki didn’t just watch her roommate evaporate, she’d be banging her head against a wall and asking her professors to revoke her degree.

Wilbur phases back up through the floor, much closer this time but still hesitant. He sits down a few feet away from the pair of humans nervously. He’s more afraid of us than we are of him, Niki thinks. Like the bears at the zoo.

“For many years, observed the living have I,” Wilbur begins slowly. “I wished to commune with them once again, as one of their own. My father-- Philza-- said unto me that I knew nothing of the modern era. I confess that he was right. Willst you cast me out of your home, knowing now of the spectre that I am?”

Niki tries and fails to suppress the amused quirk of her eyebrow. “How about this: Eret and I show you the ropes of being alive in the 21st century, and in return, you keep the frog legs on your side of the fridge?”

Wilbur smiles that pretty smile again. “Deal.”

-------

“Niki? What is an OnlyFans?”

FIN

#this was a collab written with barnaclegirl on discord #she doesnt have a tumblr so i cant tell yall to follow her :(#mcyt #nihachu #wilbur soot #eret #philza #ph1lza #me.txt #dream smp

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justanobsessedfangirl · 4 years

Text

Harry Potter Preferences - Marauders Era - How He Asks You Out

Request from Anonymous: Can you do a Maradaurs preference, you can choose the topic just something cute and fluffy

Author’s Note: I wasn’t sure whether to include Peter Pettigrew or not. Obviously, he’s an awful person, but I think it could be interesting to explore his character when he was younger and more innocent. I also debated about adding Severus Snape. In the end, I didn’t add either of them. If someone would like another part including Peter and Severus, I’d be happy to write that! And if you guys have any other opinions and/or requests, I’d love to know!

Masterlist

Sirius Black

An angry bird was pecking your shoulder.

You were in Transfiguration, wand in hand, the clawed goblet in front of you halfway turned into a dove. To your right sat your best friend, her cup even less birdlike than your own, and to your left was a gray goose with a sharp beak.

It pecked you again.

“Would you stop that?” you huffed, shooting the bird a glare. You refused to look at the table of Gryffindor boys across the room, even though you could hear them snickering.

The goose looked up at you. Its beady black eyes matched your intensity. Its orange beak gaped open and it let out a loud honk as its wings spread, beating the air. Honking even louder, it sprung off the desk and flew toward your face.

Just before it bit you, it froze in midair. Professor McGonagall’s stern voice rose in place of the honking. “Mr. Black. Please do a better job of controlling your work.” With a flick of her wand, Professor McGonagall sent the goose whizzing to Sirius Black’s table.

He was surrounded by his friends, smirking. “Sorry Professor. I got distracted.” He looked at you, gray eyes bright with amusement. The goose sat in his lap.

You frowned, even though your heart beat a little faster at getting his attention. Ignoring those feelings, you sniffed and looked away. “You’re supposed to be making a dove, you git,” you muttered, making your friend giggle.

“I hope the rest of you are doing a better job of staying focused. There will be a test next class. I expect all of you to do well.” Papers rustled as the class began packing up. Over the swell of students chatting and laughing and gossiping, Professor McGonagall said, “Your only homework is to study.”

You scoffed internally. Fat chance of that with a trip to Hogsmeade this weekend. Before you let your thoughts drift too much, visions of chocolate frogs and sugar quills and fresh butterbeer already dancing through your mind, you raised your wand, said the spell, and tapped your goblet once more.

Metal morphed into feathers. The long stem split in two, forming short pink feet. Farther up, the cup rounded into a proud chest, the upper portion growing, growing, growing into a small head. In seconds, an adult dove stood in front of you.

Giddy joy brought a smile to your face.

“Wow! Nice work, Y/N!” your friend said.

“Yeah, that was pretty good,” said a different voice.

Slowly, you took your eyes off your dove, which was preening its feathers, and found Sirius Black. He was smiling, but when wasn’t he? He always looked like he was in on a joke you weren’t.

“Maybe you could give me some tips? Say...at the Three Broomsticks tomorrow?”

You had to fight to keep your jaw from dropping. Your heart was beating uncontrollably and your tongue had dried up. Your palms hadn’t, so you discreetly dried them on your skirt while you tried to think of something, anything, to say. As if to prompt you to answer, your friend nudged you on the back.

“I don’t know if that’s the best environment to study,” you heard yourself say.

Idiot! What were you doing? Of course you wanted to go to the Three Broomsticks with him!

But what if this wasn’t real? What if this was another one of his jokes, one of the pranks that he and James and Remus and Peter always pulled?

“I’m sure we can figure it out.” Sirius shifted and you finally realized he was still holding his goose. He set it on your desk. The gray beast (you wouldn’t forget that sharp beak of its for a long time) waddled to your dove. The two birds stared each other down. After a second, the goose took a step forward. The dove allowed it. It moved closer. The dove tensed, tucking its wings in tight, then sat. The goose joined it. Both eyed the other warily.

You looked back at Sirius. “Okay,” you said. “I’ll see you at the Three Broomsticks. Tomorrow.” And I’ll figure out what game you’re playing, you thought.

Sirius smiled. “Perfect.”

Remus Lupin

The Gryffindor common room was quiet at such a late hour. The house-elves had come and gone, silently cleaning around your piles of books and parchment and quills. You yearned for your bed, but instead of calling it a night, you rubbed your bleary eyes and continued working on your partner project alone.

