#a real dash stretcher
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Cute Lucifer, Lilith, and baby Charlie headcanons
Under the cut so I don't dash stretcher spam someone
Was absolutely overjoyed when Lilith told him he was going to be a father. Probably got teary-eyed let's be real.
Immediately started planning stuff with Lilith even though they had nine months, he wanted to be prepared.
Really hated seeing Lilith feeling ill and not feeling good in general. Helped her with whatever he could.
It got to the point that he became a little too helpful and overprotective. Lilith had to quickly remind him that she could still do plenty of things.
Before they decided on names, he'd call the baby "Duckling"
Originally thought it would've been strange talking to Duckling before they were born but sort of fell into the habit of it. Started telling hem about everything.
Charlie definitely recognized both of her parents' voices when she was born because of this.
Lucifer and Lilith going baby clothes shopping! Once they found out they were having a girl, Lucifer had the urge to buy all the cutest little dresses.
Attempted to build the crib but didn't understand the instructions (Lilith had to help)
Multiple instances of reality sinking in for him that he was going to be a father which caused some anxiety about if he'd be good at being a father or not.
He and Lilith were there for each other about each of their worries, which helped.
Reading a lot of baby books helped too.
Panicked more than Lilith when she went into labor but quickly managed to pull himself together because he didn't want to make it worse.
Was by Lilith's side the whole time, never wanted to leave her. Most supportive husband.
Definitely cried a little when Charlie was born.
Fun fact one of the first colors babies see is red, which means Charlie really paid attention to her dad's eyes 🥹
He came up with the Char Char nickname soon after she was born.
Loved to hold her, loved all the "baby cuddles" as he put it.
Got so much cute aggression/overwhelmed with love that he'd bury his face into Lilith's shoulder (while they were all cuddling together) and mutter about how he couldn't take how cute Charlie was.
His favorite thing to do was kiss the cute little circles on Charlie’s cheeks.
Lucifer always volunteered to take care of Charlie when she woke up in the night or at the very least brought Charlie to her mother so Lilith wouldn't have to get out of bed to feed her.
He loved all the important skin-to-skin time, holding a sleepy Charlie against his chest and hear her calm breathing.
Both parents made sure to keep a baby book and write in it constantly as well as taking baby photos.
There was no reason for either of them to wear their usual fancy clothes so Lucifer and Lilith were out here wearing t-shirts and sweat pants on a regular basis.
Lucifer got really excited when Charlie entered her babbling stage. Would always talk to her despite getting babbles in response.
Lucifer and Lilith singing lullabies to Charlie is a given.
Lucifer and Lilith having a friendly competition to see if Charlie would say Mama or Dada first.
Charlie ended up saying Duck. (Lucifer considered it a win)
Her second word was Mama. And then Dada was third.
Lucifer actively holding back tears when he'd hear Charlie’s happy giggles.
Lucifer doing the parent thing of pretending to eat her little fingers and feet to make her laugh.
Lucifer: "Charlie can crawl now!" *realizing his baby can basically free roam now" "Charlie can crawl now... oh no"
They extra baby proofed the castle when that happened.
Lucifer and Lilith cheering and encouraging Charlie when she took her first steps.
Lucifer and Lilith trying not to laugh when Charlie would try new foods like ice cream or a lemon.
*Charlie lovingly aggressively patting Lucifer's face* Lucifer: "Charlie, I know you're a baby and you're not good at this yet, but you're going to take my eye out"
Whenever Charlie does a certain thing, Lilith and Lucifer discuss who she learned it from.
Charlie copying her father's expressions a lot and Lilith laughing saying how similar they are (Lucifer doesn't see it)
*that one scene from Modern Family but it's Lucifer and Lilith trying to get Charlie out of the car after accidentally locking her in*
Lucifer flying while holding Charlie and letting her "fly" around the castle.
Lilith is always like "Not too high!"
Lucifer carrying Charlie around in a baby carrier or sling(?)
Lucifer coming up with excuses every time he brings Charlie to a meeting.
Lilith very gently playing "toss little Charlie like a sack of potatoes" on the bed or anywhere with a lot of cushions (Lucifer almost always has an aneurysm watching this despite nothing bad happening)
Charlie always getting plenty of cuddles and kisses from her parents :')
Lilith: "Luce, you can't cry every time Charlie cries..." Lucifer 😢 "watch me"
Charlie’s parents always telling her bedtime stories.
Lucifer: "Charlie fell asleep on me and now I can't move"
Charlie having glow up stars on her bedroom ceiling that work as night lights.
Lucifer out somewhere with Charlie: "It's getting late, I better get this one home" Charlie, sleepy but fighting it: "No.. no, no, no" Lucifer amused: "Yesss"
Charlie going to her parents every time there's loud thunder or something and them holding her and making her feel safe.
Charlie having bad dreams and insisting on sleeping in her parents' bed when she's scared. (Lucifer can never tell her no)
Little Charlie trying to get her parents' attention: "Look! Look! Watch!" *does a little spin and a hop* Lucifer and Lilith clapping: "Good job!!"
Lilith: "Charlie, we color on paper, not the floor" Charlie: "No I just 'tending" Lilith: "But you are coloring the floor, do you want some paper?" Charlie aggressively shoving the crayons away: "All done!"
Charlie always coming up with the craziest games to play. Lucifer is constantly confused but goes along with it.
Lucifer and Lilith telling each other crazy things Charlie did at the end of the day after she's gone to bed.
