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80s4life · 3 years

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The Wolf In Sheep’s Clothing

Word Count: 4,438

Status: Not Requested

Fandom: Back To The Future 1985

Relationship: Biff Tannen x Female Reader

Summary: As time is altered for a total of 2 weeks (I extended it slightly), you and Marty struggle to get his parents under control, having problem after the next. But, when an unexpected solution occurs, you find yourself willingly okay with it, soon finding the exact reason as to why.

Warnings: language, fluff, Biff being a dick, slight angst, cute Biff

Masterlist Back To The Future Masterlist

Prompts: (from this list @youneedsomeprompts)

Y/C/S= Your Choice of Sport/ Your Chosen Sport (you don’t have to honestly play one, just choose one you like or one that comes to mind)

{gif and prompts are not mine, gif credits go to @backtothefuturemovies and credits were given above for prompts!}

No one ever said time travel was fun. No one ever said the job was easy. And no one sure as hell told you the consequences that come with it. Well, at least not before you, and your best friend, Marty McFly, had gone dead-on through a barn, sacred a neighboring family of ‘alien invasion,’ run into younger McFly parents, and altered time just enough to fuck you over for a few days.

I mean, who would’ve guessed right? Your mom just so happens to be romantically interested in you, their child. Well, that was at least in Marty’s case. For you, you had just managed to run into the biggest dickhead of the century, Biff Tannen. Or so you thought?

Making your way out of bed, you automatically go to where Marty was sleeping in the garage, waking him along with Doc up. The go-to plan for the day was to go undercover as usual students in the 50′s, secretly following Marty’s parents around, finding out where they lie in this part of time, and try to find ways into manipulating them together once more in time for Marty and you to get back home. Easy enough, right?

Groaning, Marty goes to slap your hands away weakly, mumbling something along the lines of ‘Just a few more minutes.’ You giggle slapping his hands back in an attempt to wake him up cheerily. Mornings weren’t really your forte either, so any upbeat wake-up is better than a pissy, tired, horrible morning.

Doc, on the other hand, was happy to return the affection, getting out of bed to give a quick hug and kiss to the forehead. Then he makes his way over to the bed, going to tickle Marty’s feet as you go to tickle his sides. Finally, in a fit of laughter, Marty gets up and goes straight for the bathroom. You were going to argue him, having to use the bathroom first, but decide to just leave it be, heading for the makeshift kitchen instead.

You smile fondly as Doc and Marty play around a while later, wrestling about, cracking jokes. It was only just a few hours ago that you and Marty had witnessed the untimely death of the currently very lively man in the house. Witnessing the blood loss, the machine gun in action, and the bullets that whizzed pass with only one malicious intent: to kill. But he’s here now; he’s safe and sound, having many years until that date will arrive.

With the freshly cooked smell of eggs, toast, and pancakes, the boys straighten up, Doc clearing his throat in an attempt to organize himself, and Marty leaving his shirt ruffled as he follows the smell of deliciousness. You giggle as both men of different ages act exactly the same, piling their plates high and digging in, giving thanks through mouthfuls.

///LATER///

After breakfast had finished, you and Marty made your way to the school, not wanting to be late, and, quite frankly, not wanting to miss a second in the disaster we’re in, wanting to fix it as soon as possible. Upon entering, the building erupts in laughter, tears, screaming, perfume, cologne, aftershave, and lots and lots of both testosterone and estrogen. Fucking high school, you smile.

Going to “your locker” right besides “Marty’s,” you both place the books and supplies that are unneeded inside it and take only the things you need for the first two classes, somehow having those together. As Marty catches glimpse of his father, George McFly, he winks at you, moving to catch up to him. Rolling your eyes playfully, you turn back towards your locker, just barely missing a group of young men some ways down the hallway, locking eyes with a particularly taller man, towering almost everyone in the halls.

You pay no mind, however, being blindsided by three girls your age. Instantly, you recognize the one right in front as Lorraine, Marty’s mother. Smiling nervously, your cheeks tint only a little, being unprepared to see her so quickly, not yet having a plan made up on how you could help tackle the situation with Marty.

“Hiya! I’ve never seen you before, are you new here? I’m Lorraine Baines, and you are?” she asks cheerfully, her books clasped tightly to her chest.

Taking an obnoxiously long time staring dumbfounded, you finally realize you haven’t spoken, quickly recovering with newfound purpose and confidence, “Ah, yes! I am new here! Sorry, I’m just trying to get used to this place a tiny bit. I’m Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Well that’s quite alright, you can come with us!” she says once more in a cheery tone, taking you by the arm and lacing her arm around yours, locked elbows. You smiled, knowing exactly where Marty’s cheerful and people-person nature had come from. Walking down the halls, she had asked for my schedule, checking classes to see what we had together, “English, History, and Agriculture- Hey! You should try out for cheer leading!”

Shaking your head lightly, “Nah, I’m more of a Y/C/S myself to be frank.”

“But...We don’t have that sport here? There are no girls sports at all actually...” Lorraine says confused. You go to cover it up, choosing to say it was a sport you play for fun at home, in the backyard. However, a beefy arm separates you momentarily from her, as the owner of the harm moves to pin her to the lockers.

You were going to walk away, figuring it was some sort of make-out session in the works, but upon looking at her before going, you notice that the man was absurdly unwanted.

“Get your meathooks off me Biff!” she screams at the man, his huge form towering her much smaller one. Not taking the message, the pair continue to squabble, neither of them being successful in winning. The warning bell sounds over the halls and classrooms, alarming kids to get their asses moving, but it seems whoever this dick is, he feels he is greater than the school, and god forbid, knowledge.

“Hey, you do realize your not making a damn bit a difference, right? She’s not interested! And, quite frankly, it seems as if no one does! Now, if you don’t mind, could you please be kind enough to unhand her as some of us treasure a piece of mind and how to take a hint?” you finish, quite ticked off as the last bell warns, cursing under your breath as you already know your in for detention on the first day.

It finally seems that he’d caught a grip, thankfully, letting go of Lorraine’s arm and she quickly scurries out of his proximity, taking your hand to lead you to the class you both needed to be in. As you go to walk in, you are stopped by the teacher, scolding both you and Lorraine. Looking at her regrettably, she smiles defeated. So you decide to do what’s right, take the fall.

“I’m sorry sir, I didn’t know where to go as I was trying to find where all of my classes were before I ended up lost every time classes switch. I caught up to Lorraine here at some point, and as she was hurrying to this class, she was kind enough to show me where I needed to be,” you finish, sighing guiltily.

“Well, as you’ve taken acknowledgment to your mistake, then you’d be just as happy with detention. After school, on Friday, as the first week is extremely busy. As for you, Miss Baines, thank you for your help. You are off the hook for now,” the older gentleman finishes, nodding to each of you personally before turning around and beginning just one of the classes you’d have today. This is going to be fun!

///LATER///

Finally, after grueling hours of just a few of your classes, lunchtime had came round, giving you a slight break. Catching sight of Lorraine, you smile and wave, going in the direction of Marty, or Calvin Klein, as you’d heard Lorraine go on and on about. You’d known it was him the second she’d said it, the brand not yet known to man yet; or at least in this timeline, it wasn’t.

As time had went on, it was only natural for the peace to be broken, as a newly familiar face was starting to appear more and more, Biff Tannen, as you’d known his name by now. But, instead of heading towards Lorraine, he makes his way over to the table you were residing with George and Marty, sitting himself right beside you.

At first, you were trying to ignore him, knowing his presence was there, but keeping your eyes trained on either Marty or George, eyes dancing between the two. Biff, being the everlasting child he was, tried to catch you attention, trying stupid ass things after the other: kicking your shins, pulling your ears of hair, flicking your head, and even trying to tug on the 50′s style dress you’d been forced to wear to play your part.

Only when he goes to tug your hair once more is when you finally snap, turning a furious glare to the hulking figure beside you, shoving his shoulder in a feeble attempt to create distance. He giggles at this, his body not moving an inch at all. “You can’t be serious right now! You don’t know when to quit it, do you?!” you scream, fed up with his shit.

“Well, if you’d give me the human decency of turning your head when I’m trying to talk to you, then I wouldn’t have to pester you, now would I?” he asks in a teasing tone, no doubt taunting you, but all you do is stare him down, getting lost in a staring contest, daring him to say something again. “Alls I wanted to say was that we have detention together. Just thought I’d let you know since you got me in all that trouble this morning.”

“Why you-!” And with that, he gets up with a shit-eating grin plastered to his face, prancing out of view and back to the table he and his gang usually sit. Watching the whole interaction, George smirks at Marty, the pair giving an unspoken mutual agreement to whatever they had both caught on to, bursting into fits of laughter moments later.

“You have a longer tolerance than I do, I-I-I’ll tell you that much,” George says, his usual slight stutter back in place, Marty laughing once more. As George joins in again, you couldn’t fight it either, giving into the childish antics.

///LATER///

To say your week had gotten any better than the first day was a lie. It hadn’t gotten any better, and your meetings with Biff at lunch had only gotten all the more common and all the more infuriating. He’d made it his duty to agitate you in any ways possible, even resulting in whispering something nagging in your ear when you weren’t paying attention, usually doing something in your locker.

Either way, he was on the countdown to Friday, it being constantly on his mind, mentally counting down the days, hours, minutes, and even seconds until the two of you were locked in a room alone.

Unfortunately, that day had seemed to come way faster than you’d like, Friday rolling around quite quickly. School had finished, and you were making your way to the front office, awaiting a tiring 2 hours with only yourself and Biff as company for the time being. You hadn’t known where the room was, and instead of spending time looking for it, you gave up and looked for the office instead, the nice front desk lady leading you where you needed to go.

Upon entering the room, there was Biff in his prime, casually spread across his chair, legs crossed atop his desk nearest the windows. Sighing, you ignore him, deciding to sit on the opposite side of him, the front desk lady giving you a sympathetic smile before she closes the door behind her. You look at the wall, head turned away from him like the plague.

You knew it’d only last so long until he’d speak, the time coming way faster than you pleased. Given it was Friday, you couldn’t even do homework or even study in order to block him out as he started to blabber, running his mouth over stupid shit once more. Inhaling through your nose, and exhaling through your mouth slowly, you straighten in your seat, hands clutching the desk so tight, your fists turned white.

“Biff, Sweetheart, Baby, Doll Face, Hun. Please. PLEASE. Shut up for five god damn seconds. I know you truly have nothing to say, so why do you insist on speaking so much?” you finally say, hands prying off the desk to turn in his direction exasperated.

“Well, if you’d just talk to me, Shortcake, I wouldn’t have much to say at random,” he answers, copying your actions and posture. With this change in childish demeanor, you give in, laughing at him in an unexpected rush, running your hands through your hair tiredly.

Although you hadn’t seen it, he’d smiled in satisfaction upon seeing you laugh, the glitter in your eyes much more captivating than it ever was when he looked at Lorraine. He hadn’t barely pestered her since you’d barreled into his life. It was weird, but he welcomed it with open arms. And for the first time, he learned what it was like to have an actual, clammy-handed, closed throat, warm, cheek-tinted, teenage crush. A crush that left his heartbeat loud and fast, breathing ragged and uneven, and his behavior out of character and out of his control. Lorraine was way under whatever level he’d placed you on, holding you up on a pedestal like you were the sun or sky.

Of course, you hadn’t taken notice to his antics, just thinking he was annoying. Just Biff being his notorious self. But, as you finally calm your breathing down, the giggles fading, you decide to give him a chance, knowing that sitting in silence is just going bore you. Smiling warmly, you say, “So what do you want to talk about then?”

///LATER///

Grabbing your bag, you get out of your seat, giggling at a story Biff had told you. He follows your lead as well, getting his own as he lets out a bark of laughter at a certain part. You guys looked like idiots as you shoved each other down the halls, making your way out of the school as your detention had came to a close. Sighing as the warm sun radiated on your skin with the light, spring breeze, you stretch out any kinks the classroom chairs and desks had left. Biff watched you intently, your small body easily swallowed by his shadow beside you.

The sun was setting and it was getting late, although you weren’t concerned. The boys knew you wouldn’t be home ‘til late due to the detention you had initially despised. Now, you and Biff were side by side, walking peacefully to his car in the school’s parking lot. For once, he was quiet, great company to have. It was something else for sure, but you enjoyed it. As you came up towards Doc’s place, you’d realized that Biff had drove you home like a gentleman, too lost in the conversation to notice earlier on.

Sheepishly, you itch the back of your neck, realizing your mistake and feeling guilty for making him walk all this way to now have to walk all the way home. “Ah- Sorry...I didn’t realize I’d dragged you all the way out here. Now you have to drive all the way back.”

“It’s no problem, really. I liked it. It’s nice to talk to someone other than the guys every now and then. And to have A female speak to me instead of screaming,” he answers, now being the one who is a bit shy.

“You do know that you bring that on yourself right?” you say teasingly, now leaning your head on your hands, propped up on the passenger side door. “Not every girl would want to kick you in the groin if you showed a little more respect, “ you finish off with a smile.

“Yeah...Yeah I know. I’ll try harder, I swear.”

“That’s all I ask,” you say with a wink, drumming your hands on the door as you take a step back, waving as you start walking down Doc’s driveway.

“Hey!” Biff calls from the car, stopping you in your tracks to turn around, facing him with a smile. “Uhm- Well- The Enchantment Under the Sea Dance is coming up next week...Would you mind being my date?” he asks, stuttering as he feels his cheeks heat up, nervous as hell.

“I’d love to!” you answer, turning back around to walk into the house. Biff does a little fist bump as he puts the car back in gear, excited for what is to come.

///

Marty was a little less than amused with this newfound knowledge once entering the door and going over the events of the day. It was only when Doc had suggested that the date with Biff would keep him away from Lorraine, giving George the freeway to attract her long enough for their True Love’s Kiss. Then, and only then, did Marty give the okay, shaking his head, but liking the fact that it’ll give George some time, being the nerd that you know and love.

///Enchantment Under the Sea Dance///

Checking yourself over in the mirror for the final time, you let out a nervous yet satisfied sigh, feeling like an absolute princess. You never minded dresses too much, although you couldn’t deny the fact that normal pair of shorts, jeans, or even leggings were your first choice. All that mattered was that you liked the dress you were wearing, it fit you; it was your favorite color, length, and strap(less) type to hold everything in.

Walking out, you grab the pair of heels to match, knowing that you couldn’t get away with sneakers in this generation, painfully grimacing at the reminder. Finally standing, you recount when you had gotten the dress just a few days ago, having gone with Lorraine and the her two friends, Babs and Betty. They were very endearing and supportive the whole time, you not having to worry about being “to picky” as they were just the same. You ended up loving the dress given that you’d taken the time without pressure.

As you walked into the main room of the garage, you heard a low whistle of Marty, Doc slapping him on the back of the head for it. Giggling, you curtsy and spin in the dress. Doc, the gentleman he always was, compliments you, “You look amazing, my dear. Let’s hope this boy deserves it, hmm?”

As an answer, you hug him tightly, knowing that, by the end of the night, he will be nothing but a dead man at home, in a lonely, dark parking lot. Your eyes tear up just at the mere thought of it, clutching him tighter. Marty seems to be on the same wavelength, going to interrupt the moment with great urgency, trying to pass him a piece of paper.

“Marty, if this has anything that involves my future, do not. And I repeat, DO NOT try to hand it to me. Whatever happens, happens young man. That’s how the world works,” he says in a warning tone. You wanted to disagree, but you knew the truth that was laced beneath it, as if it was a punishment. You whimper instead, pulling him in tighter; Marty looking down in defeat, soon switching to anger. In the midst of it, he storms out of the garage, getting in the car to go pick up who you’d hope was Lorraine for the dance.

“Just let him go...” you start, sadness evident, “He’s just not very happy with the outcome of what the future has in store for you. Quite frankly, neither am I.”

“I’m sure whatever the outcome is, that I wanted to go with it, dear. I assure you, I’m fine,” Doc answers in a consoling tone, wiping the tears that had slipped from your eyes. You knew it was just a mask, no one wants death, but you knew he needed to go no matter how much you hated it. So you nod, not having to say much more as a honk sounds from outside.

“That’s Biff...”

“Have a great time! Make sure the McFlys kiss!” Doc screams, following out of the garage, scolding Biff from behind you.

“Yes sir!” you scream back, saluting him as you take a seat in the passenger.

///

“You look beautiful Y/N,” Biff says after a while, finally working up the courage to speak.

“Thank you Biff. And you look handsome yourself,” you giggle, the car pulling into the lot.

He shuts the engine, grabbing his keys from the ignition and closing the door, making his way around to you as you let yourself out to straighten yourself out. He takes your hand as he leads you to the entrance of the dance, you sighing in relief as you catch a glimpse of Marty pulling up in a car with Lorraine. Finally, you relax, grasping on Biff a little lighter and with more meaning now as you have the night to yourselves. He smiles down at you as you wrap your arm within his, something Lorraine does with you quite often.

With the party in full blast, you let loose with the music, dancing and joking around with Biff. At some point, however, he says he needs a drink and will be right back. Although, he doesn’t seem to actually come back. You’d thought you’d seen him spiking the punch just as few moments ago.

Just as you were going to in the direction of the hallways to the rest of the school, you notice Match, one of Biff’s friends, storming out of the gym through an exit. Taking your bets, you follow behind him, soon being greeted by a huge commotion of screams, all of them from familiar people. Biff was in a car with Lorraine, her dress pulled and taken off in parts. He was no doubt about to do something stupid, the fact pissing you off, saddening you in some ways as well.

The others that were screaming were also George and Marty, the pair trying to get Biff to stop before he regrets it. He doesn’t listen, unfortunately, until your voice booms over the rest, “Biff!”

His head snaps instantly in your direction, the situation dawning on him the instant he looks at your face. You hadn’t meant to portray your emotions so clearly, but your face had shown such distraught and hurt. He lied. He had gotten over Lorraine, yet the moment she was alone, he runs right back to her.

With his momentary change of focus, George finally steps in, “You get your filthy hands off of her!” finishing with a blow to the jaw that knocks Biff off balance.

Marty looks to you sadly, but tries to smile in cheers as George and Lorraine leave together, motioning that he was going to follow them just in case. You nod, looking down now as your play with your fingers. You didn’t know what to do now as the only reason you were really here was for Biff. You weren’t needed for Lorraine and George, you knew Marty had it.

You decide to make your way home then, as there was nothing else you could do. Dances were just drags anyway, nothing worth while. “Your just going to leave? Just like that?” asks a deep voice, his body having gotten back off the pavement and stood by the car he was pinned against.

Without turning, you answer his question with another, “Why not? There’s nothing left here for me is there?”

“And why wouldn’t there be?” Biff asks once more, no doubt ticking you off at his usual teasing tone.

“Well, let’s see. You. You asked me to the dance as your plus one. I came here as your date. We have a good time, we dance, we talk, and then you come up with an ‘Oh I need a drink’ charade, not returning. Then, I come to find my date in the parking lot, about to get his licks in on a woman he was apparently over with! So tell me, what is left here for men here, Biff?” you finish, tears pooling your eyes over the time, although you don’t let the fall, keeping them there.

He looks guilty, you can see it, but you don’t care. Your not in the wrong this time. But, as your blood starts to cool down, you do notice the look in his eyes, the change in his demeanor, and the utter remorse that has overcome him. He has his head down, fists clenched at his sides, body stock still. He doesn’t know what to do, all he knows is that he’d fucked up.

“Or was this your fabulous way of telling me that you love me?” you finally ask, eyes moving to look up at him in a teasing manner.

He hadn’t expected you to speak, head snapping up to meet your gaze in confusion. Being as you’d looked at him with a glint in your eyes, he finally lets everything click together; you’d forgiven him. His face heats up in bashfulness however, as your words resonated within him as well, hand going to itch the back of his neck again.

You giggle, walking up to him now, hands going to his collar. Pulling him down, he gazes at you in amazement, his own hands falling to rest on your waist. Then, you crash your lips to his, pulling him ever closer. It takes him a moment to get the hang of it, soon pulling you closer to himself as well. Lifting you slightly, he sets you on the hood of his car, the height difference a definite stretch for him. But he wouldn’t have it any other way, you were perfect. Just the same as he was perfect for you.

#biff tannen x reader #bttf #back to the future #biff tannen imagine #bttf imagine #back to the future imagine #thomas f. wilson #crispin glover #george mcfly #christopher lloyd #dr. emmett brown #doc brown #doc #michael j. fox #marty mcfly #lea thompson #lorraine baines

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nonalectos · 3 years

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Jury Duty

Fandom: The Nanny

Genre: Romance/Humor/Comfort

Pairing: Fran Fine/C.C. Babcock

Rating: M

Summary: C.C. has been called to jury duty, and Fran decides to come along, placing C.C. in a very uncomfortable position considering the feelings she has been harboring for the nanny the last four years. To make matters worse, there's only one room left in the hotel.

Word Count: 2,826

Author’s Note: My first fic in six years, folks! I am currently neck deep in The Nanny hyper fixation, Fran x C.C. in particular, and I was inspired by my lovely friends and fellow shippers to write my first fic in years and very first fic for this pairing! Boy, have I come a long way since my Fran/Maxwell fanfic on Quizilla.com when I was 14-years-old. Interwoven with canon from S04E17: Samson, He Denied Her. Please enjoy!

This fic can also be found here on AO3.

“What’s that?”

“That’s...the nanny.”

_______

C.C. rolled onto her stomach, burying her face into her pillow, and groaned, the coolness of her satin pillowcase warming to match her body temperature a bit too quickly for her liking. As she shifted, contemplating whether to get up or relegate herself to a day in bed, ignoring all responsibility and...other stressors, an orange-brown fluff next to her feet growled.

Damn dog.

In order to prevent the mongrel from biting at her ankles, C.C. slowly pulled her legs up towards her chest before gently removing the covers, pushing herself up into a seated position, and scooting to let her legs hang off the side of the bed. She sighed and looked at her alarm clock.

5:30 AM

She had one of those dreams again. She was rarely the type to dream, but somehow her subconscious had been invaded by the intrusive thoughts she routinely pushed away during her waking hours. Sparkling red, a hand on her waist, her own hand tangled in a large nest of brown hair, and the recalled scent of scratch-and-sniff magazine perfume flashed through her mind before she could prevent it. She groaned again--loudly--and a retort, almost indistinguishable from her own guttural sound, emitted from the ball of fluff.

C.C. let out one more sigh before standing with renewed intention to have a good, productive day. She would bury her nose--and her mind--in her work. No one could get in the way of her and her job. She was the C.C. Babcock. She made her way to the kitchen and started her coffee maker. While she waited, she opened an envelope that she had left sitting on the table and froze, defeated.

_______

C.C. barged into Maxwell Sheffield’s office, ignoring the skip in her chest when she caught the image of brown, black, red, and white in her peripheral, accompanied by that--against all odds--alluring scent.

“Maxwell, you are not gonna believe this. I have been summoned for jury duty! Well, that is the last time I vote.”

The blur came closer. “Ms. Babcock, maybe I’ll go be on that jury with you.”

C.C. covered her panic with a chuckle. “Nanny Fine, you can’t just go.” This was it. The perfect moment for a witty jab. That would help. “It’s not like Supercuts.”

“Are you kidding? I’ve got a drawer full of those things. Besides, there’s nothing keeping me here.” Fran glared at Maxwell, and C.C. silently stepped out of the office as she heard the man’s voice raise, only making out an exasperated, “Ms. Fine!”

_______

“Oh I’ve just gotta get on this jury!”

As Fran blabbed on, C.C. tried not to focus on how close together they were sitting and how she could still feel the heat from the nanny’s hand on her knee, even after she had removed it. As Fran handed her a book, C.C. was given another chance at a jab. She gasped theatrically.

“You know him?”

“No. You read?”

Fran snatched the book out of C.C.’s hand, and C.C. laughed, the awareness of her leaning closer to Fran escaping her.

_______

“What do you mean there’s just one room left?” C.C. growled at the hotel receptionist.

The receptionist looked at the tall, blond woman towering above them nervously. “I-uh I’m sorry, ma’am, there are no other rooms available. Just the one.”

“But we have two people--” Fran gently placed her hand on C.C.’s shoulder and stepped in between her and the distressed receptionist.

“Are there two beds?” she asked, smiling.

“Y-yes,” the receptionist said hesitantly and then, more assured after calming down, “Yes, there are two beds.”