“Lazy Slytherin,” you mumbled. “Knows I can’t afford a bad grade.” You crossed out a line in your essay about how Laverne de Montmorency had invented numerous different love potions in the 1800s - you’d already written about it in the fourth paragraph, using slightly different wording. You reread the fourth paragraph, decided you didn’t like the sentence there either, and promptly crossed it out. In a margin in the second paragraph, you added the detail back in, creating the third iteration of the same fact and the same words in a mostly new order. “Thinks he’s too good to work on a project,” you continued grumbling.

With a heavy sigh, you dropped your quill and leaned back in your chair. Maybe I could just...your eyes fluttered closed. Moments later, they shot back open as a weight was draped across you.

“What-”

“Sorry!”

You looked down at the blanket that now covered your legs, then up at Remus Lupin, who stood over you with red cheeks and upraised hands.

He continued, “I didn’t mean to wake you. I thought you might want a blanket.”

It took you a second to remember how to form words. It felt like you’d left all of them on the parchment, and now that you were face to face with Remus, who hopefully hadn’t just seen you drooling, you were struck mute. “Thanks,” you managed to say.

Remus rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Um, are you working on the Potions project?” He shook his head. “That was a stupid question, of course you are.” He gestured to the table, where your Potions textbook was wide open to the section on Amortentia. “How has your partnership been going?”

You shook your head. “Awful.” With that reminder, you picked up your quill, dipped it in ink, and scrawled another sentence about the most powerful love potion in the world.

Remus eased into the seat next to you. He smelled familiar, like warmth and the woods and the Amortentia Professor Slughorn had shown the class yesterday. You squeezed your quill tighter to try to get rid of that memory and make your blush go away, but you didn’t think it was working.

“Maybe...I mean, if your partner isn’t helping...I would be happy to...We could work together in the library tomorrow?”

Your quill stopped mid-stroke. If your blush had faded at all, it was back now with a vengeance. You glanced up and saw Remus staring intently at the table, his ears tinged pink.

“Yes!” you blurted. His head shot up, a smile growing on his lips. You cleared your throat and said, more calmly, “Yes, that would be very helpful. And kind. Thank you, Remus.”

“I’m happy to help, Y/N.”

Your heart fluttered as he smiled sweetly at you.

Neither of you spoke for a second until you heard a crash from behind you. You spun around. Tumbling down the stairs to the boys’ dormitory were James and Sirius. Peter Pettigrew followed behind on foot, wearing a sheepish look. Next to you, Remus groaned and covered his face.

“Well,” said Sirius, struggling to untangle himself from James. “Did you finally ask her out?”

James Potter

The rain was coming down hard, making it difficult to see even your teammates, much less the glimmering gold of the Snitch. You wrapped your hands tighter around your broom and squinted. From this height, you could see the entire Quidditch pitch. In the stands were swaths of blue and bronze, your fellow Ravenclaws out in the bitter cold to support you. The other half of the bleachers were filled with people clad in scarlet and gold.

You scanned the air for the Gryffindor seeker, James Potter. Through fog and rain and hail you managed to catch a glimpse of him circling the Ravenclaw goal posts. Then, in a split second, he took off, barreling toward the far side of the pitch.

Without a second thought, you pointed your broom nearly straight down and zoomed after him. As you shot through the rain, the cheering grew louder and louder. You couldn’t make out any words. You didn’t care to, anyways. What you wanted was to get that Snitch before James Potter.

Losing would sting. But losing to him? That would kill.

You leaned forward, hoping to make your broom speed up. The wood vibrated under your hands. You felt the magic coursing through it. You gritted your teeth and pushed it faster.

James wove between the stands, swooping low and making Ravenclaws duck. He didn’t seem to be following anything, and for a moment you worried that you should have stayed up higher, surveying.

But then you saw a flash of gold. The Snitch hovered mere feet off the ground at the center of the pitch. You darted for it. James pulled up from a dive and went after it too, coming at it from the other side.

He was closer. You were faster. The Snitch flitted to the side. You adjusted with ease. It climbed; you climbed; James climbed. It dropped; you dropped; James dropped. It was running out of space to maneuver as the two of you closed in.

You gritted your teeth, wind whipping at your hair. The rain meant nothing, even as small drops pricked at your face like needles.

You would win. You were going to win. You were almost close enough to stretch out your hand. James was close too. He reached out a hand, you reached out a hand, one of you had to fly up or to the side to save you from a collision, but it wasn’t going to be you because you felt the flutter of wings brush against your fingers. The Snitch was there, golden and beautiful, and behind it was James, his hazel eyes focused and determined. You felt cold metal under your fingertips, you felt the Snitch, you felt James’s hand, you felt your bodies crash into each other, you felt the ground underneath you, and then you were rolling and tumbling along the pitch, limbs twisted with James’s.

The two of you came to a stop in the wet grass. One of his legs was across your stomach, and your left arm was flung over his chest. Your ribs pierced your sides with every inhale. Your head pounded. Your face felt warm with blood until the rain set to washing it away.

James groaned. You were so close that it was audible over the fans screaming and a professor yelling orders.

“Could you move your arm?” he asked through gritted teeth.

You tried and piercing pain raced from shoulder to fingertips. Biting back a squeal, you said, “Uh, no, I don’t think I can.”

“At least close your hand so I don’t have to see it,” he grumbled.

Your fingers twitched. You felt metal slick with rain. Delicate wings fluttered against your palm. You were holding the Golden Snitch. Ravenclaw had won.

