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backtothefanfiction · 3 years

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WHAT BENNY DOESN’T KNOW | Chapter 2

A TRIPLE FRONTIER STORY

Summary: Santiago takes you home after Benny’s birthday drinks. Neither of you could have planned what happens next.

Warnings: Mature 18+ ONLY!! All aboard the smut train, next stop feels station. This chapter features strong language and scenes of a sexual nature, I’m talking watermelon sugar high (oral, female receiving), mentions of sex.

Word Count: 3950

A/N- Here’s chapter two featuring our boy Santiago Garcia. This is the event that kicks off this whole shit show. I had so much fun writing this and hope you enjoy reading it. As always, although I have read through this multiple times, I do a lot of my work in the early hours of the morning so some mistakes may have slipped through the cracks. Anyway... enjoy!

CHAPTER TWO | 3 YEARS AGO

“Ow Benny, you kicked me.” You shouted over the music of the bar that was blaring around you.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry.” Benny mumbled as he climbed back into the booth beside his brother, flinging his arm out to wrap around him, almost hitting him in the face. Everyone at the table watched as Will narrowly dodged his younger brothers fist. “Uhhgg this has been the best birthday ever.” Benny drunkenly shouted as he slumped against his brother's shoulder.

“I should probably get him home.” Will shouted over the music.

“Uhhh buzzkill.” Benny groaned, but he was beginning to lose consciousness and everybody laughed.

“Come on, I'll help you get him to the car.” Frankie said as he began to try and slide out of the booth. You felt the seat dip as he got up from where he'd been sat beside you. You slid into his spot allowing you and Santi, who had been squeezed up together with Fish on that side of the table, to spread out more. “Come on birthday boy.” Frankie said, reaching across the booth on the other side of the table to haul Benny up so Will could get out and they could all go.

You politely got up to give hugs and kisses on cheeks goodbye. Santiago slid across his seat so he could shake hands from a better position without actually having to get up. “You're such a lazy old man.” you teased him as he slid back into the booth allowing you to sit down again when your friends had gone.

“It's my knees.” He said in response. You also said his famous line at the same time, mimicking him and his usual answer you knew so well. “Seriously Querida?” he raised his eyebrows at you before giving you a playful jab in your side and making you giggle. You reached forward for your drink to take a sip of it through the straw, a playful look in your eyes.

Santi reached for his beer bottle he had been nursing most of the night in front of him. There was barely anything left. He knocked back the rest of it before slamming the empty bottle back onto the table. He watched you intently as you continued to sip on your drink, which was mostly just melted ice now. “You quite finished?” he asked you, his eyebrows motioning to the glass in your hand. “You want to get out of here?” you silently nodded your response and he grabbed your jacket from where it had been pushed up into the corner of the booth beside him. You took that as your queue to get up and he held out the jacket for you as he came to a stand, a small groan escaping from his lips as his knees finally stretched out after being sat for so long.

You turned your head back to him as you flicked your hair out, fixing the jacket collar with your fingers. You shot him a smile and he placed a protective hand at the small of your back as he lead you outside.

The air outside was crisp and made you giggly. “Come on giggles.” Santi said as you leant into him, his arm coming around you firmly, leading you towards his truck.

You kicked off your shoes, pulling your legs up onto the seat with you, getting comfy for the ride home. You watched Santiago walk around the front of the truck and climb into the drivers seat. “Really?” he questioned when he saw you.

“What? I took my shoes off.” he let out a low chuckle as he shook his head climbing into the truck.

As he pulled out of the parking lot he looked over to you. He could tell you were thinking about something but he wasn't sure what it was, he was about to ask you when you said, “Can we go back to yours? I'm not ready to go home yet.”

“Yeah, of course.” You were both silent again as you watched him take the next right towards his house instead of left towards your own.

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The paving stones beneath your feet were cold as you climbed down from Santi's truck. You were feeling a little more sober now but you still couldn't muster up the energy to put your shoes on just to walk from the truck to his house. Santiago walked ahead of you up the path to open his front door. You slammed the passenger door shut and began making your way up the path. The trucks lights behind you flashed as Santiago hit the button on his keys to lock the doors and the truck made a small beep. You had been so distracted by your own thoughts, it made you jump, your shoes slipping out of your fingers, hitting the ground and a small yelp escaped your lips. Santiago turned to see your hand clutched over your chest and he chuckled. You picked up your shoes, throwing one at him. It missed, flying past his shoulder and in through the now open front door behind him.

“Don't laugh at me.” you whined sticking out your bottom lip as he let you pass him into the small house first.

“I'm sorry.” he said, his head tilting in mock sympathy, “I didn't realise that me locking my truck was so scary.”

“Uhhhhg noooo.” you whined as you made your way over to his sofa, falling back on it over the arm rest, your legs dangling over the side. You suddenly propped yourself up to look at him as he closed the front door. “Don't you dare tell the others.” your voice blurted out urgently in panic as he turned to face you.

“Sorry too late.” Santiago said reaching into his pocket for his phone.

“Santi NO!” you squealed, flying off the sofa, running to tackle the phone out of his hand. He mocked you by lifting it above his head so you couldn't reach it. You continued to laugh between fake noises of struggle as you played along. “Santi give me the phone.”

“Nope. Not happening.” he mocked, pushing your arms down with his free hand.

“Santi, give me the phone.”

“You want it, just take it.” he said, his hand never lowering. He laughed at you as you continued trying to stretch up for it. You even moved around to try and climb up his back to get it. He kept passing it between his hands away from your grasp.

You finally gave in with an exasperated grunt, stepping back, placing your arms across your chest. “Fine.”

“Fine?” he questioned, his eyebrows rising.

“Negotiation time.”

“Ahhh there it is.” he says going to take a seat on the arm rest of the sofa.

“What's it gonna take for you to not tell the boys.”

“Hmmmm....” he brought his hand up to his chin, playing along. You began to take a few steps towards him as he thought over his demands. “How about a kiss?” he said catching you off guard and making you stop in your tracks.

He watched as you thought it over. “Fine.” you quickly conceded and began to step forward to give him a quick peck.

“Uh, Uh, Uh.” he said holding a hand up in front of you to stop you. He could read you like a book. “A proper kiss. It has to last at least 7 seconds.”

“Why 7 seconds?”

“Dunno seems like a good enough time for a kiss to last. Any longer for a single kiss feels weird and any shorter, well that's just not a proper kiss.” You take a moment to think over his logic. You'd never kissed any of the guys before, not that you hadn't thought about it. I mean, they were gorgeous. You had just never considered any of them being interested in you back in that way. Then a thought came to you, 'was this Santi's way of making a move?' You shook the thought away, this was Santiago 'Pope' Garcia. This was just him being his usual charming self and doing whatever it took to get a rise out of you.

He raised his eyebrows as if to indicate he was waiting and you quickly checked yourself realising you were getting way too in your head about this. “Fine.” the word fell out of your mouth before you even realised what you had actually just agreed to. You took a final step forward closing the space between the two of you, your body reacting quickly, not giving you a chance to back out.

Your eyes followed him as he stood up, his hands finding a place on either side of your face. “Remember, 7 seconds querida, I'll be counting.” he raised his eyebrows at you. Your head gave a slight nod before he was guiding your lips towards his own. Your eyes closed instantly on contact and your body softened. His lips were soft, moulding against your own like little pillows. They were the perfect temperature, not too warm or too cold. You inhaled deeply through your nose wanting to take in his sent now he was so close and melt into it. You reached your hands up, letting them rest on his arm muscles for support.

Santiago felt you relax against his fingers, the corner of his mouth pulling up into a smile ever so slightly. His brain stopped keeping track after only 4 seconds. He moved his lips slightly, trying his luck, wanting to deepen the kiss. He inhaled through his nose triumphantly when your lips followed suit. His hands, either side of your face, became tenser as he pulled you even closer into the kiss, his lips and their movements becoming firmer. He almost lost it when a small gasp escaped your mouth.

He boldly took a step back, guiding you with his hands and lips as he pulled the two of you back towards the sofa. You both paused as the backs of his knees hit the couch cushion behind him. You broke the kiss, opening your eyes to look at him but didn't pull away. You bit your bottom lip slightly as you looked into his eyes, taking a moment. 7 seconds had clearly long passed, but the look in both your eyes was clear, neither of you wanted this to stop.

You boldly closed the distance between your lips again, the movement of your lips becoming more intentional as a slight tingle took over them. He let his knees give way and he pulled you on top of his lap onto the couch, your knees finding a place either side of his legs. You felt the tip of his tongue graze your bottom lip, asking for entry and the corners of your lips worked their way into a smile as you happily opened your lips wider, your own tongue coming out to meet his somewhere in the middle.

One of his hands came down to rest on your thigh, his fingertips grasping at the flesh at the edge of your skirt. A rush flowed through your body, ending with a flutter and warmth between your legs. Your body took over then as you slowly began to grind down onto him and his breathing hitched slightly in response. Your lips passionately fought one another for dominance as his hand worked its way up your thigh until it found a home on your ass, flicking the back of your skirt out over his knees. His grasp became firmer as he pulled you closer into him allowing you to feel his growing erection beneath you. You pulled your lips away to let out a gasp. Santi's lips never left your skin as he dragged them across your jaw before using his hand that was still placed at the side of your head, to tilt it back allowing him access to your neck as you breathed in quickly.

Your hands found a home around the back of his neck, your fingers carding through his hair. “Fuck querida.” he growled into your neck as you used your new hold to really grind down into him. You pulled back slightly and he looked up at you from your new position with hungry eyes. The hand he had still had at the side of your head, slid down your body to find a home on your other thigh, before it too worked its way up your leg and found a home on your other ass cheek. Your forehead rested against his as you both gazed into each others eyes, panting heavy, as he used his hands to continue to roll you against his erection.

Your breathing hitched and you let out a moan as the friction from his jeans rubbed against your clothed clit in just the right way. His lips latched back onto yours hungrily, stifling the noise. You could feel the heat between your legs rising, your vagina fluttering with stimulation. Santiago's fingers ghosted under the elastic of your underwear that covered your ass cheeks, pulling them apart, making you both aware of just how wet you'd become. Santi's lips pulled tight with a sneer, his hips rolling up to meet yours. “Fuck princessa, I want you so bad.” he snarled against your lips.

You're head rolled back in bliss as a response to his words and he began to attack your neck again, his teeth nibbling gently at the flesh before smoothing it over with his tongue and lips. You gasped. “You want it, just take it.” you repeated his own words from earlier back at him breathily.

“Fuck.” he exclaimed before reaching a hand to your face, forcing you to look at him. “You serious?” he asked questioningly. You sucked your lips into your mouth as you gave him a small nod, your eyes blown wide. “Fuck.” he mumbled again to himself before latching back onto your lips, the moment you had relaxed them again.

You felt the world suddenly shift as he lifted you up and flipped you around, sitting you on the couch. He removed his lips from your own, kissing down your jaw. Your head relaxed against the back of the sofa, your eyes closing in bliss, as he continued to move his lips down your neck. You felt him shift backwards as he knelt down on the floor in front of you, his hands finding a home on your hips as he buried his face into your chest. His teeth and lips nibbled and sucked at the flesh as his hands moved down from your hips, sliding down your thighs before moving up your skirt. He hooked his fingers around the waist band of your underwear and began pulling them down. He pulled his mouth away from your breasts. “I want to taste you querida.” he said as he removed your underwear from your legs.

You tilted your head down to watch him as he threw your underwear behind him, his now free hands moving back up your legs to lift up your dress. “Holy shit.” he said as he got a full look at your pussy already wet and ready for him. “Just when I didn't think you could get any more perfect.” he said leaning forward to nip at the inside of your thighs. He shifted his hands on your hips and pulled you closer to the edge of the sofa, closer to his waiting mouth. His breath was warm against your lips and you squirmed slightly in anticipation. It wasn't much, but it was enough for Santiago's grip on your hips to become firmer, holding you in place.

“Oh fuck.” you cried out as his tongue suddenly caught you by surprise, licking a stripe upwards through your folds, the tip of it flicking against your clit before he sucked it inbetween his lips. Your response made him growl deep in his throat, the vibrations passing through his lips, buzzing against the sensitive bud. You rolled your head back again as you let out a moan.

Santiago pulled away slightly, adjusting himself, before reattaching his mouth to your pussy again. “Oh my god.” you moaned, one hand coming to rest on his head, your fingers lacing between the curls, as his tongue continued to explore you.

You stayed like that for a few long minutes, Santiago only using his tongue to ravish you. His pressure and technique constantly changed, working you up slowly making your breathing heavy. Every now and again he'd pay extra attention to your clit, flicking it quickly with the tip of his tongue before once again sucking it in between his lips, over stimulating you just enough to make you squirm but never long enough for you to find any actual release. The third time he did that you decided you'd had enough. As he released your clit from his lips with a small pop you grabbed his curls tightly forcing him to look up at you. “Stop teasing me.” your voice was commanding. A shit eating grin spread out across his face and he let out a small chuckle.

“As you wish.” he raised his eyebrows, teasing you once more. You were about to bite back with another comment when you felt two of his fingers thrust into your wet core.

“Fuck.” you squealed, more than satisfied with finally having something to actually fill the aching hole. Santi chuckled again before licking your clit back into his mouth once more.

His fingers began to move agonisingly slowly as he gently stretched you out, his mouth still preferring to do the bulk of the work as his tongue focused on your clit. As he curled his fingers against the inside walls of your dripping cunt, he could sense you growing restless. Your breathing was getting shallower and your moans becoming ever more insistent as you felt him drawing your orgasm from you slowly. Santiago could feel you beginning to clench around his fingers and he began to move them faster. He pulled his head back, replacing his tongue with his thumb, circling it around your clit. “Come on baby, I want to see you fucking cum for me.” he said as he sat himself up on his knees.

You latched your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you, capturing his lips in a passionate kiss. His fingers curled up into you even more as he adjusted their speed making you moan into his lips. You pulled your mouth away from his, pressing your forehead firmly against his own, panting furiously, your mouth hanging open, unable to form words. Your hips jerked and your pussy clamped around his fingers as your orgasm took over your entire body. “O-OH F-Fuck!” you stuttered out, finally finding your voice again and it made Santi grunt in satisfaction, a large smile breaking out over his face as he watched you come undone.

Santiago's fingers slowed slightly, helping you work through your release, his other hand pushing your hip further into the couch, holding you down, grounding you. Your lips found one another again as your heaving body attempted to relax once more. Santiago's fingers came to a stop completely, pulling out of you as he felt the final waves of your orgasm leave your body. “Fuck, that was so fucking beautiful.” he exhaled into your lips between kisses. “I have no idea what I did to deserve that, but I want to do it again.” he said his head slumping into your breasts and you giggled.

“I think that can be arranged.” you said playfully.

He lifted his head up to look at you again. “Right now?” he asked, tilting his head. A massive grin broke out over your face.

“Sure...” you started, “-but, not before I've taken care of you.” Santiago could have sworn he'd died and gone to heaven. He hung his head, grinning to himself as you climbed off the sofa and began making your way towards his bedroom. “Hey you coming or not?” you called back down the hall to him. God this was gonna be the best night of his life.

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You had woken up in Santiago's house the following morning to find yourself in bed alone. You used the extra space to stretch out your muscles after a long night of bliss. You smiled to yourself, the memory of the five orgasms Santiago Garcia had pulled from your body, still fresh in your mind. It had been a passionate night full of full body massages and cuddles between fucking. Both of you wanting to make the most of this moment, neither of you sure when you'd get the opportunity again. You both knew you were leaving the country on separate missions in a matter of days.

“Santi?” you called out into the quiet house. There was no response. You furrowed your brow as you climbed from the bed to search for him.

You picked up the clothes you had been wearing the night before and put them on as you padded barefoot around his house. “Santi?” you called out again. He wasn't there. You grumbled to yourself. “Unfucking believable.” you said as you searched the living room for your underwear. “I can't believe he'd just fuck and dash and leave me alone in his own fucking home.”

You found your jacket, searching the pockets for your phone to see if he'd even left you a message. Nothing. You began constructing a strongly worded text message when the sound of the front door unlocking behind you, made you turn around.

Santiago froze in the doorway at the sight of you in his living room. “Oh you're up.” he said. “I didn't want to wake you.” In his hand was a small tray with two cups of coffee in it and clutched desperately in his fingers below it was a large paper bag. “I didn't have anything in, so I popped up the road to grab us something to eat.” he continued, pulling his keys out of the door before kicking it shut with his foot.

You quickly pressed the backspace button on your phone, suddenly feeling foolish for thinking Santiago would treat you the way you thought he had. “You okay?” he asked as he made his way over to a small dining table to place the coffees and bag down.

“Uh, yeah.” you said blinking away the startled expression on your face. He held out one of the coffee cups for you and you tentatively stepped across the room to take it from him. “I'm sorry.” you said shaking your head. “I thought you'd...” your voice trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

“You know I'd never do that to you right?” he said, his eyebrows furrowed. “I mean even if last night hadn't been the best sex of my life.” he paused a moment as he searched your face. “You don't regret it do you?”

“No. No of course not.” you quickly said, feeling the need to defend yourself.

“Good.” he said, turning to reach into the paper bag. “You like croissants right?” he asked pulling one out and handing it to you.

“Yeah, I love croissants.” your voice was soft, a small smile breaking out on your face. You couldn't believe he remembered. “Uh hey Santi?”

“It's okay, I won't say anything to the boys about last night.”

“Thank you.”

Santiago had driven you home after breakfast. You laughed and joked the whole way home, never once talking out loud about the great night you had shared together, but you both kept it at the fore front of your minds, replaying it again and again.

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9tzuyu · 3 years

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children of tragedy (rewrite)

note: heyo, rewriting an old fic of mine. i hope to be able to rewrite all 5 chapters quickly. if you guys don’t like it, i won’t continue because its kinda dark and idk i feel like no ones gonna like it anyways. please leave feedback though, im on my knees begging for validation. also sorry if its ooc, please forgive me.

++ sorry the beginning reveals how rusty my writing is </3

(*** i wrote this as as a fem reader fic because it worked easier with how i wrote things.)

+ please remember that this is purely a way to get out my own feelings/struggles in a healthy way. also i’m sure this works better as a ship fic, but someone asked for this version so yeah :).

** mistakes are mine im too tired and lazy to proofread right now.

warnings: talk of alcohol abuse, slight mention of domestic abuse.