“See Babs? No harm, no foul,” Fran said brightly, squeezing C.C.’s shoulder as she reached over the counter to take the room key. As they walked towards their room, Fran went on and on about the plot of the romance novel she had shoved in C.C.’s hands earlier. C.C. focused on her breathing, trying to remain calm. She could feel the heat creep up her neck the moment the kid at the desk said they only had one room available, and now she didn’t even have to look to know she had red blotches all over her chest and cheeks. She couldn’t distinguish between her anger and...fear? No. C.C. Babcock was never scared.

“So then when he pulls her in--” holding the book close to her chest, Fran twirled around to face C.C. as she continued walking down the hallway backwards. “Ms. Babcock? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” C.C. responded curtly.

“You’re not having an allergic reaction, are you?” Fran rushed up to her and lifted her hand to examine C.C.’s face as she spoke. “You gotta be careful with shellfish! You know, my cousin, Ernie, never had an allergic reaction in his life. One day, 40 years old, he ate one fried shrimp and BAM --”

C.C. slapped Fran’s hand away, “I’m fine.” Her heart was racing.

“Okay, okay, sorry Mrs. Hyde.” Fran threw her hands in the air, and C.C. could have sworn she gave a tiny pout as she turned around and continued towards their room. When she opened the door, she paused, pulled it back to her, and turned. “You know, Ms. Babcock, we should celebrate! How about a drink? A whiskey. Bourbon. On me.” She winked then stood up straight with a stern look on her face, “ Well. Not top shelf.”

“Nanny Fine,” C.C. uttered through gritted teeth, “I just want to--” she pushed past Fran and opened the door “--lie down.” She stopped in the doorway, still as if she had come face-to-face with Medusa herself.

One bed stood in the room.

_______

The first night was somewhat tolerable. Fran was very kind to C.C., ensuring she was comfortable and that she did not take up too much of her space. C.C. reciprocated by keeping her distance as well. Falling asleep was another story. C.C. was the first to lie down. Being on the side of the bed facing the bathroom, she saw the nanny walk out, wearing one of her bathrobes. God, I hope she has something under that. She could hear the shuffling of the fabric as Fran let the robe fall to the floor and felt the weight in the bed shift as the other woman settled in. Before she could make sense of what was happening, she felt two swift pats on her hip. “Goodnight, Ms. Babcock!”

“Hm,” was the only confirmation she could utter.

C.C. was hyper aware of Fran’s presence. She measured the woman’s breathing and could tell by the slower, deeper breaths when she fell asleep. It took her a while to close her eyes. Every time she did, she saw Fran’s hand on her knee…

Her shoulder…

Her hip…

C.C. jolted awake from a half-sleep. She sighed and stared at the wall in the dark. The blackout curtains weren’t closed all the way, and she could see a sliver of light flash on the wall every once in a while. She could hear sirens, car horns, distant yelling, and sometimes a drunken laugh. She didn’t know what time it was, but it felt like she had been drifting in and out of almost-sleep for hours, still aware of the body radiating heat and energy next to her. What is it about Fran Fine? was the last thought that crossed her mind before she drifted into a very, very light sleep.

_______

C.C.’s eyes traveled down Fran’s figure as she stood up when Vincenzo approached the stand, her expression a mixture of endearment and bewilderment. Why her?, a question echoing the sentiment from the night before repeating in her mind. The rest of the day in the courtroom was filled with typical annoyances, with the exception of a moment of outburst from Fran that left C.C. with the sting of an emotion she couldn’t quite place in the moment as she softly pulled Fran’s arm down.

_______

The next day, C.C. pinpointed the emotion as Fran spoke. “See, that is what happens when a man tells you that he loves you and then he takes it back.”

Jealousy.

C.C.’s face was still until she realized her arms were full of snacks that Fran had been piling onto her.

“What are you looking for?”

“My Dexatrim,” Fran responded.

C.C. rolled her eyes and stuffed the food back into Fran’s bag, the thought popping into her mind again. Why her?

_______

She was exhausted. Eight days, hardly any sleep, and “a horse is a horse, of course, of course” stuck in her head practically 24/7, C.C. wanted to explode when she read the words on the slip of paper, “And one ‘not guilty’…,” followed by Fran convincing another juror to vote “not guilty.” Every time she thought she was going to escape her personal hell, she was dragged back down. She was Sisyphus, and Nanny Fine was her boulder.

C.C. stood. “Could it be that you’re just a little sensitive to this shrew maid because you have some fantasy of ending up with your employer yourself?”

Sting.

“Let she who is without fantasy cast the first stone!”

Ohh, if only you knew, Nanny Fine!

The rest of the afternoon was full of more sting as Fran not-so-subtly talked about Maxwell and the children, but at least they were finally done. C.C. could go home and try to put this all behind her.

As they walked out of the courtroom, Fran hooked her arm through C.C.’s and cheerfully said, “I have a proposal.”

“And what would that be, Ms. Fine?”

“I propose we take one more night off. You know, eat, drink, relax, before heading back to work.”

“Nanny Fine, I really--”

“Pleeease Ms. Babcock?” Fran pleaded, stopping and tugging on her arm. C.C. looked into Fran’s eyes: earnest, gentle, kind.

That’s why her. “Well, alright.”

“You know, I really feel like this has been a good bonding experience for us.”

C.C. rolled her eyes...and couldn’t help but smile.

_______

She wasn’t drunk, but she did feel a little tipsy. A little more relaxed. She and Fran were making their way back to their room after a pleasant evening of food and a couple drinks each. The nanny really was good company, when C.C. let herself enjoy it. C.C. settled into what she had established as her side of the bed for the previous eight nights, lying on her back and staring at the ceiling. Her blond hair pooled on the feather pillow under her head. She could hear the sink faucet turn on. A couple of splashes. Off. The towel being pulled off the rack. C.C. tore her eyes from the ceiling to the bathroom door. Fran walked out and, as she walked around to her side of the bed, began to untie her robe. C.C. didn’t take her eyes off of her. Fran wasn’t wearing anything particularly risqué--why would she be--but the loose fitting, thin material that made up her pajamas hung on her perfectly. C.C. could feel her neck and cheeks getting warm again--a nightly routine for her body at this point--and she turned over to hide. Her head was reeling with the influx of emotions she had felt over the last week, a mental Rolodex: anxious, longing, annoyed, jealous, hopeful...hurt.

“Nanny Fine?” She wasn’t sure if Fran had fallen asleep.

“Yeah, Babs?”

Her heart skipped.

“Why…” she turned over to face the nanny. “Why do you put up with it?”

Fran had been facing the other way. She turned over. The bedside table lamp hadn’t been turned off yet. C.C. was able to look into the other woman’s eyes again.

“Put up with what?”

“Maxwell. He...well, obviously he isn’t willing to give you what you want. Why hold out hope?”

“Why do you?” Fran retorted with a hint of defensiveness.

C.C. was silent for a moment. “I think I’ve confused myself.” Oh god, how much did I have to drink? “I don’t think what I really desire is what...I thought I desired.” I don’t feel drunk.

Fran maintained eye contact. Silent. Almost as if she knew. C.C. cast her gaze down. She felt a hand on her shoulder.

“Why do you act so hard?” the woman said. The words were accusatory but the tone was soft and empathetic. Despite her attempts to keep them at bay, C.C. could feel the sting of tears and a lump in her throat. “Oh, Ms. Babcock,” Fran whispered, slowly rubbing the blond’s shoulder with her thumb. “You really are a wonderful, caring woman. You just won’t let others see it. Like you’re protecting yourself from something.” Earnest, gentle...kind.

That’s why her.

“You hurt others before they can hurt you.”

C.C. looked back into Fran’s eyes. Up to this point, she thought her jabs had all been in jest. “Have I hurt you?”

Fran laughed. “Oh, honey. It takes more than what you can throw to hurt me.” C.C. sniffled. “But listen. I was holding out hope for Mr. Sheffield because the other person I noticed--the strong, loyal, brilliant woman who crossed my path every day--didn’t treat me the way I deserve to be treated.” Before C.C. could interject, Fran continued. “Now, that’s not to say he’s a saint. Faaaar from it, missy. But you, Babs. I see a lot of potential in you, but you gotta soften up that thing you got in that chest of yours.”

“I...don’t--half the time, I don’t even know what I’m feeling,” the words started escaping from her lips, betraying every cell in her body, every natural inclination she had. At least what she thought up to this point was natural for her. “When I first saw you, four years ago, in that sparkling red dress...the way you moved, the way you talked, your confidence, god I felt so...so intensely jealous. But...four years later, and I can’t get that image of you out of my head. Just you. Not Maxwell.”

Fran lifted her hand to wipe a tear from C.C.’s face then back to her shoulder. She felt the woman’s hand travel from her shoulder down her arm…

Her waist…

Her hip…

Then she tugged.

C.C. placed her hand on the brunette’s waist as she was pulled in, the many inches between them closed. She gasped, and her breathing became uneven. She could feel the flush in her cheeks as she glanced down at Fran’s lips, which she now noticed were coming closer...and closer. She had kissed people before. Plenty of times. But Fran’s lips felt like home. They were soft and warm, moving in tandem with her own. The perfect fit. C.C. moved her hand up Fran’s side, taking note of every inch of her curvature, until she was able to tangle her hand in that nest of beautiful, brown hair. Every breath she took in between kisses was filled with that wonderfully intoxicating scratch-and-sniff perfume scent, and in the moments a soft, nasally moan escaped from the nanny’s lips, C.C.’s hips pushed forward and she moaned in return. Fran coaxed C.C. onto her back with a gentle but firm push and straddled her, not letting their lips part for more than a second. C.C. put both hands on each of Fran’s hips as Fran began to leave a trail of kisses down C.C.’s neck…

Her collarbone…

Her chest…

This is better than being drunk...

_______

C.C. finally got the rest she needed. She woke up from a deep sleep and could feel the tangling of sheets around her body. As she began to shift, she felt a heavy weight on her legs and her waist. A quiet, gravely moan emitted next to her ear. As C.C. rolled over, Fran shifted but didn’t move her leg or her arm. Instead, she tightened her grip and pulled the woman closer. C.C. caressed Fran’s face as her eyes fluttered open.

“Mornin’, Babs baby.”

“Morning, Fran,” C.C. said with a smile and placed a sweet kiss on the nanny’s lips.

_______

Hand-in-hand, C.C. and Fran walked up to the desk in the hotel lobby to check out. The receptionist from their first night was working that morning. Fran smiled and slid the key across the counter, while C.C. took out her credit card to pay for all the unexpected nights.

“Good morning, ladies! Hope you enjoyed your stay. Did the pull out couch work out alright?” the receptionist asked.

Fran and C.C. exchanged glances and both blurted, “The what?”

#the nanny #fran x cc #fran fine #cc babcock #alcohol mention #fanfic1 #i'm actually really proud of this one!#it felt good to write again for the first time in a long time too #god i love these two so much #this is my longest one shot too i think

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themurphyzone · 3 years

Text

BatB AU: A Provincial Life

Summary: It’s an ordinary day in ACME Village for Pinky. Until it isn’t.

AN: This oneshot adapts the opening number ‘Belle’ and village scenes, up until Pinky sets off for the castle in search of his father, which leads into the entry Imprisoned.

AO3 Link

Pinky scooped a ladleful of oatmeal into a small, earthen bowl, humming dreamily as he added a dash of cinnamon and several apple slices into the mixture.

Today was a very special day for Papa, and Pinky wanted him to eat a healthy and nutritious meal before he went off to the fair with his invention. It would be a few days of travel, and Papa would need his strength for traveling there and back.

“Papa, I’m going out!” Pinky called as he carefully pushed a large woven basket of acorns outside. “Your breakfast is on the table, so make sure you eat it all!”

There was a sputter and cough of machinery and a trail of smoke from the small room that served as a makeshift workshop next to the kitchen, followed by a loud bang.

“Just getting ‘er warmed up for the final test!” Papa shouted. “C’mon, Madeleine! You may’ve fallen apart for the 264th time, but you can do it!”

Oh, Pinky had no doubt people were gonna love the woodcutting, ax-wielding, only occasionally threatening to take fingers off machine known as Madeleine. She was definitely gonna win that gorgeous blue ribbon at the fair! And even if she didn’t, they’d love her all the same anyway.

He opened the door and stepped into the beautiful autumn morning, taking in the cool, fresh air as he carefully maneuvered the basket of acorns into a red wagon. The leaves were varying hues of crimson and gold, dancing along a gentle breeze that ruffled Pinky’s fur. The sun was peeking over the horizon, slowly bathing the world in light as it rose.

Two songbirds flew merrily above him, their sweet morning song filling the air with beautiful music. Pinky reached up, and one of the songbirds briefly landed on his outstretched hand before flying after his partner, leaving a red feather behind.

“Thanks for the feather!” Pinky shouted to the sky as he tucked the feather behind his ear, where it fit perfectly.

He picked up the wagon handle and pulled it along, the wheels squeaking along behind him.

In the meadow beside their quaint little cottage, Pharfignewton chewed placidly on dew-covered grass. She neighed a greeting to Pinky, and Pinky cheerfully waved back. As much as he loved taking the beloved family horse into town for company, she needed her strength to lug Papa, Madeleine, and all their supplies later. So he had to let her rest.

Reeds and wildflowers of all sorts grew along the banks of the pond that separated the little cottage from the rest of ACME Village. A pair of ducks paddled along in the water, trailed by four adorable, fluffy yellow ducklings. Several tiny turtles sunbathed on an old log, while a large green frog sat on its lily pad and caught insects unlucky enough to stray in the path of a long, sticky tongue.

Pinky took his time crossing the cobblestone bridge over the pond, watching the wild animals go about their day without hustling, bustling, or rushing from place to place. Their lives were very different from their neighbors, despite living so close together.

Little animals, little pond, and little humans in their little town.

Or was everything just bigger than him? He was a mouse after all. It wasn’t hard to be bigger than a mouse, unless one happened to be an insect.

As Pinky crossed onto the other side, he spotted a smooth, pretty gray stone poking out of the reeds. He plucked it out of the damp soil, cleaning the dirt off with the inside of his apron.

It would be a perfect stone for his collection. And he didn’t have any that were this smooth. Most of the rocks he picked up were half-crushed or broken from city streets or well-worn paths. He tucked it into a pocket that he’d sewn on himself, because for some odd reason dresses never came with pockets.

Then he faced the little town, with all its timber and stone buildings lining a narrow cobbled street that quickly filled with half-asleep, half-awake people trying to get an early start on their sales and trades.

To think he and Papa had lived here for three years. While not the most exciting town in the world, Pinky was just happy they didn’t have to move again. He’d spent too much of his life being bustled from place to place since Mama died. The cottage was the loveliest place they’d ever owned.

And while the townsfolk had the same ol’ familiar routine every day, Pinky tried to vary his activities. From baking to horseback riding to volunteering for odd jobs around town, or just taking a day off to nap under a tree and roll down the hilly meadows while grass stains formed on his back.

Just a normal provincial life, yet Pinky often wondered what laid in the big blue yonder. Did the stars and sky look different elsewhere? Do the clouds form big, fluffy, and silly shapes in South America?

“Bonjour!” a man called out as he threw open his shutters.

“Good morning, Emile!” Pinky replied as he skipped past his window.

“Bonjour! Bonjour! Bonjour!” The echoing chant swept across rooftops and streets alike as a new day dawned upon ACME Village.

Everyone from chimney sweepers to merchants to coachmen responded with vigor and cheer, all of them satisfied with their occupations in life.

Pinky greeted everyone he passed, though not all returned the gesture. Everyone was staring at the feather tucked behind his ear, the bulge of the stone in his pocket, or the red wagon with the basket he pulled along. He didn’t think he was that strange-looking.

Unless he had a bit of cabbage stuck in his teeth again. But he flossed really well last night, so he didn’t think that was the case.

“Marie, hurry up with the baguettes!” the baker shouted as he carried several loaves of bread outside.

Pinky inhaled deeply. There was nothing quite like the scent and sound of fresh bread.

“Narrrrrrf! Smells just like heaven, Mr. Baker!” Pinky exclaimed.

The baker set his tray of bread on a windowsill, tapping his foot as he impatiently waited for Marie. “Morning, Pinky. You off somewhere this morning?” he asked, though he didn’t turn around.

“Yup! I’m delivering this basket of acorns to Slappy!” Pinky said, pointing to his basket of acorns. “She really likes the acorns near our cottage but doesn’t wanna make the trip herself. She says it’s too far for her aching joints and she can’t take Skippy along because she’s still trying to convince him that we’re not gonna be shot like Bumbie’s mom if we venture into the meadow, and-”

“Yes, yes, that’s all very nice,” the baker said, half-leaning into the open window. “Marie, I said hurry up with the baguettes! The morning rush is coming soon!”

“Well, if you’d bought the ingredients from Francois instead of Vincent like I suggested then maybe we wouldn’t be running behind, Pierre! But no, you always act like you know best!” Marie snapped.

Not wanting to get embroiled in yet another argument between the baker and his wife, Pinky followed the cobblestone path further into town, where the usual market sprung up, full of local farmers, tradesmen, and merchants.

Villagers bartered and argued and traded like always, and as Pinky stopped to admire a small yellow daisy poking out from the cracks of the street, he could feel eyes follow him closely in that looking-at-you-but-pretending-we’re-not sort of way.

“There goes the funny mouse again.”

“Gets distracted by the littlest things, I swear.”

“Does he even have a useful skill?”

“Besides being the village idiot? Doubtful.”

They’d made those comments ever since he and Papa had moved in. Everywhere they went, people asked Pinky for his trade, and Pinky always told them he took care of Papa and worked various odd jobs around the area for money.

But that wasn’t considered a useful role in society.

He didn’t mind helping Papa though.

Oh well though. He couldn’t delay getting these acorns to Slappy, so he hauled his wagon alongside a horse-drawn carriage that steadily cut through the crowded streets, clearing Pinky’s path.

“Bonjour!” the coachman called to a young woman walking down the street. His eyes were trained on the girl rather than the road, and his horse plowed straight into a farmer’s cart, knocking his produce into the road.

“MY CABBAGES!” the farmer screamed, tearing out his hair as several pigs devoured his vegetables.

The coachman let out a nervous laugh and flicked the reins, spurring his horse forward and blithely ignoring the despairing farmer’s demands for compensation.

“I need six eggs!” a woman cried as she tried to hold several fussing babies at once.

“That’s too expensive!” a man complained to someone selling pottery. “Twenty coins for a pile of cheap clay? Bah!”

Pinky and the carriage parted ways as the cobblestone street changed to an unpaved dirt path. The gossip and chatter of ACME Village faded to background noise.

Slappy had made her home in a hollow tree on the outskirts of town, close enough to get supplies but far enough to deter most from knocking on her door.

Pinky passed by many warning and danger signs that kept most people from bothering the old squirrel. There was a new post up today, right next to Slappy’s front door.

LAST WARNING

NO SELLING, NO PREACHING, NO TAX COLLECTING

KNOCK AT YOUR OWN RISK

Well, what was life without a little risk? Pinky knocked on the door anyway.

He was trying to decide if one of the clouds overhead was shaped more like a monkey or a strawberry when a small brown squirrel in a blue nightgown and cap opened the door. Despite the early morning, he was wide awake and hopping in place, his excitement only growing as he spotted the basket of acorns behind Pinky.

“Morning, Skippy! Got the basket of acorns your aunt wanted!” Pinky exclaimed.

Skippy grinned as he took the basket from the wagon. “Thanks, Pinky! Aunt Slappy will love these!”

He popped a few acorns into his mouth and loudly crunched the shells.

“Skippy, what’d I say about answering the door at this godforsaken hour in the morning?” a cranky voice yelled from upstairs.

“It’s just Pinky with the acorns, Aunt Slappy! No door to door salespeople, preachers, or tax collectors in sight!” Skippy shouted. Then he turned back to Pinky and pointed to his ear. “I like your feather, by the way.”

“Thanks! I like your nightcap!” Pinky said, returning the compliment with his own.

A few moments later, Slappy joined Pinky and Skippy downstairs. She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, her long gray tail dragging behind her.

“Well, why didn’t you say so?” Slappy asked. She tossed several acorns into her mouth and nodded her approval. “Crunchy with a pinch of salt. This is gonna be a good topping for my world-renowned creamed spinach later.”

“SPEEWWWWWWWWW!” Skippy cried, sticking his tongue out in disgust.

Pinky just smiled politely. Slappy took a lot of pride in her creamed spinach recipe, and he didn’t want to hurt her feelings by saying it tasted like soggy socks.

“Hey, when I was your age, I ate lots of creamed spinach for dinner. And now I have enough muscles to wield a hundred ton mallet,” Slappy retorted.

“Wow! Was that when dinosaurs roamed the earth?” Skippy asked.

Slappy gave him a light smack on the back of his head. “Little brat. Go grab a few coins from the bureau in my room. Gotta pay the mouse for lugging this stuff across town.”

Skippy blew a raspberry at her and ran up the stairs.

“Your tongue is never gonna go back in your mouth if you keep doing that!” Slappy yelled.

Funny how the Squirrels were his best neighbors, even though they lived on the opposite side of town. They’d helped out so much when Pinky and Papa first moved into the countryside cottage, from showing them all the best places to buy from and all the best trees to climb. Everyone else usually stared at them strangely for not knowing how to find a shop and moved on with their day.

Still, Pinky didn’t want to impose on them or anything. Collecting the acorns was no trouble at all. And he knew money could be a little tight in the village at times.

“You don’t have to pay me,” Pinky said. “Poit. I don’t mind the morning exercise.”

“You’re walkin’ outta here with those coins whether you like it or not,” Slappy said in a tone that invited no room for argument. “Don’t be one of ‘em honor before reason types. That sorta mindset is nothing but trouble.”

Slappy’s long tail flicked in irritation, accidentally knocking a framed painting askew on the wall next to her. She sighed and fixed the crooked painting so that it hung straight. “Can never keep this darn thing straight,’ she muttered.

Pinky had been inside the hollow tree many times, but he’d never seen this painting before. It contained a colorful cast of characters, from a carrot-munching gray rabbit to a crazy black duck to a short gunslinger with an enormous bright red mustache.

In the painting, a youthful Slappy with a manic grin on her face and giant firecracker in her hand was chasing a bald hunter. Her smile was brighter, and her eyes didn’t seem so world-weary there.

“Like it? Old pals sent it to me two weeks ago,” Slappy asked, a hint of nostalgia in her voice. “The Looney Tunes Troupe were a rascally bunch, that’s for sure. All the money for a detailed painting, and they can’t afford a better frame. Our shows were legendary back in the day, you know.”

“Never heard of them,” Pinky admitted.

“Course ya haven’t,” Slappy sighed. “Your generation doesn’t know good comedy when it hits them in the bum with a mallet. Troupe’s faded into obscurity now, but they’ve never stopped traveling and being annoying yet lovable nuisances to everyone from Albuquerque to Kalamazoo to Timbuktu.”

Pinky tilted his head. “But you don’t travel anymore.”

If the Squirrels needed something they couldn’t get in ACME Village, they usually asked Pinky to run the errand for them.

“Yeah, well, that’s life,” Slappy said. “Sometimes you’re a nomad with total freedom and other times you gotta flee with your nephew to a different country.”

Before Pinky could ask more questions, Skippy barreled downstairs with as many coins as he could carry. “I didn’t know how much to grab so I just took a handful,” Skippy said, dumping the currency onto a small side table.

Slappy picked up six coins from the pile and dropped them into a small drawstring bag, then tightened the strings and tossed the bag into Pinky’s wagon. “You can have these. I’ve got plenty more lying around,” she said.

“If you're sure then,” Pinky said, picking up his wagon handle and turning it around. “Love to stay, but Papa’s leaving for the fair soon and I gotta see him off!”

“Tell him we said hi!” Skippy shouted, and Pinky saluted back.

Slappy yawned, stretching her arms above her head. “And I’m hitting the hay again. It’s too damn early, and I’m too tired to censor my swearing in front of kids.”

o-o-o-o-o

After his visit to Slappy’s tree, Pinky decided to kill some time at ACME Village’s fountain, where he could enjoy the fine spray of water and run in circles along the stone rim. It was always fun seeing how fast he could go without tipping into the water.

“Sorry!” he shouted as he accidentally trod over freshly washed sheets that a woman had been folding next to the fountain. She made an indignant noise and carried her basket of laundry away, nose high in the air.

And the whispers started up again.

“That mouse may be a beauty, but he is way too peculiar for his own good.”

“You have to wonder if he’s feeling well.”