Despite the pain, you grinned. You even let out a quiet cheer.

Beside you, James groaned again, this time out of annoyance. “Just wait until the rematch.”

“I’ll gladly beat you again, Potter.”

Other voices grew louder as professors made their way across the pitch.

“I guess we’ll be seeing a lot of each other in the hospital wing,” James said.

Your nose throbbed. Stars danced across your vision, falling with the rain. “Probably.”

“So it’s a date, then?”

A surprised laugh left your lips. “What?”

“I’ll pick you up in around, oh, 20 minutes or so? We can share a treacle tart after Madam Pomfrey fixes your nose.”

Professor McGonagall arrived, wand in hand, and you felt your body start to float, coming to a hover a couple of feet off the ground. Turning your head to look down at James was painful, but seeing the earnest, hopeful look in his eyes was worth it. He had the hint of a devilish grin on his face.

“Ok,” you said. “But next time you ask me out, don’t feel like you have to crash into me.”

His smile grew. “Sorry, I just couldn’t help falling for you.”

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yepiamthesmileyface · 4 years

Text

Just Friends(?)

[Image description: screenshot of an ask sent by @nemesis-is-my-middle-name reading “38 - Everyone thinks we’re already dating, but we’re just best friends- oh wait? (if ur taking prompts idk)” end image description]

Read it on AO3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28347906

Going to a Denny’s after a case was always a gamble. On one hand, there was hot, cheap junk food at whatever ungodly time they wrapped up their investigation; but on the other, sometimes the Denny’s had specimens like this. Vivi sighed, shoving a huge bite of her pancakes in her mouth and trying to tune out the ravings of the old white man who had stormed up to their booth — at three in the morning, mind you — and started screeching about how you should be ashamed of yourselves, displaying such perversions in public!! and three people living in sin!!

Normally, Vivi would have at least been making snarky comments, if not actually challenging him to a fight for insulting her and her boys like that, but...she was tucked comfortably under Lewis’s arm, the hand that wasn’t holding her fork reached across and resting on Arthur’s thigh. Also, it was literally three in the morning, she was covered in mud and slime from chasing a giant frog-creature around in a nearby river, and she had been awake for twenty-one consecutive hours. She took another bite. The pancakes tasted extra good for the exhaustion and ache sunk into her bones, strawberry topping and whipped cream and thick fluffy pancakes and maple syrup...it was almost enough to get her to forget about the man shrieking at them. She glanced back over at him, idly noting that his face was turning an interesting shade of puce.

The waiter walked back over with the same jaded, unfazed look he wore when the three of them had staggered into the Denny’s, soaked to the bone and absolutely covered in muck. He folded his arms and stared at the old man. “Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. You’re disturbing the other guests.” The old man turned to look at the waiter, puffing up not unlike the giant frog the Mystery Skulls had captured and returned to its actual habitat not half an hour ago, and rapidly deflating as he took in the completely impassive, almost dead-eyed stare of the late-night Denny’s waiter. He hurried out of the building, spitting one last insult about how they were all going to hell for living in sin. Given that he had used that particular phrase about nineteen times, it had kind of lost its fire, as far as Vivi was concerned.

Vivi felt some of the tension drain out of Lewis, and she turned her head, looking over at her boys. Lewis looked relieved and tired, catching her eye and smiling at her, soft and warm and completely unguarded. There was a streak of mud high on his cheek, almost matting in his no-longer-pristine hair. She smiled back, the expression billowing up like a balloon on a current of love, and reached up to wipe the smear away. Lewis leaned into her touch, and she cupped his cheek for a moment before wiping her hand on her skirt and leaning forward a little to peer around Lewis’s chest in order to check on Arthur. In contrast, Arthur looked like a live wire of tension, like he would either shatter or vault over the table and sprint away if anything else happened. Her smile dropped.

The waiter turned to them, ready with a scripted apology that actually carried a note of sincerity that Lewis quickly waved off. As he took care of talking to the waiter, Vivi leaned across him, patting Arthur’s leg quickly to get his attention.

Arthur jumped, nearly hitting his knees on the table. Vivi felt a little guilty, but quickly pushed through. “Hey. It’s alright. He’s gone.”

Arthur met her gaze, eyes wide and grin forced. His hair hung limp around his face, framing him beautifully in dark gold. “Y-yeah. Plus — plu-plus, h-he — was, wasn’t even may-making any, any, any se-sen-se.”

She bit her lip. If his stutter was coming out that strong, he was either much more anxious or much more tired than she thought. Probably a combination of both. Pulling up a warm, playful grin from the depths of her chilled bones, she said, “Yeah. I mean, his argument was both really painfully dumb and also really Christian-centric! I mean, hello, not everyone is Christian, I’m definitely not, so, like…”

Arthur continued on like he hadn’t even heard her, leg starting to bounce under the hand she just realized she never moved. “I me-mean, I mean, he — h-he — we, we’re — I mean, we’re jus-just, just friends. Wh— I do-don’t kno— I dunno why h-he tho-thougth we we-were —”

Vivi felt Lewis freeze under her, and she wasn’t far behind. She felt breathless, like she had been punched in the gut, like he had slapped her in the face instead of saying those three little words bouncing around her head. We’re just friends?! “Wait. Wait, what?!” The words came out closer to a whine than she would have liked them to, but she was too stunned to really care.

At the same time, Lewis gasped like he had been shot. “You’re — are you breaking up with us?!” He sounded like he was two seconds away from bursting into loud sobs in the middle of this Denny’s.