🏷 @peggycarter-steverogers

ch.2 | ch.3

[love, fragility, and the memories that eat us alive.]

meeting wanda changed everything for you. she wasn't like anyone you’d ever known. she was always kind, never quick to lose her temper or scream and yell at you for things you couldn't possibly control. she was warm, tender with everything she did.

your relationship with her was very new to you. it was much different in comparison to your past experiences — and you weren't quite sure what to think of it. there was no doubt that you appreciated her and everything she did for you, but you were still waiting for her to snap. it was almost like a need burning throughout your body. being able to grasp the idea that someone could ever really, truly be gentle with you was out of the question. in turn, you’d push all of her buttons, hoping that she would get mad enough and get it over with.

no one could really fault you for it. the steady stream of abuse was the nearly the entirety of your life, both physical and mental.

lately wanda was having to pick you up from wherever she could find you, most of the time in the alleyways of of bars you’d been kicked from.

once you were drunk enough (anyone really) you weren’t afraid to say the first thing that came to your mind, offensive or not – which meant it was no surprise when you’d been involved in fights. the alcohol numbed a majority of the pain anyway, so didn’t really make much of a difference to you.

with this happening so many times, you figured wanda would be angry with you – perhaps so angry she would find it within her to hit you. but each and every time wanda brought you home, she made sure you were comfortable before tending to your inuries.

what you didn't know was that being so worried for you all the time, every second of everyday, was beginning to take a toll on her. wanda only wanted to fix you, but you were making it more than difficult for her to do that.

she knew very little about your past, simply because you didn't like talking about it and she didn't want to push. but there was no denying the fact that wanda was curious.

sometimes she would ask questions, only between the soft moments the both of you shared. much to her dismay, most of her curiosities were turned down. on the rare occasions you shared brighter memories of your childhood, wanda would bookmark them in the back of her head.

no harm would ever come from her, but you didn’t know that. at least not right now.

too many times had your exes used the trust you’d so politely given against you. to be fair with wanda though, you shared only the brightest parts of your childhood. they were very seldom, but the ones you could remember were the ones you enjoyed talking about the most.

despite her limited knowledge, it wasn’t hard for her to tell that you’d already been hurt plenty of times before. apart from the fact that wanda was overall truly a good person, it made her even more gentle with you than she’d ever been with anyone before.

on top of that, wanda wasn’t stupid. she picked up on every little flinch you tried to hide, or the times you had to ask her if it was okay if you could do something on your own free will, and she definitely didn’t forget about the countless times you berated yourself over small, humanly mistakes. a frown never failed to decorate her face when these things happened.

wanda tried her hardest to make it known how much she loved you, and how she would never intentionally hurt you. she never once lifted a hand on you or raised her voice in the slightest, even when she felt like she’d met a breaking point.

the last few weeks seemed to be putting more stress on her than usual. the gashes on your body seemed to be cutting deeper and the bruises on your jaw and rib cage were beginning to turn a darker shade of indigo as each fight became more aggressive. your knuckles had been swollen, irritated to the point your hands trembled when your palms were held open.

you completely missed how drastically wanda’s mood had changed. she became quiet, seemingly lost in thought most of the time until she needed to take care of you. she grew tired, a purple tint claiming a spot below the lip of her eyes. fifteen pounds of weight had shredded from her body and her head grew dizzy every time she stood up. none of that mattered to wanda though, you were her number one priority.

alcohol was the biggest issue in the way. if wanda could get you to stop drinking for just one night she might be able to reason with you.

the brunette knew that was out of the question though, because she knew no matter how many times she told or expressed her love for you, you wouldn’t stop until you wanted to, not when she wanted you to.

you never allowed yourself to be vulnerable around her, so she never knew how you truly felt about the things going wrong in your life. there was an unbearable amount of pain when it came to confronting what you tried so hard to push away. the idea of allowing yourself to heal, to mourn the things taken away from you caused a lump in the back of your throat. living in denial was the easiest way to cope - that was as long as you could bear the damage it created.

(and whether wanda knew it or not, knowing that you were causing her so much misery was the worst feeling you’d ever faced. all she had ever given you was love and in return she was met with destruction.)

so once again you found yourself walking alone, a slight stagger between steps. it was cold, each breath exhaled from your lips could be seen vaporizing into the air. every movement ripped what balance you thought you’d gained right out from underneath you. the feeling of numbness in your fingertips brought your attention away from the fact that you didn’t know where you were.

the buildings all looked familiar, but everything was hazy. being drunk wasn’t always the fun everyone bragged about. too tired to carry on, you found yourself slumped in the back of an alleyway next to a dirty garbage bin. it reeked of sour, expired food, but you’d given up on caring about anything else other than trying to drink yourself numb.

your mind began to wander. flashes of early mornings with wanda’s hands wrapped around your waist, breath tickling the back of your neck while the sun began to rise started filling your thoughts. the warm feeling wanda gave you outweighed every bad emotion you could possibly think of.

but as you stared at the ground beneath your feet things began to spiral. your throat contracted, the guilt you tried so hard to swallow began clawing its way out of your body.

(and holy fuck you could not deal with this right now.)

you curled your head between your legs in an attempt to shield yourself away from something that was born from the inside.

it was too much.

without a chance to stop what was happening, your stomach began heaving. a mix of bile and alcohol drooled from your mouth as you continued to vomit.

you missed the sound of footsteps coming from behind you. the feeling of a hand on your shoulder caused you to jerk back, slamming your back into the brick wall.

“hey, hey, it’s me. you’re okay. it’s just me, wanda.” she cooed.

through teary eyes, you looked up at the woman in front of you.

she’s your girlfriend.

(but you weren’t sure that you deserved to call her that after everything you’ve put her through.)

“what are you doing here?” your voice wavered as you wiped your mouth free of excess vomit. you sniffled backing away from her.

she tilted her head, desperate to read what your eyes would give away. “i’m here to bring you back home. can you stand up for me?” you shook your head. you were too exhausted and dizzy from the alcohol to even think about standing.

“that’s okay,” she whispered. “here, i’m going to pick you up, okay? wrap your arms around my neck and your legs around my hips.”

“mkay.” your speech was still slurred, but at that point all wanda cared about was getting you home safe.

you didn’t remember the ride home or wanda carrying you out of the car to lay you on the couch. by the time she got the supplies she needed to wrap and tend to your wounds, you were completely passed out.

when you woke up you were greeted with a glass of water and an over the counter pain medication. you swallowed the pills and moved to set the glass on the coffee table, but wanda beat you to it and took it out of your hands. she smiled down at you, taking a seat next to you. she tucked your hair behind your ears, giving your face one last gentle stroke.

thats when you noticed her eyes were red.

you immediately sat up, crossing your legs and moved closer to her. you’d hoped to comfort her somehow, but the shake of her head broke sonething inside you.

you bit your lip, anxiety shooting throughout your body. she sensed your nervousness and took your hands in hers, rubbing circles on the outside of your wrist with her thumbs.

“i love you, you know that. at least i hope you do,” she let out a soft laugh. “but i can’t keep doing this.”

your heart dropped, and you could feel the all too familiar feeling of guilt building its way back up. you tried to speak, but wanda cut you off.

“i need you to hear this.”

when you didn’t respond she took the opportunity to continue saying what she needed to get out.

“i have exhausted myself to a breaking point. i can’t keep worrying about you every single night you’re gone. i can’t be there every time you need saving. i’m losing myself.”

she paused to check and see how you were handling her words. for once you weren’t shutting down. you were genuinely trying to process what she was trying to say.

(and she was so proud of you for that. she almost considered giving you another chance. but she knew for the better, she couldn’t do that. not to you, not to her.)

“i’ve packed your things. you can leave tomorrow morning if you wish, i don’t mind having you for another meal or two.”

she squeezed your hands and got up from the couch, allowing you to take in what she said. it was in that moment when you realized that even when she’d finally drawn the line, had enough, she didn’t yell at you. she wasn’t angry, she was just sad.

you were chasing after something that wasn’t there, and it never would be there.

and now you were able to register just how much you’d fucked up the one good thing in your life.

#wanda maximoff x reader #scarlet witch x reader #wanda maximoff fic #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff imagine #avengers imagine #avengers fanfiction

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blutopaz15 · 3 years

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Flufftober: Oct.3

Lazy Sunday

What a shock, it's blu writing rayllum-in-katolis fluff with a side of comforty vibes! Enjoy friends!

NOTES: rated t for teenagers making out and being generally a lil horny, ~1k words

ao3 link

Callum awoke to the sound of the bathroom door sliding shut and saw through sleepy eyes that Rayla was slipping back into their room, already fully dressed and ready for the day.

She looked so tired still though, Callum thought, finding himself troublingly unsurprised by it. She’d been looking that way more and more as their first week back in Katolis had gone by and the barely-there light of the summer morning—which meant it was entirely too early to be awake, especially on a Sunday—only drew his attention to how exhausted she always seemed.

He watched fondly—heartachingly—as she ran her hand back through her hair. Though she looked at him before depositing last night’s pajamas on her nightstand, Rayla seemed not to notice his eyes barely cracked open. She picked up her blades and her boots, then fixed on the brave and aloof face he’d seen her trying to maintain around the castle when he wasn’t right there with her...like she was actually going somewhere at six in the morning.

A yawn decided that it took precedence over calling her over, but it had the same effect. Rayla, realizing he was awake, crossed to his bedside, looking a little brighter

“You’re up early,” he managed around the last of the yawn, reaching for her.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Rayla sighed, slotting her fingers between his as she plopped down facing him at the edge of his bed. “Thought maybe I’d go see the training course Soren pointed out last weekend. It’ll probably be too early for anyone else to be there, so…”

He understood without her needing to finish the sentence: tagging along with Soren a few days ago wasn’t the same as just showing up to spar with people—humans—who didn’t know her. Plus, Callum knew Rayla saw it as more than just the not-knowing, and that—though no one had been anything but nice to her—that perception had made her avoid some of the ways they’d all thought she might like to spend her time.

“It’ll probably be deserted all day. Guards don’t train on weekends,” he explained, fidgeting with her hand like it was his own. “I’ll take you later.”

She rolled her eyes and scoffed. “Pfft, I’m sure you’ll love that.”

“No, but you will.” He caught the little frown that told him she wasn’t just teasing—that she actually felt bad about him spending the day how she wanted. He squeezed her hand tighter: all he wanted from his princely-duty-free day was to spend it with her anyway. “Seriously. I don’t care what I do today as long as I get to be with you, and you actually have something you want to do. So, we’ll both go. You can show off, and I’ll fall on my face and you can kiss it better. It’ll be fun.”

Rayla nodded and agreed, softening especially at the excuse he now given her to kiss him all day long. She left her fingers intertwined with his when she lifted the back of her hand to her mouth as she yawned.

It was still awfully early.

He pulled the knuckles on the same hand she’d tried to stifle her yawn with to his lips.

“But...come be lazy with me first.”

The way he’d been pulling on her hand meant that it was probably a little bit his fault—though not his intention—when she didn’t snuggle up to his side like he’d anticipated.

Instead, Rayla immediately crawled closer, fixing her lips to his. Her knees plopped down on either side of his waist and he really hadn’t been ready for her hips settling over his lower belly.

“Uh,” he started when she caught a quick breath. She let him speak, her lips on his cheeks—then his nose, then his forehead—feeling much more innocent even if her body still kept moving against him. “Lazy does mean ‘stay in bed all morning’ in Xadia, right?”

She laughed and then sat up straight, which...really didn’t help matters.

“Mmm...we are in bed aren’t we?” she asked, voice all low and flirtatious and…

Why had he questioned Rayla wanting to make out with him?

She shrugged and shifted like she was going to move away to lay down like he’d thought she was going to in the first place, and—

“Just getting a headstart on the kissing your face bit.”

—he hadn’t really meant to when his hands flew to her hips…

But, Callum found himself holding her in place.

“No, stay.” Rayla went wide-eyed for a moment, but before he could overthink, she was smirking at him again, her lips curving all sweet and sassy and a little swollen pink…

She leaned down over him—her mouth so close he could feel her breath—in a way that seemed so...seductive, he could hardly think at all, let alone overthink.

“Like this?”

All he could do was catch the pieces of soft white hair that’d fallen from behind her shoulder, down onto his chest, tuck them back out of the way, and whisper: “Please.”

She obliged, lunging forward eagerly and kissing him thoroughly, without hardly any of the teasing that he’d been known to mistake for hesitance. He matched a few adventurous kisses with wandering hands, but her zealousness soon faded to steady, sweet kisses as her hips—that’d been hovering above him, as if she’d realized what she’d done before—lowered back down so she was straddling him again.

And...it felt good, but the only reason she’d settled like that—her weight fully on top of him—was because the increasingly lazy kisses had stopped and she’d just...laid down.

She yawned again into his chest.

So...sweet.

It...made him a little sad too, though, knowing how much she needed this rest.

He wrapped his arms tight around Rayla’s waist, happy to have her stay just like that, cuddled up against him, for just as long as she wanted.

“Happy?” She mumbled against his chest, pulling her knees up so he didn’t bear her whole weight. He tucked away the piece of her hair that his breath kept catching,

He was more than content to spend a lazy morning watching her doze.

“Happy,” he confirmed, hoping she would be too.

#rayllum #rayllum fanfic #flufftober2021 #rayla #callum #the dragon prince #fluff with a side of comfort #post s3 #pre ttm #slightly spicy fluff

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cuquitalocita · 3 years

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the hot girl from physics class- rowaelin

AN: okay this has been sitting in my drafts for MONTHS and i just found it again. this is literally just self indulgent bickering with absolutely not plot in mind. also my first time writing rowaelin because i had no desire to butcher them so... anyway here’s to first tries and i hope you all enjoy!

main masterlist

Rowan’s mouth tasted of metal. Or maybe it was blood.

The second thing that hit him was the inability to breathe through his mouth as he attempted to swallow a mouthful of nonexistent air. The motion sent his eyes shooting open, immediately registering that while his mouth was covered, his nose was not, and he managed a large inhale of hot air before exploding into a rage of rough coughs that left him breathless and once again on the verge of blacking out. Rowan thrashed in what seemed to be a chair, quickly realizing that both his arms and legs were bound tighter than he thought possible, and no amount of lacrosse training could prepare him for the fatigue he felt at that moment. The dark spots in his vision didn’t seem to help either and his sweat shone skin seemed to melt in on itself as he took a few more breaths through his nose, slower this time until he was somewhat steady.

It was only then he felt stable enough to figure out what the hell had happened. The last thing he remembered was excusing himself to go to the bathroom before the bus was supposed to take off. He had been walking down the empty hallway one moment and the last thing he could recall was the strange sensation of being as light as a feather before darkness overtook him. And now he was here. And… where was here exactly?

A sort of warehouse it seemed, with tall metal walls and a lofted ceiling, freezing regardless of the fact that it was barely fall meaning it was most likely abandoned. Night shone through the glass windows he identified to his right and left and across from him sat-

“CELEANA?” Rowan attempted to scream out, his cloth-filled mouth muffling the sound to almost nothing. But he was right, and his vision refused to fail him as his eyes widened at the hot girl from physics class who now sat across from him in a much more comfortable looking chair than his hard wooden one, sporting casual leggings, a stained t-shirt, an insanely messy bun, and the smuggest expression he had ever seen. Strands of golden hair sprang out every which way and Rowan was hit with the inherent desire to smooth it out himself. His heart did terrified somersaults as he took in her (clearly) laid back posture and bored eyes and he stiffened as Celeana pulled up one of her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around it, one of her hands clutching a small book. It was only then he noticed the highlighter sticking out from between her teeth. If he wasn’t gagged, he would’ve been gaping. She was studying.

“Well look who’s awake,” she mused, her voice somehow sounding deeper than it had before. Rowan couldn’t deny how smooth it sounded and how naturally it suited her. “Hey, sleeping beauty.” There was no mistaking the smirk that curled onto her lips and the sparkle in her unique turquoise eyes as she gazed at him, her look solely calculating as she took him in from head to toe, zeroing in on something close to his head.

The tip of the gun was colder than he imagined it would be, the hard metal sending a shock through his entire body and forcing a scream out of his mouth, damning the gag. The sound was just as muffled as he thought it would be, barely loud enough to alert anyone within a four-foot radius to his whereabouts. Still, he didn’t relent. He screamed with everything. He screamed with his anger, he screamed with his disgust, he screamed with his confusion, and he even screamed with his sadness, the emotion he hadn’t felt since his mother had died.

When the blonde had waltzed into his physics class for the first time two weeks ago sporting a bright grin and gleaming eyes, Rown hadn’t known what to expect. It certainly wasn’t the charming and positively addictive person he ended up meeting. Elegant and beautiful Rowan had been unable to tear his eyes away from her, even as she deliberately placed herself in the seat next to him, shooting him a brilliant smile. Celeana had been wholly consuming, something Rowan was now kicking himself for, and the two had fallen into an easy conversation, him unable to hold up his usually angry exterior when it came to her. They had flirted- quite a lot, if he remembered correctly and despite his constant lacrosse practices, Rowan had even found himself agreeing to help her with her physics homework. It had only taken one word from her cursing Einstein and Rowan knew he was done for. He hadn’t gotten the chance to ask her out yet- he had meant to do it after his game today. So what in hellas was he doing here?

Rowan screamed until his throat gave out, his wide eyes never faltering as he stared in what was pure shock at Celeana across from him, who seemed to be doing nothing but gazing at him, her eyes cold and calculating, a contrast to the small quirk at the corner of her lips. By the time his throat gave out and his eyes yearned to drop shut in exhaustion, Celeana had closed her book and tucked the highlighter on top of her ear. She wasn’t watching him anymore; instead, her gaze was fixed next to him, to the person who most certainly held the gun to his head. A gun which Celeana seemed entirely unfazed by. If anything, her eyes seemed to sparkle more and the other side of her mouth pulled up before she said,

“I win, pay up.” A shift in sound and the gun behind him before a much deeper and older voice spoke now.

“Actually Miss, you said less than thirty minutes. I said less than ten. And it seems it was…” the gun was momentarily lifted from his head as the older man checked something on his arm, allowing him a sharp exhale. “Seven minutes. Which means, I won.” The corner of Celeana’s mouth pulled down in a frown and she glared at the person behind him.

“Oh, you’re no fun Brullo,” she sighed. “Fine. I-” she was cut off as he commenced screaming again, louder this time after he had taken a lungful of air. Her eyes widened for a smidge of a second in surprised shock which quickly faded into her smirk again. When he finished screaming this time, it was because Celeana was looking him straight in the eyes, her gaze more powerful than should be possible for a girl her age. And it told him everything he needed to know: he wasn’t going anywhere. The sound fell from his voice and he glared fire at the girl across from him who only rolled her eyes when he attempted to open his mouth again. Her own fire blazed back at him.

“Oh my god, are you done?” she asked in exasperation, the smirk no longer on her face, just pure teenage annoyance as she looked back at him. He was at a loss for words as she put her book down on the ground next to her boots and looked back at him. “Okay,” she said as if he was a wounded puppy she didn’t know how to approach. She wasn’t afraid, just wary. “I’m gonna take the gag off now and please, for the love of the gods, please Ro, don’t even try to scream. With as much as I love your mouth, and believe me, I really do,” she gave him a wink and he let out a growl laced with disgust and ignoring the electricity in his blood at the look she gave him. “I have no interest in hearing you any more than I have to today. Got it?”

He said nothing, his glare unwavering as Celeana stood from her chair and approached him, the gun to his head tensing as if the bearer was more alert than he had been a moment ago. Rowan wondered exactly how he was supposed to even move when his arms and legs were bound and just to prove it he went still as Celeana leaned forward, her blue eyes suddenly level with his as she reached towards the back of his head and untied the intricate knot in a quick movement of her hands. He attempted not to inhale her intoxicating scent- jasmine and lemon verbatim. She was back in her seat before Rowan could register the air on his mouth and he gulped down a few breaths as he looked at her again, unsurprised to find she was looking at him as well. His heart did a relay in his chest as his green eyes met her blue ones and she arched a brow, smirking again.

“Like what you see?” His answering glare said enough until the silence was too much.

“Who are you?” he growled and Celeana laughed coldly, either at him or something else, he didn’t know. She tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear and Rowan tried not to focus on it.

“You know who I am,” was all she said.

“I thought you were Celeana but apparently I don’t know shit considering you kidnapped me and tied me to a chair.” His voice was ice as he snapped at her and Rowan enforced his point by shaking his arms and legs and wincing at the pain. Celeana’s gaze showed no sympathy or remorse for him and his heart sunk at the realization that he wasn’t surprised. He had no idea who this girl was, he realized. Celeana leaned back in her chair, her posture lazy once more, and began to mess with her nails. It was only then that Rowan realized they were dark red underneath and he swallowed, his gaze snapping up to Celeana’s. She followed his eyes with her own in a bemused way until realization struck her and her eyes widened.

“I- oh god, chill out, it’s just Taki dust,” she assured him, holding up a purple bag of spicy chips she pulled out from under the chair as evidence. She let out a huff of a laugh and shoved the open bag at him in a questioning gesture. She shoved one in her mouth before asking, “Want one?” Her voice was almost as muffled as his had been and he glared at her, his eyebrows shooting up to remind her of his arms and legs. “Fine,” she muttered. “Have it your way.” Celeana’s eyes shot up to the person behind Rowan as she dusted her fingers off and something flashed in her eyes before the light weight of the gun was removed from his temple. He exhaled.