“Always a dreamy, far-off look on his face.”

On his tenth lap around the fountain, a flock of sheep strolled by, guided by a young shepherd from behind. Two fluffy ewes jumped onto the fountain rim next to Pinky and drank the water. Pinky smiled and stroked their soft wool, and the ewes bleated in contentment.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Pinky whispered into their ears. “Don’t go blabbing this to anyone now...but I believe Papa’s a shoo-in for that blue ribbon!”

One of the ewes turned and nibbled on his ear, and Pinky laughed as her blocky teeth tugged and tickled his fur. He gently pried her jaw open and his ear popped out of her mouth, dripping wet with sheep saliva.

As Pinky prepared to slide off the fountain rim and onto the small bag of money he’d gotten from Slappy, a regal fanfare went off in the distance, thundering hoofbeats growing ever closer.

A messenger in a white powdered wig blew his coronet and cleared his throat.

“HEAR YE! HEAR YE! MAKE WAY FOR HIS ROYAL MAJESTY, PRINCE SNOWBALL AND HIS HUNTING PARTY!”

The messenger’s declaration sent every man, woman, and child running towards the plaza, gathering in front of the entrance of the local tavern, the centerpoint of all social activities in ACME Village.

The hunting party rode in on their enormous horses, spearheaded by the ruler of the province, Prince Snowball. Though only a small hamster, he was famed by all for his keen mind and ability to get results on whatever he set out to accomplish.

Though dressed in only a simple red shirt and breeches for hunting, the only signs of his higher status being the golden crown upon his head and the expensive black horse he rode, his presence commanded respect and awe.

Behind him, a hunting party consisting of the best huntsmen and archers in the land dragged an enormous buck, two wild boars, and several pheasants into view.

“People of ACME Village, tonight we shall dine on these fine specimens of the animal kingdom!” Snowball announced as everyone bowed in fear of a noble’s anger. “Everyone’s presence is required, for I have a further declaration that shall lift this derelict province out of the ashes and into a glorious future!”

His pink eyes were sharp, but beneath that layer of intelligence, there was an undertone of something that didn’t feel right. Pinky couldn’t explain it, but he always just had this odd, icky feeling that crawled up his spine whenever he saw Snowball.

The crowd straightened up, cheering and clapping and praising Prince Snowball’s name for bringing them such good fortune with the promise of more to come.

Pinky’s ear twitched. There was a soft, desperate sound mixed in with the roars of the captivated audience.

And to the left side of the crowd, there was a tiny lamb whose back leg was tangled in a large fishing net. The mother ewe was both nuzzling the lamb in comfort and trying to pull the net off with her teeth, but to no avail.

The shepherd never noticed his sheep were in trouble, too caught up in hailing Prince Snowball to notice one of his charges was stuck.

Pinky hopped off the fountain and slowly walked over to the thrashing lamb and his mother, putting his hands up to show them he wasn’t a threat. The lamb bleated in panic, and the mother eyed Pinky warily.

“May I help? I’m good at untangling stuff,” Pinky asked. He’d gotten a lot of practice when Papa occasionally tangled himself up in threads and wires.

The ewe regarded him for a long moment, then nuzzled the back of her lamb’s head, letting him bury his head into her wool. The lamb’s trembling stopped, his back leg still.

It was a sweet gesture, one that seemed so familiar to him, even though his own mother had long passed. He remembered that feeling of warmth and safety from so long ago, the last time he felt like he was truly home.

Wiping a stray tear from his eye, Pinky untangled the mesh from the lamb’s leg, starting from the top and slowly moving down to the hoof.

“There you go, baby,” Pinky said once the leg was completely free. The lamb pulled his hoof out of the netting, gave it a good shake, then joyfully pranced and bleated around his mother and Pinky.

The mother gave Pinky a tiny nod, bleated to her little one, and together they rejoined their flock. The shepherd was still ignoring his flock in favor of Prince Snowball. Pinky couldn’t see him anymore from the ground.

Pinky picked up his wagon handle, ready to go home and help Papa hitch everything up to Pharfignewton.

Then he felt a pair of fingers pluck the feather he’d lovingly tucked behind his ear. Pinky turned to get his feather back, and jumped when Snowball was just inches from his face.

“Hello, Pinky,” Snowball said. He smiled, but it was more out of smugness than a real smile.

Pinky’s ears lowered, but then he remembered his manners. “Bonjour, Prince Snowball. May I have my feather please? A really nice bird gave that to me.”

Snowball frowned, holding the feather out of Pinky’s reach. The feather crinkled in his tight grip. “How could you possibly need this? It’s hardly good quality for even the cheapest quills.”

“Poit. It doesn’t need to be a quill to make me happy,” Pinky replied.

Snowball rolled his eyes, tossing the feather behind him. Pinky tried to grab it, but it was caught on a gust of wind and drifted to the ground. It landed in a mud puddle, soaking the barbs of the feather and staining it brown.

“Pinky, get your head out of the clouds and pay attention to important matters,” Snowball’s lip curled as he blocked Pinky from retrieving his feather. “Such as showing royals courtesy when they address a peasant like you.”

“Excuse me, Snowball,” Pinky said politely, going around the hamster to pick up his feather. The damage didn’t look too bad. Still, he tried to be careful when he cleaned it with his apron.

Snowball crossed his arms, and the town’s whispers started up again.

How dare he not show proper respect to Snowball, does he fancy himself higher than a prince, why would Snowball pay him any individual attention and not someone more deserving.

“That’s Prince Snowball to you.” Snowball’s fur bristled for a moment, but he took a deep breath and put his arms around Pinky’s shoulders instead. “The whole town's talking about you and your lack of...purpose. And we can’t have that, you realize. After all, a machine requires all of its cogs and gears to run smoothly, otherwise it won’t work.”

“Bet his crackpot father would know something about that!” one of Snowball’s men chortled.

Everyone laughed, even Snowball, who rarely did so. An unfamiliar feeling boiled in Pinky’s stomach.

“Don’t talk about my father that way!” Pinky snapped. His inventions were amazing and he was going to do well at the fair! They didn’t know how hard Papa worked on his inventions!

Snowball glared at his men. “Yes, don’t talk about his father that way, you fools!” he hissed like Pinky hadn’t heard him laughing just seconds ago.

“He’s not a crackpot! His invention’s gonna win the blue ribbon cause it was made with smarts and love, you’ll see!” Pinky declared, just as an explosion went off in the distance.

And he knew exactly where that explosion had come from.

“I have to go. Goodbye!” Pinky dragged his wagon behind him, setting off for the cottage he and Papa called home.

“It’s a pity and a sin,

He doesn’t quite fit in.

He really is a funny mouse,

A beauty but a funny mouse,

He really is a funny mouse,

THAT PIN-”

The sharp, high-pitched crack of a rifle interrupted the village’s song, and everyone ran for cover.

“WILL YA SHUT UP? SOME OF US ARE TRYIN�� TA SLEEP!” Slappy shouted from her tree, her screech blowing tiles and lumber from the roofs of buildings.

Just a provincial life in this little town. Pinky ran across the cobblestone bridge, wondering if he truly had the right to ask for something more than that.

o-o-o-o-o

He hurried over to the cellar, where smoke trailed from the gaps of the heavy wooden doors. Pinky opened the entrance, and a smoky cloud blew right in his face. He coughed and waved it away, hiding his nose in his dress as he hurried over to Papa, who’d been thrown onto his back. A pile of broken wooden planks covered him.

In the corner, Madeleine sputtered, her gears and dials spinning wildly before she finally quieted down, one loose spring sending a gear crashing into a wall.

“Dagnabbit, Madeleine!” Papa cursed, stumbling as he extracted himself from the pile of wooden planks. Pinky grabbed his arm and helped him to his feet, checking him over for any injuries. Luckily, there were no bruises or splinters to be found. “Don’t you stall out on me now!”

Pinky smiled. Papa’s string of random gibberish and mutterings of smart inventor words he couldn’t understand was something he’d been familiar with from a young age. No matter where they lived, it was just one of those things that came with home.

Papa huffed, untying his apron with all his tools and tossing it to the ground. “She’ll never work in time for the fair! What was I thinking?” he lamented. “It’s not too late. Maybe I can cobble something else together quickly! Yes, I’ll just take the doowhatzit out of Madeleine, combine it with the kaleidomajiggy from the old washer, and-”

“You always say that, Papa,” Pinky said, hugging his father around the shoulders. Papa rested his hands over Pinky’s with a sigh. “Don’t worry. I believe Madeleine will work, and she’ll win you that blue ribbon and help you become an inventor for the history books! Narf! Just like Benjamin Franklin, ‘cept without all the kite-flying.”

“You really think so?” Papa asked, his frown turning to a hopeful smile.

“Course I do,” Pinky grinned.

A determined look crossed Papa’s face, and he tied his apron around his waist, nearly tripping over it in the process.

“What are we waiting for then? Let’s fix ‘er up!” Papa said, laying down on a flat, low cart and pushing himself under the broken stove that made up Madeleine’s main body. “So how was your morning in town?”

“A little birdie gave me a feather. I found a pretty stone by the pond. And I delivered the acorns to the Squirrels. Did you know Slappy used to be a part of a traveling troupe? I didn’t.” Pinky recanted his morning to Papa as tools clinked and scratched against metal. “Oh, and I guess you’ll be missing Prince Snowball’s feast tonight. They’ll have venison and wild boar there.”

“A feast? That sounds nice. Much better than inn food,” Papa mused. As usual, only part of what Pinky said ever registered with him. “Are you going?”

“I don’t know yet,” Pinky admitted. “Don’t get me wrong, I love a good party...but Prince Snowball is-um, what’s a good word for him?”

“Rich? Smart? Confident?” Papa suggested. “He’s been talkin’ to you a lot lately.”

So everyone’s noticed, even Papa who spent much of his time in the cellar that doubled as a workshop.

“He has,” Pinky agreed. “And he says he can give me a purpose. But...I don’t know. I don’t think he’s right for me. Maybe I’m just as odd as they say I am.”

It was the same everywhere they settled. No matter what Pinky tried to do, the whispers always followed him. He noticed strange things, he wore strange clothes, he and Papa were always strangers in towns where everyone knew each other from birth.

Papa slid out from under Madeleine, wearing a silly helmet on his head that gave him huge, bug-like eyes.

“My son is odd?” Papa asked in disbelief, and Pinky laughed. The helmet always made Papa look silly. “Don’t know where these folks get their ideas from…anyway, I think Madeleine’s all ready to go. Care to give her a whirl?”

“Zort! Am I!” Pinky clapped his hands together. Papa pointed to a lever, which Pinky pulled with all his might.

Madeleine’s bells and whistles sounded, water steadily pumping through her system while steam filled her stove. Pulleys and gears turned along her sides, reaching the front. Her dials quivered until they reached the red zone, and the ax at her front swung down, scoring a deep cut in a block of firewood. The ax swung faster and faster, until one final split the firewood in half and sent one chunk flying.

Pinky and Papa ducked, and the chunk flew over their heads and landed perfectly on a pile of firewood against the wall.

“She works!” Pinky shouted in joy, kissing one of Madeleine’s wooden wheels. “You did it, Papa!”

“I did?” Papa murmured. “I did! 265th time’s the charm, Pinky! Look out fair, I’m on my way!”

o-o-o-o-o

Within the hour, Madeleine was wheeled out from the workshop, covered and tied up with a tarp, and hitched to Pharfignewton.

“Bye, Fig,” Pinky said, hugging his beloved horse’s muzzle. “Keep Papa on track to the fair, okay? You know how he likes taking shortcuts.”

Pharfignewton whinnied gently, planting a sloppy kiss on top of Pinky’s head.

Then Pinky embraced Papa, who returned the hug with the same enthusiasm. And he was reminded of how the mouse and horse he considered his home would be leaving for some time. He wished he could go with them, but someone had to keep house and he was the best one for the job. It wouldn’t be for long, but he’d miss them all the same.

A stray tear dropped. Just another reason he was considered odd. He cried so easily.

“Chin up, Pinky,” Papa murmured, rubbing a soothing circle into Pinky’s back. “I’ll win that blue ribbon along with the prize money, and we’ll begin our lives anew within the week.”

Through his tears, Pinky gave him a wobbly smile. Then he helped Papa onto Pharfignewton’s back.

“Take care!” Pinky called as Papa flicked the reins, and Pharfignewton trotted off at a steady pace, dragging Madeleine behind her. He watched them from atop the highest hill in the meadow, as they went further down the well-worn trail that merchants used for their travels.

Then they were nothing but specks in the distance, swallowed by the thick, twisted branches of the forest. It was an unusual forest, one where the trees lost their leaves in early autumn, making the trees look scarier than they actually were for half the year.

With nothing else to do outside, Pinky went back into the empty cottage. He’d had three years to become familiar with this house, full of odds and ends from Papa’s inventions alongside their meager belongings.

Mama’s cloak hung from a place of honor on a coat rack by the door, one of the few belongings Pinky could take along no matter where they lived.

Hours passed, and Pinky already missed the banging and exploding and sputtering of Papa’s inventions. It was just too quiet without them.

He cleaned the red feather and pretty stone, then added them to his collection. Feathers and rocks didn’t take up a lot of room, and like Mama’s cloak, they could easily be taken to new places as well. He was just very careful not to lose them.

The wagon was tucked away by the door, and the small bag of money was tucked inside a flower pot. It was how Papa always stored money, and Pinky had picked up the habit.

There wasn’t much to do. He’d cleaned the cottage several days ago, cellar notwithstanding. That was Papa’s territory, and he always had trouble finding tools when Pinky put them away.

Suppertime approached.

He could either cook dinner or go to the feast.

Didn’t matter what he chose. He would be lonely either way.

A sharp rap on the door startled him out of his thoughts. How strange. People only knocked at this time when there was an emergency.

“Sorry for taking so long. I wasn’t expecting-” Pinky opened the door, and he immediately stood face-to-face with Prince Snowball. They were so close that their noses nearly touched. “-to see you here, Snowball. Um, this is a surprise. Poit.”

Snowball’s pink eyes narrowed in annoyance, and Pinky remembered that Snowball preferred to be addressed with his full title. “Yes, it’s not often that someone of my standing chooses to grace a peasant’s home with their presence.”

Behind Snowball, there was an entourage of townsfolk. Many wore their Sunday best, which was still quite cheap compared to the royal finery that Snowball bore. A fine red coat, a decorative golden cape slung over one shoulder, and white dress pants. A shiny crown embedded with rubies and emeralds sat atop his head.

“I thought you were all at the tavern for the feast,” Pinky admitted.

Snowball laughed, but it was a joyless laugh. He stepped across the threshold without being invited in.

“Why, Pinky. Your hovel is positively primeval,” Snowball said, wrinkling his nose in disdain. He tugged Mama’s cloak off its hook, stared at it for a moment, then carelessly tossed it behind him. “If this is how you live, then it’s a truly auspicious time for me to come and offer you an opportunity out of this squalor.”

Before Pinky could ask what auspicious was, though he figured it had something to do with Austria, Snowball harshly dug his fingers into Pinky’s shoulders. Pinky tried to pry them off, but the fingers just burrowed further into the fabric of his dress.

“Not to worry, dear Pinky,” Snowball said. “Today is the day all your dreams come true.”

“You mean my dream to find a home and a porpoise? Because I don’t know if we have enough money to live by the ocean. Beachside properties get very pricey, you know,” Pinky asked.

Snowball waved off that concern. “You forget that finances are of no consequence for me. But I digress. For now, allow me to plant the image of a wonderful future in your vacant mind.”

“Okay, but I don’t know how you’re gonna water it,” Pinky said.

“Picture this,” Snowball demanded, leading Pinky around the cottage. “A magnificent castle. Two golden thrones, mine higher than the queen’s of course. A few summer homes to expand my sphere of influence. A court of other royals, lesser nobles, while the servants do all the menial work around the fires and kitchen. We’ll have...oh, six or seven.”

“Servants?” Pinky grinned nervously as Snowball leaned in with a chuckle.

“Castles, Pinky. How else would I showcase my power?” Snowball corrected. “And the townsfolk shall become our servants. It will save me the trouble of setting up a hiring process anyway. Besides, you’d appreciate having familiar faces around. Less of an adjustment period.”

Pinky freed himself from Snowball’s grip. “I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

“Of course you don’t,” Snowball shrugged. “But in simplest terms, I require a queen. One who is good at smiling, waving, and entertainment.”

Wouldn’t that person become a princess rather than a queen though?

Snowball must’ve seen the question coming. He paused in front of the mirror to adjust his crown.

“There is but one title higher than a prince, Pinky,” Snowball said once he was finished. “In order to qualify for the kingship, it’s required of me to marry first. And do you know who that queen will be?”

“Elizabeth? Victoria?” Pinky wilted under Snowball’s intense stare. “Um...Cleopatra, final answer?”

Snowball shook his head. “It will be you, Pinky.”

A queen? He’d always just been the inventor’s son. An outcast no matter where he lived. How could he possibly be a queen?

“That’s a very generous offer, Snowball,” Pinky said, once he finally found his words again.

“Isn’t it, though?” Snowball said smugly. “You and your father will live in an extravagant new home as you perform your queenly duties, and I will be forever hailed as King Snowball. Both of us shall benefit.”

Maybe he and Papa could live in better conditions. Maybe they didn’t have to move around anymore. Maybe they could afford shoes for Pharfignewton. But at the same time…it wouldn’t be right.

It wouldn’t be home.

Smiling, waving, entertaining. Was that all he was good for? Was that all Snowball thought he could do?

“I thought...marriage was for love,” Pinky said softly. “That’s what Papa always said.”

Snowball rolled his eyes. “It’s a political marriage. It doesn’t have to be built on love.”

Be careful what you wish for, because you just might get it.

It was one of the earliest morals Pinky had learned.

Wish for a home, only for it to be a castle. Wish for a purpose, and it’s to be married without love as a foundation.

“Snowball...I’m speechless,” Pinky said, backing out the front door. He nearly tripped over the welcome mat, but regained his footing. “I...I really don’t know what to say.”

Not even a narf would help him out of this situation.

“Say that you’ll marry me, Pinky,” Snowball replied, and he stalked toward Pinky like a cunning predator, backing him against the edge of the porch. “And after you say yes, I will announce our engagement to the rest of ACME Village at the feast. Attendance is mandatory for a reason.”

“I’m really, really sorry, Snowball,” Pinky said. He’d backed up too far, and the heels of his feet dangled precariously over the edge. Instincts kicking in, Pinky grabbed Snowball’s shoulder to pull himself to safety, though he underestimated his strength. Snowball yelped as he was pulled over the edge, falling into the mud puddle by the staircase.

Oops.

“Sorry, Snowball! But I just don’t deserve you,” Pinky admitted.

The mud-covered crown slipped around Snowball’s head, covering his eyes until he took it off with an annoyed grunt.

Pinky slipped back into the house, grabbed a small towel, and handed it to one of Snowball’s men.

Claude, if he remembered right.

“He can have that one,” Pinky told Claude, who gingerly took the towel like it was a fragile item.

Snowball crawled out of the mud, his royal clothing covered in gunk and sticks. He stomped out of the mud, hands clenching against his sides.

Snowball’s brow lowered, his pink eyes hidden in humiliation and a quiet, seething fury.

Slowly, Pinky retreated into the cottage and hid behind the door. There was something about that look that terrified him. And it wasn’t the fun kind of fear, either.

“You will consider my offer, Pinky. Make no mistake about that,” Snowball spat, his scrutinizing gaze directly on Pinky, despite the door between them. “Claude, quit being daft and hand me that towel already!”

Pinky waited in the cottage until he could no longer hear their voices or footsteps. They must’ve gone back to the tavern for the feast.

He didn’t feel hungry though. Snowball’s proposal left a sour taste in his mouth, like he’d just sucked on a lemon.

“He asked me to marry him,” Pinky said to his mother’s cloak, which was still crumpled on the floor. He gently picked it up, brushed off the wrinkles, and put it on. The fabric was warm against his back, like being wrapped in a ginormous embrace. “But he doesn’t love me. Narf! You can’t have a marriage without love!”

He thought of all the married couples he knew in ACME Village. The baker couple, who were constantly at each other’s throats. Gerard the butcher was always making googly eyes at any woman who bought cuts of meat, much to his wife’s frustration. There was the stressed lady who had to drag her six kids around town while her husband played cards and darts at the tavern.

And Pinky thought of his parents. His mother had fallen in love with his father’s inventive streak when she was the daughter of a town official and Papa was just the crazy mouse whose inventions blew up a lot.

He tied the cloak tighter around himself. Unable to take the silence of the cottage and the stifling influence of the village much longer, he allowed his feet to carry him out of the cottage and to wherever they wanted to go.

He sprinted into the unknown. He wouldn’t be afraid of whatever he found there. The autumn wind blew golden, red, and brown leaves in whichever direction it wished as Pinky climbed the highest hill in the gorgeous flower-filled meadow.

The peak of the hill was his favorite spot, and he was surprised that nobody else came out here to enjoy the view with him. Trees lost their colorful leaves so they could sleep for the winter, the river splashed and babbled along its banks, and proud mountains with mysterious cloud-covered peaks rose high above the landscape.

What laid beyond villages and towns, he didn’t know.

There was something in that great wide somewhere for him. Just a feeling, an inkling, a hunch.

But could he truly go exploring it when his home was here?

Maybe he could convince Papa. Somehow. When Papa came back with the prize money, they could fit Pharfignewton with her shoes and they could all explore together!

Staring into the autumn landscape, Pinky sank to his knees, careful not to squish the daisies and dandelions around him.

Maybe that was home, but…

He didn’t know what he wanted to do with his life. Would he ever figure that out?

He loved Papa, but he couldn’t really talk to him. And Slappy had her hands full with such an energetic nephew. Pinky didn’t want to impose. Everyone in the village gossiped about him, like he couldn’t understand.

But he did.

And it hurt.

“Would be nice to talk to someone. Anyone, really,” he whispered, and he blew on a cluster of dandelion puffs. His wish scattered along the wind.

Pinky picked up more dandelion puffs. If he blew more around, maybe his wish would come true. And dandelion flowers were very pretty.

Maybe they were considered weeds, but how could anyone call such a sunshine-y yellow flower a pest? He didn’t get it.

Then a distant, familiar neigh caught him off-guard.

Pinky thumped his hand against his ear. Maybe he was missing Pharfignewton so much that he heard her voice?

But he’d recognize her magnificent white coat and spirited blue eyes anywhere.

“Easy, Pharfignewton! It’s okay!” Pinky cried. He scrambled up Pharfignewton’s leg, avoided her flailing hoof, and held onto her muzzle as she bucked and reared in sheer panic. “Shhh, it’s okay. You’re okay…”

Pharfignewton quieted down, her frantic neighs melting into soft, worried nickers as Pinky stroked her nose. She stopped kicking, though she was wide-eyed with fear.

Madeleine wasn’t hitched to Pharfignewton. Nor was she wasn’t the only one missing…

And Pinky suddenly understood his horse’s panic.

“Pharfignewton, where’s Papa?” Pinky asked. “Is he okay? How did you get separated? Did he try another shortcut when I told him not to do it?”

Pharfignewton’s hooves shuffled, and Pinky forced himself to take a deep breath. He was scaring her with all these questions, so he nuzzled her between the eyes in apology. Still, his heart raced with panic.

From the top of the hill, he saw thick, gray clouds rolling in from the mountains. The temperature was dropping fast.

An early winter would be upon them. They had to find Papa quickly.

“Please, Pharfignewton. We’ve gotta find him,” Pinky pleaded.

She whinnied in agreement, and galloped into the strange forest with all its dangerous, twisted branches before Pinky had a chance to settle in his usual spot at the base of her neck.

Don’t worry, Papa. I’m on my way.

End AN: Well, this is beast is complete (no pun intended).

Yeah, poor Pinky’s usual charm doesn’t really work here. Poor mouse.

Slappy is fun to write, not gonna lie. Love her cartoony antics. She’s also led quite the interesting life in this AU.

The reason Snowball didn’t show up sooner was because I wasn’t sure how to tweak the proposal scene to fit. Cause for one thing, Snowball is way smarter than Gaston, but just as arrogant to boot. So I changed Snowball’s motivation into marrying Pinky because it will help him gain a higher title than a prince. He doesn’t actually love Pinky in this AU, but he’s very annoyed at him for that stunt with the mud puddle (though it’s accidental on Pinky’s part rather than intentional like Belle’s).