Arthur’s mouth dropped open, and he stared at them with eyes the size of dinner plates. A stunned silence fell over their booth, broken only by the wavering sound of Lewis’s breathing.

Before any more drama could happen, Vivi held up her hand, forcing the words out past the cold spot that had taken up residence between her lungs. “No. Nuh-uh. Arthur, one word answer, and we’ll talk about this all when it’s tomorrow. Are you breaking up with us?”

Arthur opened and closed his mouth a few times before volunteering a tentative, “N-no…?”

Her shoulders slumped as she let out an explosive sigh. “Alright. Let’s — tomorrow? Tomorrow, when we’re not all so tired, we’re gonna talk about this, yes?”

Arthur nodded slowly, still boggling at them for some reason. Vivi was too tired to puzzle his behavior over properly, so she just glanced up at Lewis, who also nodded, unwinding his arm from around her to wipe at his face.

The rest of the night seemed to pass in snapshots to Vivi’s tired mind. Their dinner being boxed up. Walking back to the motel, just across the parking lot. Patting Mystery on the head and telling him he’s a good boy yes he is. Collapsing face first into the delicious crisp coolness of the starched motel bed. Lewis’s deep, tired chuckle as he took her glasses off her face. The weight of another body next to hers, but not the two she had become accustomed to after countless nights on the futon in the van.

The next morning, she woke up slowly to the smell of coffee, and made to roll over so she could sit up. Instead, the world plummeted around her as she rolled right off the bed with a sharp, panicked yelp, caught in a devious trap of tangled blankets and sheets. A soft, almost stifled snort came from her left, and a pair of hands reached into the gordian knot of fabric, deftly untangling her. She squinted up at the blur of color and fuzz, the pale yellow-orange blur instantly recognizable as Arthur.

Vivi huffed, knowing full well he was smirking at her, the bastard. “Oh, like you’ve never rolled off the bed before.” She flailed her hand towards the bedside table, groping around blindly and not finding her quarry. “Where the hell’re —” A yawn interrupted her, wide enough to make her jaw crack.

The Arthur-blur disappeared for a second, and when he came back, he slipped her glasses into her hands, his hands nice and warm where they made contact with hers. “Lew had ‘em over on his side of the bed for some reason.”

She slipped her glasses on, and the world came into rose-tinted focus. “Thanks, Artie.” She looked around the motel room, noting a distinct lack of giant purple-headed fops and talking dogs, and frowned. “Speaking of, where is he?”

“He’s grabbing all our meds from the van, I think. At least, I’m hoping he’s grabbing all of ours, he just said he’d get the meds, but I didn’t —” Arthur cut himself off with a swig from his travel mug. “Oh, and Mystery took himself out for a walk a couple’a minutes ago.”

Vivi laughed. “He’s probably definitely grabbing all of our meds. Did he make coffee, or did you?”

“It’s from the breakfast buffet, actually. Burnt, but not horrible. Better than that place in Staccatto, anyway,” Arthur shrugged, walking over to sprawl on the couch. “I grabbed you a cup, too, don’t worry.”

“The mud we were wading around in yesterday woulda been better coffee than that place in Staccatto,” Vivi grumbled, picking herself up and making a beeline for the coffee. “I’m pretty sure it was dirt. At least fifty percent dirt.” Leaning against the wall as she drank, she picked at the feeling that she was forgetting something. Something important, not just the fact that she forgot to shower last night and as such was still covered in itchy, flaky mud and sweat and her socks were sagging down without fresh sock glue — she shook her head to clear it. She was forgetting something important, something that had happened the night before. The case had gone well, they were paid half upfront and they would get the other half later that day, Lewis was getting their meds, breakfast was either the buffet or leftovers...leftovers. Wait. Her eyes widened as the whole Denny’s escapade came back to her in a flash. The bigoted old man who had practically burst a vein yelling at them, Arthur’s comment about them being just friends — but he wasn’t breaking up with them, apparently???

Downing the rest of the coffee in one gulp, she glanced towards the door, then back to Arthur. She should wait, Vivi told herself sternly. She should wait for Lewis, because Lewis was an important part of their relationship, and he should not be left out of serious relationship discussions.

Luckily, she was saved from the antsy feeling creeping around under her shoulder blades by the sound of the door opening. Lewis ducked in, a tote bag bearing the logo of a kitschy tourist trap in his hand. He beamed as he noticed her, walking up and giving her a good morning kiss.

Vivi laughed, putting a hand on his chest and pushing him away lightly. “Lew, I haven’t even brushed my teeth yet! No morning breath kisses, we all agreed those were the worst.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Arthur start, but Lewis just laughed, walking over to the table and setting the bag down on it. He started to unpack, first his own rainbow pill caddy, then Vivi’s cylindrical one, and finally Arthur’s loose assortment of orange bottles. “Fine, fine. Meds, everybody, come and get it.”

Once they had all taken their various medications, and Arthur had been chided into using his coffee to take his meds instead of taking them dry, Vivi took a deep breath. “Okay. Boys, I think we need to have a serious conversation now.” Arthur stiffened, and his eyes darted towards the windows. Vivi immediately strode forward, sitting down on the couch next to him. “I will sit on you if I have to, Artie,” she warned him, only half joking.

Arthur sighed and slumped against the couch, covering his face with his hands. His ears were cherry-red, and Vivi couldn’t help but find it cute.