Lucifer getting emotional every now and then about how fast Charlie is growing up. :( Lilith's feels the same and they try to comfort each other.
Ending on a happier note, Charlie drawing pictures for her parents. Lilith keeps them on the fridge. Lucifer keeps some framed in his office.
That's all I have for now.
#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel amazon prime#hazbin hotel lucifer#lucifer morningstar#hazbin hotel charlie#charlie morningstar#hazbin hotel lilith#lilith morningstar#lilith x lucifer#lucifer x lilith#hazbin hotel headcanon#my writing#hazbin hotel fanfic
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Left Behind - Chapter 49
Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4
Chapter 48
Read on Ao3
According to the nurse she had spoken to, Scott hadn’t moved from the floor outside the theatre since they had rushed Tia in. He was still in his blues, his hair and skin greyed out by the dust from the disaster site. Blood stained his arm from someone Lucy had seen him helping much earlier on in the day.
“You’re no use to her sat out here dwelling.” She murmured as she approached him, only sparing the briefest glance to the double doors before returning her focus to the eldest boy.
He shook his head, lips pressed together in a thin line as he glanced up to her, “I screwed up Mom.”
Tutting, she sighed, “Well I’m too old to be getting down there, so come on, up you get.”
His eyes darted past her to the door, and she didn’t need to hear his protest to know that he didn’t want to leave.
“The doctors will call as soon as she’s out.” She assured him, “You need a shower, and a coffee, minimum.”
He still hesitated.
“She’s in good hands Scott.”
He shook his head again, hands rubbing through his hair sending a plume of dust up to dance in the fluorescence of the lights.
“She told me she loves me.”
She didn’t need him to add the next part.
“But I didn’t say anything back.”
With a sigh she reached down to his shoulder, shifting most of her weight through that arm she eased down next to him to sit on the hard lino floor.
“I told you I’m too old for this.”
Scott scoffed, leaning over to rest his head on her shoulder, “Sorry.”
“Tell me about it?”
He shrugged, “What’s there to tell? Just before Virg moved her she called me back and said it and I just stood there like a goldfish.”
Tia had been out of it when she and Virgil had emerged from the hole, a combination of blood loss and a concussion he had told her at the time. Lucy had stayed with the pair through the short flight to the hospital, trusting Scott’s ability to fly whilst they focused on their patient.
“Do you wish you had said something?” She offered, rubbing her thumb across the back of his glove as she rested her cheek against his hair.
He had only seen Tia briefly she knew, a dash from the cockpit to the medbay as the doctors had swarmed the ship. The slightest of nods from Lucy and he had been away with the stretcher, desperate to keep up with what was happening to her.
“I should have told her.” He whispered, “That I love her too.”
There had undoubtedly been other things in his head in the moment, bigger thoughts about her condition and getting her out of danger. If his reaction early on in the day was anything to go by, he had barely come to the realisation of his feelings. A disaster zone was hardly a suitable place to organise ones thoughts. Lucy was hardly surprised that he had stumbled at her comment.
“I’m not just saying that.” He added, “I do mom. I really love her. How didn’t I see it sooner?”
She knew the feeling, had been dealing with the same kind of thoughts herself since she had woken up in the infirmary weeks ago.
“The thought of losing her…” Scott trailed off with a shake of his head, “It’s like… just thinking about it leaves this gaping ache.”
“Love is a funny thing.” She murmured quietly, “I don’t think you can quite describe it, but if you’ve felt it, you know what it is.”
“I didn’t realise that was what it was.” He sighed heavily, “I thought it was just stress and the relief of getting it off of my chest.”
The comment was filed away for later, something to keep a close eye on in the coming weeks. Scott getting burned out with stress had always been her biggest fear, but she had always thought he had coped with it in his own way.
She just hadn’t anticipated the methods used.
It was easy to see how the two feelings could get confused though, how ranting and raving made everything feel better. Who was it that she always went to for those kinds of conversations though? Deep down, she knew there was only a real satisfaction of relief when she spoke to one person in particular on the topic.
“But it’s not,” Scott continued, “It’s different. It’s not like when I talk to you or Virg about what’s on my mind.”
“I love her Mom.” He sighed with a shake of his head, “And I only just realised it, right as I might lose her.”
“She’s a strong woman.” Lucy whispered to him, “Have faith Kid, you’ll be able to tell her everything soon enough.”
She wasn’t sure if she would ever have the courage to voice her own feelings.
“As always,” A warm voice commented from the door at the far end of the hall, “Your mother is undoubtedly right, Scott.”
Lucy’s stomach twisted as she met his eye, her heart suddenly in her throat as she wondered just how much of the conversation the man with the cane had heard.
“Hey Hugh,” Scott forced a tight smile, “I thought you were back in London this week?”
The older man shook his head, “Penelope has it all in hand, I had planned on surprising your mother until circumstances changed.”
She hoped the heat that rose in her cheeks would go unnoticed by them both. Hugh surprising her wasn’t an uncommon thing, and she certainly never complained about his visits.
Except, recent conversations had her mind wandering elsewhere.
“Trust what she says kiddo,” He murmured holding his free hand out to Scott, “Swing by the relatives room, get a shower and some food. We’ll call you as soon as there’s any news.”
He glanced between them both, eyes young and wide, “You’re sure?”
“Promise Scotty.” She smiled, stroking his hair, “Go and get rid of this muck.”
He accepted Hugh’s hand up, looking down himself with a grimace as he stretched out.
“Take your time, good lad.” Hugh murmured as he patted Scott’s shoulder, “The slightest news and we’ll call.”