The reason Snowball doesn’t go seeking a princess’s hand to gain the kingship is cause he tried that already. It was Billie of a nearby kingdom. It didn’t go well.

Also yes the village is named ACME Village because I’m lazy and can’t come up with anything better.

#pinky and the brain #patb snowball #beauty and the beast au #patb fanfiction

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be11atrixthestrange · 4 years

Text

A Bedtime Story

Also, my first Hinny fic!

I’ve hesitated to post a hinny for so long since the fandom intimidates me :). But here we go...

A Bedtime Story

It was a dark and cold evening, and after a long week at the Auror department, Harry was more than ready for a nightcap. Firewhiskey in hand, he settled onto the couch next to Ginny, who was wrapped up in a fleece blanket by the crackling fire. She snuggled up next to him, looping her arms around his waist as he draped one arm around her shoulder.

"Long day?" she asked.

"You have no idea." His fatigue was nothing out of the ordinary, as his new leadership position left him exhausted at the end of every week. He never saw Ron at work anymore since he left the department last year, which made the days at work seem endless. And of course, he missed the action of his prior position. He thought spending more time in the office and less in the field would help him conserve his energy, but soon found out that the lack of excitement just drained him more. Ginny knew all this, of course.

"Well thankfully, tomorrow is a day off for both of us," she said, reaching for Harry's glass of Firewhiskey and taking her own sip. "And the night is still young." She placed the glass on the coffee table. Before Harry could protest, she turned his face toward her and kissed him. Harry groaned through the kiss, and he felt Ginny smile against his lips. He was so tired, but Ginny had a way of convincing him he wasn't. So he conceded, gently pulling Ginny with him as he lowered himself to his back.

"Uncle Harry? Aunt Ginny?"

Harry and Ginny froze at the sound of Teddy's little voice calling from the staircase. Andromeda had been away for the past week, and Harry and Ginny were currently on day six of Teddy Duty. They didn't mind it one bit, but bedtime was turning out to be quite the struggle. It was the third time tonight that Teddy had come out of bed, and evidently they had gotten a little too comfortable with their privacy.

"Can you tell me a story?"

Ginny sighed. "What are you doing awake?" she asked, untangling herself from Harry's arms. She subtly straightened her shirt back out and Harry grinned, as if a five year old boy would have any idea what he was interrupting. "It's very late, Teddy."

"I can't sleep without a story!" said the blue-haired child as he entered the living room. When he came closer, Harry realized he had tears in his eyes.

Harry and Ginny exchanged a look of both frustration and concern. "What happened, Teddy?"

"I don't want to be alone! I'm too scared to sleep alone," he said, his hair deepening to a darker, more ominous shade of blue.

"Ok," said Harry, shifting over to make room for him. "We will tell you a story. And you can come be with us on the couch for a while. You don't need to be alone."

Teddy nodded eagerly, before running around to the front of the sofa, and diving into the cushion between Harry and Ginny, his hair lightening in it's blue shade.

"What kind of story do you want to hear?" asked Ginny as she draped her arm around his little shoulders. He leaned into her, placing his head up against her arm. Harry couldn't help but smile at the easy affection between the two.

"Magical creatures!" said Teddy.

"Magical creatures?" Harry asked, raising his eyebrows. "Any particular kind of creatures?"

Teddy scrunched up his face in thought. "Way wolves."

Ginny looked at Teddy. "Way wolves? What are those?"

"Way wolves. The moon wolves."

"Oh. Do you mean werewolves?" said Harry cautiously, looking questioningly at Ginny, who shrugged.

"That's what I said," he replied, and his hair flickered red in frustration.

"Of course it is," said Ginny cheerfully. "We can tell you a story about a werewolf, if you'd like."

Teddy nodded in excitement before resting his head back down on Ginny's shoulder, and his hair settled at purple, as it did when he was content.

"We used to have a very good friend who was a werewolf," continued Harry. "He was a pretty cool bloke. Do you want to hear more about him?"

Teddy grinned. "Yes!"

"He was my teacher when I was in school. His name was Remus," said Harry. "Can you say Remus?"

"Wemus."

Ginny smiled. "Close enough," said Harry, before continuing his tale. "Remus became a werewolf when he was very young, and every single month, on the full moon, he would turn into a big scary wolf."

"Aaargh!" said Ginny abruptly, in imitation of a wolf growl, playfully digging her fingers into Teddy's side. Teddy shrieked then howled in laughter.

"Was he a mean way wolf?" he asked when he calmed down.

"No, he was a nice werewolf. But there are a lot of people who are afraid of werewolves, so he kept it a secret for a very long time. Every time the full moon came out, he would go out to the woods alone, and wait by himself until he could turn back into a human."

"He had to be alone? Was he sad?" asked Teddy, as his hair flashed blue again.

"I think he was very sad. It's lonely in the woods," said Harry. "I'd be pretty sad if I had to stay in the woods by myself. Wouldn't you?"

Teddy nodded, and snuggled up closer into Ginny's arms.

"One day, his three best friends found out that he was a werewolf. They discovered that he would disappear only when there was a full moon, so they asked him about it, and he told the truth."

"Uh oh," said Teddy. "Were they scared?"

"No, they weren't," said Harry. "But Remus thought they were scared, and it made him sad. Especially when they started spending more time together without him."

"Why?" said Teddy, as his hair brightened to an angry shade of red again.

"Well, Remus thought they didn't want to be his friend anymore, but it wasn't that. Do you know what it was?"

"What?" asked Teddy.

"They were working on a top secret project and wanted to surprise him. They were spending so much time together without Remus because they were brewing a magical potion that would help them turn into animals too."

"Like this?" Teddy scrunched up his face, and suddenly a pair of triangular puppy dog ears sprouted from the sides of his head.

"Exactly like that!" said Harry, as Ginny ruffled his ears. Teddy laughed as his ears slowly turned back into human ones. "But they couldn't do it as easily as you. They needed a potion to do it, and they could only pick one animal. It took more than a month to make the potion, and they didn't want to get caught, so that's why they were so sneaky about it."

"Did Wemus find out what they were doing?"

"He did. One night, under the full moon, he was in the woods by himself, and three more animals walked up to him. There was a dog, a rat, and a stag. He recognized them at once as his three best friends. And then he never had to spend a night alone in the woods again."

"I don't want to be alone either!" said Teddy.

"You don't have to be!" said Ginny. She reached for the two pillows that were behind her back and set them down on the coffee table, before motioning for Harry to do the same. He pulled the two pillows from his side and set them down next to hers.

Ginny took out her wand and pointed it at the first pillow, muttering a few incantations as it began to change shape. When she was done, the pillow resembled a stuffed animal puppy. "This is Padfoot!" she told Teddy as she handed it to him. He squealed in excitement.

Ginny did it again with the second pillow, altering until it looked like a little rat. "Wormtail." She repeated the process with the third, transfiguring it into a stag. "And Prongs."

Teddy reached for the other two pillows and hugged them into his chest, smiling, his hair swirling in color indecisively.

"There's one more!" said Ginny, as she turned her spellwork to the last pillow, and it reshaped into a wolf. "This one is Moony!" She placed the pillow on top of the pile of stuffed animals that Teddy was currently holding. Like his mother's, his hair had landed on bubblegum pink, as it always did when he was feeling truly happy.

"Wemus!"

"Yes! That one's Remus," said Harry. "He'll always be with you."

Teddy was smiling looking down at the stuffed animal. "I love wemus," he said as he hugged it closer.

"Remus loves you too," said Harry, as he reached a hand over to Teddy, ruffling his bright pink hair, as Ginny looked at him tenderly. "What do you say Teddy? Bedtime?"

Teddy nodded, standing up, still clutching his stuffed animals to his chest. Harry playfully chased him toward the stairs, roaring like a wolf as Teddy shrieked and giggled as he ran away from him. Harry couldn't help but laugh as he chased him all the way back to Teddy's room. Once tucked in, Teddy fell asleep quickly, while holding Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs close.

When Harry returned to the living room, Ginny was right where he left her, sipping away at Harry's forgotten firewhiskey, and looking admiringly at him.

"What's that look for?" asked Harry as he melted back into the couch next to her.

"Not so tired after all, are you?".

"What can I say? Chasing Teddy around gives me a lot more energy than sitting at a desk, filing paperwork-"

"You're gonna be an awesome dad," Ginny interrupted. "Maybe that's the new adventure you need," she said more softly.

Harry smiled at her, unable to ignore the jolt of excitement that Ginny's comment ignited. "Yeah. Maybe it is," he said, plucking the glass of firewhiskey from her fingers. "Anyway, where were we?" he said before kissing her again.

#hinny #hinny fluff #hinny fic #harry and ginny #hp fanfic #harry potter #ginny weasley #hp fandom #harry x ginny #domestic fluff

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halothenthehorns · 3 years

Text

All in the Family

Chapter 140: The Slug Club

Twilight mist still hung in the air around them, and the deserted station left an odd taste in their mouth as the scarlet train hung behind them without moving off for once. Steam was still pumping out of it, there were even a few pets waiting on the ground cooing or hissing at them for their owners sudden departure as the eight of them landed in Hogsmeade station.

Peter had landed painfully on a bench and didn’t feel up to moving. Regulus stumbled into seemingly nothing to him, though thankfully the Thesteral only gave him a look of mild annoyance and didn’t take a snap. The dejected look he gave James and Sirius before stalking onto the train to be alone was heart wrenching to Peter, but he really didn’t know how to help with this one, he still had his own issues to work out with those two idiots, even if he had thought the prank had its merits and could have been funny under better circumstances.

Spotting the book down in the tracks of the train, he swallowed uncomfortably and watched for several extra moments to make sure it wasn’t going to spontaneously try to run him over as he eased himself down and darted back up with his prize in hand before following Regulus in even if he didn’t know what he was going to say.

There was only one compartment with all the curtains drawn, and Regulus was sitting inside chewing on his cheek so hard Peter had to fight the urge to tell him not to bite through his face.

He sat down across from him and opened the book with a whispered, “thanks.” Regulus smiled and nodded while Peter started, but kept pausing for extra breath than was needed just in case, offering company but silence at least for whatever Regulus wanted.

Things had been going so well there for a moment, Regulus wanted to sob on his new friend's shoulder like a child. He’d really thought Sirius was trying to rekindle some old familial bonds with the two games and asking after him, but he couldn’t get the look not really Sirius had given him out of his head, and his brother hadn’t even apologized! Like he should be laughing the whole thing off like Potter had clearly wanted to back in the shop, obviously annoyed as piss at him still. Even Peter had clearly found the whole thing funny, but at least he was restraining himself from saying so and acting normal.

Regulus listened as Harry’s friends blew off Harry’s aspersions of Draco being a Death Eater though and at least found that of some interest. Harry and his mates got into fights every year it seemed over something or other, maybe he really was still being a child hoping his brother would just go back to agreeing with him about everything. He could still get along with him even if they had a different idea of what was fun now.

He was not going to be like his parents, he genuinely regretted now losing his temper and he shouldn’t expect Sirius to act exactly how he wanted him to at all times or he would be just like them. He’d either take his brother as is or not at all, and he still wasn’t sure which yet.

Frank was still detailing for Lily exactly what the invisible horse looked like as she ran her hand in wonder over the silky main she couldn’t see. They weren’t covered in blood, so the thestral gave no indication it even cared they were there anymore than Trevor hopping past them.

They were blatantly ignoring Potter as he amused himself setting up some fireworks he’d filched from the last location, because setting those off was really the best way to make everything better apparently, even if none of them would deny enjoying the show when he did.

When they saw Alice coming over though from her landing, she gave Frank a careful look and whispered, “please try to talk some sense into her,” and left them to it, going a few carriages over and then inside of one.

“Are you two really mad at me I don’t agree with you?” Alice asked in surprise as she watched the display. They’d once even agreed with her to try interacting with them more before Snape’s not too distant future hurt Lily so bad, and Sirius’ future had imploded their lives again.

“No,” he said at once, taking her hand. “She just has no confidence in herself, telling Snape off for so many years and him never listening to her, she doesn't think you can help them anymore than I do. I still don't understand why you bothered," Frank told her, aware of how harsh he sounded, but he worried his kindhearted girlfriend was going to be quickly abused by that arse. Agreeing to not avoid them didn’t feel the same as involving themselves in their lives like she was now actively trying to do.

"What Harry said really bothered him Frank," Alice patiently explained, not letting his tone affect hers one bit. "Then, this future, it's really getting to him, and with his mates still all on the ropes, I think it wouldn't hurt to offer an olive branch. He listened too, he was quite polite back there in the kitchen."

"So he knows how to charm people, we know that from only getting half the detentions he should," Frank shook his head. "I'm still on Lily's side, if you keep indulging them they'll never learn."

"They're not exactly figuring it out for themselves at this rate," she smiled. "Going round in circles like they are, trying to make everybody laugh rather than talking it out. Regulus and Potter aren't shooting each other looks anymore, I think they cleared the air and that helped a bit. I don't regret it," she finished sincerely.

He sighed in defeat, he knew he couldn't really stop her nor was he going to actively try even if he did disapprove, but tried one last time, "thought you were staying out of it?"

"I am, as much as they ask me to," she shrugged. "James didn't, he was very attentive and open even if he didn't say much."

Frank kissed her temple and squeezed her hand but let it drop as he pulled her over to the carriage Lily had gone into, piling in themselves and listening avidly to the new Slug Club.

Sirius came over to lean casually against the same carriage as him like Remus wasn't obviously still pissed at him. Sirius clucked his tongue when he received no acknowledgment, he’d given up a front row seat to those fireworks for this, but said cheerfully, "Prongs thinks I slipped you a love potion, it's perfect right? You'd be a little grumpy if I did, and now you have an excuse for your excellent flirting and groping techniques."

"Flattery doesn't get you everywhere Sirius," he grumbled, even if he did turn his head around so he could see the eye roll that earned.

Sirius just preened at the attention, as usual. Why did he have to have a crush on the biggest prat at Hogwarts again? He smiled then, that one he only ever used in the dorms for them, and was still leaning against his shoulder. Sirius had done something he explicitly hadn’t wanted to, just for him in all this, so the real question should have been what had he done to deserve such a kind hearted friend.

"Here," Sirius suddenly dug something out of his pocket and handed him a bit of parchment. "My bucket list. Would you relax and think about having some fun for once!"

Remus gazed down and felt himself flush just a bit, some of this was quite raunchy and he had no idea what at least one of those was. He meant to fold it up carefully and put it in his own pocket as a show of good fun at least, already trying to plan in his head how to subtly get Sirius off the idea he didn't need others. Padfoot really was doing his best to mature from just an impulsive hot-head, which had been endearing enough for how fun that unpredictable side could be even with the downfalls of it. This new mature thing he was trying was somehow even more- his fingers didn’t finish the first crease as he realized there was writing on the other side and flipped it over. His stomach dropped.

"That's a list of others you could hook up with too," Sirius leaned casually against his shoulder and began jabbing at a few names, some of them even surprised him. "The ones I check marked I've personally been with, just in case that bugs you too for some reason, but the others I'm pretty confident about from reliable sources. I could give you a list of gals too, if you want."

Traitorous tears pricked at the corner of his eyes and he quickly crumpled it up, shoving it into his pocket without looking at Sirius or anyone. Merlin he was being such a nancy, Sirius had never been subtle in his life about his many hook ups and he'd never given one indication to Remus that would change just because they were doing it now!

Sirius did care about him, just not the way he wanted, and he would just have to live with that. It was more than he'd ever dreamed in his life he could even have friends when he came to this school, what the hell was he even doing risking that on a fling?

He cleared his throat and was very pleased with himself when he sounded perfectly normal. "Thanks Padfoot. Do you mind, I'm trying to pay attention to what Malfoy's up to?"

Sirius shrugged and left Remus to his thoughts, he had more than enough fun shouting abuse at the top of his lungs at what that Slytherin did to his godson anyways as he joined James to gaze up at the fireworks.

#Harry Potter #HP #HBP #fanfiction #reading the books #wolfstar #Jilly #James Potter #Marauders #Remus Lupin #Sirius Black #Regulus Black #Peter Pettigrew #Alice Smith #Frank Longbottom #Lily Evans

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p-artsypants · 4 years

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I’ll Handle This (7)

I really just want to say thanks. I love this fandom, and I love this story…just the overwhelming excitement for this fic makes me so so happy. Everything that happens is really just me saying ‘whatever, I want to see this’. Does it make sense? Not always. Is everyone completely in character? Maybe. Am I having a blast? Absolutely!

Thank you for all the comments and kudos!

And sorry for the wait. Wedding planning!

In Which Gabriel is Serenaded

(Ao3 | FF.net)

—

Day three, Adrien awoke on the pillow. He was used to it now, officially. How scary a thought!

Plagg had laid out his outfit, thankfully so Adrien could approve, or at least warm up to the idea.

It was one of the shirts that Marinette had Frankensteined together from the pieces they had found. Absolutely gaudy, atrocious, and a pain to look at. Stripes, polka dots, plaid, little patterns of flowers, all saturated as far top right of the Hue/Sat scale as possible.

It would make his father cry. It would set the media into a frenzy. It was glorious, and that scared Adrien.

It scared him that he was starting to come around. He was starting to enjoy this reckless abandon. It was cathartic to watch his world shift and change into something more chaotic, and yet somehow pleasant. Organized Chaos.

Plagg came out of the bathroom, devoid of mohawks or any other bizarre hairstyle he could have done. His hair was just swept to the side, combed, but not gelled, into place.

The perfect amount of wild.

“You don’t have to wake up when I do.” Plagg stated. “I’ll just drop you in my pocket.”

“It’s alright,” Adrien assured, yawning. “I’m used to waking up this early.”

Plagg dressed quickly, and just as he slid into his moccasins, the room glowed red, and heavy bars slammed shut over the windows.

Both Adrien and Plagg jolted in surprise, Adrien falling into panic.

Plagg just scooped him up, and held him to his chest. “Hey kid, it’s alright. You can phase through things. You can escape if you need too.”

This helped calm him down slightly, if ever so minutely. Plagg tucked him into his pocket, and confidently walked downstairs.

Gabriel and Nathalie were waiting for him in the foyer.

“What's the deal, old man?” Plagg asked, bluntly. “Akuma attack?”

“No,” replied Gabriel, his head held high. “You’re grounded. No school. No friends. Nothing.”

Plagg scoffed. “I’m under literal house arrest?! Come on! I have a sleepover at Nino’s tonight!”

“Did you ask if you could attend this sleepover?”

“No. You were going to say no anyways. Better to beg forgiveness then ask permission and all that.”

“Well, that really solidifies my decision to ground you then. You clearly show a clear lack of critical and mature thinking.”

“Ah, a pompous way of calling me stupid, hmm?”

Gabriel frowned harder, a line forming at the corner of his mouth. “I am not calling you stupid. I just don’t see you making good decisions.”

“Gabriel, before this, I wasn’t making any decisions. Everything I did was according to your will. How can you be mad at me at being bad at something I have no practice doing?”

Gabriel’s eye twitched. “First, do not call me by my first name. Second, I have already made up my mind. If I say you’re grounded, then you’re grounded. Deal with it.”

Oh that was not a good answer. He may have well just said, ‘because I say so.’

And Plagg would not stand for it. He wasn’t standing for it anyway, but he’d at least be willing to bargain with Gabriel if he was offering some excuse about safety for his well being or something.

This was just a power trip.

“Fine,” Plagg smiled maliciously. “Lock me in. But you’re locked in with me. And you’re going to hate it.”

“I don’t have time to entertain you, Adrien, go to your room.”

As a kwami who spent most days in Adrien’s bag, Plagg consumed a lot of media. A pair of headphones, an external battery, and a phone that connected to the school’s wifi, Plagg had days to binge all the things that Adrien was interested in.

And some things that Adrien didn’t care about, like historical dramas, documentaries, and recently, musicals. Especially for time periods that he had witnessed and experienced. He wasn’t omnipotent, so seeing what the humans had thought was important during these periods was fascinating.

But I digress.

The point was that Plagg had a song stuck in his head from a musical and the perfect opportunity to use it had just presented itself.

Gabriel had deemed the conversation over and started to walk back to his office.

“Close every door to me,” Plagg sang, in Adrien’s sweet voice.

Gabriel halted, but did not turn around.

“Hide all the world from me.” Plagg took a step towards him, still singing softly. “Bar all the windows and shut out the light.”

Gabriel turned, raising an eyebrow. “If you think serenading me is going to make me change my—“

But Plagg cut him off, raising his voice slightly, “Do what you want with me, hate me and laugh at me.”

Gabriel just stared, and listened.

“Darken my daytime and torture my night…” Plagg came closer, singing with feeling, trying to convey, even for an instance, a flicker of the emotions that Adrien had.

“If my life were important I would ask ‘will I live or die?’ but I know the answers lie far from this world.”

This was horrifying to Gabriel, apparently, as he protested. “Of course your life is important! Why do you think I—“

“Close every door to me, keep those I love from me. Children of Israel are never alone.”

“Children of—what? We’re not even Jewish. What are you singing about?”

“For I know I shall find my own peace of mind. For I have been promised a land of my own.”

Confused, Gabriel just scoffed and started back to his office. Plagg stayed hot on his heels.

“Close every door to me, hide all the world from me.”

Even Gabriel saw the irony of slamming the office door in Adrien’s face, so he resisted, and let his son continue to serenade him into his office.

“Bar all the windows and shut out the light.”

Gabriel stood at his workstation, determined to ignore his son’s weird emotional outburst, and opened his recent project.

“Just give me a number instead of my name. Forget all about me and let me decay.”

Plagg fought the smile of victory when Gabriel hunched his shoulders. Was that guilt on his face? Perhaps Gabriel wasn’t as shallow as Plagg had thought and lyrics like this would get through to him.

“I do not matter, I'm only one person. Destroy me completely, then throw me away.”

And Gabriel sat, staring with his wide gray eyes. His full attention on his son.

“If my life were important I would ask ‘will I live or die?’ But I know the answers lie far from this world.”

Plagg pounded his fists on the workspace, crying out the words with passion, actually making Gabriel jump.

“Close every door to me! Keep those I love from me!” He leapt up on a coffee table, putting his entire body, his very soul into this performance. “Children of Israel are never alone!”

Gabriel couldn’t move. Why couldn’t he move?

“For we know we shall find our own peace of mind! For we have been promised a land of our own!” He held out that final note, letting it hang in the air, as Gabriel continued to stare, mouth slightly open.

Truth me told, Plagg was just intending to annoy him to freedom, but had the song choice done more? Did Gabriel finally understand?

“Well,” Gabriel adjusted his glasses. “That was...certainly something. If I knew you could sing like that, I would have tried to find a use for it. Never mind, I’ll add it to your resume now.”

No. It seemed that Gabriel was as stubborn and obtuse as ever.

“Close every door to me,” Plagg began again.

“No no no,” Gabriel spoke over him. “One performance is more than enough.”

“Hide all the world from me.”

“Adrien!”

“Darken my daytime, and torture my night.”

Gabriel groaned, and made an effort to ignore Plagg again. A real effort this time, with no eye contact and no facial expression. When that didn’t work, he moved from his workstation and went to grab Adrien. But Plagg evaded him, continuing to sing, with every grasp.

How many times did he cycle through the song? His throat hurt, as every time he reached the climax, he belted out the notes with passion.

It would be surprising if no one outside could hear him.

He climbed up on a table. “If my life were important I would ask will I live or die—“

“Enough! Shut up! Shut up shut up shut up!” Gabriel shouted. “I can’t take this anymore!” He bolted over to the security control panel, and shut off the lock down. The bars on the windows disappeared.

“Go...please, just go.” Gabriel said desperately.

“Cool, thanks dad!” Plagg said cheerfully, skipping out of the room.

Gabriel collapsed onto his workstation.

Whatever tricks Adrien had learned, whatever manipulation guru he had visited, he was good. Very very good. It would take a while to get him back under his thumb. And he might need to resort to more drastic measures.

What was more drastic than putting the house into lockdown? He’d need a little while to contemplate that.

—

Plagg had missed several morning classes thanks to Gabriel’s stunt, but his friends heaved a relaxed sigh when he arrived.

“Hey hey hey!” He sang, coming in the door. “What’s happening, party people?”

“Mr. Agreste!” Miss Mendeleev barked. “You better have a good excuse for being tardy!”

“A great excuse! My dad shut the house down to ground me, and I had to annoy him with Broadway until he opened up. He was a lot more patient than I expected.”

“Are you serious?” Miss Mendeleev asked.