“What do you want from me? My aunt will-”

“Spare me the family connections pretty boy, we’re not interested. I will say this, it isn’t personal.”

“Why the hell should I believe anything you said when everything you’ve said so far has been a lie?” he snapped, attempting to find some sort of ground.

“Well, that just isn’t true. I really do suck at physics, Ro,” she said smiling, pointing to the book at her feet. “Hawking is kicking my ass this year,” she grumbled and if she was anyone else he would have laughed.

“Don’t bullshit me, who the hell are you?” Her eyes sparkled at his defiance and he stiffened as the man who had been holding the gun to his head padded up next to Celeana. He was easily a foot and a half taller than her, making her look like nothing more than a tiny ant in comparison to him, and he had to be at least his aunt’s age. But the muscle that quivered beneath his leather jacket was enough of a difference for Rowan. Celeana’s grin grew.

“Are you gonna drop the ‘woe is me hero act’ any time soon? I’m just curious as to whether I should get some popcorn or not,” was all she replied.

“Pretty gutsy coming from a girl holding an innocent person against his will,” he snapped back. Faster than he could have thought possible Celeana’s playful expression had shriveled into cold hard menace, the look sending a spineful of shivers down his back and forcing his heart into his throat. Gone was the girl who enjoyed witty bantering. In her place was the monster he had painted her as from the moment he had opened his eyes. Rowan realized he should have taken laid-back Celeana when he had the chance because there was no doubt in his mind that the girl in front of him could and would end his life when given the chance.

Celeana’s posture stiffened and the hand that had been playing with her hair stilled as the man beside her placed a hand on her shoulder. Whether it was meant to be a warning or a comfort, Rowan didn’t know. Celeana’s face turned cold, her playful pretense officially vanishing.

She sneered and leaned forward on her elbows until they were almost nose to nose. Rowan refused to shrink back as much as he wanted to. The feeling coursing through his veins was unfamiliar to him: fear. “You know something, prince?” she asked. Her smirk was purely feral. “I don’t like you very much. And I’m not beyond beating your ass to prove it. So shut up, and do what you’re told and you might live.” With that, Celeana pushed her hands off of her knees and leaned back in her chair as if nothing had happened.

Rowan swallowed, knowing there was no point in hiding his fear of her. It was so strong she could probably smell it on him.

“Why am I here?” he snarled.

“That isn’t your concern, and frankly I don’t feel like explaining it to you.”

“Are you ever going to give me a straight answer?”

“Why would I, when you seem so hell-bent on hating me?” How could he explain to her that he wanted to, gods did he want to. And yet he could still feel his emotions attempting to fight him.

“Who are you?”

“You tell me. I think you know. I think that pretty face is for more than just looks.” He gulped at the realization that this wasn’t a dream. He was really sitting in a warehouse, bound to a chair, while full-fledged members of the mafia stared at him. He really hated his aunt sometimes.

“You don’t look like the rest of them. You’re-”

“Prettier? Smarter? Wittier? Tell me something I don’t know.” Celeana was picking at her nails again.

“So what are you supposed to be? Good cop?” Her answering smile chilled his bones.

“Something like that. It would help to tolerate me.”

“You try being friendly with the people holding you prisoner.” Celeana’s smile vanished.

“You’d be surprised.”

“The hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Like I’d tell you.” Rowan was really wishing he had witty Celeana back because this one seemed to hate him just as much as he hated her. “Now I really suggest shutting the hell up with the questions before that bullet ends up between those pretty little eyes of yours.”

“Miss, your uncle called. He’ll be home at eight.” A chill went down his spine as Celeana’s face went white. He almost thought he was seeing things when something like fear flashed in her eyes for a moment before it was gone and replaced with her smirk again, this one which didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Well,” Celeana said, grunting as she stood up and hauled her backpack and book over her shoulder. “This has been fun, but I’m gonna have to leave you boys to it.” Rowan knew something was wrong when she blew him a kiss, barely looking over her shoulder as she opened the door to the warehouse, pausing with one foot out.

Celeana turned back to him, the side of her face even more beautiful in the reflecting moonlight. As her eyes met his, Rowan felt pinned in place by the intensity in her own.

“Aelin,” she said quietly. “My name is Aelin. My mom used to call me Celeana when we would sneak out of the house together,” she paused before adding, “It wasn’t all a lie.” With that, she silently slipped out the door, shutting it solidly behind her and leaving Celeana staring at the empty place where she had just been.

It wasn’t all a lie.

drink your water :)

#rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #aelin galythinius #celeana sardothien #tog #throne of glass #rowaelin fic #modern au #SJM

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themurphyzone · 3 years

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PatB Oneshot: Crystal Clear

AN: Part of an art trade with @plutonis in honor of her upcoming wedding. She tasked me with writing an introspective piece for a Brinky wedding. The art piece I requested is for the next chapter of Nova, so you’ll see the finished product there.

Prompt given by Pluto: I was wondering if you could do a little fic in which Brain is walking down the aisle on his wedding day, and we hear the thoughts going on in his head. What is he thinking? How is he feeling?

AO3 Link

If Brain had his way, he would’ve taped himself to the table leg with extra strong industrial strength duct tape and remained there for the rest of his life.

But Romy wouldn’t let him attach himself to said table leg, and Wakko already ate the duct tape to prevent him from getting it. All other binding materials, including the shoe strings and gluesticks, had been placed on a shelf mockingly out of his reach.

And since he was already in his wedding dress, he couldn’t even climb the shelf to retrieve the necessary materials.

“Dad, you’re killing the glarb,” Romy complained as he pried Brain from the table leg.

“Unhand me at once or so help me, Roman Numeral One!” Brain shouted, trying to break free from Romy’s grip, but it seemed their son had inherited Pinky’s unusual strength.

Wakko wasn’t any help either. He just watched the spectacle from his perch on the dresser, chomping on a platter of garlic prawns swiped from the catering company. Thankfully, Brain had the foresight to order plenty of garlic prawns for their celebratory dinner.

As soon as Romy’s grip loosened, Brain broke free and reattached himself to the table leg.

Funny, how he wanted this for so long. Yearned for it. And when the time came, even after all the progress he’d made, he was still afraid for reasons he didn’t understand.

It was illogical, he knew. He trusted Pinky more than anyone else, even himself.

But even that wasn’t enough to get him moving again.

“Guess someone’s gotta tell Ma you’re not coming,” Romy sighed.

Brain’s fingers dug into the wooden grooves.

“He’s definitely gonna cry. Probably gonna curl up on the couch and watch daytime soap operas with buckets of triple fudge ice cream or something,” Romy continued.

Sweet, innocent Pinky being heartbroken at his own wedding. Running off and doing who-knows-what, because he could be very unpredictable when he was truly distraught. His simple mind eroding away because of the unhealthy combination of trashy soap operas and ice cream diet.

Brain’s heart clenched uncomfortably at that mental image. With great reluctance, Brain let go of the table leg and marched over to the mirror to smooth out the wrinkles in his wedding dress to keep his hands occupied as he quelled that troublesome idea.

“You’re gonna tell him that Brain’s in here, right?” Wakko asked.

“Sure,” Romy replied.

Wait...everyone knew of his intentions to see this wedding through to the end. And he'd never let the hard work and efforts of their wedding plans go to waste.

It was just a ploy.

Brain took a deep breath. To lose his temper before the ceremony would surely spell catastrophe. He wanted to keep this an emotionally satisfying occasion, for Pinky’s sake.

“Romy, I won’t deny that your tactic was effective. But you will refrain from using my fondness for Pinky against me in the future,” Brain said.

Perhaps Roman Numeral One took after him more than he thought. It was impressive and aggravating at the same time.

"Sorry, Dad." Romy's head dropped as he handed the bouquet to Brain.

Like with Pinky, Brain just didn't have it in him to remain angry once an apology was issued. He transferred the bouquet to one hand and lifted Romy's chin from its downcast position.

"Look alive, Romy. This is a celebration," Brain ordered as he turned back to the mirror. "And Wakko, you're not touching our wedding rings with prawn-stained hands."

Wakko pulled out a kitchen sink from his hammerspace and started washing his hands without removing his gloves. With the soft hum of Happy Birthday in the background, Brain turned back to the mirror and examined himself one more time. They didn’t have long before the ceremony began.

His dress towed the line between simple and extravagant. Ruffles in the right places, but not so many that it would hinder movement. A small hole had been cut to fit his tail, carefully sized so that it was easy to thread the stiff appendage through. His sleeves cut off at the elbow, white fabric giving way to a delicate flower pattern, lending an elegant and dignified quality to the outfit.

It hadn’t been easy obtaining this dress. He’d lost track of how many toy aisles Pinky had dragged him down, and he didn’t want his outfit to come from the toy section of Walmart. Pinky had eventually called Dot for help, and with her connections, she arranged for a fashion designer who specialized in making clothes for dolls to help them out.

And while they eventually put the issue of clothes behind them, they had a fair number of arguments when Brain found a reason to reject all the dresses Pinky suggested. Especially with that gaudy puffed sleeve dress Pinky loved but Brain hated.

“I realize we must’ve been insufferable for the past few months,” Brain said. Planning for a wedding wasn’t anything like planning for world domination, as he learned the hard way. But it was Pinky’s wedding as much as it was his, and after one vehement disagreement, Brain had realized he was pushing out Pinky’s contributions to impose his own.

It wasn’t easy, but he did try to turn over some aspects to Pinky, just to see how he did with them. And Brain didn’t regret that choice, because the results were absolutely wonderful.

“Yeah, you and Ma were ruining my vibes,” Romy gave a lazy smile as Brain nudged him in retaliation.

Romy had said something similar when he’d first run away from home, but mischief had long replaced the anger. Though Brain still didn’t think ventriloquism was a lucrative career, he’d made his peace with Romy’s lifestyle while repairing their relationship. And Romy wasn’t the only one who derived happiness from working with dummies.

“Regardless, we’re grateful that you came,” Brain said.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Romy shrugged. “Better save your sap for the ceremony though.”

“I’m not being sappy,” Brain muttered out of principle rather than true irritation.

It was 2:55 pm. Five minutes until the ceremony began. He was running out of time.

He quickly fixed his leaf crown and attached veil so that it was less crooked. In years past, he never would’ve been satisfied until a golden crown with embedded jewels rested atop his head. But now he found the leaf crown was worth so much more than gold.

Then he made sure the transparent veil covered his face. The thin fabric didn’t hinder his vision, but he felt like he was looking through a lens.

Everyone would be watching him. He wanted that thin wall of privacy between himself and the onlookers. Seeing outside, but concealing his feelings within.

He didn’t have to. He knew he didn’t. But old habits die hard, it seemed.

The clock chimed three. It was time.

What could go wrong?

“Don’t worry!” Wakko exclaimed as he picked up the purple velvet cushion with their wedding rings. “I didn’t mistake these for tiny Ring Pops this time!”

Brain was a fool. A sentimental, lovestruck, starcrossed, and twitterpated fool.

Wakko brought up the lead as they marched through the twisting hallways of the enormous property they’d rented for their Hawaiian wedding. Surprisingly, coming up with a location for their wedding hadn’t been difficult. After a stressful day of making other arrangements, they’d chosen a scenic, relaxing travel documentary to unwind.

As soon as the documentary showed a beautiful Hawaiian beach at sunset, they both agreed on making Hawaii the destination of choice for both wedding and honeymoon. Brain gripped the flower bouquet tightly, careful not to crush the petals between his fingers. Romy’s hand was on his elbow, light enough to not be intrusive but quick to react so Brain didn’t run into a wall.

He’d assigned Pinky to the task of flower selection, and Pinky had researched the meaning of flowers extensively with an unusual amount of focus. If Pinky had his way, he would’ve gathered one specimen of every flower in the world and brought them to the wedding, though Brain eventually convinced him to narrow his list down to a single digit range.

Brain was only familiar with the rose as a symbol of love, and he recalled the meaning of only two other flowers within their wedding. The rest were completely lost on him. The first was the magnolia, which represented perseverance. As such, a white magnolia stood proudly in his bouquet, nestled among the red roses of passionate love. Pinky had chosen the magnolia for Brain, and insisted Brain choose at least one flower too.

Though Brain didn’t place much stock in what the websites claimed, he just went along with it to humor Pinky. But he’d settled on the colorful freesia, just to thank Pinky for his friendship, faith, and trust for all the years they’d known each other.

Their miniature procession stopped at a glass sliding door that separated them from the rest of the proceedings.

Brain gulped and clutched the bouquet to his chest.

Beyond those doors, the wedding guests mingled with each other on the grass. A gorgeous, azure beach formed the perfect backdrop to the ceremony. White, fluffy clouds dotted the sunny skies, and the beauty was rather foreign to him. He’d spent far too much of his life hiding away in the darkness of a sterile lab.

It seemed the entirety of their Animaniacs coworkers had shown up for the wedding. He was surprised by the turnout, but it seemed that everyone had been clamoring for him and Pinky to tie the knot for years.

And while the usual toon antics were prevalent among the guests, Brain’s attention was drawn to the very front, where Pinky was arranging flowers on Pharfignewton, who’d jumped at the offer of being Pinky’s best mare.

Back then, the sight would’ve incited a feeling he’d come to realize was jealousy. Now he was just grateful that Pinky received some physical affection from someone when Brain couldn’t give it to him.

Wakko opened the screen door, causing a stir among the guests in the back, which caused a ripple effect that spread to the front and prompted everyone to take their seats. Pinky slid off Pharfignewton’s back, bouncing on his toes and craning his neck to see Brain.

Even from this far away, Brain saw Pinky’s bright, goofy smile. It made him regret keeping the veil over his face, cloaking his happiness even from his partner.

“Testing, testing!” Yakko said into the microphone. When he’d been ordained to officiate a wedding, nobody knew for sure. He shuffled through the cards for his opening speech. “Alright, everyone. We’ve all been very impatient for this moment, so no more delays, capiche? Dot, start the music!”

A hush fell across the audience, and even the most rambunctious members of the Animaniacs crew fell silent as a soft piano arrangement of A Whole New World began to play.

Wakko proudly held the cushion with the wedding rings over his head and marched to the front. From the aisle, Mindy reached into her basket and threw pink flower petals into the air, and Buttons held onto her so she didn’t fall out of her seat.

Romy released Brain and followed Wakko. Pinky greeted their son with an enthusiastic hug, and Bunny flashed them a thumbs-up from her seat.

All the attention was on Brain now.

He wasn’t sure if he wanted it.

He wanted to flee inside the house. Tell everyone to go home and they’ll get refunded the costs at a later date. Take Pinky to city hall and sign a document to make their marriage official instead.

The audience whispered.

He saw the worry in Pinky’s eyes, a stunning shade of blue that popped out from the beautiful Hawaiian beach. They were too far from each other to speak normally, but Pinky laid his hand on top of the colorful freesia pinned to his white dress shirt, just over his heart.

Trust me, he was saying.

And Pinky had proven himself worthy of his trust long ago.

Slowly, Brain laid his hand on the magnolia, the centerpiece of his bouquet.

I won’t give up.

Pinky smiled that soft, knowing smile of his. Emboldened by his encouragement, Brain stepped out of the house and onto the white, silky path that had been laid out for him.

He took slow, methodical steps to steel his nerves. This was his reward, and he was allowed to have it.

No more electricity, no more fear of rejection.

The happiness of having someone by his side. The sorrow when they were separated either by force or by choice. The surprise of receiving gifts from Pinky when he’d done nothing to deserve them. The guilt that came from upsetting Pinky with morally questionable schemes.

Emotions he’d once derided as frivolous were now precious and dear to him.

All the good, all the bad, and everything in between. And this occasion marked a brand new beginning, a new chapter of their lives that would bring new happiness and surprises. Though they’d be sad, angry, or terrified sometimes, they’d always be together.

That’s what counted most.

The melody of A Whole New World floated gently through the air. An airy tune filled with wonder at a world previously unknown to them.

He and Pinky dueted this song so many times that the lyrics and background instrumentals were permanently etched into his mind.

Only now did he understand what the song was truly about. Leaving behind their defined roles, into a freedom-filled sky. Just the two of them, exploring a huge world together. The burdens of the past and worries of the future left on the ground, and all that mattered was the present.

Being themselves, and experiencing things they’ve never experienced before.

It was terrifying and exhilarating all at once.

He could hardly wait.

Pinky waited for him, taking Brain’s hand in his own. He was absolutely breathtaking up close.

“Narf,” Pinky whispered, and Brain would never tire of that endearingly stupid word. “You did it, Brain.”

“All thanks to you, Pinky,” Brain replied, and Pinky’s tail wagged at the praise.

Together, they walked to that beautiful wedding arch with intertwining pink and blue flowers, stopping in front of Yakko’s podium. Brain gave his bouquet to Romy so he could properly hold Pinky’s hands. Romy gave them a lazy grin, and Pharfignewton lowered her head so Romy could have a good perch. Wakko proudly balanced the cushion on his head, and Dot stood beside her brother, giving him a friendly shove without knocking the wedding rings off.

And Brain realized he was still seeing the world through veiled eyes. Though his vision was unimpeded, he’d barely noticed there was a filter among all his doubts and fears.

He’d kept the veil for a transparent amount of privacy when he walked down the aisle, but now that he was with Pinky…

Well, it just wasn’t necessary anymore.

He brought Pinky’s hands to the veil. Their eyes met, and a silent understanding passed between them.

Then Pinky threw back the veil, and the filter he’d been looking through was completely gone. And Brain saw the...no, he saw his world through fresh eyes.

A bright, happy, silly mouse stood before him, a colorful burst of freesia on his chest, and beautiful sky-blue eyes filled with endless love, promising hope and warmth and companionship forever more.

“You’re so pretty, Brain,” Pinky giggled.

It was the most wonderful sound for his compass, his heart, and his world.

No more tolerating. He fully accepted the undeniable fact of how much he loved Pinky, and Pinky loving him back from this point forward.

Never before had he felt so much happiness, and he was ready for everyone to see it.

Unable to contain himself, Brain leapt into Pinky’s arms and kissed him. Though he heard their audience reacting with shock, it was all just background noise to him. And he’d never been a patient mouse.

Pinky was surprised at first, but his strong arms wrapped around Brain to support him, and he kissed back wonderfully.

Fireworks exploded in Brain’s mind, or maybe the Warners set some off, he didn’t know. But he had to come up for air, and he released the kiss, though it seemed Pinky could keep going for quite some time.

“Technically, you’re supposed to wait until I say ‘you may now kiss the Brain’, but who am I to stop true love?” Yakko grinned.

“Sorry,” the mice chorused, though neither of them regretted the little break in protocol.

The audience burst into cheers, and Yakko led them in a standing ovation for a good five minutes before they all settled down enough for him to start his opening speech.

“Love you, Brain,” Pinky whispered as he put Brain down and took his hands again.

“Love you too, Pinky,” Brain replied, and he couldn’t wipe the smile off his face.

Everything was laid out before them, clear as crystal and bright as day.

End AN: This is cheesy but I don’t care I love it and they’re married now.

The Hawaiian setting is not a reference to the PatB fic Trouble in Paradise, it’s just that the last wedding I went to was in Hawaii and it was so romantic.

3rd time I’ve referenced A Whole New World in these fics. This song is just too perfect for them.

#pinky and the brain #brinky #patb fanfiction #cheesy in a good fluffy way

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classysansy · 3 years

Text

Cute self/reader-insert classic Sans shipping ahead! (Beware, there will be a purring skeleton ❤️) (This is of course a oneshot lol. Enjoy!)