Despite the cuteness, she shared a worried glance with Lewis as he settled down on the bed across from the couch. Lewis shook his head, a worried frown pulling at his face. She took another deep, grounding breath, setting her shoulders and sitting up straight before she looked at Arthur. “Okay. Arthur. What was that last night? You — you said we were just friends,” and those words still stung like a winter wind, “But then you say you’re not breaking up with us?”

It came out a touch more accusatory than she wanted it to, and Lewis took over with a gentle, “We’re not mad, Arthur. Not disappointed, either, but — if you don’t want us to even say we’re dating when we’re in public, I wish you’d told us earlier. It’s okay if you don’t! It really is, I get it, but…”

Arthur went impossibly redder, and curled in on himself, drawing his knees up towards his chest. “I dndwrdn…” he whined, muffled by his hands.

“I didn’t catch that, sorry,” Vivi said, wrapping her hands lightly around his wrists and tugging gently, trying to get him to lower them.

Arthur took a deep breath, dropped his hands, and half yelled, “I didn’t know we were dating!!!” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, his hands shot back up so fast he practically slapped himself in the face.

Vivi sat back, stunned. He...didn’t know? How could he possibly not know?!

“I — I, I, you — you never asked!” Arthur yelped.

Oh, she had said that out loud. “What do you — Arthur, we asked you out two months ago!”

Lewis raised his hands in a T, using the same tone he used on his sisters when they were getting too rowdy. “Okay, you two, time out!”

They both fell silent, turning to face Lewis.

Lewis tilted his head, looking at their boyfriend. Who...apparently didn’t know that he was their boyfriend. “Arthur...do you really not remember? We asked you out when we were back home, almost two months ago.”

“Okay, yes, it was a month, four weeks, and five days, not two months, but I don’t think semantic arguments are gonna be a big help here, babe,” Vivi grumbled.

Arthur shook his head wordlessly, still hiding his cherry-red face.

A month, four weeks, five days, and a handful of hours ago…

“It honestly feels so weird not living out of the van, doesn’t it?” Vivi mused, taking a bite of pizza.

“It really does. I’d completely forgotten what it was like to be woken up in the morning by forty pounds of overenthusiastic child launched directly at my sternum,” Lewis laughed, rubbing at his chest.

“Lew, we’ve only been road tripping for three months. That’s a bit quick, big guy,” Arthur snickered, pausing to shove half a slice of his weird oyster pizza in his mouth.

“It was so nice, though! The most I had to deal with while living with y’all is your pointy elbows!” Lewis leaned over and mussed Arthur’s hair. A laugh bubbled out of Arthur as he batted at Lewis’s hand futilely, trying to save his cone of hair gel. Laughing, Lewis subsided, pulling back. “But, yeah, I woke up this morning with a Cayenne-shaped bruise right on my sternum.”

Vivi winced sympathetically, shaking her head. “Ouch. Did she mean to?”

“Nah. Just excited.” Lewis’s smile turned fond. “They missed me. Demanded souvenirs and made me sit down and be their personal giant teddy bear as they watched Moana for the eighth time. Then Paprika gave me about twenty bead bracelets. When y’all come to the Paradiso, she’s got your piles waiting.”

“She’s still doing bead bracelets?” Vivi asked, a note of excitement in her voice. The last time they had all gotten bead bracelets from Paprika, it was right after the Peppers had explained what transgender meant, and the three of them had all gotten a bead bracelet with the word transgender wildly misspelled, the pink, white, and blue of the flag slapped randomly on there. It was the best piece of jewelry she owned — hers said “trasgenner”, Arthur’s said “trainsgandr”, and Lewis’s said “trasgeneer”. Paprika had been very determined to do it on her own, and had just gone with her best guess on each one.

“Yep! She’s got one for both of you that has your favorite animal as a charm,” Lewis revealed, grinning.

“Perfect!” Vivi did a very restrained fist pump.

Arthur hummed, staring at the pizza boxes on the table. It was almost a full twenty seconds before he grabbed another slice. “That actually sounds really nice. Both the, the bracelets and the personal teddy bear Moana thing.”

“Honestly, it wasn’t bad at all.”

Silence descended on their table, comfortable and companionable. Vivi shut her pizza box, setting her elbows on the table and propping her head on her hands, studying the two in front of her. Butterflies were building in her stomach — they were just both so beautiful, the warm noonday sunlight making both her boys glow in different ways. Arthur looked like he was wreathed in gold, his hair and eyes shining the same color as the sunlight. On the other hand, the warm light brought out the full richness of Lewis’s skin tone and made his hair gleam like the satin of his ascot, as well as glinting off his sparkly magenta nail polish. She made eye contact with Lewis, jerking her chin towards Arthur and wiggling her eyebrows.

Lewis blushed, glancing at Arthur nervously. Arthur, completely oblivious, simply leaned back in his chair, eyes drifting closed. He didn’t look tired, or, at least, not drop dead exhausted, just relaxed, happy, and full, so Vivi took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders.

“So, Artie...there’s something we’ve been meaning to ask you.”

Arthur opened his eyes, meeting her gaze curiously. There was no undercurrent of nervousness in his eyes, and Vivi was warmed to the core by his trust in them — she had asked an extremely open-ended question. “Huh? What’s up?”

Lewis cleared his throat. “We want to ask you if...Arthur, would you like to go out with us?”

“I thought that’s what we’re already doing right now…?” Arthur looked adorably confused, brow furrowed as he looked between them.