“Madam, do you really think that my father, fashion mogul, would allow me to leave the house like this?” He gestured to his mismatched outfit.

“Point taken. You may take your seat.”

Plagg shot a thumbs up to his friends.

—

After school, the group of four piled into Nino’s family car and headed over to his house.

“I’m so excited! My first sleepover!” The excitement was genuine, as this truly was Plagg’s first sleepover. Of course, his whole life had consisted in sleeping in different places that weren’t his home (the Miracle Box) but the concept of going to a friends house to eat food and gossip all night long was novel and exciting.

“What curfew do you girls have?” Mrs. Lahiffe asked.

“I have until 11,” beamed Alya.

“I have to leave at 9,” Marinette pouted. “I have to help my parents in the bakery tomorrow.”

It was also Ladybug’s solo patrol tonight, Plagg noted to himself. Kind of a saving grace, since Chat certainly wasn’t going to be on it.

“I’ll be sure to count you both for dinner then!” Mrs. Lahiffe chirped.

Adrien had been to Nino’s house a handful of times, all under the pretense of working on homework of course. And it wasn’t a house either, it was an apartment, like most residences in Paris. It was warm, not always clean, and the smell of their cat’s litter was just a hint in the air.

Major Tom was a right good cat. An old gray tabby, who was far too wise for his own good. Plagg had met this family member in person, since the cat was still pretty curious in his age.

As soon as the group of friends entered the apartment, Major Tom stretched and trotted toward them, toward Plagg, and rubbed against his leg.

“Hi Tommy,” Plagg smiled, an inside joke passing between them.

“I swear,” said Nino with defeat. “Major Tom likes you more than anyone else in this house...and you’ve barely met him.”

Plagg just shrugged. “What can I say? I’m a pussy magnet.”

“DUDE! My mom is right there!”

Mrs. Lahiffe was not amused, but the furious giggling from behind him made it all worth it, he supposed.

“Sorry mom, Adrien’s going through a rebellious streak. He doesn’t usually make jokes like that.”

“Yeah, sorry, Uh...I just couldn’t pass up the opportunity.”

Mrs. Lahiffe shook her head. “I noticed your outfit was rather...daring. Is that from your father’s new collection?”

“Nope! This is a Marinette original!”

Marinette smacked him in the arm. “I told you not to associate me with that abomination!” She turned to Mrs. Lahiffe and quickly clarified, “He designed it and I carried out the deed.”

“Oh you kids are so funny!” She laughed. “Well, you didn’t come over to entertain me! Go have fun, I’ll get pizza around 6?”

“Thanks mom!”

“Thanks Mrs. Lahiffe!”

On the way to Nino’s room, he asked. “What movie do you guys want to watch tonight?”

Plagg grinned, “Have you ever seen Joseph and the Technicolor Dreamcoat?”

—

Chapter is kind of short, but I have delayed it long enough, and sleepover shenanigans need their own chapter.

The song Plagg sang was ‘Close Every Door’ from Joseph and the Technicolor Dreamcoat.

#ml #miraculous ladybug #adrien agreste #adrienette #chat noir #I'll handle this #fanfiction

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chaseatinydream · 4 years

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pirate king (40) || atz

“Can I please touch it?” You breathe, staring at it in awe.

“No.”

“Pleaseeeee~” You whine, and Hongjoong stares at you with some sort of frightened expression, before clutching it closer to his chest.

“No!”

You clasp your hands together and puff out your cheeks in a pout, almost begging your captain. “Please…?”

Your captain falters at the look on your face, hesitating for a moment. Then he comes back to his senses and shakes his head frantically, trying to assume a stern expression.

“I don’t trust anyone with the name Choi to steer this ship, the last time San took the wheel he ran us aground on a beach and Jongho broke the wheel into three pieces. You are not touching the wheel and that is final.”

“But Hongjoong-hyung…” You pout and Hongjoong sputters at the use of his real name, before he forces himself to look away with a scowl.

“I know what you’re playing at, Chin Hae! All of you only call me by name when you want something from me! I’m not falling for it!”

Then he whips around to glare at the man perched cheerfully on the railing of the forecastle deck, who is grinning at you proudly. “Wooyoung, I swear, you better stop teaching Chin Hae your persuasive techniques before I shoot you myself!

“Nope~” Wooyoung hums in a sing song voice as he basks in the sun’s rays like a large cat, chuckling at the sour expression on his captain’s face before he flashes two thumbs ups at you. “I know you can do it, Chin Hae!”

You nod eagerly, determined to work away at your captain until he caves in to your request, but then a voice from the stairs interrupt you.

“Wooyoung-ah, why have you been stealing my apprentice from me?”

You whirl around in surprise to see your master climbing the stairs with his arms crossed, shaking his head in mock disappointment. A smile pulls at your lips as he wraps his arms around you from behind and settles his chin on your shoulder, cocking his head while taking in Wooyoung and Hongjoong eyeing each other.

Hongjoong is glaring quite frantically, but Wooyoung merely laughs that high pitched dolphin squeal in response, body shaking with amusement. Your captain snorts in disgust and throws his hands up into the air.

“Does no one on this ship respect me?”

The reply is immediate.

“Yes, captain.” You, San and Wooyoung answer simultaneously and then the three of you are exchanging a long and complicated handshake between you. It originally belonged to just San and Wooyoung, but after awhile of teasing Hongjoong together, you’ve learnt their secrets and you can now declare you are part of the inner fold of the crew.

Your captain just smacks his face into the wheel and groans.

It’s been a month since you’ve left the sea witch behind you. In that time, you’ve grown so much closer to the crew already, truly integrating yourself into the crew. You’ve seen raids, actual battles on other ships, especially British East India trading ships that Hongjoong targets for the supplies and gold that they carry.

To your surprise, piracy is actually something rather peaceful, for you at least. Trading ships don’t carry cannons, and usually the sight of the Treasure’s orange and black flag is enough to scare the victim into submission. You haven’t seen a battle in the whole time since you’ve left the sea witch, although Yunho and Jongho insists on keeping your fighting skills up in case anything happens.

You’re a little surprised at first when Hongjoong doesn’t insist on raiding the ship bone bare, instead preferring to leave enough for the ship to survive. A far cry, Mingi had told you, from what Hongjoong used to do. You know that your captain had been a dangerous man a long time before, but you had never expected such a change of heart in him.

Speaking of dangerous people…

Up till now, you still don’t know what had happened to Wooyoung that day.

Part of you still twists a little in unease every time you see him, but you have to remind yourself that this is Jung Wooyoung, the one who gave you the hairpin tucked protectively in your belt, the one who fought to keep you alive that day in Nassau, the one who had saved your life from the sirens. You remember your times in the sails climbing the ropes When you look at that adorable, boxy smile on his face as he teases your captain relentlessly, that small, niggling sensation fades away into the back of your mind like a dream in the morning.

No. No matter who he was before, he’s nothing like that now.

The man in question glances over at you with a huge grin from where he’s poking his captain in the sides, Hongjoong dissolving into fits of uncontrollable, hysterical giggles as he tries to hold on to the wheel. San joins in, dragging his captain away from the wheel as he laughs uncontrollably. Your captain topples to the ground and Wooyoung and San pounce on top of him, tickling him mercilessly as he rolls around on the deck begging for mercy.

Wooyoung turns to you with a bright smile, breathless with laughter, vibrant, purple hair in disarray, and your heart stutters for a second in your chest.

“Go on, Chin Hae, take the wheel!”

You fight down the unease in you and smile back, forcing the thoughts out of your head as you scamper over to the wheel, gently taking it with hesitant hands.

Immediately you can feel the roar of the sea as it rushes against the rudder, the waves rocking the ship back and forth gently. The Treasure hums under your feet, and for a second, elation rising in you.

“Oh, she’s actually pretty good at it.” Mingi remarks as he steps onto the quarterdeck, followed by Yunho and Yeosang, who look shocked that Hongjoong is actually letting you touch the wheel, before seeing him pinned down by the ship’s resident healer and head gunner.

Yunho grins in anticipation and starts stretching his legs. Your captain turns white at the sight and squeaks desperately under the human pile, waving his arms frantically as he attempts to wriggle his way out, to no avail.

“Yunho, no, don’t do it-”

The battlemaster ignores everything his captain says. Stepping back, he charges forward like a raging bull and jumps on top of the pile, flattening all three people under him.

“Ouch, you’re heavy, Yunho-ah!”

“I’m going to throw you all off the ship for this, I am the captain-”

“Yun Hoe why are you so fat-”

“What’s happening?” Jongho asks as he joins the mess that is the quarterdeck. You smile at the younger battlemaster, who’s holding an apple in his hand.

“Can I have some, Jongho-hyung?”

He merely nods, ignoring the shrieking of his captain as the three of his crew mates bury Hongjoong in a flurry of tickles, all laughing uncontrollably. Breaking the apple in half easily, he then breaks it into quarters, and then into bite sized pieces, one of which he pops into your mouth.

“Thanks, hyung.” You mumble as you crunch on the apple, your words muffled by the piece of fruit in your mouth. Jongho makes a face at the word, as if he wants to tell you something, but you don’t know what. You swallow the apple piece before you ask him what it is.

“Is there something wrong, Jongho-hyung?”

At that, Jongho finally sighs over Hongjoong’s squealing in the background, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Well… I want you to stop calling me hyung, actually.”

Sadness descends on you for a moment and the smile on your face falls away instantly, only to be replaced by a miserable look. Jongho looks confused for a moment at the change of expression, before he realises how you might have interpreted his words.

“No no no that’s not what I meant-” He flaps around in a panic for a moment like a wet hen, before he pinches the bridge of his nose and glances over at Yeosang, who’s merely shaking his head at his crew mates’ antics. “Yeosang-hyung, can you tell her what we were talking about yesterday?”

Your heart sinks in your chest. They were talking about you behind your back?

The navigator lights up, as if in realisation, stepping away from the screeching human pile that has somehow become a tiny Hongjoong sandwiched between Yunho, San and Wooyoung. He sees the confused, sad look on your face and is quick to reassure you.

“What we’ve wanted you to know for a while is… now that we’ve found out that you’re a woman, you can’t call us hyung anymore.” You’re momentarily confused, before the ship’s resident language expert continues speaking. “You see, hyung is something younger guys call older guys, but since you’re not a guy anymore, you’re supposed to call us… well… oppa.”

Understanding dawns upon you like a ray of sunlight.

“Ahh.” You turn to Jongho, who’s nodding seriously in agreement as he puts another apple bite in his mouth. “So like… Jongho-oppa?”

At the last word, Jongho’s eyes bulge out suddenly and he chokes furiously, the half chewed apple piece flying out of his mouth and missing Yeosang’s head by mere inches. The navigator manages to dodge in time and the piece of fruit goes flying over the side of the ship into the sea.

“Jongho-oppa!” You cry out in shock, letting go of the wheel to pat a hacking Jongho on the back, Mingi smoothly sliding in to steer the ship. The word, however, just seems to make the young battlemaster cough harder, waving you off.

“I’m fine, I’m fine-” He coughs one more time, thumping his chest as he wheezes for breath. “I just wasn’t… expecting that.”

You glance over at a serenely smiling Yeosang in confusion. “Am I saying it wrong, Yeosang-oppa?”

The navigator beams at you proudly as he pats Jongho on the back, the younger battlemaster slumping against his crew mate as he attempts to catch his breath. “Not at all. Good job, Chin Hae! Go try it on the rest of the guys!”

With the new word lingering on your tongue, you turn towards the human pile.

Your captain is now weakly crying with laughter as his crew members continue assaulting him with tickles from every direction, twitching as he attempts to free himself from their cage like arms. You turn to the one at the top of the pile, hanging over Yunho’s back as he pinches Hongjoong’s sides.

“Umm… Wooyoung…” You begin a little awkwardly, nerves suddenly getting to you. What if he chokes too and doesn’t want to be called that? But it’s too late, you’ve already gotten his attention and he turns to look at you with earnest, green eyes, alight with joy and laughter.

“What is it?”

Your heart stumbles a little in your chest and you’re confused for a moment at what you’re feeling. But you push it aside and hesitantly glance at him in the eye, unable to hold his gaze, which is filled with innocent, child-like curiosity.

“Do you want me to call you… Wooyoung-oppa?”

There’s a moment of awkward silence.

Wooyoung’s reaction isn’t as dramatic as Jongho’s, but it’s even more confusing. His mouth falls open a little, his eyes widening in shock and his eyebrows rising a little as he registers what you’ve just said.

He’s shocked, you can tell. Just whether it’s a good shocked or bad shocked, that’s what you don’t know.

Before you can muster the courage to ask him what’s wrong, he suddenly makes a little, squeaky noise and claps his hands to his cheeks as fast as he can, shaking his head frantically and refusing to meet you in the eye. You’re a little surprised, trying to bend down so you can see exactly what kind of expression he’s making.

“Wooyoung-oppa? Wooyoung-oppa?”

From underneath Wooyoung, San’s eyes light up in realisation, unbeknownst to you or Wooyoung himself.

San knows Wooyoung like he knows the back of his own hand, perhaps more than Wooyoung knows himself. After all, he’s the one who took care of Wooyoung when he first came to the ship. The two have a special bond… one that you can’t even begin to fathom.

Then a gentle smile crosses his face.

“Ooh, Wooyoung-ah, are you shy?” San whistles teasingly and Wooyoung’s head immediately snaps around to stare at San in horror, the chains on his wrists jingling. Then he realises you’re still looking at him in confusion and hops off the pile as fast as he can, squatting on the ground trying to hide his face from you.

Is he… embarrassed?

Yunho’s smile turns evil as well as he mercifully clambers off Hongjoong, who simply lies there, exhausted, while the battlemaster makes his way over to Wooyoung. The head gunner squeaks at the approaching footsteps but doesn’t dare to move, until Yunho grabs his hands and yanks them away from his face.

“Heuk! Hyung, stop it-” Wooyoung cries in horror, but you already see his face, a bright, cherry red blush staining his cheeks and creeping down his neck. He looks like a baby puppy that just got caught stealing food, and the sight makes a smile spread uncontrollably on your face.

“Wooyoung-oppa.” You repeat again. Somehow, Wooyoung’s flush gets even brighter, and he finally slumps the floor with an adorable, defeated pout, hands on his cheeks once more as Yunho and San laugh uncontrollably behind him. “You’re just cruel, Chin Hae, teasing me like this.”

Your heart skips a beat. Really, what is this feeling?

“Me too!” Hongjoong whines, looking annoyed as he gets to his feet on wobbly legs. “Nobody on this ship ever calls me by name! Chin Hae, please help me out here!”

You smile sweetly at Hongjoong.

“Of course, captain.”

At Hongjoong’s screech of exasperation and howling of laughter coming from around you, you smile, contented, with your lot in this life. You may not have your memories, but you have them, and it’s more than you could ever wish for.

They’re your treasure.

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #hongjoong #seonghwa #yunho #yeosang #san #mingi #wooyoung #jongho #ateez pirate king #w; ot8 #w; fanfiction #w; pirate king

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candied-peach · 4 years

Text

ao3: “how bad can i be?” rating: T warnings: food, remus typical stuff, age regression, sympathetic remus, sympathetic deceit, creativitwins genre: fluff description: Roman ends up with babysitting duty.

A knock on the door drags Roman from his work and he frowns, looking up from the impassioned scribbled ideas for Thomas's next video.

"Yes?" He calls, willing the irritation out of his voice. He did forget to say he'd be working all day at breakfast, after all.

"Roman, are you busy?" Deceit's strained voice comes through the door. Roman's eyes widen in surprise. Deceit never seeks him out. Never seeks anyone out, really. They've accepted him, but it's still tentative, especially from Patton's side. He tends to stay in his room or hang out with Remus.

Speaking of Remus...

When he opens the door, Deceit stands there, flustered, one gloved hand raised to knock again. Remus clings to Deceit's side, a stuffed octopus slung under one arm and kraken-printed pacifier stuck firmly in his mouth.

Oh.

"Thomas needs me," Deceit explains breathlessly. "One of his friends is having a hard time with their parents, and Thomas, as you know, has a hard time with-" He gestures to himself. "But Remus is regressing, and he can't be left alone. Can you watch him for me? It shouldn't take more than an hour."

"Of course," Roman answers, belated. How hard could watching his brother be? He might even be able to get his work done. "Would you like that, Remus?" He asks, addressing his brother. Remus shyly nods, before looking up at Deceit with distress.

"Leaving?" Remus asks, popping out his pacifier. Deceit brushes some of the hair out of Remus's eyes.

"I have to help Thomas, little kraken," he says. "Just for a little while, and then I'll be back. Okay?" Remus looks like he's pondering for a moment, before he nods.

"Okay," he says. "Come back fast."

"I will," Deceit promises. "As fast as I can." He turns back toward Roman. "He isn't allowed to watch the movies he normally likes when he's regressed, but he asks for them anyway. He's an unholy terror if he's bored. He likes coloring and it usually turns out a little gory, but praise it anyway. He can have snacks, but only edible ones. No deodorant sticks." Deceit's nose wrinkles. He looks past Roman into his room, furnished with pristine red, white, and gold, then frowns. "Maybe you should watch him in his room. Or mine."

"It'll be fine!" Roman dismisses with a wave of his hand. "I've watched Virgil before when he regressed. How bad could he be?"

A funny look passes over Deceit's face, but it's gone before Roman can properly examine it.

"Sure," he says. He passes Remus's hand over to Roman's. "Remember, I'll be back soon," he says. "Behave for your brother, Remus. Okay?"

"Okay," Remus says, around his pacifier. Spit slides down his chin and Roman has to hide a wince of disgust. "I'll be good."

As soon as Roman shuts the door behind them, an enormous grin comes across Remus's face, the kind that bodes no good for any of the parties involved.

Roman's heart sinks down to his toes. What have I gotten myself into? He thinks.

"Revolution!" Remus shouts, and charges toward Roman's bed, stuffed octopus flapping madly in one hand.

"Whoa there!" Roman exclaims, reaching a hand and snagging Remus's sleeve, jolting him to a stop. "Where do you think you're going?" Remus cocks his head to one side, looking at Roman like he's an idiot.

"The bed," he says, as if he's talking to a baby. His pacifier dangles by its clip.

"Why?" Roman asks. Remus grins and Roman discovers that he has a gap in his teeth when he's regressed.

"Jump," Remus says, cackling. Before Roman can process what he's just said, he tugs free of Roman's grip and scrambles on the bed, bouncing on his knees.

"Get off the bed!" Roman demands, all too cognizant of Remus's dirty boots now making their way over each and every inch of his perfectly pristine prince-sized bed. Remus sticks out his tongue.

"No," he says. No longer content with bouncing on his knees, Remus clambers to his feet and begins to jump, nearly hitting his head on Roman's oversized canopy. Roman wracks his brain, desperate. Think, Roman, think, he chastises himself. Aha! He conjures up an enormous Disney coloring book, one with princesses and villains, and waves it enticingly in the air.

"I have a coloring book for you," he cajoles. Remus pauses, glancing his way, interest brightening his eyes.

"Coloring?" Remus repeats in a hopeful tone. Roman nods, trying not to seem too desperate.

"And a jumbo pack of crayons," he says, pulling a fifty-count box out of thin air. Remus's eyes really light up at that, and Roman has to smile, even if his bedspread is now covered in Remus's boot prints.

"Color!" Remus cheers, hopping carelessly off the bed in a way that scares ten years off Roman's nonexistent life span. He barely stumbles, though, and makes his way toward Roman, his stuffed octopus now perched on one shoulder, plush limbs looped around his neck.

"Here," Roman says, conjuring up a desk and chair. "You color. I work on stuff for Thomas." Remus's face droops a little at his last remark, but he accepts the coloring book and crayons willingly enough, clambering up in his new seat.

"Hey, Ro Ro," Remus interrupts him a few minutes later. Roman looks up from his idea pad, biting back his frustration. This was supposed to be the perfect distraction for Remus. How could it work if Remus kept interrupting? "Which red is good for blood?" He holds up a handful of red crayons.

"Uh, that one," Roman says, picking one at random and hiding his shudder of revulsion. It's not Remus's fault he is the way he is, he reminds himself.

"I like to color," Remus chatters. "I like to draw too. One time I drew everyone, you and Dee Dee and Lo and Virgey and even Pat! On a big paper-" He stretches his arms out comically wide to demonstrate. "And at the bottom I drew lots of skulls. Like a big pile of skulls." He beams.

"That sounds...delightful," Roman manages to say, narrowly avoiding an inadvertent Deceit summons. Wouldn't that be awkward. Unbothered, Remus nods happily, coloring away. The tip of his tongue sticks out between his teeth.

"I'm coloring Ariel," he says. "And a kraken comes and eats her up." He shows Roman his progress. Even regressed to a child, his art skills are nothing to sneeze at, Roman thinks. If only they weren't quite so...gory.

"Well done!" He praises. Remus practically glows, and Roman feels a pang of guilt stab him. Remus really is doing his best after all. It's not his fault that his imagination runs to- well, that, even when a child.

"Would you like a snack?" Roman asks. Remus nods eagerly.

"Deodorant!" He chirps. Roman shakes his head, alarm bells ringing in his head at the sight of the pout forming on Remus's mouth.

"Dee said you couldn't have deodorant," he says, cheerfully passing the blame to Remus's primary caregiver. "Edible snacks, kiddo. Do you have any favorites?"

"Goldfish!" He says, excited. The brewing squall seems to have passed, much to Roman's relief. "I like biting off their heads!" Of course you do, Roman thinks as he conjures up a sippy cup full of strawberry juice and a plastic bowl full of goldfish. Remus accepts both, cramming a handful of goldfish into his mouth as he colors. A few droplets of juice stain his coloring page and Roman expects him to tear up over it, but instead, he incorporates them into his artwork.

"More blood," Remus announces brightly. With an indulgent smile, Roman gets back to his own work. See? He tells the Deceit in his mind. He's not so bad. Sure, there has been a minor hiccup or two. I have to wash my covers, for instance. But really, he's not at all like you portrayed him to-

"Look, Ro Ro, I can fly!" Remus announces from the top of the wardrobe and Roman's heart stops.

"Remus!" He shouts, diving toward the wardrobe just as Remus bends his knees and jumps. With heart-stopping slowness, Roman makes it just in time for his brother to land on his back, driving him to the floor with a painful whoosh of breath.

"You got in the way," Remus accuses, disappointed.

"Get off me," Roman says. Reluctantly, Remus rolls off him, sitting cross-legged on the floor. Roman tries to still his frenetically beating heart as he glares at his brother.

"That was very dangerous," he says, breathless. "Don't do that. You could have been seriously hurt." Remus shrugs, unconcerned.

"Not really," he says, popping his pacifier in and out of his mouth. "Dee Dee says I'm like a bouncy ball."

"Be that as it may," Roman says. "Dee is not here right now. I am. Please don't jump off the furniture. Why don't you finish coloring?"

"I did finish," Remus says. "You didn't see 'cause you were too busy with your dumb work." He crosses his arms over his chest and looks away, scowling.

Another splinter of guilt wedges itself in Roman's heart.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I'm sorry, Remus. You're right. I'm supposed to be watching you and I'm not doing a very good job, am I."

"Better than Pat," Remus says. Roman wonders at the story there, but decides to ignore it for the time being.

"Would you like to watch something?" He tries. "Just me and you, no work involved?" He expects Remus to ask for one of his favorites when he's older, like Repo! or perhaps a true crime documentary. Remus looks up shyly.

"Finding Nemo?" He requests. Roman smiles.

"Sounds good to me," he says. "Come on, let's make a blanket fort and watch it that way."

"And then I have more snack?" Remus asks hopefully. Roman laughs.

"Sure," he says. "Then you can have another snack."

tag list: @k9cat @paravigilant-virgil @croftergamer @airiervessel @bexxbeauty @ambersky0319 @yalltookmyurlideas @did-he-just-hiss-at-me @ihateitwhenyourejustvague @matthindavick @killjoy-3000 @littlestliu

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kermitbread · 4 years

Text

help

was this unnecessary? yes. am I going insane? probably. pls send hananene I'm dying

How did it get to this? Nene asked the same question over and over in her mind, as she sat still on unknown territory. It had water on the ground, so she could still identify it as a boundary.

It was a dark, rather dim looking boundary. Human bones were scattered around the ground, like someone deliberately piled them in one place and kept them there. And to make matters worse...

"Ah! It's Amane's assistant!"

The dreaded little brother of the Honorable No. 7 was also stuck with her.