The day was going slow. I had the day off work because I had just wanted a day to relax…so, I had decided to watch TV.

Sans was at work; a security guard at the mall. He was amazing at his job, especially that one time he was able to dodge three bullets and then pin the criminal to the ground until police arrived.

I was always super worried about him when he did that. I told him he could get killed. The surface wasn’t as easy to navigate as the underground. He simply gave me that ‘seriously, kid?’ look he has and tousled my hair.

I couldn’t find anything to watch at first, until I flipped through the channels straight to Spongebob. Huh…I had no idea Nickelodeon was still airing that. It seemed too old to be aired…and when I watched it, I realized they definitely had ruined it with the modern traits of kids’ shows nowadays.

I glanced at my phone. Sans would be home in an hour. I sighed to myself and slid further down into the couch cushions. I hated the days I had to wait for the skelebros to get off work. It was usually quite boring and I missed them a lot.

I began to realize I was tired, even though I had done absolutely nothing that day. I rubbed the bridge of my nose and gently shook my head, and before I knew it, I was yawning. ‘No,’ I thought to myself. ‘I have to stay awake for Sans….if not for Sans, then for Spongebob.’

I was able to continue watching the show for a good twenty minutes…however, I could hardly keep my eyes open at that point. I could feel my head start to get heavy, and then…I fell asleep.

I don’t know how long I was out. Ten minutes? Twenty? A half hour or so? I suppose it didn’t matter, but hot damn was that a good nap.

Almost as soon as I remember falling asleep, I heard a deep voice hidden behind the fog of my incoherent and drowsy mind. I dismissed it as part of a dream, as I was still half asleep.

Suddenly, I felt something warm but hard touch my cheek. Needless to say, it woke me up and I opened my eyes to be met with Sans’ own. He was grinning, amused with my sleeping habits.

“Hey,” he mumbled, moving his fingers from my jawline to my hair to brush some strands from my face. “You were sleepin’ good, kiddo. Ya didn’t wake up no matter how many times I said your name.”

“…Sans?” I muttered back. “I, uh…” I trailed off, trying to get my post-sleep thoughts together. And then my consciousness fully came back and I gave him a tired smile. “I must have dozed off.”

“No doubtin’ that.” He chuckled and stood up from the sofa, shrugging. “Wonder what made ya so sleepy. You never nod off watching TV.” He took off his security guard hat and set it on the end table before starting to head upstairs.

“What? Why are you leaving your hat down here? You could just bring it with you.” I scoffed, a brow raised. I should have expected his laziness, but no matter how long we were together, I couldn’t get past it.

“Nah. It told me it wanted to keep ya company,” he replied.

“Oh, did it?” I smirked at him, shaking my head. “You didn’t tell me hats could talk. Is that a monster thing, or..?”

“Well…hats actually can’t speak, so I dunno why you thought they could, sweetheart.” He winked.

“Sans! You were the one to-“ I began, my brows furrowed.

He cut me off, “Gee, ya don’t have to raise your voice about it.”

I huffed at him, but couldn’t help but smile at his silliness. “You changing, then?”

“Unless ya wanna cuddle a sweaty pile of clothes, yeah.”

“Okay. Well, hurry up. I want to ask you about your day.”

“Sure thing, kid.” Sans nodded and continued up the stairs. He soon disappeared behind a door.

I turned off the TV and stretched slightly, appreciating every crack my bones produced. If Sans were downstairs when I did that, he probably would’ve told me to knock it off; he hated hearing joints crack.

After a couple minutes, the comedian made his way back downstairs in his usual apparel: a blue hoodie, basketball shorts, and pink slippers. When I first had met him, I didn’t get his fashion choices, but I learned to accept it with time.

He plopped down next to me on the couch with an exaggerated grunt (he was always looking to get a laugh from me) before glancing at me. “You still tired?” he asked softly.

“…a little, yeah. But I want to talk to you about how today went,” I responded, enthusiastically turning my body towards him so I didn’t have to strain my neck looking sideways at him. “Sleep can wait.”

“Lay down,” he said.

“I told you, I-“

“I mean on me.” He motioned to his legs. “Lay across the sofa and put your head in my lap. I won’t tell you about work if you don’t.” His grin widened, and he was clearly amused with himself.

“I’m fine, I’ll fall asleep if I do that,” I explained, frowning. “Just-“

“Hey, it’s no skin off my back if ya do. Ya obviously need the sleep.” He shrugged. “Lay down ‘n I’ll tell ya all about today. Okay?”

I rolled my eyes and let out a breath. There was no use arguing with him. He usually always won these discussions. He cared about me more than I cared about myself, and it drove me crazy sometimes. Nevertheless, I did as he said and laid across the couch, my head in his lap and my eyes towards the ceiling.

I awkwardly shifted my body, trying to get comfy. All the while, Sans was looking down at me with his usual lazy expression…half lidded eyes and a consistent grin. I finally was okay with my position and nodded at him.

“Okay…so, ya know Jerry?” he started. “Well, he tried to steal some sorta shit from Spencer’s. Just…casually walked out with a hookah, thought I wouldn’t notice. Of course, I did, ‘n I…”

I began to zone out a bit, simply just admiring Sans’ face and voice…everything about him. He knew I spaced out during his usual workday updates, and he was fine with it. We were just happy to be with each other, most days.

I caught words like ‘tackle’, ‘smiled’, and ‘shop’ throughout his ranting, and I reacted accordingly to each of them. With a quick scowl, a smirk, and a nod.

After about twenty minutes, I noticed he wasn’t talking anymore. When had he stopped? I wasn’t sure, but I didn’t continue questioning it. I was used to those zoned-out moments that had me wondering things like that. Sometimes I would be so focused on admiring his face that I wouldn’t notice when he was done speaking.

Now he was staring into space…or maybe he was looking at our reflection on the TV screen? Either way, I gave him a little grin, reaching my arm up his chest and gently hooking my fingers along his shoulder. It took a second, but he glanced down at me.

“Finally with us, again?” he teased, softly chuckling. “I’ve been done talking for an hour. I was getting bored waitin’ for ya to notice.”

“It hasn’t been an hour,” I replied, giggling.

“Yeah, guess you’re right…but it was fun to say it was,” he answered, looking me in the eyes.

It then went super silent. Not an awkward silence, but something soothing and comfortable…something that was mostly likely a bonding moment if you let it be. The kind of silence that made everything in the world feel…right.

After a couple moments, I heard a low sound…almost like a gentle rumbling. It was slightly familiar, but I couldn’t tell where I had heard it before.

I frowned, and looked around. There wasn’t really anything in the room that would be making that noise. I then fixed my gaze to Sans, again.

“What’s up?” he said.

“Do you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“That rumbling sound?”

“…huh?”

“You don’t hear it?” I raised a brow, and he shook his head.

I scoffed and sat up slightly, only to notice it was louder near his chest. I subtly tilted my head and put an ear to his rib cage.

“What’re ya doin’, sweetheart?” he asked, his own brow also raised.

“Sans, I think you’re…purring,” I replied, noticing I sounded extremely confused. I was. Extremely confused, that is.

“Wh-“ he mumbled. “I…I am?”

“You didn’t know you could do that?” Now I sounded even more puzzled.

“No,” he quickly told me. He paused. “No, no I didn’t.”

The purring began to fade slightly, and I decided to experiment; I sat up and turned so I could see him straight before leaning forward and giving him a soft kiss on his cheek. He blushed. Just as I thought, the purring became a bit louder.

“Ha! You’re purring because of me!” I snapped, excited at this discovery.

“It’s not my fault you’re so pretty,” he responded, almost shyly.

“I didn’t know you could purr.”

“…neither did I.”

“Now we know.”

“Yup.”

“It’s adorable,” I cooed.

His smile widened.

“Guess what?” I questioned.

“What?” he replied.

“I didn’t fall asleep while you were talking.” I giggled.

And with that, he pulled me into a kiss…and I knew that he loved me…and I hoped he knew I loved him, too.

(Voila! I hope you enjoyed this oneshot. Not my best writing, but I had a lot of fun writing it. Sans fluff is my favorite fluff 😊 also there might be grammar mistakes and typos I’ll probably fix later, just so you know if you see one.)

-Inspired by @calcium-cat and @little-lex -

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chichirichick · 3 years

Text

SoMa Week Day 2: Healing

Hey, again! First off, I want to actually be proud of myself for a second since I'm posting two consecutive entries for @soulxmakaweek! I never expected my brain would actually allow this, but here's Day 2! Read it on ff.net, ao3, or after the cut!

I have a scar. Hard not to notice since it's hip to armpit, a line that practically killed me. While maybe some guys would love it for the braggin' rights, I think I'd prefer forgettin' it exists. It healed- so why do I have to give it another thought?

…

Shit.

OK, I know I do. I know there's somethin' there, but I'll be damned if I actually want to scratch anywhere past the surface of it.

I have a scar.

Easy to notice.

Hip to armpit.

Didn't kill me, but…

Maybe it sorta did. Or-- man, do I feel stupid saying this, but-- maybe it killed a part of me. Puttin' the rest of that explanation into words sounds as promisin' as havin' my teeth pulled but… here goes:

Maka Albarn is a giant pain in my ass. Has been from day one and has succeeded in doin' nothin' but improvin' on that skill each day of our partnership. 'Cept… at the same time, she is the only reason I'm alive.

That doesn't make any sense- mostly 'cause the reason for that scar is Maka Albarn needin' my protection, needin' me to take a death blow for her and not hesitatin' to do it.

Well, it makes some sense since she was the one that kept me together after. A guy who practically loses his guts doesn't exactly have the mental or physical oomph to feed, clothe, wash, and all-around take care of himself. Maka did that. Stein may have stitched me up, but eatin', drinkin', sleepin', even showerin' was all thanks to Maka. And, for the first time in our entire lives, none of it came with even a breath of complaint or a look other than somethin' close to pitiful from those green eyes.

So I lived because Maka did the heavy liftin'.

But part of me died because Maka did the heavy liftin'.

See, if you look back at that fourteen-year-old Soul who came to DWMA, my general hope is that you'd see a cool guy, but I know the truth. I wasn't anywhere near cool in my own head. Sure, I had the look-- still do-- but if you cracked me open you'd hear the racket. Even before that annoyin' lil' gremlin, I had voices foggin' up my inner workin's. My mom, my dad, my brother- just to name a few. I hated it. I lived with it every step I took and there didn't seem like a way to escape it.

But she killed it.

Guess I should say somethin' nice like "she healed me with her love," but goddamnit is that ever corny, and I'd rather complete that teeth pullin' I mentioned than have her actually hear those words from my mouth.

'Cause it's really fuckin' hard to hate yourself when you got someone who'll drag your ass into the bath if you can't do it yourself or someone who'll sleep with you every night until the nightmares settle. It's even harder to doubt yourself when they're always there tellin' you that you'll make it through, tellin' you that you're more than enough.

That old Soul died with that slash.

The new Soul… guess he just heals a lil' more every day that I'm he's with her.

Maka barely glanced over the composition before she ticked her eyes to him in annoyance. "What is this?"

"Tol' you- it's that stupid paper Marie wanted us to write about 'where we find our strength,'" Soul tried to deliver that with the same enthusiasm he had for laundry day. "You said you'd proofread mine because, and I quote: 'You always mess up your grammar and you're lazy with your main ideas so you always get the same grade.' And heaven forbid lil' Ms. Perfect's weapon get anything other than-"

"I can already tell you that your structure is terrible." She glanced again at the page, not absorbing the words just the awful penmanship and the truncated lines. "You know what paragraphs are, right?"

Soul rolled his eyes. "Maka, just read it."

She only dared another quick peek before leveling a grimace at him. "And are you serious with all those apostrophes?"

"It's how I talk," Soul offered with a shrug.

Maka released an all-suffering sigh before she centered her glare on the first line of the page.

Soul watched her eyebrows wrinkle.

Her mouth gaped and snapped shut again.

Her eyes flicked only a second's worth of attention to him before hitting the paper again.

He tried to relax, slipping his hands into his pockets to keep himself from drumming unsteady beats on his thighs to echo the ones in his heart.

Pink and then red started to drift to the top of her ears.

"Well?" He was eternally grateful that he managed that with impatience rather than one of those boyish, nervous squeaks that were threatening in this throat.

"Y-you-" she was stammering off the word, her eyes still glued to the paper. "You can't use an expletive in a school essay, Soul!"

He sucked his teeth. "Maka Albarn, that's all you got to say to me?"

She waved the paper at him, less a white flag of defeat and more a banner for her cause. "One- fix the apostrophes. I don't care if it's the way you talk- no one writes like that! Two- take out the curses. They seriously have no place in academic responses. And three-" She heaved a breath as she pulled the paper taut, making it hide her face from him. "Three- if you thought this was romantic, you shouldn't have prefaced it with the idea that first and foremost I'm a pain in the ass!"

"A giant pain in the ass," he corrected.

"Soul!" That was a tumultuous mix of tones from the refusal of defeat to the outright embarrassment of having her feelings written so perfectly yet entirely not eloquently.

"You're ruinin' my paper." He moved towards her, hands coming over hers to relax the strain in the page and uncover her face. "So you said you'd correct my mistakes, right? So correct me if I'm wrong, Maka…" His cool was fizzling as he needed to stop to take a swallow in hopes of easing his voice. "I sorta… I'd sorta like to know if I'm wrong about the love part. Like… do I have to fix it to say partners- friends- or…"

"You have to fix it to say you love me too," Maka snapped bluntly.

In vain he tried to catch the giddy little laugh that escaped his mouth, but there was no snatching it from taking flight. "Guess I did forget the main idea."

Maka's face burned while her fingers crinkled the edges, but a wonderful fluttering was starting in her heart. "But that is the main idea, right?"

"Yeah, sorta the whole point of the essay." He tried to shrug it off but the glow on her cheeks was being amplified by the smile that was starting to break through the worry. "So, uh, I guess I'll fix it. I'll just- I should probably just say it plain, right? That I-" Maybe this was the moment his point was proved, looking down at her, holding her hands in his, killing the last little bit of that scared boy who no longer existed. The real wound finally healed. "I love you, Maka."

#soulxmakaweek #SoMaweek2021 #SoMa #Soul Eater

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yeochikin · 4 years

Text

pottery class. | c. san

a/n: thank you @s1ardusk for requesting. ngl i loved writing this aaa 🥺🥺🥺 also heheheh chamomile and strawberry hehehe 👉👈 dfhjdfh anyways, hope you enjoyed it! as usual, do excuse any mistakes as this has not been proofread! ✨💖

soft music played through your earphones as your eyes were focused on the notes you had written down, head nodding up and down softly to match with the beats filling your ears. your lips moved absentmindedly as you read through your notes, pursing them occasionally upon seeing the slight mistakes you had written which you made quick work of fixing them right away. you are in your own little world.

on the other hand, a pair of curious dark brown eyes peeked into your room, half of their body being hidden from the outside. san, the owner of said body, slowly crept up towards your seemingly unguarded figure, hunched over your desk. his hands reached up as a mischievous grin settled itself upon his lips before starting to part them, taking a deep breath.

“what do you want, san?” came your nonchalant voice, turning around in your seat to look at the male who was frozen with his hands in the air.

huffing, san’s arms came down to rest at his sides as his eyes glared down at your own unamused ones. ‘no fun’ he whispered underneath his breath, causing you to laugh lightly, playfully poking his side.

“y/n, my best friend, my whole shining star in my darkest nights, my little-” he started.

“you need something, don’t you?” you deadpanned, crossing your legs on top of the other, eyeing him knowingly.

san, pouted at you, a look you know all too well from the years of being friends with him.

“so i saw this thing…” he started, now walking to sit on the edge of your bed, leaning on his elbows that were resting on both knees as his fingers were intertwined.

“san.. what exactly is this ‘thing’?” you interrupted, the male quickly shushing you. with a roll of your eyes, you leaned back against your chair and urged for him to continue.

“i’m not gonna tell you that but all i know is that it’s a new thing the both of us are gonna like.” he said confidently, grinning his dimpled smile.

tongue against the inside of your cheek, you caught the glimpse of excitement twinkling in his eyes. you hesitated. from the years of knowing san, he is described as the ball of energy in your life while you are the hermit of this friendship and would much prefer to stay indoors, your safe haven as you will. it wasn’t because you’re lazy but trying new things would always create so many thoughts and conclusions running around in your mind, even though you had never tried it.

sensing the hesitation, san walked up to you, and grabbed both of your hands into his larger ones, thumb rubbing against your knuckles as if to ease the anxious feeling bubbling up in your chest. san always knew the slight panicked look in your eyes, no matter how much you tried to not show it. but he is always there by your side, giving you time to calm your nerves, even if it took days for you to finally be ready. and by the time you needed to actually do it, he would stay behind you and offer praises to you, saying how well you are doing, and how.. ‘awesome’ you are, as he worded it. with both eyes casted on your hands being held, san spoke up, effectively gaining your attention.

“it’ll be okay, i promise. you have me.” he spoke, voice all soft that managed to make your shoulders relax as you feel the tension that was built slowly fading away. finally making up your mind, you looked up at san who was already anticipating your answer, his lips curling up into an ecstatic grin upon seeing the nod of your head.

☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼

“so, this is what you wanted to show me?” you said, looking up at the sign above the doorway to what seems to be a studio, decorated with hand painted flowers along with little leaves.

san, who was excitedly bouncing on the balls of feet, nodded his head before placing his hand on your lower back to urge the both of you to enter.

turns out, the thing he wanted the both of you to try was a pottery class. his friend, wooyoung, had suggested it while the two were hanging out one day. the class managed to pique his interest, immediately having the image of your mini mug collection back at your place flashing in his mind. he didn’t exactly understand why someone would have a collection but he shouldn’t comment on that considering he has his own collection of plushies in his room. so he thought, why the hell not? you loved mugs and having to make one of your own? surely, you would love it.

and here you are, listening intently to the instructor who had her fingers shaping the clay almost effortlessly, courtesy from the long years of experience of doing so. though, you couldn’t say the same to yourself. you emitted a low at the way your clay almost falling off of the pottery wheel, managing to catch it before it landed on the floor to create a mess in your station. sadly, even though you caught it, the slab of clay was squished in between your fingers at the tight grip.

san, who was sitting beside you and witnessed the whole thing can’t help but to burst out in a fit of giggles. you could only pout over at him before starting over yet again, wetting your fingers slightly and turning the wheel, this time careful not to let the clay fall off once again. your eyes widened ever so slightly in awe from the way the clay was moulded into the shape you want, grinning victoriously at the result.

while you were occupied, you failed to notice a pair of eyes from a certain raven haired male watching your every movement. san’s fingers were running up and down the clay absentmindedly, though he should be focusing on the instructor’s voice, you were far more entertaining to the boy instead. he couldn’t help but to coo internally from the way the tip of your tongue had peeked out at the corner of your lips with your brows creasing in concentration, the little smile on your lips as a sign of you mentally praising yourself caused san to feel his chest swell up in happiness.

he knew that you had a bit of a difficulty in stepping out of your comfort zone, and he is always prepared to stay by your side, knowing how much you needed the reassurance at times. even if you had a strong front, the years of growing up with you made him see right through it easily. it is when you finally started to ease up in new situations that made san feel proud. proud of you to try things even if you had a slight fear of them, proud of you to open up in seizing brand new memories with him.

and even if you didn’t enjoy them, it was okay. san would bring you to your favourite tea place the next day, not only for the pastries and baked goods there, but he knew how much you liked to watch the tea maker make your teas with such grace before pouring them into the many themed tea sets she kept. he won’t even miss the fact that you would silently gush over the woman with her significant other whenever they called each other chamomile and strawberry, as cheesy as it sounds.

consider it as a reward for you to still embrace new experiences in life whether you like them or not.