Vivi shook her head. “No, like, as a date. Will you go on a date with us, and-or be our boyfriend?”

Arthur sat very still for a long moment (she wasn’t even sure he was breathing) before a grin unfolded across his face, as resplendent as the sun itself. “Yeah. I’d — I’d really love that. I — yeah. Yeah, I’ll go out with you and be your boyfriend.”

“Oh, perfect!” Vivi squealed, barely restraining herself from launching across the table and kissing him until he was more lipstick-mark than man. “When works best for you? Should we go somewhere in town, or wait til we’re on the road again? There’s this sushi place in Tremolo that I’ve just been dying to try, we should go there, if we’re waiting til we’re on the road again. Or just in general, it seems really good and I haven’t had good sushi in ages.”

Arthur tilted his head, clearly considering her words. His smile took on a wistful edge. “...y’know...I don’t really need all the fancy date stuff. Just...I’m happy to do what we’ve been doing, just...together. Having you guys be — being with you guys, romantically — that...that would be enough for me,” he said softly.

Lewis grinned over at him, soft and sappy, and opened his mouth. Before he could say anything, his phone rang in his pocket, and he pulled it out, grimacing a little as he checked the caller ID. “It’s Papá. Hold on, I gotta take this.” He stood up, stepping a bit away. Not a minute later, he stepped back, regretful smile firmly in place. “...sorry, guys. I’m needed back at the Paradiso for free childcare,” he joked.

“Aww…” Vivi was really only half disappointed. They had pretty much finished up lunch, only a few slices left between the three of them (none of them hers), and she had a shift at the Tome Tomb coming up soon, anyway. And, more importantly, they had asked Arthur out and he said yes! Their couple was now officially a polycule!

Arthur rubbed the back of his neck. “I can — give you a ride. I gotta get back to Uncle Lance’s place anyway, I’m...” he trailed off, and Vivi waited maybe ten seconds for him to finish his sentence before accepting that he had lost his train of thought.

“Well, then...the Tome Tomb ain’t far, I can walk. I guess this is the end of our first date,” Vivi sighed. She stood up, standing on her tiptoes and pulling Lewis down for a chaste kiss before walking over and pressing a kiss to Arthur’s stubble-roughened cheek — familiar territory that should have been safe enough, she did that in the post-case exhilaration at least half the time.

Arthur blushed bright red anyway, and she left with a bright laugh, walking on clouds with the universe held in her hands.

A month, four weeks, five days, and a handful of hours after that…

Arthur groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Really?! I — guys, I had been awake for, like, two solid days at that point!”

“So you — you don’t remember us asking you out at all?” Lewis asked, shocked.

“No! Or — well — ki-kinda? I — kinda thought I was dreaming…” Arthur trailed off into muttering, fidgeting with his bracelets and not making eye contact.

Vivi paused for a moment, eyebrows creeping up. “Wow. Way to inflate our egos, there, Artie,” she joked.

“Wh— how am I inflating your ego?!” Arthur jerked his head up to look at her.

“We asked you out and you literally thought you were dreaming. We’re literally your dream partners!” She cackled.

Instead of laughing, Arthur rubbed the back of his neck, looking down, his words spilling out in a jumble. “Um. Y-yeah, actually...I — didn’t think it was — I, I mean, I’d, um I’d had dreams...like that...before. And...uh. Since then if I’m being honest.”

Vivi felt a blush rising in her cheeks, and she covered her mouth.

“That’s...that’s incredibly sweet, Artie…” Lewis managed, blushing harder than she was.

Vivi cleared her throat. “Sap,” she managed, shaking her head fondly.

Arthur took a deep, shaky breath. “So, um. Can...can we start over? On dating? I do — I really, really do want to date you guys, for real, I just...didn’t...know?”

“Of course!” Vivi and Lewis exclaimed in accidental unison.

“And this time you’ve definitely slept enough to be lucid,” Lewis added on lightheartedly. “You were snoring before I fell asleep.”

“Well…” Arthur smiled, lopsided. “I’m pretty sure I am, anyway. Lucid, that is — and how could you hear me snoring over Vivi’s, anyway? But, uh —”

“— Hey!” Vivi interrupted. “I don’t snore that loud!”

“You sound like a train, Vivs,” Arthur teased, before clearing his throat. “But, uh. Anyway. Wanna...wanna pinch me so I’m sure I’m not dreaming this time?”

Vivi smirked at him. “I’ll do you one better, actually.”

Before he could respond, Vivi leaned over, pressing a kiss to his lips. It took him a moment to react, startled, but he hesitantly started to kiss back after a second or two. There weren’t any fireworks, at least for her; if anything, it felt like being electrocuted, but in a good way, sparks shooting through her whole body, curling her toes and making her fingertips tingle. Arthur’s hand came up to grip at her sweater. Vivi kept the kiss chaste, and pulled back after a moment, glancing at Lewis.

Lewis pouted at her, a smile tugging at his lips and his voice. “Aww, I wanted to kiss him first, you got to do it at the restaurant.”

Arthur licked his lips, breath coming out a little funny, and swallowed hard before he got up and stepped towards Lewis, grinning crookedly. “W-well...consolation prize?”

Lewis let out a bark of laughter, startling Arthur into jumping a little, and pulled Arthur close with a gentle hand. “I can live with that,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss him.