Scott nodded, looking back to his mother and holding a hand out, “Thanks Mom.”
She accepted the help up, using the wall for support as her bad leg took a moment to wake up and catch her weight. Scott hugged her briefly before turning and heading away.
“So,” Hugh started as the doors swung shut behind him, “Kid’s in love, huh? Been there myself, know the feeling well.”
Avoiding his eye wasn’t an option, there was something that just drew her to him, left her unable to just ignore anything he said even if she wished she could. Both of them knew there was too much left unsaid.
Hugh knew Jeff was coming home.
She had told him as soon as she could.
He had been enthusiastic on the holo-call, but the light hadn’t quite reached his eye.
There was the same sort of sadness there then.
“I’m sorry.” She whispered, a lump catching in her throat. It seemed like the only thing that there was to say, yet hardly felt like enough at the same time.
He huffed with a shake of his head, “Don’t be. There’s nothing to be sorry for.”
Except there was. She felt like there was so much to be sorry for. For drawing him in, accepting the company and the closeness. For letting him in but still keeping him at arms length without quite realising it. For falling in love when they were only ever meant to be friends.
“Come here,” He murmured, holding his arm out to her. She hesitated, pursing her lips as she folded her arms around her torso, not trusting herself to go to him.
Hugh sighed again and nodded, dropping his arm as he did.
“I understand.”
“Jeff-” She started, not trusting her voice to say any more.
He swallowed visibly, “I know. I always knew that was where your heart truly lay.”
Clearing her throat, she blinked hard, not sure where the sudden swell of emotion that had tightened her chest had come from.
“I’m still here for you though,” Hugh added, “I’ll always be here Luce.”
Something in her broke, snapping hard and sharp in her chest. His arm was held out again, and that time she didn’t hesitate in going to him and hiding herself in his chest.
“I’m sorry.” She whispered again as he stroked her hair.
“Me too Luce,” He sighed softly, “Me too.”
#thunderbirds are go#scott tracy#thunderbirds 2015#Lucille tracy#Romance#Scribbles Writes#thunderbirds#Left Behind#Left Behind Part 5
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North Sea Scotland (7): The castle, the coal heiress and the conman
Glamis Castle has name recognition as the setting of Shakespeare's Macbeth - although the 11th-century Scottish king had no connection with the place.
But the castle deserves to be known for the real-life story of an occupant with untainted royal pedigree.
Glamis (pronounced "Glahms") has been the home of the Lyon family since the 1300s. Those folks have staying power. They saw out the century between the 1640s and 1740s, a turbulent one for Scottish aristocracy, without too much damage.
The castle was ransacked by Cromwell's troops. But after the Restoration, the Lyons' loyalty to the Stuarts (evident in the strutting representations of James VI/I and Charles I outside the castle, below) was rewarded with an upgraded title of "Earls of Strathmore".
Things got tricky again after the Stuarts' eviction. Some Lyons/Strathmores got involved with the Jacobite rebellion of 1715. Most, however, played the game and the clan held its own in Hanoverian Britain.
Fast forward to 1767 when the 29-year-old ninth earl, John Lyon, decides to marry an 18-year-old heiress from northern England, Mary Eleanor Bowes.
He can do with a rich wife. She's OK with it as well: known as "the beautiful Lord Strathmore", he cuts a dashing figure.
The marriage settlement is not a quick affair. Mary's late father, coal baron George Bowes, insisted in his will that whoever weds his only child should take the Bowes name. Negotiations take 18 months. The name change requires an act of parliament.
But in the end, John Lyon becomes John Bowes and Mary a countess.
But pretty soon she realises that life as Glamis is not all that glam. John turns out to be a disappointment. He wastes his good looks on study, plans for extensions to the castle – which her money will pay for – and letters to the gardener about orchards and yew hedges.
Mary is no Philistine. She writes poetry and likes botany, but a girl has to have fun once in a while.
When John dies of consumption in 1776, she is not devastated. In fact, she is pregnant by her lover, a Scottish rogue who has just blown his inheritance on ventures in India.
He was keen on marrying her, but Mary knew exactly what he would do with her fortune so had an abortion instead.
Wise to chancers as she was, she was not prepared for what hit her next.
Andrew Stoney, unlike her Scottish wastrel, was wily. He charmed her with laments for his first wife - who had died in suspicious circumstances, leaving her money to him - and with tall tales of military derring-do.
Mary was happy to sleep with Stoney, but unsure about going further. So Stoney devised a brilliant stratagem.
Using a pseudonym, he wrote articles about her private life in The Morning Post, feigned outrage and got the editor to print his defence of the countess's besmirched virtue.
When Mary laughed the whole thing off, Stoney stepped up a gear: he insisted on fighting a duel with the editor.
The whole thing, of course, was staged. Faking a mortal injury, Stoney persuaded Mary to grant him his dying wish: marry him. He was carried to the altar on a stretcher, and managed to whimper "I do".
Stoney, now Stoney Bowes, enjoyed a miracle recovery and dropped all pretence. He abused his new wife verbally and physically. He held drunken orgies with prostitutes in their home. When he learned that she had placed her money in a trust before marrying, he tried to force her to hand control to him.
He even imprisoned the countess. In 1785, she managed to escape and file for divorce, a pioneering step. The proceedings dragged on, allowing Stoney Bowes to abduct her again. In the end, she did get her divorce. Stoney Bowes was convicted of assault and died in prison.