“san, you’re supposed to make a mug, not a plate!” your voice cut his train of thoughts, immediately snapping his gaze down at the clay before gasping out loud. the clay he had shaped into a perfect mug (as he claimed it) was now a large flat clay still spinning on the pottery wheel, eliciting a frustrated groan from the male.

this time, it was your turn to laugh at him, said boy playfully glaring at you and lightly dipped his fingers into the water next to him, sprinkling the drops over at you in retaliation, much to your displeasure. and so began a mini water fight between the two of you. that was, until the instructor cleared her throat. the both of you stopped your little war and turned to look at her, suddenly acting all innocent as if you didn’t almost cause a huge wet spot in the back of the room.

“as much as the two of you are having fun back there, i would appreciate it if you didn't sink my studio.” she said, both of you muttering your apologies before the instructor fixed her large framed glasses that were hanging off on the bridge of her nose.

“sorry, ma’am!” the both of you said in unison and went back to moulding your clays, of course, with hushed teasings being thrown in every now and then.

☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼

by the time the class ended, you and san made a quick glance of each other’s mugs, both bursting out into a short laughter from the way your mugs had looked. both mugs had a slight crooked shape to them, a clear reminder of how inexperienced the two of you are, along with it being messily painted on. yet you didn’t mind, you were proud to add this little guy into your mug collection. by now, both of your clothes held traces of the events that had occurred earlier, from the smudge of paint on your sleeves to a little bit of clay was smudged on san’s shirt.

“so..” san started as he walked alongside you after exiting the studio. At his voice, you raised a brow.

“so?”

“did you enjoy the class?” he asked, eyes wide while waiting for your answer.

“well, aside from us almost making a huge mess in the studio along with us struggling with the clay..” san grimaced at the memory.

“i enjoyed it, i won’t lie.” you added, flashing him a bright beam.

returning the grin stretching over your lips with his own, san reached a hand up to playfully ruffle your hair, him playfully cooing down at you as if talking to a baby, laughing once you slapped his hand away with a whine.

“i’m glad you enjoyed it and look, you even have a new addition to your collection!” he pointed out, the mug you held being hugged close to your chest as if it was the most precious thing in the world.

which to you, it really is the most precious thing.

the two of you continued your walk home, san walking a few steps in front of you, then stopped as his name reached his ears. turning around to look at you, he quirked a brow up as if to acknowledge the call of his name from your lips.

“you think we can go to the tea house tomorrow?” you asked, causing san to blink a few times from the unexpected question, then having his expression soften up.

with a shrug, he nodded his head.

“i don’t see why not, i’m craving for their strawberry tarts anyway.”

perking up from the response, you jogged up to catch up with the male’s pace, starting to plan about the little trip tomorrow and of course, teasing each other during your time in the studio.

#ateez #ateez drabbles #ateez fanfic #ateez au #ateez blurbs #ateez scenarios #ateez x reader #ateez imagines #ateez fluff #ateez san #choi san #san scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #colly's writings

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redthreadoffate · 4 years

Text

gee, thanks, karen [peter parker]

a repost, originally posted in my former writing blog

relationship: peter parker x stark!reader

warnings: swearing, none; mistakes here or there

request (anon): hello!! how about hoco stark!reader x peter where he goes to her lab and asks for her help to fix the suit bc karen isn’t working well lately and while they low key flirt and fix the suit, she puts on the mask to check everything and karen starts telling her how much peter likes her, and she dies inside bc she likes him too and they kiss? maybe ending with irondad or bucky interrupting and they are like :o

notes: i was going to use the other character in the end but i realized continuity wouldn’t make sense but then i was like fuck that, but I finished it already anyways…second out of the two peter parker x reader fics, it’ll be awhile before i agree to make them again

summary: karen’s broken and peter asks y/n stark for help

You were quietly working in your lab, humming every now and then to a tune that would pop into your head every so and so.

You thanked your father for giving you your own lab in the Avengers compound. There were cameras everywhere on your floor and you knew that he would be watching your every move when he could. Sometimes, you would wave at one camera when you knew he was in the control room. It would never fail to make you giggle, and Tony would always comment that you are such a silly little girl for laughing at your own antics.

Sometimes, some of the team members would come over and ask for your help if Tony was busy. Or they were too lazy to think of solutions on their own. But hey, who’s complaining about helping them?

They would need help with their gadgets, sometimes for work or fighting, most of the time for their everyday use, like their cellphones and laptops, tablets and watches. You don’t mind. In fact, you enjoy it. It makes you feel useful in this compound filled with superheroes.

Your favorite to help out was Peter Parker. He was also a genius with technology, but sometimes he needed a hand with his suit and weapons. You loved helping him out with his webshooters since there were so many possibilities for it. You were even the one who helped your father create his current suit with the Karen interface.

And although Peter turned down the calling of being an Avenger, he would still come over from time to time, and you noticed it’s mostly just to talk to you.

That thought made you smile. You stuck out your tongue and giggled a little in giddiness.

You continued to type in some data in the paper you were writing on. As much as you loved the technology of your father, you still loved the old fashioned pen and paper. It was easier to overlay if needed. You wanted to see all the possible choices before you typed it in the database.

But you thought of Peter again and that tickled your body. “Oh, come on. He isn’t over Liz Allan yet, you silly. He’s still hungover, he can’t be into me that quick. Can he?” But you shake your head.

You’re pretty good at telling if someone liked someone, except of course, when it came to you. But you pretend you do anyway. You have yet to be proven wrong. You smile and nod your head slowly, twirling the pen in your hand with your fingers. “Looks like you’ve got your groove on, y/n Stark.”

“What was that?”

You turned around, surprised to see your father standing behind you. A device in hand and a hologram sticking out. “Hi, Dad.”

“You’ve got your what on, y/n?”

You giggled nervously. “Nothing. It’s nothing, Dad. I was just talking to myself.”

“No, I wanna hear what you said. You’ve got your what on, y/n Stark?”

You sighed in defeat. “My groove,” you said softly.

“I can’t hear you.”

“My groove,” you repeated louder.

“Your groove, huh?” Tony nodded his head. “Well, you know what you should have, y/n? Your homework.”

“Dad,” you whined. “I’ll do that later. I’m in the middle of a discovery here.”

“Oh really? What is it? The end of homework.”

You raised your pen in the air. “That will be my project!”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Okay, whatever. Just hurry so you can finish your homework. It’s a school day tomorrow, y/n. Remember that.”

You smiled sweetly. “Yes, Daddy.”

Tony left the room, leaving you alone.

You turned back to your paper and grit your teeth. So you lied about making a discovery. You were simply testing out some different designs for a suit you wanted to wear. It was very similar to the technology of your father’s but it had no name yet, you didn’t know what to call it, not even a working name.

You sit on the stool and tap the pen on the paper. “If I do this…then this happens, which, of course, I can’t let that happen. So I have to do this…but I have yet to figure out how this one works for it to be able to do that.” You sighed in frustration. “Okay, but if this does happen, which leads to this, then perhaps, just perhaps, it will reach my goal.”

You spin the chair around a few times until you get dizzy. “But we can’t say anything precise with just ‘perhaps’ can we? Oh, y/n, you gotta try a bit harder if you wanna reach the Tony Stark level.”

Finally, after about an hour, you decided that you’ve had enough. You shut down your lab and head to your room to do some homework. “See you tomorrow,” you said with a yawn. “To new discoveries!” You raise your balled fist in the air.

You’re in the middle of a math problem when someone knocks on your door. You groan, you like math and you were getting the answer to this certain number.

“Come in!” you called out, not bothering to look at the door. It was probably just your dad and you wanted him to see you concentrating.

“Hey, y/n.”

You looked up at the young voice. It was Peter Parker and he was holding his Spider-man mask in his hand. “Oh, Peter. I wasn’t expecting you.”

“When am I ever expected?” he snickered.

You smiled and laughed a little. “True.”

“Am I disturbing you?” he asked. He gestured toward your table and smiled. “You look like you’re doing some homework.”

“It’s no problem,” you said with a shrug. “It’s just math.”

“Which you absolutely love,” he responded with a cheery tone. He knew that was something you two had in common. “You hate it when you’re being interrupted when you do your math problems.”

You squint one eye. “That is true, too.” You looked at him for awhile before he raised his eyebrows. “Will you just let me finish this one math problem. I’m almost done, I swear. I just need a few digits to write. Sit.”

He laughed and nodded as he sat on the other chair. “There’s no need to explain, y/n. I’m the intruder and I interrupted you during your favorite subject. Go on, go on. Take as much time as you need.”

You smiled and half-jokingly said, “You say that and I’ll finish the whole homework.” Then you continued answering the number. After you’ve secretly finished answering one more number, you turned back to him and grinned. “Done! Now what did you want to talk about?”

“There’s something wrong with Karen,” he replied, holding up his mask.

“Oh no!” You exclaim, standing up and grabbing his mask. “Not Karen! What did you do, Peter Parker?”

He laughed nervously. “I may have fallen flat on my face.”

You looked at him immediately. Now that he mentioned it, his nose was a bit broken and he had a cut on his lip and some scratches along his face. “Are you okay?” you ask, although you know that it’s too late to ask that now. “Have you gone to the clinic?”

“I can’t go to my school’s infirmary or the hospital and mobile clinics,” he chuckled, “without being asked what had happened.”

“Why don’t you go to the one downstairs?”

He shrugged. “Can we fix Karen first?”

You sighed. “Okay, sure. Come on.”

The two of you left your room and walked over to your lab.

You tinker with the technology your father put in but you also recognize some of the pieces you’ve planted in the interface.

Peter did everything he could to help, in fact, there were moments wherein his mind thought of the better solutions. You weren’t undermining his brains, no, of course not, but you were also thinking of your own pride, you did put some of the tidbits that was the reason as to why Karen had come to life.

“You’re really good at this,” Peter said.

“Only because I want to impress you,” you replied. “You’re not so bad yourself, Mr. Parker.”

“Only because a pretty girl is with me.”

You look at him with a smirk playing in your lips. “So how’s Liz Allan holding up?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I think she hates me.”

“I would hate you, too. You know, if you told me you needed a rain check for our homecoming date when we’re in the homecoming dance.”

“Aw come on, I’d never do that to you, y/n. I like you.”

You laughed. “And I like you, too.” You shake your head. “Go to the clinic, Mr. Parker. We’re almost done with Karen.”

He sighed and patted his mask. “See you, girl.”

You snickered.

After a few minutes, you think Karen is doing okay. So you do the thing everyone would do to test it out, you wear the mask.

“Hello, y/n.”

“Oh, hello, Karen. I didn’t know you still remembered me.”

“I will always remember you, y/n. Peter thinks very highly of you.”

“He does?” you gasped.

“Yes. He would constantly talk about you, asking me if you’re okay. I would watch him talking to himself in the mirror, practicing how to ask you out. He likes you very much, y/n. And based on your facial reaction and heatwave, I can tell you like him, too.”

“Y/n!”

You unmasked yourself and see Peter with a red face. “I can explain,” you both said at the same time. “I like you!” Again, in unison.

Peter rushed towards you to give you a kiss. “I know Karen said I’ve been practicing,” he said against your lips, “please don’t watch those. Those are really embarrassing.”

“Your nose is still broken,” is all you can say, murmuring.

“I’ll go later,” he said.

You giggle. “There are cameras, we’ll get cau–”

“What is going on here?” Tony’s voice boomed.

“Oops,” you both say, a goofy smile on your faces.

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker imagine #peter parker imagines #peter parker fanfiction #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland imagine #tom holland imagines #misc: cherish writes

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dessarious · 4 years

Text

This Isn’t Fiction

***This isn’t my normal post and maybe I shouldn’t deviate like this but honestly I think it needs to be put out there. Yes, I know I’m a hypocrite and you’ll understand why I say that if you read this but I want to warn everyone that this is just my personal thoughts on the world right now and my role in it. Some people may feel called out, and honestly they probably should. I wrote this to call myself out.*** I fully expect to lose followers over this and that's okay. This also isn’t going to become a normal occurrence. I just need to get this out where other people can see it. As messed up as it sounds I need people to understand this and I need to know people hold me accountable.

Morning Thoughts

So everyday I wake up to some new catastrophe or idiocy from those in power and it’s gotten to the point that you wonder if any of this is salvageable anymore. I live in the US so my tolerance for corruption and stupidity was pretty high before all this started but even those of us that were born into this society, this culture of division, hate, and apathy are starting to lose tolerance. The fact that so many of us can look at everything going on and feel so detached from everything and everyone around us is… honestly it’s frightening.

I know that shit sucks. I know that the world is screwed up. I know that people are in pain, dying of hunger, being murdered, being raped, fighting mental illness, fighting a world that’s set up to make us fail. And I still do nothing. Why? Everyone blames everyone else for the problems in the world, for the problems in their own life. Now yes, there are a lot of things out of our control but in truth laying blame even for those things gives us a victim mentality and allows us to give up responsibility for our own problems. That mentality is what has reduced us to the state we’re in now. Don’t get me wrong, I’m just as bad or worse than most people in the fact that rather than try to fix things or even understand the world around me anymore, I choose to isolate myself. I choose to do nothing. I choose to let the world implode around me knowing full well eventually I’ll be dragged back into it and come out just as bad as everyone else. Why?

I can sit here and blame the education system that failed me and everyone else (and yes the US education system is designed to teach us to follow orders and not think for ourselves), I can blame the government that’s corrupt and the politicians who are only looking out for their own interests. I can blame the large corporations that would happily let us all burn if it meant bigger profit margins. I can blame the generations before us that let things get this bad in the first place. I can sit here and research and point out every decision and mistake that got us here, but to what end?

Blaming others and letting others control what happens to us is how we ended up where we are in the first place. Allowing those in power to manipulate us and use our fears and hatreds to divide us while they take advantage of our weakness got us here. Look at the culture online. All those people who feel perfectly fine spouting vindictive, hateful, and downright dangerous vitriol because they can. Right or wrong has become secondary to what we can get away with. Common courtesy has completely given way to ‘I want’ or ‘I deserve’. This is the culture I grew up in. I know it’s screwed up. I know it’s wrong. But it’s normal and our willingness to accept what is normal, no matter how terrible it is, is frightening. Our complacency to let the world burn around us is terrifying.

I write this knowing full well that it will take something monumental to force me to any real action. Yes, I’ll vote this November to try and make things slightly less bad. But I am lazy. I am indolent. Even when things affect me directly, I. DO. NOTHING. I am the norm. I am why the world is quickly devolving into chaos. I know this. And still I DO NOTHING. Maybe it’s because I do feel so disconnected. Maybe it’s because I grew up believing that nothing I did mattered and that I could never be one of those people that change the world around me. Maybe it’s because I have no right to complain because compared to a lot of people, I have a good life. My problems are insignificant. I have no right to complain because so many people have it worse than I do. All I know is that I’m not an instrument of change. I am not a driving force to be reckoned with. I AM NOTHING because I DO NOTHING. And the world is filled with people like me.

I am the root problem. People like me are the root problem. It’s not those that hate others indiscriminately. It’s not the people in power who take advantage of my laziness. It’s our willingness to accept the world around us. Our willingness to shrug and say we can’t do anything about it. Our willingness to stand aside and watch things happen, knowing they are wrong. Our willingness to just let things be because we are afraid of change. We are afraid of standing out. We are afraid of bringing attention to ourselves. And at the bottom of it all, we believe we deserve what we get. Good or bad. Right or wrong.

I am the majority. And that is the problem.

On a side note. Is anyone else thinking it’s a good time to pool resources, start a new religion (perhaps the divine order of common sense and decency), and start a self-sufficient, self-sustaining commune? I have zero helpful experience, but I’m a quick learner with a high mechanical aptitude.

#iamtheproblem

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goldeneyedgirl · 4 years

Text

JALICEWEEK20 DAY 6

The Way of Things

JaliceWeek20 Day 6: Reincarnation

Notes: I... don’t know. It just sort of happened? This wrote itself. There were a few more lifetimes I thought about including (there was a Jessamine and Alice ‘life’ that I really wanted to include but it’ll be a standalone fic once I’ve done a bunch of research) but I think I’m happy with it?

This was absolutely inspired by a gorgeous Thor fic I read a few years ago based in Norse mythology and the creation of Yggdrasil; if I can find it, I will absolutely link it because it was an incredible piece of writing.

Also go me! I’m kind of getting a hang of writing sex adjacent scenes! I remember not being able to look directly at my cursor when I implied a blow job in Shadow to Light, I’m oddly proud!

Now, just the second part to Against a Wall.

Word Count: 4,322

NSFW - not graphic but yeah.

Soulmates are funny things. They do not start out existence together; they must find each other - it might take one life time, it might take ten. It is important they undergo this struggle; some souls are not meant for regeneration - they shine and burn out within a lifetime or two. But others get stronger, more powerful, during those early searching years.

And one they find one another, they are forever more entangled. The oldest and strongest eventually fuse, unable to be separated in life or death.

Of course, eventually they burn out. But not in a tragic way; more like in a way that is last page of a very good book; the wilting of a final flower in autumn; the way snow melts in early spring, with sense of peace and satisfaction, and utter tranquility. And as they dissolve into starlight and dust, they begin the cycle anew. It is neither good nor bad or anything in between.

It is simply the way of things.

—

When they meet the first time they are vampires in Dacia - the land that will become Romania. It is an era of indulgence for vampires in that region, and if any records had been kept, it would have declared nearly dangerous levels of changes.

She is Alis, a peasant girl changed by a careless vampire who fed and left her in a ditch. She’s a gentle beauty, with long dark hair, sharp and cunning eyes, and even after the change, her skin maintains a slightly golden tint of someone who spent their life in the sun.

He is Jesper, who mentions nothing of where he came from or what he was before he arrived to hover at the fringes of the Romanian court. He has a reputation in the court, with the ladies and the men both, and Alis is entirely aware and slightly amused by that. She catches his eye more than once, but is illusive like a quicksilver, unbent and unbowed.

Until she isn’t.

It’s been a good hunt, blood soaked through their clothes to their skin that they lick off each other in their frenzy, and she learns exactly how he developed such a reputation. He learns exactly what he was looking for as he finds himself skin to skin with the spirited girl that has always seen him coming before he could catch her. But he has her now, and he’s not letting go.

She doesn’t seem to mind. They become a common sight, as a pair, their hands constantly entangled. They are not at court to curry favour or power or anything more than their next meal, but their relationship is magnetic, and more than one jealous or yearning gaze falls upon them as he presses hot kisses to her neck as he ties a choker of sapphires or diamonds around her pale throat.

The Volturi attack a century or so later, and they stand with the Romanians, their leaders and their friends. He remembers thinking they cannot possibly fail; they are the side of the kings, of the angels. He remembers admiring her as they lined up; the way she had pinned her hair with the silver clasp he’d given her, the way her dress fit her and the smirk on her lips that promised something to look forward to in their personal victory celebrations.

They don’t survive. In the chaos of the battle, it is hard to say how they each fell - the Volturi take no prisoners anyway, so a quick death in battle is preferable to an execution. But they fall and they are burnt, and their ashes mingle in the purple-grey smoke that fills the field.

When Lord Aro finds a silver hair clasp discarded on the battlefield, still clinging to a clump of dark hair, he pockets it and later presents it to Sulpicia, polished to shine and on a bed of velvet. It is a curious and beautiful piece, the shape of a raven’s wing, and it quickly joins the Volturi’s treasury without a single thought given to its origins.

—

In whatever counts as the afterlife for souls and spirits, they reunite. It will take more than one life to work out their powers, the boundaries, of this resting place - how to shape it to their preferences, how to give themselves form. For now, it is just a long horizon of contrasting light, and they are little more than sentient energy, mingling and expressing regret and pain at the demise of the other, of relief of being reunited, of contentedness being once again with the other.