Vivi settled back, watching her boys kiss from the lumpy motel couch. It felt like coming home, like kicking off her shoes and shedding her stress as easily as taking off her scarf. She ran her tongue over her teeth absentmindedly, and grimaced. “Whoops. Sorry, Artie, didn’t mean for our first kiss to be a morning breath kiss.”

Arthur broke away from the kiss he was sharing with Lewis to blink at her, swaying a little bit. “...huh?” he managed, brain visibly rebooting. “Oh! Uh. It’s okay, I don’t think I...noticed?”

“Still, it’s the principle of the matter,” Vivi wrinkled her nose, standing up. “I’ll be right back, you two keep doing what you’re doing.” She tossed in a wink for good measure, and made her way to the bathroom with the accompaniment of Arthur’s flustered squeak and Lewis’s deep, rich laughter.

#msa #mystery skulls #mystery skulls animated #lewvithur #vivi msa #vivi yukino #lewis msa #lewis pepper #arthur msa #arthur kingsmen #they're stupid your honor #aaaa sorry it's been like 8 kajillion years since you requested this #people talk to me #my writing #nemesis-is-my-middle-name

43 notes · View notes

dirt-cup-draco · 4 years

Text

George x Reader- Don’t Judge a Book

Heyy hope you're doing well 💕 Could u pleease (if you're not too overloaded) do one with George were his family doesn't approve his relationship with the reader but at the battle she saves Fred. Very angst and the end is up to you. Your writing is incredible, be safe

George pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a long and steadying breath as you stood before him. Your hands were planted firmly on your hips and you were shaking your head in frustration.

“I can’t George, you know that,” You refused his proposal, knowing it would only end terribly. You would be made a fool of and you had a hard enough biting your tongue as was. If you couldn’t escape, who knows what you might say.

“It’s the safest option here love,” George pleaded with you, legs spread and head thrown back as the conversation tired him out. He had just closed up shop for the night with Fred and now he was upstairs, trying to talk sense into you. “Mum said it was perfectly fine if you came and stayed with us,”

“Molly is lovely but I cannot be under the same roof as your brothers and sister.”

“Fred-”

“You know he doesn’t count when I generalize,” You sighed, wishing George would see things from your perspective. “The rest of them hate me, I’m just a no good slytherin to them and they will never be able to see past that. Especially right now, I’m going to be put under a microscope that has a broken lens.”

“They don’t hate you...” George weakly argued but you could see the gears turning in his head as he ran his fingers through his hair- pulling at the roots as if it would somehow make this conversation go away. “Things might be a bit touch and go but they don’t hate you, they could never hate someone I love,”

“Your mom could never hate someone you love but that means nothing for the rest of them. To the public all slytherins are death eaters, Voldemort’s army consists of only slytherins in their eyes. I might as well have a stamp on my forehead that says ‘Hi! I want to enslave muggles and kill the kids I grew up with!’. It doesn’t matter who I am or what I stand for, your siblings think I’m trouble,”

George stood abruptly, needing to be close to you. Wrapping his arms around you, you melted in his embrace. He kissed the top of your head and you nuzzled closer against his chest. “I just want you to be safe, and I think home is a good place to be safe,”

“I won’t stop you from going Georgie, but I think it’s better if I don’t stay at the burrow,” You decided for yourself. You wouldn’t be able to keep your sanity if you had to handle Percy asking you questions about your family, who they were and what they believed in. You’d go just as crazy if you had to feel Ginny and Ron’s eyes burrowing into your head as if they could kill you with a look.

“I won’t go either,” George tried steeling his voice but you could hear the hesitancy. “I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you,”

Voldemort and his army surrounded Hogwarts as they all tried to bring down the protective shield that had fallen around the school. You jumped when a particularly powerful spell ricocheted off the invisible barrier. George’s arm tightened around you and you squeezed him in response.

I’m scared. You tried to convey as you looked to him with wide and wondering eyes. You had to memorize every freckle, every wrinkle. You had to memorize the color of his eyes and the way his hair went every which way. In case something happened, you wanted to die remembering every feature of George Weasley, you wanted to die remembering how he made you feel.

Me too. His sad expression spoke back to you and he kissed your forehead, lingering there. In case anything happened he needed you to know that he loved you and would love you forever until the end of time. Even death couldn’t put an end to his feelings for you.

“See you both on the other side,” Fred spoke, subdued yet intense.

I hope.

Your eyes burned with exhaustion and the constant threat of tears as you looked at the people you had known and loved falling down around you. The carnage and destruction seemed endless as you wildly searched for George. You had been planning to stay close but it was hard to stick to a plan during a time of war and you had inevitably been separated. You had to stay strong and find him.

You caught a flash of red hair in the distance and you picked up your pace, jumping over debris and dodging spells. You nearly fell when a spell was sent your way and you had to stop in your tracks and duck behind a large piece of wall that had been blown free from the castle.

Poking your head out from the stone shield you had found cover behind you were relieved to see that the Weasley was still in place. You couldn’t quite see who it was yet but any of them would bring you comfort at this point. You’d even let Ron pick a fight with you so long as it made you feel normal.

Once the coast was clear you were back to running through the grounds that had once been so peaceful. The closer you got, the more you assumed it was George that stood back against the wall, wand at the ready. Yet you realized a moment later that it was Fred. The part of his hair was different, they set of his jaw and the way he held his wand. You felt relief at the sight of your boyfriend’s twin but it quickly vanished from your system and you were choked out by dread.

“Fred!” You hollered, your legs carrying you faster than they ever had before.