Mary Eleanor Bowes was exceptional in many ways. Her only book, the self-published The Siege of Jerusalem, earned her a place in Poets' Corner at Westminster Abbey. But poetry and precedent in family law are not her only contributions to posterity.
One branch of the Bowes family – which we came across in Barnard Castle in northern England - have been major patrons of the arts since the 19th century.
Mary's great-great-great-granddaugther Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon was born in Glamis in 1900. She married the Duke of York and became queen consort when his brother renounced the throne in 1936.
The couple's daughter ended up being Britain's longest-reigning monarch. That daughter's son (Mary's great-great-great-great-great grandson, if my fingers are correct) is now king.
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finally had a snatcher dream i can remember!
ima put it under a read more so its not a dash stretcher but nothing bad in it
oh cool, i got the readmore to work on my phone
anyway
I don’t remember much about the beginning of the dream, i assume it was just build up to the later portions but am unsure.
the first part i remember is trying to go to this cool horror themed walk through attraction that was themed after some popular early videogame. I don’t think the game itself was real but it was on of the ones where the graphics were lower quality bc you had to limit the amount if polygons a game had. the themed attraction perfectly recreated that look.
I was going with some friends and we were waiting in line, super excited, but at some point while we were waiting the attraction caught fire. the whole thing went up to flames very quickly. I think my friends got out but i wasn’t able to.
the next thing i remember is waking up as a ghost, but not feeling any different. looking around to find the whole attraction had burned to the ground. there were other ghosts around too, but they were kids.
apparently there was a school field trip to the attraction that day. most everyone seemed to get out but it seemed like maybe 12 kids weren’t able to.
I found them all sitting around some ghost campfire listening to snatcher tell stories. I don’t really remember the stories themselves, but i remember they were keeping the kids calm and relaxed. I remember looking over that scene and thinking about how those poor kids would be freaking out and panicking now if not for those stories being told.
I finally walked over and sat down next to snatcher, listening to the stories and staring at the fire. eventually the kids started getting tired, and one by one they eventually fell asleep. I too fell asleep.
then later on I woke up, i was still sitting around the camp fire and had fallen asleep leaning against snatcher. when i looked around i saw that the kids were gone.
I had asked snatcher where they were and he said that they had found peace and moved on in their sleep. it was just me and him now.
I told him how sweet it was that he told those stories to the kids to help them find peace and relax. and how nice it was that he was watching over them like that.
we talked for a bit and i honestly don’t remember anything we talked about.
snatcher at one point asked me if i wanted to move on, and i told him no, that i wanted to stay here with him for a while. he looked at me with such a soft smile and we sat there for a little moment longer before i woke up.
it was a very sweet dream.
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on a scale of 1-10, rate each McDuck on how soft and smoochable their little ducky foreheads are and how much you'd want to give each one a smooch on their little ducky forehead.
Sir Eider McDuck: ???/10
I was too frightened to smooch this duck. He designed hishelmet to make his forehead unsmoochable. I think if I got too close he wouldhave stabbed me.
Sir Stuft McDuck: 7/10
The big old helmet he’s wearing made it difficult to smoochhis forehead and after I gave him a smooch he ran off to fund the crusades.
Sir Swamphole McDuck: 3/10
I had to pull back his hood to give him his forehead kiss. Hewas dripping with swamp juice. It wasn’t great.
Sir Roast McDuck: 5/10
Not the best kiss, not the worst kiss. He tasted like roastduck which was weird, but tasty.
Sir Hugh “Seafoam” McDuck: 7/10
His golden teeth spooked me at first, but he was actuallyquite nice. When I gave him his smooch, I noticed that he smelled like seafoam.
Sir Quackly McDuck: 9/10
Extremely pleasant! I gave him a forehead smooch and hethanked me afterwards. Then he asked if he could give me a forehead smooch, Isaid yes of course.
Malcolm “Matey” McDuck: 9/10
I tried to smooch Matey, but somehow, I was unable to do so?Every time I tried, he would end up giving me a smooch instead. Also, I thinkhe might have conscripted me into his crew, or he adopted me. Maybe both.
Quagmire McDuck: 3/10
Never in my life have I met a snootier duck. After I smoochedhis forehead, he merely replied, “Heinous.” Then he threatened to sue me forevery cent I own. I will be seeing him in court soon.
Dirty “Dingus” McDuck: 0/10
I do not want to kiss this dirty duck. I’m certain he putthat burning candle on his hat specifically to ward me away from kissing thedirt-crusted, matted feathers on his forehead.
Molly Mallard: 7/10
Now here’s a duck that desperately needs kisses, however, Iend up choking on coal dust every time I draw near her. Regardless, I’d stillrate this a fairly high forehead smooch especially after encountering DirtyDingus McDuck.
Downey O’Drake: 10/10
This lovely duck was so kind to me. She offered me home-bakedbutterscotch cookies that melted in your mouth. She was very nervous to receiveher forehead smooch, but I assured her that I was a serious reporter and hercooperation would greatly help. An exemplary woman.
Fergus “Old Scotty” McDuck: 10/10
Like his lovely wife, Fergus took some coercing before Icould conduct my research. He was not nervous about the smooch but keptinsisting that he was the one that smooches and he was not the smoochee.However, he eventually consented and it was a lovely smooch. He did insist on schoolingme in forehead smooches afterwards. I must say as a father of three, he didindeed give forehead smooches that would put even me to shame.
Jake McDuck: 6/10
Jack McDuck was quite the grump and I was only able tosoften him up once I mentioned his nephew Scrooge. He took his forehead smoochas if it were a blow to the face.