Time is not something that exists on this plane, and soon they learn how to change what is around them; a swathe of sandy beach that meets perfectly clear water, expansive grassy plains that fit between quiet, looming forests that are quiet and cool. They are no more fixed than any other aspect of this space, but it remains unexpectedly consistent.

Sometimes, there is a house. It’s immediate form never changes, but the outside facade does, as the lifetimes pass them by. Somethings a log cabin, other times an English cottage, or a farmhouse, or a bamboo hut. It is their every-changing, ever-evolving desires, a nod to their shared past and their hopes for the future. It is their reward, their sanctuary.

They learn how to shape themselves as well. She fluctuates a little more than him, but she is always small, always naturally dark-haired, always cunning but sweet. He is always tall and always blonde and too charming for his own good, and sometimes not he is she, blonde and tall and could charm birds from the trees. It doesn’t matter either way; the small one greets them just the same, with enthusiasm and passion and sweet sadness at their demise but always joy at their return.

And that is where they are together until the next life.

—

The next life is simpler; a part of a nomadic tribe. She is married, in their customs, to him when she is little more than a child and he just barely a man. And despite how they were raised, he is kind and gentle to her and has no interest in her as a wife before she becomes a woman.

It is a hard year, a bad year, as they travel the mountains and ridges, the snow sharp against their faces. Few of the tribe have born children that year, and less still have lived through the winter; when food is so scarce, the dying are calmly let go so that the rest might survive. There is an undercurrent of resentment when he hoists his child-bride onto his back so that she might make the climb; that he, young and strong and likely to live long and hardy, gives his share of food and water to the bony waif he is bound to.

But she lives through that year, and the next. She lives enough years that they are both ready for her to become a wife, and everyone who scorned her frailness, her smallness, the waste of a strong husband on such a girl, is shocked when she conceives and carries his child so easily. First a son, then two daughters, all born close enough together that the old women of the tribe mutter.

The tribe becomes stronger, settles in one place for longer and longer periods of time - where food and water are plentiful and they are safe from predators and other threats.

She dies during her fourth pregnancy, slipping away in an ocean of blood no one could have prevented. Her eyes are wild and frightened, and he promises that he’ll watch over their children and see them safe, and weeps openly over her body and that of his second son.

He dies after his second daughter is married to a neighbouring tribe, to a boy who looks at her like she is a miracle, and he knows his job is done. The death is quiet, in the still of the night, in the shelter that he once shared with her. As he passes from the world, he remembers the nights when it was him and her amongst the furs, and then their children pressed between them, and then the firm bulge of the child who would ultimately kill her. He holds no resentment for the cause of her death, just a faint and worn sadness, and as he drifts away, he is certain he can hear her laughing.

—

He is a soldier, to protect his family, for a cause he finds entirely repulsive. But he mouths the words and holds the gun, and does not recognise her when he is ordered to shoot. Why would he? They’ve never met. She dies in the mud, and it doesn’t matter anyway, because they end up naming him a traitor and he dies in prison heavy with regrets.

In their sanctuary, they reunite in silence, with sad eyes and gentle embraces. Whatever powers above govern creation, they still send the souls and soulmates to earth, to be swallowed up and spat back out by human machinations, human fears and flaws and greed.

It is simply the way of things.

—

She is a barefoot thief in the streets of Paris, dangerously fast, and subtle of hand. She tells no one her story, or at least, no one her truth. Ragged and smirking, people mistake her for a child, and so there is little trouble to be had - if she’s caught at all.

She runs into him, lounging in an alleyway, tricking lords and ladies out of coins wiht sleight of hand, and is delighted with their potential. She’s old enough to be charmed by sharp green eyes and a lazy grin, and young enough to contemplate the sheer levels of chaos they can cause.

They live like kings those next few years, pinching pearls and purses, watches and rubies, and living in an icy dormer room wearing stolen rings to convince others of things they’ll get around to eventually. It’s really not much - a narrow bed with wafer thin blankets and a shared pillow; water that runs cold and brown into a bucket; pigeons that nest in the rafters and shit all over their clothing.

Doesn’t seem to matter, though, when she welcomes his kiss and sleepily encourages him when he rolls on top of her during the late night hours, frost forming on the weave and weft of their clothes. When their work is good, he brings her flowers from the seller on the corner, and she tucks her pockets full of cakes for them to share, and really, neither could imagine a finer life than together in their little tower.

But time marches on, and soon they recognise that the tricks that have gotten them this far in life aren’t going to be overlooked forever. There are less nobles on the street, less coin and jewellery to be fleeced, and so they decide to leave for the country - he’s not afraid of dirty work, and she’s not afraid of anything.

The journey will be long, and she steals a book for him on their way - he’s determined to teach her to read. It’s a neat little Bible with a smart green cover with the name ‘C-a-r-l-i-s-l-e C-u-l-l-e-n’ written in neat script on the front page.

They settle in a village, where she becomes a laundress, then a seamstress, and he finds work with horses. They marry in the village parish, where the kind priest is happy to absolve them of the sin of living as man and wife before their vows, and keep their secret. They exchange stolen rings for ones of brass, from a jar the priest keeps for that purpose.

There’s a tiny two-room cottage they occupy; those early years of hunger and neglect have left their mark on them both, and so there are no children in this life. But there is an endless parade of animals that he brings home tucked under his jacket; wounded or lost or discarded, and she finds that she doesn’t so much mind waking up to a blind duck on their bed or a sickly fox on the pillow next to her, when he is always so pleased with their progress, with their improving health. He saves more than he loses, and he takes pride in that. Some are set free and returned to the wild, but others linger until they are something of a spectacle in town - the house with all the animals.

They live a long life, a good one, and it ends peacefully. They are buried side by side in the village cemetery, with wooden crosses that bare their names, and prayers muttered in their honour.

But one Carlisle Cullen never gets his Bible back.

—

The good lives give them less time together in the in-between, if such a thing could be accurately measured. They wade, knee-deep into that perfect ocean that stretches out to their infinite horizon, hand-in-hand, and then they both feel it; that fizzing, tingling feeling as whatever oversees them pulls them back; back into bodies and minds, back into lives and places, and they once again have to go through the push and pull of finding the other and crossing their fingers it’ll happen sooner rather than later.

As he becomes nothing again, he holds her smile tight in his mind with a prayer that this will be the time, this will be the life, that he’ll recognise her for who she is to him as soon as he sees her.

She hopes its a long life, a good one, with his hand in hers always.

—

He’s reborn in Texas in 1863 and dies nineteen years later, only to rise again.

She’s born in Mississippi in 1901 and dies nineteen years later, only to rise again.

They meet in 1948, and if he knew any better, he’d tease her about keeping him waiting for thirty-seven years, six months, and three weeks. But it will be a while more before they both remember things like that, so he can’t. Instead, he falls completely and utterly in love with her, in a way that echoes right back through to that very first meeting in Dacia.

He wonders if its possible to miss someone he’d never met before, when he takes her hand. She wonders if he’s going to disappear, to startle and panic about the future that lies before them and leave her behind.

He kisses her like a starving man, and she almost immediately drags him - a willing supplicant - into her bed because it doesn’t matter what life they’re living, she’s never been particularly subtle. He knows exactly what to do to make her scream indecently, and she puts her mouth to every single one of his scars, and he wishes he could weep - with relief and guilt and a million other things that are knotted up inside his head.

And she will untangle each and every single one with enough time.

They unknowingly draw from each of the lives that have come before - they are nomadic for more than two years, criss-crossing across the country. He is no less fixated on animals - as a human, it was the training of them; as a vampire, they are his salvation. Their hands are always entangled, their gazes always on the other.

This time, they find a family, and some quiet, subconscious little corner of her mind decides she likes that they aren’t alone this time. There’s a small joy in the memory of a ‘family’, and a warm feeling - one that she doesn’t know originated from a long-ago life where they were the ones welcoming new children into their heart and home, one she doesn’t quite recognise. But families are shaped so many different ways, and the Cullens are just another way to fit together, and so they stay.

It’s a good life, an untroubled life - at least until Edward gets tangled up with a human girl and the cursed Volturi. Somewhere, the great puppet master jerks the strings and decides that if history is so desperate to repeat itself, well, it might as well put on a show.

They escape the Volturi once (a flight to Italy to save an idiot brother), and twice (Renesmee shall live, Joham shall die, and Aro leaves without any new amusements and deeply, infinitely disappointed in his beloved Carlisle).

Third time’s a charm.

—

Aro’s great error shall go down in history as underestimating the damage he has done assembling his collection, the rage and resentment that boils like an undercurrent in the vampire world. He is not a beloved leader, but a feared one.

In truth, which will be lost to both time and the fact that the powers above don’t keep written or oral histories as humans comprehend them, his undoing is two things: the fact that in all things there must be balance.

And an ancient silver hair clasp shaped like a raven’s wing, that his Sulpicia wears in her hair as they arrive at the battlefield, cloaked and over-confident.

The battle is ugly and fatal and messy and all those things wars usually are, and there is no certainty in their victory, not with the wolves involved, with the shifters and the cryptids that have crawled out of every shadow and space to be done with Aro and Caius forever.

(Stefan and Vladimir are naive if they think they will fill the vacuum left behind in Aro’s wake; Jasper takes them both out quietly on the battlefield, when neither of them can call out the betrayal or identify their killer. Sometimes ugly things need to be done, and he’s not above getting his hands dirty.)

The battleground is smokey and even her supernatural eyes struggle to see through the gloam; her dead heart heavy as she looks for him. Voices call for help; for missing limbs, for injuries, for protection and she ignores each and every one.

She doesn’t know why she stops at the sight of a silver hair clasp, ancient and lost in the mud. Or why she reaches for her own hair, cut short.

Or why she picks it up and unlocks something inside her own mind. It is not an explosion of information, a supernova of memory. It is simply an intense awareness of who she is and who she was and who she will be. It is a confidence in her stride as she moves through the battlefield with a sense of self she has not known since before her home was known as ‘Romania’.

Jasper is bent and twisted, Rosalie limp on the ground, and those vicious, hideous twins hold them captive, like fish twitching on the line. Their deaths are not imminent, because who could take down the little vipers and stop their little game?

Jane’s head is off her body, and Alec’s too, before Jasper has shaken off the pain, expecting Peter or Maria or Emmett to have gotten a lucky shot and dismembered Aro’s little favourites.

Instead, it is his mud-streaked wife with a strange look in her eyes and emotions skittering over her skin like static. A battlefield is no place for a lover’s reunion, but she still bestows a kiss on his kneeling form (so ready for his own execution) that is so positively lascivious that it takes him a minute to remember himself.

And then he remembers himself.

The scales have been rebalanced, and the fight is won by a toss of a coin that finds Aro, Caius, and Marcus on their knees in the mud, waiting for their own trial. The oldest of the gathered line up - Carlisle, Amun, Maria, the Chinese coven - to pass their judgement, but the memories that press on both of them demand their pound of flesh, and Edward eyes them both uneasily.

Instead of violence, of sliding down a slope that turns them back into the monsters of old, into the truest of nightmares, Alice crouches in front of Aro with her wide dark gold eyes, and pulls the hair clasp from her pocket.

Aro’s rage is cold, at the few strands of Sulpicia’s hair that are still trapped in the metal, and if he could, he’d shred her to pieces in that moment, gift be damn. But she smiles sweetly, and strokes the etched feathers.

“Did you know?” she asks quietly, only loud enough for the fallen Volturi kings to hear, and Edward who hovers in case this spirals into a cataclysm, “When he gave me this, I mean?”

Aro stares at her, straining to touch her and understand, but his guard holds him tight and all he can do is sneer at her.

“The night before you brought your army,” Alice plucks the strawberry-blonde hairs from the fixture and tosses them into the mud. “He pinned this in my hair and we danced; we thought we’d win. And I suppose we did.”

Aro gapes at her, Caius is spitting curses, and Marcus is just pleading for his peaceful death - and how many lifetimes has he lived without Didyme, has he wanted to return to that in-between space?

She sees the scar on Esme’s face and finds it hard to care.

Edward is backing away in horror from whatever he sees in her mind, and Jasper is helping her stand, returning to their place amongst the very confused witnesses - what could the diminutive vampire say to the Lords of Volterra that would inspire such a response. The three are summarily executed without ceremony, and they are scattered over the fire without reverence.

Alice tosses the hair clasp in, too. It is better to be burnt to nothing, to be forgotten and buried by dirt and ash. It is too close to becoming a cursed object, one that will follow them, if they place too much belief and trust and hope into it. It has witnessed two downfalls, and it will never witness another.

He holds her tight in the aftermath, as they count their dead and make their plans. Edward is already whispering warnings into Carlisle’s ear, of the shape their thoughts and memories take. But they are family, and that comes before everything else.

(It’s not exactly their fault that Edward is a shiny new soul, and it’s going to take him a few lifetimes to understand what he’s seeing and hearing. Harder especially for him, with his gift so strong so early in the cycle. But everything happens for a reason.)

Despite the curiosity wafting off everyone, they say nothing and they go… well, not home, but to the closest residence, the headquarters of this war. A sprawling property with enough beds for the wounded, the wolves, and the lovers.

That’s where she makes good on her unspoken promises from eons again, of their private victory celebration. She sits astride him, her hips rolling hard against his, drawing out his groans and growls as he grips her thighs almost tight enough to crack. Their gazes are locked the entire time, her tongue skimming over her lips, as she lets her emotions tell him everything that she wants and everything she plans to take.

He remembers fucking her in the dirt in Dacia; his mouth between her legs as she hollered obscenities in a Paris attic; and the urgent, passionate loving-making of a marriage finally consummated.

She remembers bloody emeralds looped around her throat and resting between her breasts as she gets down on her knees and takes him into her mouth, his fingers tangled in her hair; the delicious weight of him on top of her, their sweat mingling and cooling in the frozen night as their flimsy bed creaked against the wall; and his soft encouragement in her ear as he grasps her around the waist, their hands resting together on the gentle swell of her stomach.

It is times like this that their talents are burdens and gifts both because it is so much, so very much, and in all that passion and true love, there is also loss and regret.

But they have each other, and they will weather this new storm together.

—

They are hardly the only couple to spend the night tumbling together, but they must be the loudest, because when they reappear the next morning with darkened eyes and clean clothes, Jacob and Emmett are looking at Jasper with a new and very specific kind of respect, and if she flips both of them off behind Esme’s back, no one has any proof.

They don’t talk about what they’ve learnt, because it probably wouldn’t mean anything to anyone else. It doesn’t make sense, doesn’t matter, until the mantle of it settles upon you. And then it is everything.

Instead, they hunt. They have won the battle, won the war, and whilst rebuilding will take time, they can take this small moment to feast with their family and relish freedom from fear.

She truly doesn’t know what comes next. He truly doesn’t know if it will be good or bad. They will live this life for as long as it lasts, long may it last, surrounded by the people they love and trust.

And then they will die.

And then they will live again. Maybe they will live another ten lives, maybe another one hundred. Maybe one day they will cross paths with their family again, or they will choose to have children again. Maybe they will be long lives full of joy and laughter, maybe they will burn out fast and hard, but full of feeling.

But the thing they are now both and utterly certain of, above all else, is that they will walk each step hand-in-hand.

It is simply the way of things.

#jaliceweek20 #alice cullen #jasper hale #twilight renaissance #twilight fic #jalice #jalice fic #my fic: the way of things

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drawlfoy · 5 years

Text

Undertones

masterlist request guidelines please feed my inbox. she’s starving. requests are more open than ever!

pairing: draco x nonslytherin!reader

request: yes! thank you anon!

summary: non slytherin reader offers draco her scarf when she realizes he’s cold. he secretly wants to accept but he’s too afraid to ruin his reputation.

warnings: fluff idk. maybe foul language because *that’s me* but i write warnings before i write fics and i cannot foresee this going anywhere dirty

a/n: i’ve made spaghetti how many times? too many times. and yet every time i misjudge the amount of pasta sauce i need to heat up to match the amount of pasta. every single time. i don’t know what’s wrong with me but i can never fix this problem. i’m sorry this is random but i don’t think many people actually read this part so i’m kind of going off. the pasta is good tho, i’m eating it right now. reply with “pasta” down below if you actually read this

music recs: shoot i’ve been listening to alvvays tbh

also, last thing: Y/H/N means your house name, Y/H/C means your house color(s) :) also O/H means other house... as in not your house or slytherin!!

word count: 1,435

The wind was howling outside, cold and biting, as Y/N settled into the bench next to her “friend”, Draco Malfoy.

They’d only begun to be civil to each other that year after they’d been forced together in potions. At first, it had been horrible, but eventually, Y/N and Draco came to a truce. The merciless teasing about her house ceased and Y/N stopped reminding him how much she hated him every day.

And then there was Quidditch. You were both big fans of getting high marks in potions, but you were both even bigger fans of the game. Y/N was unfortunately rendered unable to play in 4th year, after a particular nasty crash messed up her leg, She was perfectly capable of attending games, however, and she was especially supportive of the Y/H/N team.

This particular Saturday, Y/H/N was playing O/H. It was the first time this year that Slytherin wasn’t playing, so Y/N had thought it appropriate to invite Draco along with her.

She was beginning to regret her decision as she watched the blond boy sitting next to her complain.

“Why does it have to be so cold out?”

“Uh, I don’t know, Draco,” Y/N shot back. “It’s wintertime, maybe that plays a role?”

He huffed and dug his hands into his cloak pockets.

“Y/N, please at least let me feel sorry for myself in silence.” He pouted, pulling his hands out of his pockets and blowing on them. “I never should’ve come. It’s too cold out for this.”

Y/N’s heart stung a little at this comment. They both loved Quidditch, and sometimes it was all they talked about. She was cold too, but the love for the sport kept her glued to the spot.

“Didn’t think you were such a wuss,” she grumbled, pulling her own down jacket tightly around her body. She’d abandoned their uniforms and had instead opted for her muggle winter gear--except for her Y/H/N scarf, which was pulled tightly around her neck.

“I prefer realist,” he shot back. Draco’s voice wavered just a slight bit, and Y/N cast him another glance. She was shocked to see that he was actually shivering.

“I’m cold too, Draco,” she retorted “But for some reason, I’m still here.”

No response was returned. Instead, comfortable silence between them rested as the yells of the other onlookers pulled her attention away from Draco.

After the first 45 minutes, Y/N felt positively chilled. A quick glance at Draco confirmed that she was not alone in this feeling. Both were ill dressed for the occasion.

“Hey,” she began, inching a little closer to her potions partner, “Do you want my scarf?”

Draco turned to look at her, eyeing her neck. He looked like, for a second, he was considering it.

“No,” he finally told her. “You need it more than me.”

“What do you mean, Draco?” Her voice cracked slightly from the cold air rushing into her mouth. “You’re just wearing a cloak. I have a full coat.”

“And you’re still shivering!”

“So are you!”

At this point, neither of them were paying any mind to the game in front of them.

“Even if I was...cold,” Draco told her, his teeth chattering comically, “I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing a Y/H/N scarf. Y/H/C doesn’t suit my pink undertones.”

“Oh. My. God.” Y/N rolled her eyes so hard they nearly reached the back of her head. “You are such a diva. Do you know how many people die during the winter from hypothermia? And you’re out here, refusing a scarf because it doesn’t compliment your undertones?”

“You know that’s not the real reason, dimwit,” he told her with a hushed voice.

Y/N’s cheeks were no longer being bitten by just the wind--now they were red from Draco’s scathing words.

“No one really cares,” she whispered, her eyes falling to the ground. She knew that that was a blatant lie.

“You know they do,” Draco answered, sighing and turning his attention back to the game.

Y/N only pretended to watch the game. In reality, she was trying to get her cheeks to stop flaming red with embarrassment. Perhaps she could blame the sudden flush on the cold, but Draco had to know. He had to know that he had, in a sense, rejected her, proving that his reputation was more important than sharing a sweet moment between the two of them.