How did it happen? She had no idea. All she remembered was she was with Hanako, trying to get rid of a rampaging apparition, then blacking out.

Shuddering at the sight of Tsukasa, it didn't really help that she was also sitting on human skeletons. Look, everything on the fear meter was cranked up to a maximum whenever he was there. The complete opposite of how she felt when Hanako was around.

Unfortunately, he shared the same face as his brother, so it surely did not make anything much better for poor Nene.

Well, it was better than being alone in a creepy boundary, at least.

"H-how did we get here?" She tried to speak to the boy, hoping he would settle for some civil conversation. Tsukasa tilted his head at her for a second, scratching his cheek.

"Hmm... dunno!" He cheerfully replied, with a big smile to top that. Nene sighed. She expected that answer sooner or later, especially from him.

She stood up, but a sudden pain forced her to sit back down quickly. She felt the pain sear on her right ankle. For some reason, she had sprained it, not too badly, but it hurt enough to make her back down.

Guess fear made her forget a lot of things.

"Geez... how are we supposed to get out of here?" Squinting her eyes, she tried to get any glimpse of a way out to the boundary, but all she got was a sea of darkness and more bones.

Honestly speaking, her leg hurt, everything was scary, and there was no sign of escape.

Everything's gonna be fine! Hanako-kun will come! He always does! It's just about a matter of time before he arrives!

Kept in her thoughts, she didn't notice Tsukasa making his way next to her, squatting down with his hands on his knees, eyes boring directly at her.

Nene flinched when his palm went to her cheek, and to her utter shock, his touch was surprisingly gentle. If it weren't for the intimidating stare he was giving her right now, it would have felt like it was Hanako and not Tsukasa.

"W... What is it?" Her voice was a little shaky.

"You're crying." Was his simple answer. She touched her other cheek, feeling the wetness travel down her skin.

Since when did she start crying?

"So...?" Nene struggled to form words, but it was rather hard when Tsukasa was invading her space by leaning even closer to her.

"That guy told me I'm supposed to be nice to girls. So," He put on that smile, moving his hand up to her head and pat her. "Everything will be okay! Yeah!"

She blinked owlishly, mouth parted open at his actions. It reminded her of their encounter back in the Mirror Hell, except it ended up with Tsukasa making her faint, which she rather not let it happen again.

If only he didn't look like Hanako-kun! I'm somehow scared of him, but at the same time I'm not! What's going on with you, Nene?!

A rumbling noise made her jump, and the ground beneath her began to shake. The bones rattled against the water, as the rumbling was replaced with loud stomping coming closer, accompanied by a ringing noise that was irritating to the ear.

To her horror, a gigantic skeleton appeared from the shadows, on a rampage. Its bony hands crushed the skulls underneath, roaring at an extreme volume.

While Nene stared on with fear, Tsukasa seemed... oddly delighted at the sight. Well, when was he not happy?

"Uwaah! It's an odokuro! I've always wanted to see one!"

"Y-you know what this is, Tsukasa-kun?" She trembled, looking back at the boy.

"Yeah! I heard they're indestructible. They take humans and gobble their heads up! Pretty cool, right?"

Not cool. Not cool at all. Nope.

The odokuro swiped a long arm around the boundary, as Nene squinted her eyes shut, preparing for impact. Not until she felt her body being lifted up from the mass of bones and suddenly—

"Hey, hey!" Tsukasa spoke next to her, and she opened her eyes, almost letting out a gasp. They were in the air, a few meters away from the giant skeleton, and he was carrying her princess style.

And if Nene was being honest, the heights they were on right now... didn't really help. Those sharp rib bones stuck out on the ground like spikes on a floor. A fall from that height would mean instant peril.

"Wait a moment! I might fall!" She unknowingly clung closer to him, not even noticing his eyes go wide at that. His attention, however, went back to the odokuro, who was scouring through the bones looking for them.

He smiled darkly.

"Oi, odokuro!" He waved a hand at the skeleton, getting its attention. "I got a tasty human for you! Come and get it!"

"Tsukasa-kun!" Nene screamed, and Tsukasa merely laughed at her face of pure terror. The skeleton screeched and started to make its way to them, the ground shaking at it's every step.

"I'm just kidding!" Sending out his kokujoudai, he lifted an arm forward, right in front of the odokuro. "Besides, I don't think Amane would like his assistant dead just yet!"

Nene didn't even have the chance to blink. The black will-o-wisps went in a flash, and in an instant, the skeleton shattered, destroying it completely.

She turned her head at Tsukasa, who was just staring ahead, not meeting her in the eye. The extent of his power never ceased to frighten her. Well, it was to be expected, he did manage to defeat a School Mystery IN their boundary back then.

But it bothered how he didn't hesitate to save her from the skeleton. Probably because of his attachment to Hanako, but Nene knew there was probably something more to that. Doing a favor for him? Or was he the one asking for a favor? Was she overthinking right now?

"Aww, it broke so easily! What a bummer." He sounded pouty, like a child who had broken their favorite toy. Descending down back on the ground, he poked at the remains of the odokuro with his kokujoudai, as if he was expecting for it to move.

"Oh well! Another one will come around soon!"

"Another one?! Not another one!" It was too much. She hid her face on his chest, not wanting to have to look at yet another giant skeleton approaching. She didn't care if this was Tsukasa, she was NOT having any of it!

"Hanako-kun, where are you..." She mumbled timidly, the tears starting to build up again. This whole situation was a mess. One, big, ridiculous mess. And on top of that, her leg still hurt like shit.

Tsukasa blinked, not expecting this sort of thing to happen. Here he was, standing, carrying that radish-legged assistant of his twin brother, who was currently crying onto his shirt. Oh, and did he mention she smelled good? Like, REALLY good?

(a/n: smh tsukasa always getting sidetracked with things he has a low attention span)

He promptly plopped himself in a sitting position, having Nene practically on his lap. She was too busy bawling her eyes out to notice, though, but she did flinch when he put his fingers under her chin, tilting her head to him, forcing her to meet him in the eye.

Teary-eyed, cheeks red. In his opinion, it was a good look for her.

"You're such a crybaby. Amane's assistant is such a crybaby." He commented like it was the funniest thing in the world. Nene mustered up a glare, forgetting that he could probably snap her neck in seconds.

"I have a name, you know."

Tsukasa looked up at the air, pretending to think, before turning back to her with a proud smile. "Can I call you radish legs then?"

"No!"

"Fish girl?"

"Absolutely not!"

"Then..." His eyes narrowed, and he almost looked like a predator out for the kill. "Nene?"

"...Eh?" She couldn't say another word at that. First name basis already? They weren't exactly friends, though.

"Amane calls you Yashiro, so I get to call you Nene!"

"Uh... s-sure." Nene just went along with it. Who knows what kind of crazy stuff would happen if she refused one more time.

"Ouch!" A yelp escaped her mouth when she accidentally moved her right ankle across the ground, as it began to react strongly with pain. Tsukasa observed her whimpering for a few moments, before reaching out and holding her by the shoulders.

"Eh—what are you—"

"Giving you a present." He smirked, leaning forward and she felt his lips press against her cheek.

Her eyes went wide, her heart began to pound fast. What was he doing?! What was he doing—

He lingered there about a few more seconds before pulling away, looking quite proud at himself. "Nene's very clumsy! I gave you a protection charm because rescuing you again would be too much work."

Nene put her hand on the cheek he had apparently cast a spell on, staring at him. For a moment, it was like Hanako had been there with her.

Maybe Tsukasa wasn't so bad if he just tried to? Emphasis on "tried".

Footsteps crunching on the bones approached them, as finally, Hanako and Kou had arrived. "Yashiro!"

"Hanako-kun!" She called out, wanting to stand, but Tsukasa's hold on her was really tightening for some reason. He didn't say much as a word, just watching as his brother and the young exorcist came closer.

"Tsukasa! Let her go!" Hanako readied his knife as Kou put himself in a fighting stance. Nene looked at Tsukasa, and he shrugged.

"I was just having fun with Nene! Can't I borrow her for a little more, Amane?"

"What?!" Both her and Hanako simultaneously shouted. Tsukasa chuckled, and as if to tease them, he let his fingers through her hair, leaning down close to her, cheek to cheek.

"She smells really good, Amane. And she's really warm. So that's why you cling to her a lot. I kinda like it!" He nuzzled his cheek against hers, ignoring her stuttering protests.

"Leave her alone, you bastard!" Kou shouted, gripping on his staff tightly as it began to spark with lightning. Tsukasa pulled away from the poor girl and pouted childishly.

"Aww man. Well... okay. Only because Amane's probably gonna cry soon. I would have wanted to see that, but..." He got up from the boundary floor, calmly walking up to Hanako, and just putting her into his arms like putting a sack away.

Nene automatically clung to Hanako as he unknowingly sighed with relief. Overall, he just couldn't stand being apart for this long.

"It was fun playing with you, Nene! I'll be seeing you real soon!" Snapping his fingers, Tsukasa vanished along with his kokujoudai, leaving a trail of black smoke behind.

"We should get out of here, too. Let's go, kid."

"Hey, Yashiro." Hanako asked. He and Nene were in the school's infirmary, while Kou went to fetch the school nurse. Nene sat on the bed, trying not to move her hurting leg too much.

"Yeah?"

"What did... what did Tsukasa do? Did he hurt you?" He seemed to be really worried and scared, as she could now see through his tone. Putting a hand on top of his, she smiled at him.

"He didn't hurt me, Hanako-kun. He was surprisingly... nice. He saved me from that giant skeleton that appeared before you came."

"Oh." Was all he could say. Inwardly, he was a little jealous his little brother was the one who rescued her this time. And calling her by her first name?! Very unfair!

"Ah, and he... also... uh..." Nene shyly averted her eyes from him, as Hanako looked at her with curiosity. "He also gave me a protection charm, just like the one you gave me before."

He blinked. Protection charm. Protection charm. Protection char—

Wait.

Squinting his eyes, he noticed the faint outline of something on her skin, and he probably was now going to lose it very soon.

There, written in black, was the number seven. Tsukasa's own spell.

Hanako felt like a heavy anvil dropped on his head and crushed him.

And as if it weren't already worse enough, Tsukasa suddenly appeared out of nowhere, immediately tackling Nene from behind with a hug. "Nene!!"

"T-Tsukasa-kun?!"

"Did you like my present, Amane? Looks great, right?" He cheekily smirked at Hanako, who was now in the middle of snapping.

"WHY IN THE WORLD WOULD YOU DO THAT?!" Hanako yelled angrily, as his twin laughed.

"Just because!"

"AND WHY WOULD YOU CALL HER BY HER FIRST NAME?!!"

"Only cuz you wouldn't! Right, Nene?" Tsukasa poked Nene on the cheek.

Nene tiredly sighed. It was too stressful to deal with this right now.

Things were going to get weird now, and she didn't know whether to laugh or cry at that.

#jibaku shounen hanako kun #toilet bound hanako kun #yashiro nene #yugi tsukasa #hanako kun #anime #ao3 fanfic #fanfiction #there's some hananene #if you squint #hananene #but its mostly just #tsukanene #yeah #im so sorry

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k7l4d4 · 3 years

Text

Midnight Striga: Owl House/Fairy Tail Crossover Episode 1 Part 2

Hello everybody, time for another part of my Fairy Tail/Owl House Crossover, Midnight Striga!! Hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it!

“So, since when can humans do magic?” Eda asked with a sniff, shooting a wry grin towards her passenger.

Luz arched an eyebrow, visibly impressed. “Since always. I’ve kind of gathered by now that you aren’t human, and that very few, if any, of the people here are human either. But I’m getting off topic already, why are you asking?” She leaned forward, expecting an answer.

“HA!” Eda barked in humor at Luz’s boldness. “Kid, it’s been an accepted fact since forever that humans can’t do magic. I think that warrants a little curiosity, doesn’t it?”

Luz huffed, tilting her head back and forth in thought. “Eh, fair enough. I have no idea where you got your info that humans can’t do magic, but since I’m guessing this place is pretty closed off from human contact, info from outside of it falls through the cracks. I can give you a more informed answer when we land, but the long and skinny of it is that every living being has some potential for magic, but not everything has the power needed to actually do anything with that potential. I’m one of those that can.”

Eda blinked, glancing up in thought. That… was more than what she thought she was gonna get. In the short term, this kid basically more or less flat out confirmed that what witches know about humans is about as accurate as a portrait made by a blind man with no sense of touch. Purely guesswork based off of extremely limited input, in other words. Still, while this may upset some of her plans, this girl had some serious moves back there. She still had no clue what exactly she did, but it was impressive! And- what was that thumping she felt on the back of her head?

“-da, Eda, Eda, Eda,” With each repetition of the Witch’s name, Luz lightly thumped her knuckles against the back of her head. What could she say, when Luz got bored, she tended to get a little mischievous.

“GAH!” With a yelp at the small but incessant pain, Eda shot Luz a quick glance of annoyance. “Titans, kid, I’ve only got the one head! What do you want?”

Luz shot Eda a Cheshire grin, before subtly pointing down. “I think we’re here, if the fact your staff stopped and has been hovering over this place on its own is anything to go by.”

As Eda glanced down, she flushed in embarrassment as, yes, they were hovering over her house. Man, she really got sucked into her own head there, didn’t she? Eda, ignoring Luz’s snickering, guided Owlbert down for a landing, hopping off as they touched ground.

As Luz finally got her laughter under control, she noticed something Eda had left behind on the staff: her hand. While admittedly curious about how it was still moving while visibly detached, and with no apparent magical connection to Eda’s body, Luz decided discretion was the better idea. Lightly snatching the hand off the staff, she sauntered up to Eda, and very much deliberately tapped on her shoulder. When the older woman turned back towards her in question, Luz cheerfully grinned and held up the missing appendage.

Flushing once again at having missed the fact that she had lost a limb again, Eda gratefully took her hand back, snapping it back in place upon her wrist. Deciding now was the best point to start saving face, Eda pulled up a smirk, gesturing to the door. “I was wondering where that went. Anyways kid, I’d like to welcome you to my place. It may not seem like much, but I’ve got a killer security system!”

Luz was skeptical. Not surprising, when you’ve been running as much as she has, it’s practically second nature after a while. But still, she couldn’t detect anything overtly magical with this house, as amazingly weird and bewilderingly breathtaking it may be, in a creepy shack in the woods sort of way, aside from that odd Door Knocker in the shape of an Owl’s face. A face that had just blinked.

“PASSWORD PLEASE!” It shrieked in what Luz could honestly say was the most annoying voice she had EVER heard in her life. Also, when did she raise her hand to punch?

Before she could attack the strange creature, Eda beat her to the point, jabbing her fingers into the Face’s eyes. “We don’t have time for your games, Hooty! Open up!”

“Fine! Jeez! You never let me have any fun, hoot.” The Face, Hooty apparently, complied in a much softer, but still irritating, voice, swinging the door open on its hinges without Eda touching it.

Stifling a snicker at the odd by-play between the two, Luz followed Eda into her home. The first thing she noticed was the massive piles of junk scattered about, an odd mix of toys, books, tools, clothing, anything you could possibly find legally in either a sleepy town in the countryside or a bustling major city. The second thing she noticed was how prominent the Owl Aesthetic of the place was, with Owl themed decorations covering pretty much everything that wasn’t cluttered by Eda’s junk. Yet, in spite of the messy, dysfunctional feel of it all… Luz could honestly say that she found the place almost like a home, just from the energy of it all.

Smirking, Eda preened under Luz’s silent awe of her house. “Yeah, this place is great. A nice spot to hide away from the pressures of life.” She plopped down onto her couch with a content sigh. “Also the cops. Hmm, and also exes. Ha!”

Luz cracked a smile at the joke. Okay, it probably wasn’t really a joke, but it was still funny! “I can’t say I’ve had issues with the third one, but I’m very familiar with the first two. So, you’ve got questions for me?” She settled against the counter, relaxed, but ready to spring if things went ugly. She didn’t really expect them to, but you could never be too careful sometimes, especially with a near-total stranger, battle bond or not.

Eda leaned forward, eyes sharp. Now they were in familiar territory. “Questions, and a small proposal, if you’re up to it. Firstly, just what kind of magic were you using back there?”

“Huh, getting right in it, eh?” Luz grinned, pleased at the opportunity to brag- she meant inform! Inform someone about her skills. “At the start, that was what we in the bizz call Molding Magic. In my case specifically, Light-Make Magic.”

Eda blinked, not understanding. “Okay, gonna need a little more than that kid.” She grinned. “But I will say this, I think I like where this is going.”

Luz snorted, agreeing with the woman privately, and started complying. “Well, to simplify it, Molding Magic is a form of Magic that can be applied both for combat and utility.” Luz made the same gesture Eda had seen earlier, pressing her closed fist against an open palm, soft light building at the point of contact. “Molding Magic allows one to gather magical energy, and shape it into different forms based on the element or material used. In my case, I use light.” With that said, she pulled her closed fist away, revealing a miniature sculpture of Eda, seemingly made entirely of light held into a still image. Luz smirked at Eda’s look of amazement. “Anything I can visualize, I can make, and the better I can visualize it, the more powerful and stable it turns out.”

Eda was stunned. This? This was a form of magic she had never even heard or dreamed of. And, if she was reading between the lines right, while it may not be common for humans who can use magic, and wasn’t that still a strange thought, it wasn’t truly rare by any means. The ability to make ANYTHING you can think of, so long as you can spare the energy? Eda could already think of all the ways she could’ve used something like that over the years.

“Okay, since when have humans been able to do something like that!?” Eda seriously wanted to know. If she could figure out how to replicate a spell like that, it would make some of her escapes far easier later on.

Luz shrugged. “I don’t know. A few hundred years maybe? I mean, the base form, Molding Magic itself, is pretty ancient, but most modern variants have only been around for a few centuries at most. Like, it’s older, but not ancient.” What else could she say? Luz may have a serious interest in magical history and theory, but she wasn’t an actual scholar.

Eda slumped. That wasn’t the best news, but it wasn’t really the worst either. Still, if humans have had proper magic for centuries, then the info the Boiling Isles had about humanity was even more off than she had thought. “Damn. I won’t ask you about those other spells and stuff you were slinging back there. They didn’t look similar to what you started with, but they seemed closer to magic that I know of at least.” Her gaze brightened, lips curving up into an excited grin. “But hot dog, what you were doing back there was impressive, kid. So, you want to know more about what’s going on?”

Luz nodded, serious. “Absolutely. For starters, where am I?”

Eda smirked, glad she had anticipated that initial question, though her own made it so she should probably adjust her prepared answer a little. “You, my new friend, are in the scenic Demon Realms, specifically, the Boiling Isles! A colossal collection of Islands joined by the corpse of a long-dead magical being known only as the Titan. For centuries, it’s been accepted among Witches that we alone had magic, and humans who we knew of, but knew nothing real about beyond our own assumptions, did not. Another common belief was that the Demon Realm was the source of all human myths and legends from our world seeping into yours, but if you guys have actually got magic, that’s probably false. Or, at least, it’s less true than what we had believed for so long.” Eda slumped, suddenly drained. It made sense, in her mind, to feel tired. Sure, she was excited, but having your entire understanding of how the world actually works going under a sudden shift wasn’t easy.

Luz nodded, processing the information. “Okay, so I’m in another dimension primarily populated by demons and magical beings that refer to themselves as Witches. Got it. Do you have any questions about my world?”

Eda quirked an eyebrow. “Honestly, kid? No, not really. While having my whole world view undergo a massive shift was fun, I’m not really a scholar, so this doesn’t affect me all that much.” She bolted up, suddenly brimming with energy. “What does affect me, though, is what you and I can do for each other!”

Luz smirked, slightly confused, but mostly excited about where this could go. “Oh?”

“Yup. But first, you’ll probably want to meet my roommate.” Eda grinned. She just knew she was gonna love the kid’s reaction. Turning towards the stairs, she shouted. “Hey King! Get your keister down here!!” Out of view from the kid’s eyes, Eda subtly twirled up a spell, distorting the sounds of King’s voice and footsteps as he descended.

“WHO DARES DISTURB I?” Eda smirked at the human’s reaction, seeing her shift into a battle stance at King’s admittedly intimidating (at the moment) voice, and the perception-shifting shadows adding to the illusion, she just knew this was gonna be funny. “The king of Demons!?” As King finally stomped into view, clad in his bath gear and clutching a Rubber Ducky, the spells having worn out and revealing his true size and voice, she was not disappointed.

“QUE LINDO!!” At the adorable sight of the little doggy demon, all of Luz’s hard-earned self-control decided that surrendering to her adoration of cuteness was preferable to keeping her tough girl image. Abandoning her attack stance, she rushed to the skull-headed cutie-pie of a demon, smothering him in cuddles. “Who’s a good boy? Is it you? Is it you!?”

“N-No, NO!! I Don’t know who your good boy is!?” Squirming in the strange individual’s grasp, King turned to his friend, roommate, and (even if he didn’t like to admit it) foster mother. “Eda! Who is this monster!?”

Eda laughed, genuinely enjoying the sight of the small demon struggling in the human’s grasp. “Okay kid, you can drop him. He’s not really fond of the whole cuddling thing.” As Luz grudgingly released King, Eda continued. “This, King, is Luz. She’s going to help with our little Warden problem, if you know what I mean.”

As King finished dusting himself off, he finished processing Eda’s words. “Oh. Hooray!”

Luz was far less enthused. “Whoa whoa wait, since when did I agree to anything?”

Eda chuckled. “Well, kid, if you ever wanna get back to the Human Realm again, I’m the only one you can do it through, as I’ve got the only known portal there.”

Luz grumbled, but didn’t challenge the claim. Smart girl.

Ed decided that it was time to get into the nitty gritty.

“King, here,” She began, motioning to the demon in question, conjuring up the story of his “fall from grace” as she talked. “Was once the mighty and powerful King of Demons. Feared and admired by all. Until, one day, the Evil Warden Wrath stole his crown of power, reducing him to… this.” She finished, motioning to the sight of King chasing his own tail.

Luz’s love of cuteness took over. “You mean this little guy?” She cooed, scooping King up into her arms. He tolerated it for a second, then flailed enough to break free.

Eda grunted, leaning against her wall. “Yup. We need you to help us break into the vault the Crown’s being stored in, and in exchange, we’ll get you home.”

“We’re your only option!” King piped up.

Eda sent a fond smirk at the little demon, before continuing. “And besides.” Eda pulled King up to Luz’s face. “Can you really say no to this face?” Eda cooed in a slightly babying tone.

As King’s eyes widened as he realized what was happening, he yelled, “No! Don’t encourage her!!”

Fighting her impulse to agree immediately in the face of cuteness, Luz mulled it all over. She was stuck here for the moment, and she honestly didn’t have anything better to do. Plus, if anything went rotten with this, she could always defend herself…

Luz beamed. “When do we start, and where do we go?”

Eda grinned, happy that Luz was onboard. “Now, and somewhere super fun!” She promised, giving Luz a double thumbs up.

#the owl house #owl house au #owl house crossover #fairy tail #fairy tail au #fairy tail crossover #luz noceda #eda clawthorne #king the owl house #magic

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punksarahreese · 4 years

Note

night for rehearsal pls 🥺💗

Night | Rehearsal

Theatre!AU; a look into a normal night in the drama club

Prompt: Night

Word count: 1668

***

“Robin!” her name echoed across the auditorium as a familiar blonde bounced over, damp hair escaping from its haphazardly tied scrunchy. She was still in her swim suit too, the spandex peeking out from her open sweater and tucked into her school sweats. She had obviously been in a hurry to leave, which made sense when Robin looked behind her.

“Hey, Sam,” she nodded at the boy who was trailing after her, looking amusing, “Connor, you’re late.”

“So is Sam,” he furrowed his eyebrows at the teasing remark, “It's not my fault I had to drive down to the pool to pick someone up because she missed the bus.”

“I had practice!” Sam argued as she dropped her gym bag on the stage, it's familiar cross-stitch motifs making Robin smile. She had gotten her best friend a new duffel bag for Christmas that year, since her old one was falling apart from years of damp swimsuits and piles of theatre costumes. She had taken the time to stitch little things into the black fabric, including little bees and flowers that she thought would make Sam smile. It had and it never ceased to make Robin happy too when she saw how practical yet meaningful her gift had turned out to be.

“Still,” Robin nudged Connor’s shoulder, “Now we know why I’m the president of the club and you two aren’t.”