Angus “Pothole” McDuck: 5/10
Pothole told me many a rousing tale while I conducted myresearch. He did not seem very interested in the forehead smooch at all andmuch preferred pitching me dime-novel plot ideas.
Matilda McDuck: 10/10
She was a bonnie lass for sure! She thanked me for theforehead smooch then asked if I would like one as well. Dear readers, I mustadmit that I did not have the heart to turn down such a sweet child even thoughI knew it would risk the validity of my research.
Scrooge McDuck: 9/10
Although I did enjoy giving Scrooge McDuck a forehead kiss,I must deduct points as he charged me an exorbitant sum to do so.
Hortense McDuck: 10/10
This fiery young gal scared the dickens out of me, I mustadmit. She kept saying, “Glxbxt,” which I find myself unable to translate into intelligiblespeech. Even so, I got in a fierce debate with her about my research, it’snecessity, and whether she would allow me to smooch her forehead at all. Shedid but in exchange she decked me in the face. I do not regret the bargain Imade.
#long post#like way too long#a real dash stretcher#i wasted so much time on this it was so fun#why do homework#when i can write about smooching ducks#galoots speaks#galoots best of#OG posts
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2018 was too long and very, very blurry.
Fair.
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His Protector-Fred Weasley x Reader
(GIF credit to @winter-and-zombies)
Masterlist
Prompts Lists
Summary: At the Battle of Hogwarts, Fred is saved by (Y/N), a close friend of the twins. Both have always had feelings for the other, and in true cliche fashion, neither have admitted this. Years after the battle (where things are somewhat back to normal), the twins have remained friends with her, but it’s only at a Weasley family party does (Y/N) finally say something.
Characters: Fred Weasley x Reader, George Weasley x Reader (platonic)
Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name
Warnings: Mentions of death, PTSD, injuries, blood, lots of fluff
(A/N: This is quite long! And also the first time I’ve written for Harry Potter, blame it on my FYP on Tik Tok)
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
There were no dry eyes from anyone gathered in the Great Hall. It was full of students, resting from the battle and treating injuries, or mourning over friends who didn't make it. Some were huddled together as they sobbed, others keeping to themselves as they tried to stop the horrifying images keep playing in their minds.
The Weasley’s were gathered around Fred, who was laid out on a makeshift stretcher, tears streaming down their faces as they waited for some sign of him waking up. He had dried blood on his face and partly in his hair. When he was first carried in, their immediate thoughts had been he was dead, because he seemed so lifeless. They were extremely grateful when they realised he was breathing, and he had a heartbeat.
Molly stroked back her son’s hair, trying to calm herself down as to not alarm her children. Never in her life did she think they would have to go through something like this, especially at such a young age. These were her babies, and she was going to protect them with her life like any mother would. George sat beside Fred opposite his mum, praying that his brother's eyes would soon open. Although it had been confirmed that he would be alright, albeit with a few injuries, seeing him lying there made it feel like he wasn’t with them anymore. Suddenly, Fred began to stir, scrunching up his eyes and moaning as he felt the pain throbbing through his body.
“How you feeling Freddie?” George quickly asked as the family got closer.
Fred mumbled something, but no one could understand.
“What was that Fred?” Molly quietly said.
“(Y/N)...”
“Who? Who are you talking about?” Molly was sure she had heard the name before, perhaps when the boys were still at school.
“(Y/N), where is she?” Fred moaned.
“I don’t know Freddie.” George replied.“I haven’t seen her since you were brought in.”
“Is..is sh-sh-she a-alive?” Fred was still weak, struggling to speak.
“Fred, please, just rest for now.” Molly begged, not wanting to see him in pain any longer.
“Sh-she’s d-dead?”
As the family struggled to keep Fred still and stop him from panicking, Ginny backed away, knowing the only way Fred would settle was if she found (Y/N). When Fred was carried in, (Y/N) had also been brought him right behind him, but they were separated. She was taken off towards her friends, and in the heat of the moment, Ginny hadn’t questioned if she was alright, making her feel awful.
Although (Y/N) had been close to the twins, she hadn’t been as mischievous as them, not wanting multiple detentions or to get in any trouble as much as they did. It was a surprising friendship between them, especially when (Y/N) was so nice to Ginny, despite the age difference; she was always surprised that the boys never invited her round to their home during the holidays. Because she saw how Fred would sneak glances at the girl, always rolling her eyes at how obvious he was being with his feelings, yet neither one did anything about it.
Ginny ignored the calls from her dad when she set off in the hall to find (Y/N), bombarding her peers with questions, desperate to find her as quickly as possible. Luckily amongst everyone, she spotted (Y/N)’s friends huddled on the floor, holding onto the unconscious girl’s hands. Ginny startled them as she rushed over.
“Is she...” Ginny started.
“She’s alive. But she’s weak.” one of her friends sniffled.
“We need to move (Y/N).” Ginny demanded.
“What?”
“She needs to be beside Fred.”
“Why?”
“She just does! Come on, help me move her. Please!”
The girls glanced between each other, and they knew Ginny wouldn’t be requesting such a thing for no reason. They struggled to navigate her body on the stretcher through the people, Ginny going ahead and commanding that they move out of the way. All eyes were on (Y/N), wondering why they were moving her. Ginny gently ushered George and her father out of the way, the men helping lay (Y/N) down on the floor. Fred also watched, slowly turning his head to look at her, expecting to see her beautiful eyes staring back. But when he saw they were shut, he panicked. He shakily reached out for her hand, struggling to find it as they were crossed over on her stomach. George took on her hands, placing it in Fred’s, smiling at the size difference.