Without the heat of an argument, Y/N settled back into her chilly state, quivering slightly with every new gust of wind. Pins and needles began to rush into her bare hands, forcing her to resort to sticking them inside her jacket like some kind of deranged penguin.

“Are you cold?” Draco asked.

“Er....yeah? Duh,” she responded, turning her head to face him with an unimpressed expression. “I thought we already went over this.”

Draco swallowed. His hands were shaking, harder than they were before. If she didn’t know any better, she would’ve thought he was nervous, but it was cold enough out to excuse the behavior.

“Give me your hands,” he demanded.

“Excuse me?” Y/N asked, bewildered from the sudden suggestion.

“You heard me. Give them here.” As if to prove that he was being serious, he stuck his own hands out expectantly,

Hesitantly, Y/ drew her hands out of her jacket and held them out to him. He grasped them, pulling them to his chest and rubbing his hands back and forth. She was pleasantly surprised with how warm his core was. (a/n: the word core is ruined for me because of smut and i promise that that isn’t what i was trying to imply)

“I thought you said you were cold.”

“I thought you appreciated my dramatic flair.” Draco exaggerated a frown, rubbing his thumbs over her knuckles.

This was new. While they were on better terms and had done a fair bit of things that friends did, one line they never crossed was legitimate physical touch. Y/N couldn’t say that she minded it, though.

Feeling slowly tricked back into her hands as they sat like that, Draco still stroking the outsides of her hands and Y/N standing ramrod straight in disbelief. Once her hands were no longer numb, she cleared her throat and shifted in her seat.

“Thank you,” she said awkwardly, withdrawing her hands from his chest and tucking them back into her pockets. “I can feel them now. I think I’m alright.”

“Ooooooookay,” Draco responded, raising an eyebrow in slight disappointment. “If they ever get cold again...”

“Okay.”

The tension between them only thickened as Y/N realized she’d made a horrible mistake. She was starting to feel positively frozen at this point, and to make things worse, the Y/H/N seeker had decided to hang out over the stadium seats where Y/N was seated. Every few seconds, she’d dive down and another rush of freezing wind would hit Y/N and Draco.

Within a few minutes, both were shivering messes. Y/N considered offering her hands back to him, but her pride kept her from going back to it. She withdrew them. She couldn’t ask for more again.

“You’re still cold, aren’t you?” Draco’s voice pulled her back from her plotting.

“Was it that obvious?”

The laugh Draco let out was small and involuntary.

“Well, I mean....” He sucked in a deep breath before meeting Y/N’s eyes. “You can....you can sit closer.”

“Oh?” The words left her mouth before she could revise them.

“Er.. yeah, come over here.” Draco patted the already rather small space on the bench between them.

Y/N cautiously scooted closer, closing the gap until their shoulders were almost rubbing.

How was this supposed to accomplish anything?

Draco answered her question before she could even voice it out loud, taking one arm out of the sleeve of his cloak. He draped it over Y/N’s shoulder so they were sharing the garment, pulling her close.

Y/N almost gasped but caught it just in time. Draco’s arm was now wrapped around her shoulder and her head pressed up against his warm chest.

She could hear his heart racing as his free hand slid under the cloak, taking hers and stroking them like he had done before.

“And what was this about being ashamed of my house?” she managed to quip, lifting her gaze upwards to meet his soft grey eyes. “You won’t wear my scarf but you’ll allow...this?”

He blushed, turning his fair pink skin an even deeper red as his thumb rubbed lazy circles on the back of her hands.

“I told you,” he whispered, dropping his head down so his face was mere inches away from her, “Y/H/C looks ghastly on me.”

final a/n: this kind of took a u turn from the original direction that was requested and i deeply apologize for that haha. i’m not the best at writing fluff, i’m a little better at writing build up, so i’m going to have to work on that. thank you for reading!

#draco #draco malfoy #draco x reader #draco imagine #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy imagine #harry potter #quidditch #hogwarts #dramione #hermione granger #ron weasley #lucius malfoy #narcissa malfoy #slytherin #ravenclaw #hufflepuff #gryffindor

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momentofmemory · 4 years

Text

FICTOBER 2020 - day nine

Prompt #9: “Will you look at this?”

Fandom: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)

Characters: Michelle Jones, Peter Parker, Ned Leeds

Words: 1650

Author’s Note: Michelle’s in charge of AcaDec, which really shouldn’t be that much responsibility—except, of course, it is. Set a couple months post-HOCO, spring semester. Michelle POV.

>> i promise i’ll promise

“What is the melting point of mercury?”

Charles’s bell rings instantly, and its sound waves have hardly have the chance to make it to the back wall and bounce back before he’s following it with his answer. “Negative thirty-eight point eight celsius, or negative thirty-seven point nine Fahrenheit. Or two hundred thirty-four point three Kelvin. Or—”

“Correct,” MJ says, forestalling any further commentary. “No points. What does the term ‘amensalism’ refer to in—”

“Wait, rewind?”

MJ glances up over her notes at Charles.

“I got it right,” he says, “so why don’t I get points for it?”

Michelle sighs, blowing a stray piece of hair away from her face. She writes an extra study note next to his name. “The melting point of mercury is negative thirty-eight point eight, but if you'd paid attention to your flashcards, you’d know the Basic Guide says it’s positive six hundred and fifty degrees celsius. Presumably because they confused it with magnesium. So, the answer you should give is positive six hundred and fifty degrees celsius.”

Michelle doesn’t bother looking up when no one responds—the silence communicates her team’s confusion all on its own.

She flips to the next card.

“Soooooo.” It’s Betty’s voice this time. “You want us to give the wrong answer on purpose?”

“Does your textbook still describe Columbus arriving in America as discovering a new land instead of starting a mass genocide?”

“Uh—”

“Great, so now that we’ve established we’re cool with lying for grades, next question. Amensalism. Any takers?”

Charles’s previous enthusiasm for the bell must have evaporated, because her question is once again met with silence.

“The correct answer is ‘a relationship between species that harms one with no effect on the other,’” Michelle says. Then she gathers up the cards and straightens them by tapping the deck against the table. “We’re done with practice questions for today; break for individual study. And for the future, please cross-reference your answers and if you come across one that’s incorrect, memorize both the correct and stated answer and let me know about it for the record.”

The seven students on the stage just stare at her.

“So like.” MJ gestures towards the study tables. “Dismissed.”

She watches them slink off the stage and set up around the room, some in clusters of two and others preferring to study alone. Mr. Harrington’s out sick and the teacher that’s supposed to be helping is… incompetent, judging by the fact that she’s been snoring for the last fifteen minutes, so that just leaves Michelle in charge today.

It’s not a great day for that.

MJ sighs again, then swipes the Music Basic Guide off the desk and walks over to where Ned’s texting furiously in the far corner.

“Hey.”

Ned doesn’t seem to notice her. MJ reaches out over the table and then abruptly drops the book, which is considerably hefty, directly in front of him with a loud bang.

“Whoa!” Ned jerks upright. “Hi?”

MJ nods towards the phone. “That Peter?”

“Uh.” He tilts the phone away, suddenly very interested in her not seeing the screen. “Yeah. He uh, he said he’s on his way.”

“He always says that,” Michelle says. “Tell him MJ says that she’s highly aware of his growing absences—not in like, a creepy stalker kinda way—but in a she will literally kick him out of AcaDec kinda way. We only have nine spots and we need them all at one hundred percent if we’re going to win this year.”

“Good thing I’m here then!”

MJ turns just in time to see Peter, red-faced and breathless, slide into the seat next to her.

He drops his book bag onto the table—the noise once again startling Ned—and then has the audacity to ask, “Did I miss anything?”

She stares at him. “You’re half an hour late, Peter.”

“Which is still earlier than I was yesterday—”

“You realize that makes your argument worse, right?”

“—and Ned filled me in on pretty much everything, so, no need to backtrack for me.”

MJ pins Ned under the weight of her stare. “Oh he did, did he?”

Ned doesn’t even have the decency to look guilty about it, though he does shove his phone in his pocket awfully quickly. “You know what, now that we’ve established that I’m a great friend and teammate, I’m going to be even better and get us some snacks.”

Michelle’s eyes widen. “Ned, wait—”

“I’ll just run to the vending machine and back, don’t wait for me to get started!”

Ned then grabs his bag and is headed out of the room before she or Peter can get a word in, leaving both of them alone.

Michelle folds her arms on the table and lays her head in her hands, and groans.

Peter, mercifully and uncharacteristically, is quiet. After a few moments she hears his chair scrape against the linoleum floor as he finds a more comfortable position, and then the sound of the zipper on his backpack as he pulls out his study cards.

Michelle closes her eyes and ignores all the things she needs to fix, and probably all the eyes that’re pretending not to stare.

“So,” Peter says, somehow almost immediately after her heart stops pounding in her ears, “wrong answers, huh?”

“So many.” MJ drags her head back up and draws patterns on the table with her finger. “Or at least three, I guess. There’s probably more I haven’t found yet.”

“Still, the fact that you noticed them at all is really cool,” Peter says. “You’re good at detail stuff.”

“Or maybe just good at finding bullshit.” MJ chances a quick glance over at the sub to make sure she didn’t hear that. Mrs. Haney, predictably, is still asleep. “But I shouldn’t have had to find them at all. The USAD started charging for study materials this year instead of just handing out the topics, and the price was—a lot. Midtown’s already facing budget cuts, so they didn’t love the idea of spending money on a club run by a sophomore.”

Peter highlights a phrase on one of his cards before writing it down in his notebook. “But you got them, right? That’s got to count for something.”

“Yeah, until I found out they were a complete waste.”

“Complete might be an exaggeration—”

“Well, they’re not good enough!”

Peter pauses halfway through writing a sentence and turns his full attention to her, and it’s—a little nerve-wracking.

“I just—” Michelle grasps for words, then settles by dumping out the flashcards she’d made with the highlighted errors. “Will you look at this disaster? Switching up the melting point of a metal isn’t just a typo; it’s lazy. And easy to miss. We’re going to have to fact check practically everything in the books because there’s no way of knowing where the mistakes are, and who knows if they’re going to quiz us on the right answers or the wrong ones. They just… they charged all this money and they don’t even care who it hurts, because they still get what they wanted.”

“Amensalism,” Peter says.

“Wow, Ned really did tell you everything.”

Peter grins, and Michelle tries very studiously to ignore the way his smile makes her feel a little softer inside. “He’s a very efficient texter.”

MJ rolls her eyes. Peter doesn’t seem bothered.

“I just. Liz chose me for this.” Michelle shrugs, picking at her cuticles. “And since she’s… I just feel like I owe it to her to do it right.”

Peter rubs idly at his wrists, suddenly uninterested in meeting her eyes. “Yeah. I get that.”

For once, despite his hesitancy, Michelle can tell he’s not lying.

It’s a nice change of pace.

Then she awkwardly fist bumps his shoulder and concentrates, intellectually, on how infuriating his flakiness and normal lying-ness is.

He is a disaster. And not interested.

She doesn’t need this kind of distraction.

“Anyway,” she says, abandoning her thoughts and pulling into a stretch, “it’s already done, so. I have to make this work somehow. I’ll figure it out.”

Except, there’s so much work to do already. Student profiles with strengths and weaknesses demarcated, logistics of traveling together for meets, a study plan complete with alternates, a recruiting strategy for next year, and not to mention all the drills she needs to run. Maybe an angry letter campaign to the USAD board while she’s at it.

Peter clears his throat. “Maybe I could help?”

Given his previous participation in AcaDec it is, quite possibly, one of the last things she’d expected him to say.

“I could go through the physics section pretty quickly,” he says, “and Ned can take economics, and—”

“Peter,” she says, still recovering from the surprise of his offer, “you can’t even make it to practice on time and now you’re promising to do extra work?”

Peter has the decency to wince. “Okay, well. Yeah, that’s fair.”

“Yeah.” Michelle squares her shoulders, and resigns herself to the mountain of undeserved work. “But thanks for—”

“How about I just promise to help now? Since I am here?”

Once again, more staring.

“And then next time I’m here,” he continues, “I’ll just promise again.”

It’s utterly ridiculous, but he’s also utterly sincere.

“So you’re.” MJ frowns at him. “Promising to promise?”

“Yes, that.”

“…Huh.” Michelle squints at him. “You��re full of surprises, Parker.”

His eyes grow wide in that way that always makes her think, maybe. And then that stupid grin returns and makes her think a whole lot of other things.

“And one of those surprises is a highly informed understanding of physics.” Peter makes a ‘gimme’ motion with his hand. “Wanna give it a try?”

Michelle looks at him, and how genuinely earnest he is about the whole thing.

Maybe.

“Yeah,” she says slowly, opening the Math guide to the appropriate section. She scoots closer. “We can try.”

#fictober20 #michelle jones #peter parker #spideychelle #fanfiction #spiderman #based off a real event in 2000 #memsfic

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yikeswtfmate · 4 years

Text

Strange Times || Ch. 2

previous part // Strange Times Series Masterlist // next part

Summary: Now that Y/N Pearson is in town, Mickey wants to spend time with his little sister, or at least, you know, keep an eye on her. However, she has other plans and Ray is still not sure how he was convinced into helping her out.

Pairing: Raymond (Charlie Hunnam - The Gentlemen, 2020) x Reader

Warnings: swearing; alcohol consumption; drug consumption; sexual themes

A/N: hello sweethearts, this has been sitting in my drafts for far too long while i’ve been going back and forth trying to decide whether i should keep posting this or not, but it’s too much fun to write and it seems there are some of you who seem to enjoy the story so here it is!

The moment the car pulls in front of the entrance, Y/N bounds out of the door. She’s been quiet during the car ride, humming a vaguely familiar tune under her breath, while scribbling away in her planner. Raymond wondered what her plans might be in a country she’s only visited once more than a decade ago, but he took his phone out, deciding it’s better to tend to his own responsibilities, rather than try to taunt her again.

Now, he instructs David to bring the suitcases in the house, taking a deep breath before stepping in. He finds Y/N in Rosalind’s arms, as Mickey fusses around them, taking her coat and bag, and it shocks Ray into realising that for all of his boss’ might, he’s entirely wrapped around both of their fingers. Y/N just laughs at him, bumps their shoulders together and flicks his forehead, even though the man’s practically towering over her.

There’s a moment when he makes eye contact with Mickey, but Raymond’s had more than his share of Y/N by this point. Not to mention that he would rather avoid thinking about her bent over the back of the couch when her brother is standing right there. He raises his phone and ducks to the office with a nod from Mickey.

Four hours later, Raymond steps back down into the living room, having finished all his duties for the day. He hears Y/N’s laugh as he’s about to take the corner and into the living room, but the sound makes him stop in his tracks. He can’t help the smile that spreads across his face, shocked by the musical tones in it which plays in direct contrast to the snort that follows it. Shaking himself out of his trance, he enters the room where Mickey is laying in an armchair, whiskey tumbler in a hand, while Rosalind offers Y/N a glass of gin. He follows the curve of her bare thigh, splayed over the armrest of the recliner, now that her boots are thrown under the coffee table. He catches her gaze and the glint in her eye tells him that she’s seen him staring. There’s a barely noticeable wink, concealed as she takes a sip of her drink, but her other hand pulls the hem of her skirt an inch higher, seemingly unconsciously to the uninterested eye.

“Right, I’ll be heading out.” Raymond clears his throat, trying to shake the dangerous road his thoughts would like to take by turning his attention to his boss.

“Have a drink with us, Ray.” Mickey offers. “I wanted to talk to you about some things I need to be brought in from the apartment. I’m not sure when I’ll be back in London this week.”

“Wait a minute. We’re not staying in London? I thought the countryside was just for the weekend.” The expression on Y/N’s face turns from confused to dubious. Raymond’s starting to learn her tells and he wonders whether this might turn into a confrontation.

“The apartment’s being redecorated. We’ll be staying here for a couple of months.”

“Oh no. No, no, no. I’m not staying here in the middle of nowhere, I’m going to London.”

“It’s not the middle of nowhere, Y/N. Oxford is 10 minutes by car.” Mickey’s tone holds an edge of desperation, which might only mean he was fully prepared for this discussion and knew exactly how it would go.

“As I was saying, in the middle of nowhere.” She nods. “I’m going to stay in London and I’ll see you when you come to work.”

“I’m not paying for you to stay in a hotel for two months just because you’re throwing a tantrum and can’t sit still.” Mickey snaps harshly, slamming his tumbler on the glass table.

Rosalind lets out a long sigh, and with a shake of her head, she makes her way out of the living room, patting her husband on the shoulder just as a precaution. It seems she was well aware of how this conversation would unfold before it even started. As for Raymond, although he’s a man that has seen nearly it all in his line of work and doesn’t get uncomfortable easily, he’d rather have taken his leave a while ago. Instead, he just takes a sit on the couch facing his boss, close enough to Y/N that he can smell the faint cherry scent of her skin. There are arguments thrown around, a familial fight that he mostly tunes out, in favour of thinking about that whiskey he recently bought at an auction.

“Fine, then I’ll stay at Raymond’s.” Y/N’s voice sharply cuts through his thoughts, snapping him to attention. “I’m sure he won’t mind.” She adds, an inquiry that would sound more like a statement, save for the expectant eyebrow.

Mickey smacks his lips, and sighs heavily, but he does turn to look at Ray. There’s a silent exchange between the boss and his righthand man, and Y/N idly wonders whether her brother would give in just to get out of this fight; he never was one to argue, especially because, for all his protectiveness, he’d also give her anything she’d want. Would she take advantage of that? Of course, she would, if just to not be stuck in the countryside, she thinks. Plus, it doesn’t hurt that he won’t know every single thing that she’ll be up to, and she’s more than sure she can persuade Ray to keep quiet.

Her gaze shifts from her brother to Raymond, whose jaw is set and expression unreadable. She swings her feet on the floor, making sure to inch her skirt even higher. She’s more than aware that if she’d stand up her butt would nearly come out of the leather, but she doesn’t miss the almost imperceptible tick in his eye or how his hand slowly tightens on his glass.

“I have enough rooms. She can stay if she wants to.”

“See? Problem sorted.” That Cheshire smile she’s perfected makes another appearance, more than unsettling in the long shadows of the old mansion.

Raymond has the sense he’s either made the biggest mistake of his life, or just stepped into something he won’t be able to handle. Either way, judging by Mickey’s sigh, he would’ve preferred to have her under his own roof. However, they both know he can trust Raymond with her safety, if not with dampening her chaos a little.

“Don’t worry, Mickey.” She says, but she’s still looking at Ray. “I’m going to be a very good girl.” And with that promise, Raymond knows he’s in deep shit.

The heavy smoke that hangs in the air should be indication enough of what Y/N has been up to for the past half an hour while he was preparing the guest room and taking a quick shower. Raymond goes to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water while carefully inspecting her stance. She’s sitting cross-legged on the couch, her eyes glazed, yet fixed onto an unknown thought swirling through her mind. Her fingers unconsciously tap on the joint above the ashtray, before her head falls slowly on the backrest.

Raymond takes a sit next to her, ready to snap her out of it if need be, but she seems to have a quiet one, lazy and fuzzy, enough to mellow her out her typical vibrancy. He hands her the water and she takes it with her free hand, while the other one brings the joint to her lips once more. A slow inhale and then the release of smoke in one swift circle. She watches it expand, lose its tight form until it evaporates above them. She passes him the spliff without a word in his direction, without as much as a cursory glance. While he inhales, she takes a long sip of water and wets her lips, tongue darting out, pink in the dim light of the lamp in the corner.

“That’s some good shit.” She declares with evident satisfaction.

“Didn’t think you’d find it that fast.”

“Ray, Mickey is my brother. Do you really think I don’t have a sixth sense when it comes to it?” Her head lolls towards him and she blinks lazily at him. “Plus, the tea box? Really? I know we Americans don’t usually drink tea, but come on. I thought you’d put more effort in hiding that shit from me. I know it only took me 10 minutes to come back down, but still, are your expectations that low when it comes to me?”