“We are literally co-presidents, Ro,” Connor’s reminder made her laugh; as if he would ever let her forget that. They had helped rebuild the dying drama club in their first year of high school, bringing in more students and assisting their teacher with planning and fundraisers. Sam joined along the way, quickly becoming their friend with her headstrong disposition and bold ideas. It had always been the three of them, for years, and now that they were in senior year everything had started to feel a bit bittersweet.

Robin tried to not let it get to her, though, because graduation wouldn’t tear them apart. Her and Connor had the same dream, Broadway, and they had made a pact years ago to hold each other to it. Every audition, every show, and even every mess up and meltdown was done with the other there to support and help. Even when things got hard they were in it together, no way would one bad audition or anything ruin their chances at the best schools or roles.

Sam was there for fun, mostly. She was a good actress, easily immersed into any role she was given and ready to take the lead in activities. She was an athlete first and foremost, though, and that hadn’t changed much. She had her dreams set on olympic coaching since the beginning, yet joined the drama club because their counselor thought it would help her with team building. It did, for sure, and while Sam never changed her mind on her dream profession, she had made a lot of friends and found a certain love for musicals along the way.

“What’s the plan for tonight?” Sam asked once they all settled down a little, taking a seat beside her on the stage. Robin glanced at the clock across the room, noting that it was almost half-past six. She had stayed after school to run lines by herself and get a head start on some set design. The second semester had just begun and that meant the spring arts showcase was fast approaching, which meant the drama club was scrambling to start preparations for a show. Auditions had taken place only the week prior, which had Robin practicing painstakingly so she could secure the main role. It was, after all, her last year in the club; she ought to make a lasting impact.

“Rehearsal, on book still,” she replied, fidgeting with the worn corner of her script book. She had a lot of nervous energy fizzling beneath her confident exterior and unfortunately she wasn’t all too good at hiding it. Not from her friends, anyway, because Connor’s hand reached out to cease her worrying of the book’s fragile pages almost as quickly as they started.

“It’s only the second week,” he reminded her, “Of course we’re still on book. We’ll have it memorized soon enough, Robin, be patient.”

“I know.”

“We’re already ahead of schedule with costuming and props,” the blonde across from them added cheerfully, “Plus we can come in during lunch hour and get things done if we really wanted. I’m sure I could rope some of the freshman into helping paint and stuff.”

“And by that you mean bribe the kids into doing the grunt work.”

Faking a gasp, Sam glared at Connor a little, “How dare you accuse me of such manipulation.”

“Dramatic,” he stage-whispered to Robin, who was shaking her head at the whole thing. The two never stopped bickering but it was how they showed affection, even if they did butt heads sometimes. Between the three of them there was a lot of attitude and maybe a little too much ego in the room, if Robin was to be honest, so this was commonplace. It was all in good fun, though, and they had never actually had a proper falling out despite the lighthearted arguing.

“That’s kind of the point, Rhodes.”

Before any more non-club related dramatics could be had, their teacher walked into the auditorium. Tanya Hanes was a rather eccentric woman, with a never ending supply of anecdotes and interesting fashion choices, though Robin assumed that kind of came with the job description. What was a little odd, though, was the girl trailing behind Ms. Hanes.

She was only vaguely familiar to Robin, probably from one of her AP classes if she had to guess. The girl had her dark blonde hair in a meticulous half ponytail, leaving her sharp features unshadowed. She didn’t make eye contact with anyone, instead looking around the auditorium as if she was searching for anything to keep her occupied. Her beat-up red converse squeaked against the ugly tile floor as she stumbled a little over an extension cord, muttering something as she regained her balance.

“Everyone,” Ms. Hanes’ voice echoed through the large room, bringing everyone’s attention to her down near the front of the stage. She waited a few moments for the younger students to calm down from whatever they were messing with in the props area, waving them over until she deemed it quiet enough to continue.

“We have a new student joining us for this semester,” Ms. Hanes explained as she gestured to the blonde behind her, “She will be here to assist with any technical or set related work, as well as line prompting and costuming.”

There was a chorus of welcomes and hellos, Robin noticing the way the girl relaxed a bit at that. She was glad the drama club were relatively friendly people, since the comforting atmosphere managed to make new kids feel at ease.

“Care to introduce yourself, dear?”

“Uh… yeah. Ava Bekker,” her voice was lower than expected, laced with a pretty accent that seemed to catch everyone’s interest, “Nice to meet you all, I guess.”

“Robin, Connor, since you two are our presidents would you mind helping Ava become acquainted and set up with some jobs?”

“Hey! Don’t forget me,” Sam put on a little pout, obviously in the mood to joke around. She never wanted a leadership position in the club, since she already had that in her sports and didn’t want to take away from her best friends’ thing. Still, she liked to be included, though it was just assumed she would do whatever Robin and Connor did anyway.

“Of course, Samantha,” the teacher laughed, “But don’t terrorize her, now.”

Scrunching her nose at the use of her full name, Sam just nodded, “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

After letting people know they would start practice as soon as their presidents got things sorted, Ms. Hanes went off to talk to some students. Taking that as their cue to go properly greet the new girl, Sam was the first to hop off the stage to meet Ava near the stairs. The blonde looked a little startled at her energy but offered her a polite smile regardless, holding out her hand to shake.

“Call me Sam,” she said happily, “Welcome to Hell.”

“Sammy,” Robin sighed and lightly hit her shoulder as she came up behind her, “Don’t do that.”

“I’m only teasing, Ro,” Sam replied coolly, “Newbie, meet the Queen of Hell herself.”

“Please,” Robin’s incredulous look only made her laugh, which had her best friend sighing yet again. She turned her attention to Ava, relieved to see that the other girl only looked amused at the antics.

“I’m Robin,” she said with a smile she hoped was reassuring, “I promise Sam will calm down once she stops showing off.”

“I don’t mind, at least one of us has the energy,” Ava replied, though her tone was a little guarded. She was nervous, that was obvious, and the other girl just hoped she would become more comfortable once she got acquainted with everyone. She still offered Robin a handshake too, which was an amusingly formal gesture for students around there.

“Well, I can show you backstage and get you set up with a script and some jobs to do, if you’d like.”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Ava nodded and the smile she gave Robin just about melted her heart. It was the first genuine look the blonde had had since coming into the auditorium and it was sweeter than that ridiculous starbucks drink Connor was always carrying around. She was just as pretty as her smile, that was glaringly obvious, and Robin would be a fool to say otherwise. Not one to be shy very often, she recovered quickly and had no qualms about offering her hand to Ava, a smile of her own settling on her face when the other girl took it cautiously.

“C’mon then, Ava,” Robin replied as she tried to ignore Sam’s pointed look she saw in her peripheral, “I’ll introduce you to some people first.”

#this went in a completely different direction than intended #Ava is still Bitter about this whole situation #but she’s also nervous 🥺#and Robin just wants people to be comfy!#what happens when she learns why Ava is really there though? 👀🤭#ava bekker #robin charles #chekker #sam zanetti #connor rhodes #rehearsal #theatre!au #my aus #asks #mutuals #Nova tag #cj add this to your fic masterpost

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aalissy · 4 years

Text

Adrien Knows

Day 17 is doneee!! And it contains a reveal and one of my favorite tropes :D :D!! Adrien knowingggg!!! Hehehe I hope I did the reveal justicee!! It’s now exactly a month before my 21st birthday :D :D!! I’m sooo excited :) I hope you enjoy this chapter <3

AO3

Marinette’s cheeks flushed a light pink as she shifted in her seat. Adrien was staring at her. Again! It had been going on since class started. Even when Mlle. Bustier was lecturing them, he was constantly turning to face her. There was a small, shy smile on his face as he blinked up at her innocently.

The first time it happened, she had turned a bright red, her gaze drifting over to Alya to see if he was looking at her instead. Alya’s head was still buried in her notebook though, not even noticing her mini-staring contest with Adrien. Marinette had gulped quietly, her eyes slowly traveling back over to Adrien who had, fortunately, turned back around.

More like unfortunately, a small part of herself had grumbled in frustration. She finally gained Adrien’s attention and she wasted it by looking away. Twisting her lips with a quiet huff, Marinette blew her bangs out of her eyes. It took a while, but she eventually managed to focus on what Mlle. Bustier was saying. Her tongue stuck out slightly as a light frown creased her brow trying to write down as many notes as she could.

Oddly, as she worked, it felt like she was being watched once again. Gripping her pencil tightly, Marinette resisted the urge to look up. Surely Adrien wasn’t looking at her again! He wouldn’t do that. It must have been a fluke the first time. Yeah, that was it. Just a fluke...

She managed to keep her gaze focused on her paper for another five seconds before she finally jerked her head up. If she hadn’t been sitting down, she was certain she’d have fainted or at the very least stumbled backward. As it was, she could barely keep herself from falling out of her chair. Adrien was looking at her! His green eyes glimmered softly up at her with something akin to awe. B-but that couldn’t be right... W-why would Adrien look at her like that?!

Nibbling the corner of her lip nervously, Marinette glanced around their surroundings yet again, wondering if she was missing something. When her eyes met his, she gave him a small, hesitant smile, lifting her hand up slightly in a small wave.

Adrien flushed cutely, practically whipping back around to face their teacher. Marinette’s heart gave a fierce tug before she blinked down at her hand. She clenched and unclenched her fist a few times, wondering if Adrien had spotted something wrong with it. Finding nothing wrong, she gave a small frown and shrug before turning back to her notebook.

The rest of her classes continued much the same. Every so often she’d catch Adrien’s eye. The two would stare at each other dumbstruck for a few moments before immediately blushing a deep red, looking back at their teachers.

Sometimes, when their gazes remained locked on each other, he’d get caught. Whenever that happened, Marinette immediately ducked her head shyly, hiding behind her pigtails as Alya nudged her playfully. When she peeked sideways at her best friend, her eyebrows would always be wiggling. With a small glare and a light shove, Marinette shook her head at the junior reporter.

Turning back to her notes, she assured herself with a few quick words. She must be dreaming. In fact, Marinette was sure she was just dreaming! Yeah, that made sense! After all, why would Adrien, the smartest kid she knew, not pay attention to their lessons to look back at her? With that thought in mind, she happily continued with her notes, giving a fierce, determined nod as the idea made more and more sense.

After that, it was much easier to concentrate. Her final class for the day passed quickly and she slowly and cheerfully piled stuff into her backpack. Marinette heard Alya give a faint goodbye and her head quickly perked up to give her friend a wave. Turning her attention back to her backpack, she felt an arm slide across her shoulder, the person leaning in to purr in her ear, “Hello, bugaboo.”

“Chat,” she frowned, brushing his arm off of her shoulder with a light scoff, “How many times do I need to tell you not to call me that?”

There was no response. Marinette frowned at that. Chat always had a reply and a witty comeback just waiting for her. It was then that she noticed her hands. They weren’t covered by gloves. She was still in school, not fighting an akuma attack with her partner. She tensed slightly before whipping around, her face paling in horror as she saw just who had called her bugaboo. Adrien stood next to her, his lips parted slightly with shock but his eyes seemed to be sparkling with uncontained giddiness.

Marinette blinked furiously, gulping in a harsh breath of air, “I-I’m so sorry, Adrien! I-I have no idea what just happened!!”

He just stared at her for a few more moments before bursting into uncontrollable laughter. Her eyes darted about the classroom, trying to find an escape route as she panicked. This couldn’t be happening! When Adrien finally stopped laughing and gained his breath back, he gave her a bright smile, “It’s alright, Marinette! That was my fault, really.”

His fault... Marinette frowned some at that, wondering what he meant. Then realization hit her. He had called her bugaboo. Adrien had called her bugaboo. She tensed up completely, sure that her features were contorted in horror. Quickly, she stuttered out an apology, shoving books in her bag, “I-it’s alright, Adrien. I gotta go though, bye!”

She darted out of the empty classroom, ignoring Adrien’s strangled shout of her name as she left him behind. She ran all the way home, barely sparing a quick hello to her parents before darting upstairs. It was there that she finally collapsed, falling into a heap on the floor. Smacking her forehead harshly, Marinette groaned frustratedly, “This is just a dream! This is all just a dream! T-there’s no way Adrien is Chat Noir!!”

“Marinette,” Tikki phased out of the girl’s purse, her tiny arm outstretched as she attempted to console the panicking designer.

“What do I do, Tikki?!” she looked up at her kwami with tears brimming in her clear blue eyes, “I’m not dreaming, am I?!”

The small creature blinked at her before slowly nodding her head, “It’s going to be ok, Marinette.”

“I don’t want to lose you,” her voice wobbled slightly as she whispered.

“You could never lose me,” Tikki came forward to cup her cheek in a small hug, “It’s alright! I knew that this day was coming. You two were bound to figure out each others’ identities soon.”

Marinette sniffled quietly, “So, I won’t lose you?”

“No,” she shook her head as she nuzzled closer to her holder.

With a shaky grin, she held Tikki to her cheek as her eyes fluttered closed. In the next second, though, Marinette’s eyes snapped open, “B-but what about Hawkmoth?! What happens if either of us gets akumatized?!”

“You two will just have to be extra careful,” Tikki pulled back to look at her seriously, “You need to look out for each other. In fact, I think someone owes him a little conversation after she ran away from him.”

Her face paled and she gnawed nervously on her lip, “I didn’t mean too! I-I just freaked out, Tikki! I thought I was going to lose you!”

“Well, now you know you’re not,” her kwami tapped her nose playfully, “But Adrien doesn’t know that.”

“Adrien doesn’t kn-,” Marinette repeated before her eyes widened in realization. Oh god, she just ran away from Adrien. The boy she’s had a crush on for years. After figuring out his secret identity. The boy she’s been rejecting for years. Gulping quietly, she gave Tikki a quick nod, “Oh no, no, no, you’re so right! Tikki, spots on!”

Feeling the rush of magic take over, she quickly swung out of her bedroom and towards Adrien’s mansion. Ladybug hesitated outside of his window, wondering if he would even want to see her today. Nibbling on her lip, she drew her fist back, trying to summon the courage to knock. All her feelings of guilt and resistance disappeared, however, when she finally spotted Adrien. He was pacing, running a hand through his hair and it almost looked like he was muttering to himself.

Clenching her fist, Ladybug knocked twice, giving him a shy smile when he turned to look at her. Quickly, he scrambled towards her, stumbling slightly in his haste to open the window for her. When he did open it, Adrien practically gasped, “Mari-, err, I mean Ladybug what are you doing here?”

She giggled quietly before peeking at him from beneath her lashes, “D-do you mind if I come in, Adrien?”

“N-not at all!” he stepped back to give her space, his cheeks a light, adorable pink.

Sucking in a deep breath, Ladybug started the hard conversation, “So... how long have you known?”

“Um, known what?” Adrien chuckled nervously, shifting from foot to foot.

“It’s alright, kitty,” she gave him a soft look, “You weren’t exactly subtle today.”

He froze for a moment before gazing up at her almost ashamedly, “I’m really sorry, Ladybug. I didn’t mean to. It just sort of slipped out.”

She gave a quiet laugh, shaking her head, “Of course it did. So how did you figure it out?”

“Honestly?” Adrien asked and she gave a small nod, “I had detransformed in the same alley as you about five seconds prior.”

Ladybug’s mouth dropped open in shock before she waved her arms about, “Why didn’t you say something then?”

“I panicked!” he said, rubbing the back of his neck anxiously, “I don’t know... I guess I just thought you wouldn’t like me as much.”

She frowned at him, “Wouldn’t like you as much... Adrien, what do you mean?”

The model sighed quietly, glancing away from her as he murmured, “Well, Marinette doesn’t seem to like Adrien too much so I was hoping to become better friends with you. But, I screwed that up too,” he blew out a long exhale.

Ladybug sucked in a harsh gasp. H-he couldn’t possibly believe that! Could he? Slowly, she crept towards him, taking his hand in hers, “A-Adrien, I-I never hated you. I-I, erm, actually I liked you a little too much,” she gulped loudly as she peered up into his green eyes. Should she not have said that? Maybe she already missed her chance the last time she rejected him. With a small wince, she turned away from him, “I-I mean, nevermind!”

“No!” Adrien quickly grabbed her wrist, “Err, sorry. B-but what do you mean you liked me too much?”

Sucking in a deep breath, Ladybug summoned her courage, “I-I’ve actually had a crush on you. On Adrien for so long now.”

“A-are you serious?” his mouth dropped open in shock.

“Mhm,” she said shyly, nodding her head.

It didn’t take long for him to cup her cheeks, bending his head down to kiss her lips. Ladybug practically froze with shock before she melted into his kiss, hesitantly wrapping her arms around his neck. Adrien pulled back, murmuring quietly, “I’m sorry. Was that okay?”

“That was absolutely perfect,” Ladybug said with a small giggle before pulling him back down into another sweet kiss.

#ladrienjune2020 #ladrienjune #ladrien #adrinette #adrienette #ladynoir #miraculous #miraculous ladybug #fic #fanfic #mlb fic #mlb fanfic #mlb #ml

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writingfromkitchenator · 4 years

Text

If Things Were Different

A Dragon Age fanfic

Cullen x Fem!Inquisitor

Words: 1,852

Warnings: None really. Fluff/Angst

She was laughing again.

If there was one thing that could drag Cullen away from whatever he was doing, it that sound. No one was really sure whether he'd actually noticed himself, but others certainly had, especially when he was in the middle of conversation with them.

Today, he was dragged away from his desk, following the sound out onto the ramparts and leaning against it with a small affectionate smile on his lips as he looked down to find her still laughing with Blackwall and The Iron Bull. They each had weapons in hand, meaning they'd been training, but clearly one of them had said something.

Blackwall made another comment and the Inquisitor laughed harder, even from here, Cullen could tell that she had tears in her eyes.

Gratitude filled Cullen at this, glad that his companions were taking the time to make sure she laughed, to let her know that it wasn't serious all the time. He never said anything, but he knew that it weighed on her heavily, the tasks that they had before them, and had things been different…

Cullen averted his gaze for a moment, scalding himself for letting his mind wander again. This was not the time.

A scream got his attention then, but the rush of panic was quickly quelled as her laughter rang out again, and another smile and even a small chuckle leaves him as he sees her thrown over Bull's shoulder, struggling to try and get down, Blackwall roaring with laughter.

“You should know better by now than to tempt me boss.” He heard Bull say a rueful grin on his face. “I might just dunk you in a mud pile next.”

“You wouldn't dare!” She squealed through laughter as he started to walk. “Put me down!”

Luckily, she was saved by Josephine, who looked more than a little worried and confused at the situation, Blackwall falling almost instantly silent.

Cullen does laugh at this, both at Blackwall's reaction and at seeing the Inquistor, now very flushed, awkwardly put down by Bull. He couldn't help but note the slight drop in her shoulders as Josephine raised something that needed her immediate attention, and his heart ached a little, wanting to stop Josephine, but remaining silent as he observed.

“Uh…sir?”

Cullen jumped, having not realised that someone was beside him, and he felt heat creep into his cheeks. “What is it?” He hadn't meant to snap a little, but clearly the soldier was expecting it.

“Nightingale has some more reports for you,” He said quickly. “She said that they were rather urgent sir and needed your attention right away.”

“Oh,” Cullen looks away for a moment, but finds himself disappointed when he sees that the Inquisitor had already been whisked away inside by Josephine, Bull and Blackwall continuing their training below. “Alright, give them here, I'll get to them as soon as I can.”

Cullen sat heavily in in his chair with a sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Was it really too much to ask for just a moments rest? Was it really too much to want for her to be happy in a life she deserved. If things had been different…

Straightening up, realizing his train of thoughts, he pulls the new papers in front of him and starts to go through, throwing himself back into his work so he didn’t let his mind onto things that could be, he needed to focus on what was.

It was many hours later before Cullen moved again, stretching uncomfortably, realizing that he hadn’t moved I a while. With a heavy sigh, he stretches and then yawns widely, finally glancing outside and seeing that it was well and truly dark.

His stomach grumbled and for a moment, he was caught between trying to finish more work and getting up and going to find something to eat. An ache settled over him, deep in his bones, and with a groan, he knew that he had to move.

Cullen got to his feet, tidying his papers quickly before he made his way out. He drew in a deep breath of the cold air, a small wave of relief washing over him as it woke him up a little, keeping his mind off of sleep for the moment.

The kitchens stilled smelled of the evening meals made for the guests of Skyhold, making Cullen realise just how hungry he was and for a moment he couldn’t actually remember when he’d last eaten. Luckily, one of the cooks was still there and she happily put a dish together for him, scalding him for not having eaten anything since breakfast.

He liked the cook, she was always a cheerful woman, if not a little stern, but she knew how to manage the staff and keep everything moving in the constant changing state of Skyhold, something that both Cullen, Josephine and Leliana were grateful for as it meant a little less for them to worry about.

“I suppose I shouldn’t scald you too much Commander,” The cook said cheerfully, but there was concern in her features. “It seems that the Inquisitor enjoys skipping meals too. With all she’s doing I wish she wouldn’t, poor thing. She needs to look after herself in all this too.”

Cullen found himself a little frozen at this, this being the first time that he’d heard anything like this before. “Did she not come down for dinner?”

The cook shakes her head. “No, she was with Lady Josephine all evening, said she’d come back later for a meal but she never did, which is most unlike her.”

He frowns. “Was a meal sent up to her?”

She shoots him a look. “It was left in the same spot as always Commander, however when one of the cleaners went to check later, it had been placed outside her door, untouched. She wouldn’t answer her door, so we didn’t know whether anything was wrong with it or whether she was even there.”

Cullen processed this slowly, he knew she hadn’t left otherwise he would’ve been informed, and he hadn’t heard anything unusual coming from the inn, and it usually got louder when she was there, so why would she not have had a meal?

He brings himself back round at the cooks look at him, making him clear his throat. “If you make me something for her as well, I can take it up to her.”

There was no missing the slight smile from the cook, who nods and gets back to her cheerful conversation, even as Cullen feels himself flush slightly.

Cullen had never been relieved to be out of the kitchens before, but he hurried out with food in hand, not wanting to give the cook any more to talk about with the other staff, the rumours from the soldiers enough to make him more than uncomfortable, and while no one had directly asked him about, he still maintained that this was not the time for such things.

Then he found himself outside the Inquisitors door. For the first time since he offered to her some food, he considered exactly what he was doing and how to possibly approach this.

You’re just bringing her some food. He thought to himself. The cook mentioned it and…

Cullen scalded himself, he talked to her every day, he was being ridiculous.

With a small, awkward knock on the door, he waited for a response, purposefully ignoring anyone further back in the room, including a certain dwarf who was sending a grin his way.

There was no response but Cullen could swear that he could hear a noise from her room, so, against what he would normally do, he opened the door and make his way upstairs.

As he made his way quietly up, he slowly realised what the noise was.

It was crying.

This gave him pause, worry trickling into his stomach, and for a small moment he wondered whether he should disturb her. That was when the crying turned to a heartbreaking sob and Cullen let his feet carry him forward.

The Inquisitor was at her desk, her elbows on her desk, her head in her hands, her shoulders shaking as she weeps openly.

Cullen’s heart breaks and he pauses. “Kela?”

Her head starts up, her eyes red and shining, and for a moment he thought that she would shake it off, but it seemed to just crumble her further.

“Cullen,” Her voice was hoarse, it almost sounding like a hiccup. “I…I’m sorry you have to see me like this…”

He stepped closer, quickly putting the food on her desk, his voice quiet. “Don’t apologise, are you alright?”

Tears welled up again and another sob breaks free from her before she can answer, shaking her head and hanging it so he can’t see her.

“Hey,” Cullen joins her by her side, kneeling next to her and gently touching her arm. “It’s okay.” He hesitates. “I can go if you want me to?”

The words had barely left him before Kela shakes her head and then turns and practically collapses into his arms, Cullen just managing to hold himself up and onto her, his heart racing until he realizes that she is shaking.

“Just stay with me,” She mumbles against him, her hands clutching onto him tightly. “Please.”

Cullen lets out a steadying breath and shifts so that he can sit, his back leaning against the wall and holding her close. “I’m here.”

Kela buries into his chest, her legs resting over the top of his, and Cullen wraps his arms around her, holding her close, his heart breaking more and more at each sob that breaks through her.

“I’m sorry,” She gasps through tears. “I…I shouldn’t….I should…”

“Easy,” Cullen’s voice was soft, gentle, soothing, his hand gently rubbing her arm. “I’m here Kela, I’m not going anywhere.”