Molly and Arthur looked at each other, wondering why this girl was so special to Fred and also why they hadn’t been told much about her.
“This is (Y/N). She saved Fred’s life.” Ginny explained to her parents."She's alive Fred."
Fred didn't reply, still staring at her and grasping onto her hand. His mind flashed back to seeing her save him, hearing how angry and upset she was as she shouted out her spell, somehow defending him from his death and saving herself. He had blacked out before he could see if she was safe. Although he heard Ginny, it didn't make him feel any better. He just wanted to see her eyes open. That was it.
"(Y/N)." he tried to raise his voice, but his throat was so hoarse that it came out as a whisper. He tried shaking her hand slightly, and again, he was too weak to even do that.
George held (Y/N)'s other hand, trying to help his brother wake up their friend. He too wanted her to wake up, and not just for his brother's sake. Her eyes fluttered open, then quickly shut again. Instinctively she was going to rub her eyes until she realised her hands were preoccupied.
"What's happening?" she breathed out, looking around at the Weasley family.
"You're safe dear." Molly reassured her.
"You're alive." Fred smiled, relief flooding through him.
(Y/N) only realised it was Fred talking beside her, breathlessly laughing as her head lulled to the side. There he was, alive just as she was.
"Fred? Oh my...Y-you're here."
"All thanks to you." George smiled, squeezing her hand.
"I'm so..." she gulped before continuing."I'm so happy you're both safe."
"Please don't do that again." Fred begged.
"Do what?"
"Put yourself in danger to save me."
"Don't be stupid Freddie. You can thank me later."
"Let me guess...lots and lots of chocolates."
"Exactly."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
(Y/N) yawned as she packed up her things from work, tired after another long week. She passed co-workers, waving goodbye and smiling as she left the building. As she put on her hat, she looked up at the sky, smiling at the sight of snow falling. It was turning dark, and seeing the snowflakes illuminated by the street lights made the street she walked down everyday look beautiful. (Y/N) took her first few steps towards her route home, suddenly stopping for an unknown reason. Something was pulling her in the other direction, she wanted to take a different path today.
Following her instincts, she walked in the opposite direction, hypnotised by the weather around her. Once she reached the end of the street, she looked up at the sign post, and the only part of it not covered in snow was the one that said 'Diagon Alley'. She hadn't been down there for so long, she hadn't seen two certain men for so long.
Why was she headed there? And of all the times to go, why now? She hadn't seen the twins for months, not because she didn't want to, but because she was so busy, as were they. Continuing her walk, she thought back to how often they would spend time together, especially after what happened to Hogwarts. She needed solidarity, she needed to be reminded that Fred was still there, that she didn't dream saving him, it had to be real. (Y/N) would regularly visit them, or vice versa, trying to act like everything was normal and that they weren't effected by anything that had happened.
The shops were closed, she could see the owners locking up, beginning to tidy everything away. Lights were dim, signs now said 'closed' and she was one of the few people left in the street after a busy day of shopping. As (Y/N) approached 'Weasleys Wizard Wheezes', she grew nervous, wondering if this really was a good idea. She hadn't seen them for all this time and now she was suddenly turning up on their shop doorstep? Was it rude? Was she being stupid in thinking that they would be totally fine seeing her after a working day?
Mustering up as much courage as she could, (Y/N) forced herself to the front door, seeing that no last minute customers were left. She tried opening the door, luckily it was open, and let herself in.
"Sorry, we're closed!" a voice shouted out.
"Even for me?" she cheekily called back, giggling when a confused George poked his head around a pile of boxes.
He grinned, practically running towards (Y/N) with his arms open wide."Where have you been little miss?"
"I'm sorry, I know this is a random visit but...I don't know, I just thought of coming to see you and Freddie."
"You're welcome here any time of any day. You know that."
They pulled apart, still smiling."Thanks, I just feel bad that I've not made much effort."
"Hey, we're all busy now. Don't worry about it. I'll go get Fred, he's going to love this!"
George was ecstatic as he dashed off to find his brother. All of them were to blame for not catching up more often than they used to, and he had seen how it effected Fred. They had all been each others support system after the battle, but it was clear that Fred and (Y/N) hugged a little tighter than they used to, looked into each others eyes longer, and smiled as much as possible when together. George had always wanted to set them up (he would have preferred involving pranks somehow) and that old itch was back. These two were hopeless with their feelings for one another, he just had to give them a little push in the right direction...into each others arms.
"Freddie!" George exclaimed, laughing when his brother almost dropped a box out of fright.
"What?" Fred sighed as he recovered, placing the box on the floor. He just wanted to get the stock out for the next morning and go home.
"Come see who has paid us a visit."
George said no more, going back to the shop floor, leaving Fred rolling his eyes as he followed. He rolled up his shirt sleeves as they slid down his arms, not paying much attention to his surroundings. So when he looked up and he saw her, his mouth dropped open, shocked to see (Y/N) standing there.
"Would you just get over here and hug me?" (Y/N) joked, though not as boldly as she used to.
Fred just laughed as he did what she said, reaching down to wrap his long arms around her. She had miss how he held her, how tightly he clung onto her, as if it were their last hug ever. George just stood there, crossing his arms over his chest as he waited for them to finish.
"What are you doing here?" Fred asked.
"Just wanted to see you both." (Y/N) simply stated.