“Oh, trust me, Y/N. You’ve exceeded any expectation I might have had of you.”

“Oh yeah?” Her smile spreads, turning into a smirk, but there isn’t much energy into it and it rather looks like a lopsided grin. “Care to elaborate on that?”

Raymond takes another puff, eyes narrowing in concentration. He can’t say whether it’s the relaxing effect taking a hold of his body, or just that she’s finally quiet, dimmed down somehow, less intimidating in a large t-shirt that looks suspiciously familiar, but he allows himself to stop trying to predict her responses.

“For some reason I thought you’d be a messy teenager who’s too shy to even make eye contact.”

“Which I was ten years ago.” She points out and he nods once in acknowledgement.

“But I was faced with this grown woman who wouldn’t take no for an answer. You’re still the spoiled prick I imagined though, just somehow differently.”

“You’re too sweet to me, babe.” Y/N smiles mockingly and with that, she closes her eyes.

“Are you going to tell me what that was all about or do I have to stroke your ego a little bit more?” Ray places his feet on the coffee table, inspecting his slippers this way and that, realising that this would be the first time a woman would spend more than one night in his house. He finds that oddly enough he doesn’t mind.

“Already demanding, huh?” Y/N takes back the joint, which gives him the opportunity to notice just how smooth her fingers are between his. “I have some meetings to attend to, and I’d rather my brother wouldn’t know. I was aware of the situation with the apartment and knew I’d get my way in the end, but I have to admit, bunking with you is an entirely added bonus.”

“Meetings?” Ray waits for more details, but she just hums. “Do you even know anyone in London?”

“Oh, Raymond, sweetheart.” Her eyes open and her head tilts to one side again so he can fully see the pout on her face. His train of thought is derailed for a second by his imagination that just offers him a flash of teeth biting into soft lips, erasing the mockery and delving into deeper depths. “I see your brother has kept you completely in the dark if you really don’t know what I’ve been up to. Truth be told, I’m not sure how much he knows.” She adds as an afterthought.

“And are you going to illuminate me?”

“I’m here to find him a new buyer. You all fucked up pretty badly last time, so I came to sort your shit out.”

Raymond smiles, although he can’t say he’s not intrigued. Here she is, an American woman who’s just graduated college, barely having stepped foot in this country, thinking she’ll do a better job than Mickey’s entire network system, combined with the entire expertise of their business.

“Big words coming from a little girl.”

“You think I’m joking?” It sounds more like a statement, than a question, and she looks at him, a tone of genuine surprise. “I’ve already warned you not to underestimate me, Ray.”

“Fine. I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt then. But if you’ll fuck some shit up somehow, I’ll send you packing myself.”

“Aw, babe, you’re super cute when you’re acting all tough and mean.” Her hand finds his knee again, and he can feel the warmth through his joggers as she trails her fingers over his thigh. “I’d love it if you could show me what all those girls have been telling me you can do.”

“What girls?” He flexes his leg involuntarily, as a grunt escapes his lips, suddenly unable to form words.

“Raymond, I’ll tell you this one more time.” She stands up, stretching her arms and legs slowly like a cat, allowing Ray to see that that is indeed one of his t-shirts that she must’ve stolen when he let her wander through the house. A shiver runs down his spine at the thought that she was in his bedroom. “Don’t underestimate me. I know more than you think.”

And with that she scrunches his face in one of her hands and kisses him with a loud smack. Underneath the taste of weed, he can still smell the whiskey she’d nicked earlier, but most importantly one small part of his brain warns him that if he moves one inch there’ll be no coming back. So he clenches his jaw and closes his eyes, trying to get a hold of himself, trying with all his might not to throw his arms around her and pin her underneath him in an instant.

One of his legs is trapped between hers, but to keep his hand from gripping the back of her bare thigh would be more likely a titan’s strength, than a mere mortal’s like him. His fingers trace the muscles under the silky skin and she pushes her tongue out, demanding entrance. He pulls his head back, hand tightening on her leg but she’s too distracted to notice the pressure.

“Y/N, no.”

“Buzzkill.” She rolls her eyes, but straightens up again, grabbing the water bottle on the way out of the living room. “You’ll come around eventually.” She yells over her shoulder as she climbs the stairs to her bedroom.

“I have a feeling you’re right.” He mutters and starts rolling another joint.

#charlie hunnam x reader #raymond x reader #ray x reader #the gentlemen #raymond the gentlemen #the gentlemen 2020 #the gentlemen fanfiction #charlie hunnam fanfiction #charlie hunnam fanfic #charlie hunnam fic

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ranger-jedi-knight · 4 years

Text

A New Hero Ch 21

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20887313/chapters/63774805 Taglist: @bluesimani (OPEN)

Ok so here’s the next chap!! Date night for Daminette and...i still dont got a ship name for em...Dick/Alya/Xavier. Please help my sad ass out n suggest some possible ship names for em. Could be their names mashed together like daminette or even somethin bout personality or jobs. Idk, just somethin that fits em n doesn’t sound weird. Thank you very much. Anyways, it’s the date chap!! Next chap, idk maybe it’ll be xanila(Xan/Lila does that sound fine or ew?), or it could be a battle....ehehe or somethin else~. Ok, enjoy!

Alya giggled as she took the offered rose from Dick. “How long have you had this?” she asked with a tilt of her head as the officers around them cooed.

“I ordered it at lunch and had Sarah pick it up for me on her way back from her break an hour ago,” Dick replied with a soft smile as he took Alya’s other hand as she returned the smile.

“Why not wait to get it for when you pick me up after I get changed? While sweet, I’d rather not go out all grimy from a day of hard work,” she said and Dick gave a small shrug as he gave her hand a squeeze.

“Maybe I wanted to give it to you before we part?” he asked with his signature charming smile on his lips as he watched a faint blush decorate her cheeks.

“Oh! God, I forgot how cheesy you could be,” she said as Dick moved his other hand to push a strand of her hair behind her ear.

“Only for you and Xavier,” he whispered with a smile as she turned her face away from Dick because she knew she’d be blushing harder if she was looking at him.

“We should get going,” she mumbled and he nodded agreement.

“Yes, lets,” he agreed, leading her out of the precinct, waving to their coworker friends.

“Go get it, Alya!” one shouted causing Alya to laugh while her blush deepened knowing exactly what they meant.

“Maybe after the next date!” she shouted back before the doors closed behind them. Dick chuckled softly next to her as they reached her car.

“See you in an hour,” Dick whispered raising her hand to his lips to place a kiss onto her fingers.

“An hour,” she agreed, squeezing his hand before letting go and slipping into her car as he then held the door open. She smiled softly at him as he closed the door for her. Giving one last wave she left the precinct and he went to his own car to head home to get ready for his date. Once he was home, he ran past his brothers to clean up and put on a blue button-up and black pants. As he walked down the stairs he rolled the sleeves up to his elbows.

“Lookin spiffy Dickie boy. Got a hot date?” Jason asked with a smirk and Dick rolled his eyes.

“Yes, I do. Two hot dates even,” he said with a smirk, and that had Jason pausing.

“Damn, you actually asked them out. I’d have thought it’d take longer,” Jason said, causing Dick to once more roll his eyes.

“Har har har. I’m off now, hopefully, I’ll be able to beat rush hour. Go tease Damian for me,” Dick said grabbing his keys and Jason smirked as he started turning around.

“Not on your life, Todd!” Damian yelled out as his voice echoed thru the manor before it disappeared.

“Damian is leaving as well, Master Jason,” Alfred said and Jason turned to find Dick already out of the manor as well and frowned. “Please fetch Master Tim from work if he’s not back by 7,” Alfred said and Jason nodded. Getting the nod, Alfred turned around to continue what he was doing. The drive to Xavier’s home was quick. Xavier waved as he made his way to the car and slipped into the passenger seat, giving Dick a sweet smile. Dick returned the sweet smile as he looked over Xavier who seemed to be in his usual attire of a button-up shirt(a deep ocean blue instead of the white he wore at work), black pants, and his usual bowtie in a deep green that went well with the blue shirt.

“Hey. You look amazing, Dick,” Xavier whispered, taking Dick’s hand into his to give it a squeeze before they pulled away from the apartment complex.

“Hey, you look great yourself, Xavier. How’s your family?” Dick asked as they started toward Alya’s apartment.

“Melody is done with everyone at the hotel and the dance company is not appreciating her busy schedule. However, for mum, everything is fairly smooth sailing at the boutique. How are your brothers?” Xavier asked looking over at Dick, watching as the flickering on street lamps light up his face.

“Lovable pain in the asses. Jason gets a kick when he has to pull someone from their work, Tim gets distracted by his work so he’s the recipient of that. Damian is actually going out on a date with the girl he’s been crushing on for a while now. Duke is finally getting back tomorrow at some point, it really depends on how many stops the buses make. Steph and Cass. We have no idea when they’ll get back but they said things are going well over there so here’s to hoping,” Dick explained with a chuckle that Xavier shared.

“Tim is co-CEO of WE right?”

“Yes, why?” Dick tilted his head curiously at the question while Xavier chuckled.

“Melody said she had to go talk to CEO Tim about some things the board order her hotel have done since her GM is hiding from doing it even thou she’s not the most qualified too,” Xavier explained and Dick nodded at that.

“Ah, lazy people. But knowing Tim, hearing what’s wrong he’ll try fixing those mistakes,” Dick replied and Xavier nodded agreement from what he'd seen of Tim. They soon reached Alya’s apartment complex and watched with smiles as Alya seemed to be telling Xan something before hugging him and heading out. “Wow,” was all that left the two as they took in Alya wearing a fit and flare deep purple dress. A slim black belt around her waist covering the seam at the waist. She kept on her studs from work and had a black string necklace tied in a bow around her neck. She kept her makeup much the same with only eyeliner and pink lipstick. Her hair was braided and tied with a black ribbon and on her feet were small black, kitten wedges.

“Hi,” she whispered shyly when Xavier slipped from the car and held the door open for her so she could take the passenger seat. “You look great. You kept on your bow tie,” she said moving to straighten the bow tie since it moved since he left his apartment.

“Obviously, they’re part of the package. And may I say, you look lovely,” Xavier said, causing a faint blush to dust her cheeks when she smiled at him and squeezed his hand before he closed the door.

“Xavier’s correct, you look beautiful,” Dick said causing her blush to deepen. She was used to the precinct being silly what with complimenting everyone, especially her after she dressed like a Greek Goddess for Dick’s Halloween party for their coworkers(she couldn’t even remember who she dressed as, Dick remembers tho). She would have thought that conversation would have stopped since it’s been at least a couple of years. But alas. But hearing her dates say it, that was different than a friend.

“You two look quite handsome yourself,” Alya replied, happy to see faint blushes on their faces as well.

“I have a feeling, this will go well,” Dick said as they started toward the restaurant Dick got reservations for.

~~~~~~~~~~~~(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧~~~~~~~~~~~~

Damian had a small smile on his lips as he waited for Mari to come down. He glanced at his watch, pleased to see they had some time still before it was time for their reservation.

Lila smiled at Mari as the girl twitched beside her in the elevator. “Everything will be fine, Mari. You look amazing! That dress you made is amazing, it will knock his socks off. He clearly really likes you, I doubt you could do anything to make him change his mind, ok?” Lila asked and Mari nodded. She rubbed her hands down the red spaghetti-strapped dress, along the hemline were hidden ladybugs. Around her waist was a corset-like lace up belt that clipped together in the back, around the ribbon lace-up was black floral lace with hidden ladybugs. She left her purse in the room but Tikki and Kalki(along with Kalki’s glasses) were in her dress’s hidden pockets. She had a cropped black jacket over the dress with the lining inside red. She had on simple blac, kitten heels.

Mari gave her friend a small smile. ”Thanks, Lila. And tomorrow, I’ll help you prepare for your date with Xan on Saturday,” Mari said and Lila nodded agreement as they reached the lobby.

“Ok, see you later. Don’t stay out too late. Have fun,” Lila said, pulling the girl into a hug. Mari returned the hug before pulling away and leaving the elevator. With one last wave, Mari went throu the swinging door and left the hotel with a smile.

“Hi, Dami,” Mari greeted shyly as she reached Damian’s car. Damian was leaning against the car and smiled at Mari.

“Hello, Angel. May I say you look gorgeous,” he said, taking one of her hands into his and raising it to his lips to press a kiss to her hand. Mari smiled softly at that as she blushed.

“As long as I can return the sentiment. You look quite dashing,” she said and Damian smiled as he opened the door for her. When she was in and settled, he closed the door and made his way to the driver's seat. “Be prepared for in case our date gets interrupted, Dami,” she warned and he nodded with a smirk.

“Of course. Should you need help, I came prepared as well,” he replied, jerking his head to the backseat were a duffle bag sat inconspicuously. She smiled thankfully at that and took one of his hands into her and gave it a squeeze.

“Thank you,” she whispered, holding his hand between hers as he started driving.

~~~~~~~~~~~~(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tim sighed as he scribbled some stuff down into his notes. He glanced up at his laptop to continue skimming over the report. His comm buzzed and he stopped writing to press a button to talk to his secretary. “Yes, Carrie?” he asked, tilting his head a bit.

“A, Miss Reeves, is here to speak to you. She works at the Crown Coast Hotel as an OM. Her hotel is housing the internship class,” Carrie said and Tim hummed in thought as to what the OM would need.

“Send her in,” Tim sighed out, he was so close to escaping the company. The door to his office swung open slowly to reveal a woman who looked similar to Dick’s date Xavier, her skin a couple shades lighter, which means this must be his sister Melody. She was wearing her Hotel’s uniform which was a white button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, the logo right where a name tag would go. Her shirt was tucked into a black pencil skirt, and she had on black ballet flats. She somehow got her wavy-tight curls under control to be in a ponytail held by a red ribbon, no doubt there was a hair tie under it. “Hello, you must be Melody Reeves,” he greeted her and she gave him a smile as she went to shake his hand after moving a file to her other hand.

“Good evening, Mr. Drake-Wayne. I’m sorry to come on such short notice but your board that oversees all the hotels WE owns have made a mistake for my hotel,” she started and Tim nodded as he sat down behind his desk and pushed his notebook away to focus on the woman in front of him as she sat down across from him and leaned forward a bit to place the file onto his desk.

“Really? If that’s the case how come you came down and not the GM?” he asked curious since this seems to be something above her position's duties. A scowl painted her lips as she shook her head, her hair flying behind her.

“It’s because my GM doesn’t like to do the duties assigned to him. I brought it up to him when I realized but he didn’t want to come here and disturb you sir. But this cannot wait,” she explained and he nodded as he opened the file. While nothing stood out, he knew that Melody would know more since she was working at the hotel.

“What seems to be the problem then? I’m not well versed on the ins and outs of running or working in a hotel,” he said and she nodded and pointed to the first thing listed that the board agreed on.

“Starting here, the board ordered us to supply our sister hotel with spare microwaves and such appliances. Normally this wouldn’t be an issue, but as it is, most of our supply is in use. The few remaining we have we can’t give out since most of our’s are on their last legs. As it is, we are keeping a couple rooms unoccupied to strip them of anything we can to give to other rooms. And we’ve asked the board for help but they are leaving us to use the money we make to place the items but we don’t have enough money. Any money left is being squirreled away to either pay our employees or the repair men we call in when something major breaks,” she started pointing to different things under the first point so that he could understand better. As she explained he nodded along and started writing in the margins of the file.

This is how the next hour is spent for Tim, listening to everything the board decided for the next few months will go for a hotel is bad. They were just finishing up when Jason knocked as he pushed open the door. “Ready to go, Timmy-boi?” he asked with a sideways grin. Tim shook his head, glancing between Melody and Jason.

“Not yet, Jason. Give me a few more moments while I finish up this meeting with Ms. Reeves,” he said and Jason nodded and went to sit on one of the couches in Tim’s office. He glanced out and watched as two shadows, a girl and boy he could make out, jump across roofs. His eyes widened and he glanced back to Tim who was shaking the woman's hand.

“Thank you for bringing this to my attention. I’ll speak to the board about this in the morning and make the appropriate changes,” he said and the woman had a grateful smile, seemingly brightening up the room in Tim’s opinion.

“No, thank you, Tim. Have a good night,” she said standing up and walking from the room and closing the door behind her.

“Tim, tell me you have binoculars in your office,” he said and Tim nodded wondering what Jason saw as he snatched the binoculars out of Tim’s hands. As he zoomed in on the two, he could tell the girl was in her early 20s and the boy late teens. They had stuff covering their faces, probably a precaution to protect themselves.

“What is it?” Tim asked, looking over Jason’s shoulders and making out the two shadowy figures.

“It seems there’s two people training. For what, I don’t know,” Jason said as he gave Tim the binoculars. Tim looked at the two and nodded agreement. They knew each other definitely and the moves they did weren’t filled with any intention besides practicing. As he lowered them, the two took off and Tim hummed. “What do you say?”

“I say those moves look familiar no?” Tim asked and Jason slowly nodded agreement. “There’s only a few people who know how to fight like that and most are busy. So that means that that is Xan. Which most likely means Lana’s with him. He’s probably training with her to prevent what happened to him happening to anyone else in the family,” Tim said and Jason slowly nodded.

“That would make sense, but Joker was the only one crazy enough to work with the League. And he’s out of the picture. Thank fucking god tho,” Jason muttered the last part under his breath. Tim couldn’t help overhearing tho and he couldn’t agree more with him. “But I guess, you can never be too prepared,” he continued and Tim nodded.

“Let’s not tell Bruce. We can’t stop people from preparing themselves to defend their home or family when they get caught up in a Rouge attack,” Tim said and Jason nodded agreement.

“Now, we need to get home. I don’t want to have Alfred giving me his disappointed look,” Jason said and Tim nodded, picking up his stuff and following him out. As he left his office he smiled at Carrie.

“Goodnight, Carrie. Don’t stay too late,” he called and Carrie nodded, pushing back some hair that had left her perfectly styled bun. He’d have told her to relax but knew she didn’t need to. The one time he brought her soup when she had laryngitis showed him that when she was at home she was relaxed. He could respect that she liked having everything look perfect when at work.

“Will do, sir. Goodnight,” she called back as she sent emails to assistants to make a meeting of the board for tomorrow morning.

~~~~~~~~~~~~(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Come on, Alya should be getting back soon. I want to know everything,” Lana said smiling over at Xan who nodded.

“Alright. We can continue tomorrow. Would you be ok with Damian and Mari coming along to help? They know more than me,” Xan replied and Lana nodded.

“Alright. If your sure they can help,” Lana agreed and Xan smiled with a nod.

If only you knew. Of course, they may tell you when they hear what your doing....we should also tell Als, Xan thought to himself as they ran across the rooftops to reach Alya’s place.

Alster @Bi_Arrow Had the best time with these two. Can't wait to go out with them again #datenight #wentwell #hadagreattime #poly *Alya smiling happily at the camera as her arms are wrapped around Dick and Xavier’s arms. The two are smiling softly as they lean in close to her*

Mari-aculous @MDC_Designs Can’t believe we waited so long to do this. But it was worth the wait #untilnexttime #cantwait #date

Damian @BloodBorne I’m glad you had a good time as well. Sleep well.

Ok, so here’s the next chap!! This was fast(relatively since it was delayed by my want to update a different fic but I got this out in like three days about). I hope you guys enjoyed this new chap!! I had fun writing this chap and we saw some things happening~~!! Maybe you can guess! Anyways, until next chap! -Love Willa<3<3<3

#fanfic #fanfic update #update #my writing #A New Hero #ANH #chap 21 #maribat #daminette #ml x dc #lana grayson #alya grayson #xander grayson #ocs

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