Ginny was some odd yards away and she watched with suspicion as you chased after her brother. “Fred! Watch out!” She called, wand at the ready as she took aim towards you. The light burst from the tip of her wand but the spell was unsuccessful as you jumped, propelling yourself forward to avoid the spell and reach Fred in time.

The man whipped his head around at the chorus of his name, a question on his lips as you collided with him, sending you both sprawling across the pavement as you wrapped your arms around Fred, the momentum sending him on top of you. An explosion burst above the both of you, pebbles and rocks raining down on you as you rolled away from the majority of the wall that had broken apart.

The back of your skull came in contact with the cobble and you had to blink away the shadows that were rushing into your vision. Fred’s weight was uncomfortable on top of you and you groaned, shoving at him weakly.

“God Freddie, lay off the chocolate frogs,” You jested at the same time he uttered, “You’re bleeding,”

Fred helped you into a sitting position, his fingers searching the back of your head, coming away wet with the crimson liquid. You felt maybe a little dizzy, somewhat nauseous but fine otherwise. It was the sight of blood however, the knowledge that it was yours, that sent your eyes rolling into the back of your head as you slumped into Fred’s waiting arms.

The battle had ended and George was rushing around like a chicken with their head cut off. He hadn’t seen you or any of his family members in some time and panic had a vise grip on his heart. Ginny and his mother were the first he saw, waiting at the entrance to the school with dazed expressions. It was difficult to process what they had just been through, what they had achieved and what they had lost.

Ginny looked at George with guilt swirling in her stomach even if he didn’t recognize it. She feared how he would feel about her if he were to learn she had nearly cost Fred and Y/N their lives because of a prejudice that ran deeper than she had believed. If her spell had hit Y/N, they would both be crushed underneath a slab of wall right now. He couldn’t know.

George looked them over quickly as he approached and deemed them fine. “Where is she?” Was the first question falling from his lips and Ginny couldn’t seem to get the words out. Molly however was thinking quickly, unaware of her daughter’s thoughts.

“Your brother- Freddie knows where she is love, they were together,”

George nodded, kissing her temple and pulling Ginny into a quick hug before he followed his mother’s directions to find you. His stomach churned when he found those directions had sent his feet to the area where the wounded were being attended to, the dead being covered in white sheets.

“Are you wounded?” Came a meek voice and George had to shake himself from his intrusive thoughts to realize that Luna Lovegood was standing before him, hair tied up and a focused look hardening her typically whimsical features.

“N-No, I’m looking for-”

“Your brother is this way,” She assumed as she took a hold of his arm, assuming he needed the assistance. George looked a little lost and he had paled severely since entering the room, taking in all of the moaning and groaning bodies.

He let her guide him but broke free when he found his brother sitting on the floor, your hand in his. You were on a makeshift cot, a bandage wrapped around your head. Your eyes were closed, skin ashen. “Y/N-” He choked out, falling to his knees beside you. Fred gripped his shoulder with his free hand, sliding out of the way so that George could grasp your limp hand in his own.

“She’s fine mate,” Fred said first. “Bumped her head, just needs rest now that the bleeding’s stopped.”

“Bleeding?” George croaked, careful hands shaking as he trailed a finger across the outline of your jaw. Even now you looked angelic, with debris stuck to the palm of your hands and dust smeared across your forehead like your very own war paint.

“She’s fine George,” Fred promised again.

“How did she get hurt?” George asked, tearing his eyes from you to face his twin.

Fred winced, shoulders drawn up to his ears apologetically. “Savin’ me. I didn’t notice- well I don’t really know what I didn’t notice. Y/N called out my name, then Ginny. Then Y/N was barreling into me and we hit the ground hard. A second later the wall was collapsing onto where I’d been standing,”

George smiled, kissing your forehead as his family spotted all of you, approaching with relieved smiles. “That’s my girl,” He praised.

“Fred!” Ginny found her voice. “Is she okay?”

Fred watched Ginny for a moment, putting together quite easily what had happened. He’d never liked slytherins, detested them the same as any good gryffindor did. But then George had introduced you to him and his feelings had started changing. It didn’t seem the same thing had occurred with his siblings and they still had their beliefs against you. Ginny had thought him in danger, thought you had come to hurt him when in fact it had been the opposite. He could see the guilt swimming in her eyes and he felt pity. He couldn’t let his sister hold that weight over her head. “She will be,” He reassured.

George recounted the story of your heroics to his family even if he hadn’t been there and he hoped it would be enough to win your good favor. He refused to leave your side as you lay there, unaware that all of the Weasleys were standing around you and silently thanking you for saving Fred even at the threat of risking your own safety. You had proven a lot to them. George wished it hadn’t come with such a risk, he would always hold your safety above his family’s approval, but he tried to focus on the fact that you were just unconscious. You were just resting, he told himself as the thought was more comforting than the former.

Fred looked from his brother, then to you, and back to Ginny. “Everything’s alright, Gin,” He made sure she knew as he drew her into a hug, staring over her shoulder as he watched his brother fuss over you. “Just...don’t judge a book by it’s cover next time,”

For years to come you would be celebrated as Fred’s savior and loved as family, George having asked you to marry him the second you opened your eyes, still surrounded by the ruins of Hogwarts. Seeing his family surrounding you, a new appreciation in their eyes, you’d said yes.

Tag List: @angelinathebook @thehumanistsdiary

#george weasley #george weasley x reader #george x reader #angst #fluff #ask #request #anon ask

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