"Well I'm glad you did."
"How about we go for some drinks? It is the end of the week after all." George suggested.
(Y/N) nodded."Yeah, I'm up for that."
"Well then, let's get packed up Freddie."
(Y/N) offered to help, but the twins refused. They came in and out of the stock room, being as quick as they could. (Y/N) took the opportunity to walk around, see what items they were selling. There were some new products, but most were older classics. She reminisced over all the times the boys used pranks such as the ones in the shop, and how they could sometimes get a lighter punishment, just because everyone loved them. She took part in a few schemes here and there, but only the harmless ones, the ones that would only land her in detention if they got caught.
She came to a stand that held numerous love potions. She smiled as she remembered making Amortentia in her lessons. That had been an awkward class. No one wanted to be picked on and asked what theirs smelt like, not in front of their peers. (Y/N) knew who's hers smelt like as soon as the lid of the bottle popped off.
"No luck in the love department then?" George smirked as he put on his coat.
"Hm?" (Y/N) hadn't been paying attention, thinking back on old times.
"Still not found 'the one'?"
"Oh, no, I don't have time for any of that."
"Well, hopefully Mr Right just stumbles into your life." George was growing more excited by the second.
"Yeah, hopefully."
"Right, ready to go?" Fred appeared.
"Yes-Oh!" George startled them."Freddie, I just had a great idea."
"Oh here we go." (Y/N) joked.
"(Y/N) should come home with us, to the Burrow, for mum's party!"
"A party? Why is your mum throwing a party?"
"Dad got a little bonus at work, mum thinks it's something to celebrate. And it's an excuse for her to get the whole family back together."
"That is an amazing idea actually." Fred beamed.
"I can't impose on something like that. Especially since it's a family thing."
"Nonsense." the twins said in unison.
"Are you sure? I mean, I haven't seen your family for so long."
"Mum would love it." Fred reassured her.
"OK then!" (Y/N) grinned."I've always loved a Weasley party."
"That's settled then," George opened the door,"we'll discuss the details over those drinks that are waiting for us."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Smoothing down her dress once again, (Y/N) checked her tights for any holes or ladders. She had planned her outfit a week before the party, changing her mind countless times before she finally decided on what she wanted to wear. All morning, her heart had been racing, stomach twisting into knots as nerves got the better of her. Why was she so nervous? She had met the Weasley’s many times, she even stayed the Burrow!
There was a knock at the door, meaning the boys were here to pick her up. Sighing, she checked herself one last time in the mirror before going to answer the door. As she opened it, she noticed it was only Fred standing there, no sign of George.
"Hi, where's George?" she asked as she let Fred inside the flat. She took a note of the smart-casual shirt he was wearing; thank god, she was dressed correctly.
"He's waiting downstairs. Said he can't be arsed to walk up all those stairs. Even though there is a lift..."
"Since when did he become so lazy?" (Y/N) giggled, grabbing her handbag and keys. Turning back around, she saw Fred staring at her.
"(Y/N), you look..." Fred was speechless, which was rare for him. He always had a witty remark, a joke or a flirty comment at the ready, but when he was around (Y/N), those words seemed to get stuck in his throat,"...beautiful."
(Y/N) smiled, ducking her head to hide her blush."Th-thanks Freddie. You look very handsome too."
There were so many more words that he wanted to use to compliment her. He wanted to slap himself for using such a basic word. (Y/N) was gorgeous, she was dazzling, he could believe such a smart, independant and caring woman was in his life. Why did he have to stutter or forget how to speak when he was around her? The real words he wanted to say were on the tip of his tongue, but they would never leave there.
Awkwardly laughing, they left the flat, meeting George outside. George noticed their pink cheeks but didn't mention it, knowing they had embarrassed themselves enough in front of each other.
The journey was full of banter and inside jokes, making it seem like they were students again at Hogwarts. (Y/N)'s nerves about seeing the Weasley’s again had disappeared, but new ones emerged. And they were all because of Fred. (Y/N) wasn't stupid, she had always had feelings for him. But after the battle, she hadn't snatched him up, something held her back, and she just couldn't bring herself to even talk to Fred about it, like any other normal adult would.
The Burrow was just ahead, now the nerves were taken over by excitement. Fred and George reminded (well, warned) (Y/N) how excited their mum was going to be, but she didn't mind. It would be great to receive such an inviting reception. She walked between the twins up to the house, letting them go in first, hesitating slightly as she took in how many people were there; they weren't joking when they said everyone would be there.
"Mum, look who else we brought." Fred struggled to say as he was smothered with kisses across his face.
Molly finally let him go, her smile turning into a shocked expression before letting out a scream, making everyone jump. She didn't waste time bringing (Y/N) into a bone crushing hug. (Y/N) would have laughed if she could breathe, but didn't complain.
"Oh, it's so good to see you dear! It's been too long since you've been back here." Molly held (Y/N)'s cheeks in her hands, looking at how the young girl she knew had turned into a beautiful woman.
“I couldn’t say no when Fred and George invited me.” (Y/N) said through squished lips.
“Alright mum, give her some air.” George gently chuckled.
“Oh, this is so nice.” Molly beamed, glancing between (Y/N) and Fred, who was already looking at her.
It took a good ten minutes for the twins and (Y/N) to greet everyone. She always forgot how many Weasley’s there were, some she had not seen for years. Homemade food was laid out on the table (far more than what was needed), everyone nibbling at anything they fancied as they spoke over drinks. There was a toast held for Arthur, who humbly thanked everyone, bashful over Molly’s speech; and she didn’t leave out mentioning how lovely it was that the family was extending, referring to (Y/N). She had blushed too much recently, avoiding eye contact with Fred as everyone stared at the pair who were stood together.