A deep shudder goes through her, but it seems to be enough to know that he wasn’t going anywhere, that he was staying, that she was safe and secure in his arms. It took a little while, but Kela slowly settled, until only shuddering breathes broke the silence between them.

Cullen was worried, having never seen her like this before, having never seen her breakdown like this, sobbing and trembling, and before he could stop himself, his fingers brush gently through her hair. “Kela?”

Kela draws in a deep breath, letting it out slowly, but she remains securely in his arms still holding onto him. “It’s…just so much…”

She falls silent but it was enough for Cullen to understand, to know what had caused this outburst and his heart broke a little more, knowing that there was nothing he could do about it, that they were all feeling the pressure, but none more than her, the weight on her shoulders to get things fixed.

A small sniff breaks him from his thoughts, but Kela shifts only a little, getting more comfortable. “If things were different…”

His mind whirled and he was taken back for a moment before a small affectionate smile comes to him. “Yes, if things were different.”

#dragon age #dragon age inquisiton #cullen rutherford #cullen #cullen x inquisitor #fem!inquistor #fluff #angst #blackwall #the iron bull #josephine

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awhitehead17 · 4 years

Text

Everything’s Out Of Control

Chapter 6 / Previous Chapter

Also on AO3

Enjoy! :D

Miraculously Tim makes it through the night. Fortunately it hadn’t taken him long to drift off to sleep despite Kon’s warm body right beside him.

When morning came with the sun shining into their bedroom through the window, Tim didn’t hesitate to get up. He grabbed fresh clothes from the pile on the desk before making his way to the bathroom. Upon coming out moments later he hears movement from the kitchen and decides to explore only to find Magnus pottering about in a rich blue silk robe and red silk pants.

The older man doesn’t hesitate to greet him when he sees Tim standing in the doorway. “Morning Timothy, sleep well?”

“Uh, I did, thank you.”

Magnus hums and turns his attention to the cooker. “Breakfast will be ready about fifteen minutes if you’re willing to wait.”

Tim now becomes aware of the sweet smell scenting the room, he wonders what Magnus is cooking up. He steps further into the kitchen. “Is there anything I can do to help?” He’s still perfectly capable of being a polite houseguest after all, plus if Alfred ever caught wind of him not using his manners then there would be consequences and Tim really doesn’t want to go down that road if he can help it.

“No, I have it all handled, thank you dear. Help yourself to coffee however.”

Tim does exactly that and once he’s sat down at the table, Kon stumbles into the room looking barely awake. Magnus greets him just as cheerfully as he did with Tim, however unlike Tim’s response Kon simply hums and slumps into a spare seat at the table. The man doesn’t take offense and simply laughs at Kon’s actions.

Soon enough Magnus serves them breakfast which turns out to be a wide spread of various of foods, something similar to what was laid out the other morning. Tim then works out that the source of the sweet scent in the air is pancakes.

The three of them eat in a comfortable silence and they stay that way for a while until the door to Magnus’s apartment opens up. Tim and Kon look over their shoulders at who it could be while Magnus doesn’t even acknowledge it.

There’s a few thumps after the door closes and a loud sigh that follows. Tim and Kon watch the space like hawks until Alec appears in the doorway. Tim’s eyes widen when he sees what state the man is in. He's covered in some kind of black stuff, it’s all over his clothes, plastered in his hair and even smeared across his face. Tim also picks up that Alec looks exhausted. It reminds him of what he or one of his family members would look like after patrolling Gotham’s streets all night.

Magnus finally looks up and openly studies Alec for a moment. With elegance, he gets up from the table and glides over to the other man. Being careful to not touch him, Magnus hovers his hands over his partner’s body, blue magic seeming to pour out of them and over the shadowhunter.

“Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine Magnus. Maybe one or two bruises but nothing that an iratze can’t fix.”

Magnus hums and the blue light stops. “Did it go well?”

“We took down a couple nests throughout the night and then I had to go to the Institute to report, that’s why I’m back so late. Thankfully I don’t have to go back until tomorrow which means I’m going to spend until then in bed.”

“Very well darling, I have errands I need to run so I wouldn’t be able to join you even if I wanted to. Now why don’t you go have a shower to get that disgusting ichor off you, grab something to eat and then go to sleep. You need to wash up because you stink.”

That makes a small smile appear on Alec’s tired face. “If you think I’m bad you should have seen Jace. He got it worse than I did.”

With no more words, Alec leans down and presses a kiss to Magnus’s cheek before turning around and disappearing from sight like he was never there in the first place. Tim has to hold in his laugh when he sees Magnus pulling a face and wiping the black stuff off with his hand.

It hits him again at how at ease the two of them are with one another. It’s a kind of comfortable that can’t be replicated, one of which takes time and trust to build up. It makes him long for something like that, makes him question if he could ever have that with Kon. They already have a sense of familiarity with one another but not to that amount of intimate affection.

After removing the black stuff from his skin Magnus joins them at the table again. He leans on his elbows and looks between Tim and Kon. “Unless there’s an absolute emergency Alexander will be sleeping like a rock until this afternoon, it’s usually what happens after his late night patrols.

As I said, I have errands to run, clients to see and most of all I’m going to see if I can collect everything you need to take back with you for this spell. This means I will be out for most of the day.” He looks between them seriously, watching them with narrowed eyes. “I’m giving you free reign of my apartment apart from the locked doors and my bedroom where Alexander will be sleeping, I’m hoping I can trust the two of you to not do anything stupid.”

It suddenly feels like Tim is a small child whose parents are leaving him alone for the first time. Not that he can actually relate to the feeling. Tim’s biological parents left him alone when he was no more than 5-years-old for months at a time, not just a couple hours.

“You can trust us,” Tim comments, making sure Magnus knows he means it, “we really appreciate your hospitality. We certainly won’t disturb Alec either.”

“Thank you for your word Timothy, I will be holding you onto that. However, if you wish to leave the apartment to go for a walk in the park then the wards I have up will allow you to come and go as you please. If you choose to go out I insist you make it a short trip and stay local. We don’t want to risk anything happening.”

Tim and Kon nod in understanding. Though Tim is surprised Magnus has said they’re allowed to leave considering the circumstances but he certainly isn’t going to question it, it’ll be nice to go out for a walk.

“Perfect,” Magnus announces as he stands up once again. He waves his hand and suddenly a credit card appears between his fingers, he passes it to Tim. “Use this if you wish to grab some lunch on your outing or even if you order take out. There’s no limit so don’t worry about that.”

Not waiting for a response, the warlock wonders out of the room leaving Tim and Kon in silence and with breakfast on the table.

An hour to two later Tim and Kon leave the apartment, the two of them agreeing to wanting to get some fresh air. Also because Kon wants to get some actual sun, not just beams of sunlight through a window. They choose to walk through the local park and Tim finds it refreshing. The park isn’t too busy, but there are a variety of groups of people out and about enjoying their time together.

He and Kon walk side by side down the pathway and Tim’s mind is reeling, trying to come up with something to say to his best friend. For a moment he wonders when and why this awkwardness has come about, he used to be able to talk endlessly to Kon about anything but now he can’t even think of a sentence to say.

“Magnus and Alec are a cute couple.” Kon comments out the blue, breaking Tim’s train of thoughts.

He shoots his best friend a questioning look because of the topic, that’s something Tim had not been at all expecting. “Uh yeah, I guess…” Tim agrees lightly, “they make it seem so easy.”

“Yeah I had similar thoughts believe it or not. I wonder what their story is, not that it’s our business but it’s probably interesting considering what and who they are.”

Tim shrugs, not really having any ideas on where this conversation is heading to. “As every couple does, I’m sure they have their ups and downs.”

Kon hums in agreement and falls silent. Tim blinks and shakes his head at the random topic of conversation and at how short it had been.

They walk together through the park and Tim watches Kon from the corner of his eyes. He seems to be looking better, certainly more awake than earlier that morning, but actually healthier too. “How are you feeling? Is the sun helping?”

Kon takes a deep breath and lets it out, he turns to Tim and sends him a smile. “Much better now we’re outside yes. I can actually feel the sun charging me up, it’s energizing. What about you, how are you feeling?”

Tim refrains from rolling his eyes, now back to this conversation again. “I’m fine. Happy to get out and stretch my legs. As interesting as Magnus’s apartment is, nothing beats an outside open space.”

Well a lot does actually. The vigilante part of his brain is screaming that wide open spaces are bad, it makes him more vulnerable and open to attacks. Tim chooses to ignore that voice and focuses on Kon instead. He needs them to get out of this awkwardness loop they seem to have fallen into. He invited Kon on this mission with him because he hasn’t spent much time with his friend recently, this is literally the perfect opportunity to catch up.

“So what’s been happening in Kansas recently?”

The morning and early afternoon goes by as they spend it outdoors in the park and in a small café they find. It seemed like they were able to break the awkwardness cycle after all because once they got talking about nonsense it was like nothing had ever happened, they were laughing and cracking jokes just like before. It helped to relax Tim and he enjoyed their time together even more because of it.

After a few hours they head back to Magnus’s apartment, well aware of the warlock’s warning to not be outside for too long. They enter quietly, being mindful that Alec would most likely still be sleeping. Magnus wasn't in so they settle down in the living room and turn the TV on, after working out how to use it and where the remote was hiding.

That’s how they spend the rest of the afternoon, sharing the same couch and watching a couple movies, ones of which actually existed in their world. Sometime later Alec makes an appearance and crashes down onto the love seat, watching the TV with little interest as he nurses a cup of coffee in his hands. Neither Tim nor Kon try to engage with him, choosing to let the man have his peace.

When even more time had passed, heading towards the evening now, Magnus returns home. He immediately heads over to Alec, bending over to place a kiss on the man’s head before leaning back and considering the TV. He glances at Tim and Kon on the couch before looking at Alec again, “I’m surprised you’re watching this darling, it’s not something you usually do.”

Alec shrugs. “It’s adequate, at least for mundane entertainment. I’ve been doing paperwork too though.”

At his response Tim resists the urge to roll his eyes. He knows Alec’s only hung around because he’s keeping an eye on them. It hasn’t been said out loud but it doesn’t need to be. As annoying as it is, Tim can’t deny he doesn’t blame him. If roles were reversed, Tim would do the same.

“How’s your day been?” Alec asks Magnus after a short pause. He’s looking up at the man with wide eyes and a soft smile on his face.

Magnus sighs tiredly. “Busy. I’ve had to deal with very picky and annoying clients today. No matter how clear I make things they still don’t listen and then get stroppy when their desired outcome doesn’t always happen.”

Alec huffs a laugh. “Sounds rough.”

“You don’t know the half of it Alexander,” Magnus comments patting his cheek lightly. He turns and faces Tim and Kon on the couch. “I have good news for you both.”

That sentence instantly gets their full attention. Together they sit up straighter from their slouched positions and focus on Magnus.

“I’ve been able to collect everything needed for the spell, turns out it wasn't as difficult as I suspected it was going to be. I’ll be sending you both home in the morning.”

Tim and Kon stare at the men before looking at one another, sharing a pleased and relieved smile at the news. It’s exactly what they’ve been wanting to hear. Tim can’t wait to get back to his own world where everything makes sense, he’s pretty sure at this point he would even take a psychopath of a clown who runs around killing people over what they call demons on this world.

“How will you be sending them home? Through the Seelie realm? Would the Seelie Queen even allow that?” Alec questions Magnus now frowning.

Tim raises an eyebrow, he has no idea what a Seelie is but he’s sure he doesn’t really want to find out at this point, especially after the other encounters with this world’s creatures.

“The Seelie’s gave me a way to pinpoint Timothy and Conner’s dimension through a portal. Along with a spell and some of their DNA I should be able to send them home with no problems.” Magnus explains to them all in the room.

Tim shoots the warlock a look, having picked up on the ‘should’ in that sentence. ‘Should’ implies that something could go wrong. Next to him, Kon picks up on something else.

“I’m sorry what?” His best friend exclaims looking a little frantic. “DNA? Why do you need our DNA?”

Tim reaches over and places a hand on Kon’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze to provide comfort, as well as keeping him from getting up off the couch. Of course Kon would have issues with the DNA part, anyone would, but with Kon’s background of cloning and being cloned makes his issues understandable, not that the men opposite would know that.

Magnus picks up on it and momentarily looks a little guilty before he’s sending them a comforting smile. “Oh no nothing like that! Just a strand of hair will do.”

“Oh.” Kon settles back down on the couch and Tim could feel him relax a little. He gives Kon one more squeeze before letting him go.

“So tomorrow morning?” Tim prompts. He doesn’t say it but he’s hoping they would do it now, the sooner the better.

The man opposite him picks up Tim’s unasked question. He takes a breath and sends Tim an understanding look. “I know you want to get home and I would do it today however I have been using my magic all day and I have depleted it. The amount of magic to send you home is more than what I have now so I’m afraid you’ll have to wait until tomorrow when I am rested and recharged.”

Tim feels slightly guilty for the selfish thought. He nods respectively at Magnus’s words and doesn’t comment. One more night won’t hurt.

“With that out the way, how about we order some dinner?” Magnus asks looking at them all expectantly, waiting for an answer. After some debate, the four of them end up eating Thai take out.

Dinner goes by mostly without a incident, the most interesting thing that happened was how Alec’s sister called him and once again tried to let him convince her to meet Tim and Kon. It was amusing to watch Alec argue with his sibling and for him to put his foot down against her wish.

“We have no problem if she wants to meet us you know.” Tim says after he hangs up the phone.

Alec sighs and shakes his head. “No, it’s just best we keep this between as little people as possible. Nothing against her or you two.” Tim shrugs it off, not feeling offended, next to him Kon seems to be in the same boat.

Once they had finished eating Alec clears the dishes up. Once he’s out of the living room Magnus perks up from his seat and snaps his fingers. “And now for desert!”

Both Tim and Kon jump when food suddenly appears on the coffee table in front of them. Tim stares wide eyed at it because it’s literally come from out of nowhere. He shares a bewildered look with his best friend before glancing at the warlock who simply leans over and grabs a plate.

After a moment the two of them settle and observe what’s in front of them. There’s a variety of slices of cakes, a couple bowls of ice-cream and a few slices of brownies and millionaire short bread.

“What the hell? Where did this come from?” Kon asks, unknowingly voicing Tim’s question too.

Magnus waves his hand and slyly smirks at them. “Magic.”

Kon opens his mouth to speak but is interrupted by Alec coming into the room again. “Really? Again? Magnus you have to stop conjuring up food.”

As Alec settles on the couch next to his boyfriend, he leans over and picks up a slice of cake, seeming not at all affected by the magical food. Tim has a feeling this happens on a regular occurrence and Alec’s just learnt to go with it by now.

Kon reaches out and grabs a bowl of ice-cream and a brownie. He takes a careful spoonful of the frozen desert before humming. Glancing at Tim he says, “This is really good Tim.”

Tim watches his best friend take another bite of food and tries really hard to not distracted by the way Kon licks his lips afterwards. He immediately feels himself heat up at the action and turns away quickly, trying to cover up his embarrassment he trusts Kon’s word and grabs the second bowl of ice-cream.

After his first bite he instantly agrees with Kon, it’s good. Nice and smooth, little bit creamy and enough of a taste which wasn’t overpowering to the tastebuds. As he eats, it gets Tim thinking. “Magnus, if you can magic up food, why cook like you did this morning? Surely this would always be easier.”

“Well Timothy, as easy as it is to just whip up food, sometimes there’s delight to doing things the mundane way. Simple acts like cooking can help ground someone or even take your mind off of things even just for a moment.” The warlock explains, there’s no bite to his words but Tim still gets the feeling he’s answered that particular question many times in the past. It makes sense he guesses, obviously he doesn’t relate to it but it’s understandable.

By the time they finish up it’s dark outside and getting late. To Tim’s surprise, it’s Kon who calls it a night first. Tim asks if he’s feeling okay and his best friend responds with that he's simply tired. Tim could easily read between the lines, while Kon may actually be tired, he actually would like some time to himself and retreating to the bedroom early will give him some space.

After bidding him a goodnight, Tim watches him exit the room, almost longing to go after him and actually make sure he's alright. He doesn’t move from his seat though, knowing that personal space was a good thing to have. He’ll check-up on Kon later on.

Tim turns back to the men who were engaged in their own conversation and his earlier thoughts make a reappearance. The two of them are so at ease with one another, in each other’s space. As Tim said to Kon earlier that day, no doubts that they obviously have their ups and downs but in the short amount of time Tim’s spent with them, he could see how devoted they are to one another.

Tim wouldn’t say he’s lonely, he has more enough friends and family surrounding him to know that he isn’t, but for a while now he's been longing for something more with Kon. For his best friend who he would sell his soul for (in a way already has done so). But does Kon feel the same? Tim doesn’t want to make a mistake and end up losing Kon altogether.

“You’re going to end up giving yourself a migraine if you keep thinking that hard my dear.”

Tim snaps out of his thoughts and blinks. He finds both Magnus and Alec staring at him with almost concerned looks. It’s then that Tim realises he had been staring at them while deep in his thoughts. Feeling embarrassed Tim turns away, muttering a ‘sorry’ and tries to get his head straight again.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Tim quickly replies. How was he supposed to explain that he's thinking about their relationship and wanting something more with his best friend? It’s easier to not saying anything.

“I know we don’t know one another Timothy, but something is clearly on your mind.” Magnus says. Tim turns back to him and sees him stand up. Magnus walks over to the corner of the room and Tim sees him pouring some drinks. The warlock then strolls back over and places one glass down on the coffee table in front of Tim before sitting back down, he hands one to Alec and keeps the last one for himself.

“Uh no thank you.” Tim says frowning. He’s not a big drinker, he would occasionally drink with his brothers or show off a glass of campaign at a gala he’s forced to attend to but he doesn’t drink otherwise.

“Nonsense,” Magnus comments, with a wave of his hand the drink disappears from the table to only end up in Tim’s hand. He startles at the sudden object in his hand and thanks to his reflexes he's able to stop any liquid from spilling. “Have a drink and talk to us. We may be able to help.”

Only if, thinks miserably to himself. Not looking up he fiddles with the glass in his hands, watching as ripples are created in the clear liquid with every movement he makes.

“Is it something to do with a certain black-haired blue-eyed boy by any chance?” Magnus asks knowingly.

Tim’s head snaps up at that and he scowls at the man, silently and unintentionally confirming his question. Had it been that obvious?

“Throughout my lifetime I have seen many friendships turn into romantic relationships, ones where they had fallen in love with each other.” Magnus comments looking mindful, as if he’s recalling past memories.

Next to him Alec rolls his eyes. “Magnus, don’t traumatise the kid.”

Magnus blinks and shoots Alec a pointed look. “I'm not traumatising him, I'm stating a fact.”

“Yeah, your old, we get it.” Alec deadpans with a smile.

The warlock gasps in pretend hurt. “Is that anyway to treat your elders Alexander?”

Their light banter does the trick and breaks the ice, somehow it makes Tim feel a little more at ease with the situation. A sigh escapes his lips and draws the attention of the men. Tim glances at them before looking away again, “I am – I mean I do have… feelings for Kon. Ones that go beyond friendship. It’s stupid really…”

The men sober up and watch him earnestly, clearly seeing how this is a struggle for Tim.

“I see how easy you both are with each other and it makes me want to have something like that with Kon.” Tim continues, trying to put his thoughts into words. “We’re best friends, teammates, we’d do anything for each other, but I don’t want to put that at risk because of how I feel. I can’t see Kon feeling the same way I do, how -”

“But he does.”

Tim sharply looks up at the blunt interruption. Alec’s staring at him like he doesn’t see what’s wrong with Tim’s predicament. “What?”

“Your friend feels the exact same way as you. It’s obvious.” Alec shrugs and takes a sip of his drink.

Magnus rolls his eyes and crosses his legs as he looks at Tim. “That’s putting it bluntly, yes. Timothy dear, anyone could see that you both have chemistry, something that goes deeper than friendship. He wants you just as much as you want him.”

Tim could feel his heart pounding. That couldn’t be true could it? By god he wants it to be true and real but he couldn’t get his hopes up. He shakes his head in denial. “Sorry but no. Not possible.”

“Why is it not possible?” Magnus questions him.

Tim feels himself heat up, both at the question and the attention. He waves one hand around uselessly, “Because…. Well just because…”

That gets both men rolling their eyes at him and Tim suddenly feels very judged. It’s not his fault he’s having a crisis! He didn’t ask for it!

“Is the problem because you’re both male?”

Instantly knowing the answer to that, Tim shakes his head. “No.” And it wasn’t a problem. Tim had publicly come out as bi sexual to all of Gotham last year, seeing it as an opportunity to help those in the LGBTQ+ group in Gotham and start up a support system for those who need help or whose who need a safe space in the city. He’s comfortable with his sexuality.

Kon, on the other hand, has never hid his attraction to guys as well as girls. He’s even recalled many stories to Tim about the guys he hooked up with while in Hawaii back in his days as ‘The Kid’ and how much he actually enjoyed it.

Neither of them have ever dated guys before, only girls, but being attracted to guys was not an issue for either of them.

“Okay so that’s a major factor out of the way. What’s stopping you from pursuing him? He is after all a rather attractive young man who has a kind honest soul and also cares deeply about you.”

Tim could feel the heat pouring out of his cheeks. Even Magnus has noticed what Kon is like! “We’re teammates and best friends, what I have with Kon I don’t want to lose. I can’t live without him and if I lose him by expressing how I feel then I wouldn’t be able to cope. It’s better to keep him as a friend and keep my feelings a secret rather than tell him and push him away.” It’s dark but it’s the truth.

“That's the worst thing you can do Tim.” Alec tells him, moving to sit forward. He places his drink down and clasps his hands together, his elbows resting on his thighs. “Trust me. I spent years keeping secrets, hiding who I really was because I was scared of what I could lose. When everything did come out into the open, those who cared stayed by my side and supported me. Even if they didn’t at first they came to accept it in the end.

Now with Conner, he won’t push you away because he’s feeling the exact same way. The only way you’re going to lose him is by not telling him how you feel. Be true to yourself and let yourself be happy. It’s hard to get past your insecurities, no matter how big or small they are, believe me I know.”

Tim listens to his words, taking them in and repeating them. He could tell this was a big thing for Alec, obviously this being something major that he went through in his life. Tim watches as Magnus reaches over and takes one of his hands, interlacing their fingers together and sharing a supportive yet comforting smile.

When Tim next speaks up, it’s in an almost whisper. “How can you say that? What if it all goes wrong? He may not feel like that at all.”

“With the way he looks at you when you’re not looking? I very much doubt it.” Magnus says smiling knowingly. “When you and Alexander were training the other day, Conner could not keep his eyes off you Timothy, he was practically drooling from where he was sat. Then there’s the closeness you have anyway, just for example you’re already sharing a bed, neither of you had even bothered to ask for another so you could sleep separately. How many friends simply share a bed together like you both are doing now?”

“A lot of people share beds like we do,” Tim comments not seeing his point, “we wouldn’t want to inconvenience you either.”

Magnus tuts but before he could respond Alec speaks up again. “When we first saw you we honestly thought you were together anyway, we were surprised to find out you were only friends.”

Tim blinks, unsure on what to make of that comment.

It falls silent between them and Tim is left thinking over their conversation. Both Magnus and Alec seem so sure that Kon wants him in the same way as Tim wants Kon. But can he trust them?

It makes Tim think of their recent interactions, how many times they’ve been caught staring at one another, the closeness between them, how Tim’s wanted to kiss him and that time they actually leaned towards one another. How Tim felt when he saw Kon’s dying body lying on the ground and unable to help him.

“What do I do?” He asks in the end. This whole world is making Tim feel so useless, and unsure on everything. This whole situation is just adding to that list.

“Think about it.” Magnus replies easily. “Get some sleep, think on it and then once you’re back home you can make a choice. Trust us when we say that nothing will go wrong between the two of you.”

Tim takes a deep breath and simply nods. He’s had enough. It’s been a long, emotionally and mentally challenging day. Time to call it a night. He places his drink, completely untouched, on the table and stands up stretching.

“Uh thank you,” Tim says looking between the men. “Sorry for dumping my problems on you I guess but thanks for talking and listening.”

They both smile at his words and bid him a goodnight. As he walks away he knows he still feels conflicted about his situation but he has to admit their words have given him some hope.

#Everything's Out Of Control #Tim Drake #Kon-El #magnus bane #alec lightwood #timkon #malec #shadow hunters #DC comics #fluff #friendship #emotional conversations #pining #fanfiction #comfort

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