The day was moving on too quickly, it was becoming dark outside, and she didn’t want the night to end. The family had split into groups, still having much to talk about. (Y/N) decided to refill her drink, parting from the others to head to the kitchen. Just as she found another bottle to open, someone appeared beside her. Craning her neck upwards, she flinched back as Fred held out her coat to her, along with her hat, scarves and gloves.
“We’re not leaving are we?” (Y/N) frowned, not wanting to leave.
“Just popping out.” Fred smiled.
After getting wrapped up, (Y/N) followed Fred outside. Once again, it was lightly snowing, starting to stick to the ground which was already frosty, the sound of grass crunching underneath their shoes. She nonchalantly looped her arm through his, snuggling into him (if he asked, she would blame it on the cold), her heart fluttering when Fred instead wrapped his arm around her shoulders, meaning they could be closer. They didn’t stray too far from the house, Fred casting Lumos to light the way. There was a crumbling stone wall which Fred confidently hopped onto. (Y/N) waited for some part of it to collapse, and when it didn't, she joined him, having to jump higher to reach the top. He laughed, forgetting how much advantage his height have him almost everyday.
"We've never sat here before." (Y/N) commented.
"Honestly, I didn't even know it was here."
"So we were just wandering around?" (Y/N) smiled.
"Yeah." Fred confessed.
“How come you wanted to get out of the house?”
“Uh...I wanted to, well, I thought we could talk.”
“About?” she dragged out the word.
“When I saw you again, after all this time, I realised what an idiot I’ve been.”
“What do you mean?”
“Obviously we’re busy, we’ve both got jobs and it’s always harder to meet up. But I regret that so much. After...what happened at Hogwarts, you were my rock, I always felt normal around you, as if nothing had happened. We were able to carry on with our lives like we had planned. When I didn’t see you, I would lie awake all night with that image of you beside me in the hall. It would never go away.”
“Why have you never told me any of this?”
“I’ve been too scared to reveal anything. I didn’t want to bring anything up, because who would want to be with someone who is still stuck in the past?”
“I would. Fred, you’re not alone in this. I’ve always felt the same. I visited you all those times because my mind would make me think that I never saved you. And if I hadn’t....I don’t know how I would have gone on. Because if I didn’t have you in my life-”
“Don’t finish that sentence, please. We’ve been through so much that we shouldn’t have. But we’re here now, together again.”
Fred held her hand, slowly interlocking their fingers. They both looked down, butterflies erupting in their stomach. The pair glanced at each other, quickly looking away when they realised how close their faces were.
“Why are we acting like kids at school again?” (Y/N) laughed.
“You’re asking the guy who owns and runs a joke shop with his brother, I don’t think I’ve ever stopped being a kid.”
“We did, once.”
“(Y/N), we don’t have to think about that anymore. It’s in the past.”
“Freddie?”
“Yeah?”
“Remember the last time we were in a situation like this? When you actually had the courage to ask me to the Yule ball?”
“And we went as friends?”
She nodded.“Yep. You know, I was a little disappointed when you added that part.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, I was sort of hoping you would ask me out as well. Then when you said that, and I just gave up trying. You never noticed me flirting anyway.”
“I never asked you because I never knew. And you also had guys after you so I didn’t think I had a chance.”
“Are you joking? Fred, no one else was wanting to date me.”
“Now you’re the one who is joking.”
“Well...”
“Well?”
“Let’s not make this more awkward than it already is.”
“Oh it’s awkward now?”
“Fred!” (Y/N) exclaimed but couldn’t help laughing along with him.
“No, no, I’m enjoying this.”
“Fred Weasley, after all this time being idiots and wasting time not being together...”
“What? Did you change your mind-”
(Y/N) didn’t know how to say it, instead closing the already small gap them and kissing him. Fred was shocked by how forward she was, but wasted no time kissing back. Her hands cupped his cheeks as Fred’s hands wound themselves around her waist. This had been long overdue. As they pulled away, breathless from the passionate kiss, Fred started to chuckle.
“What is it?” (Y/N) asked.
“Mum is gonna scream when she finds out about this.”
#fred weasley#fred weasley imagine#fred weasley imagines#fred weasley one shot#fred weasley x reader#weasley twins#harry potter#harry potter imagine#harry potter imagines#harry potter one shot#harry potter x reader#hogwarts#george weasley#george weasley imagine#george weasley imagines#george weasley one shot#george weasley x reader
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recovered in time
(pt. i)
“From what I can tell, the implant seems to be interrupting the connection between your visual cortex and your emotional center,” Brainy says, eyes narrowed in concentration, two fingers pressed against the incision point at the base of Kara’s neck. “As well as inhibiting your frontal lobe and sending distress signals to the amygdala.”
“What does that mean?” Kara asks.
“It means that... you weren’t feeling like yourself,” Alex says, and Kara nods hesitantly at that.
“So, can you rid of it or not?” Alex asks, fixing Brainy with her most hardened stare.
“I’ve already determined five different ways to extract the device—”
“Great! So, we can—”
“—but none that wouldn’t immediately prove fatal or result in permanent brain damage.”
Eventually, Alex releases a long-suffering, shuddery sigh. “... You could have fucking led with that.”
“I did feel like myself though...” Kara interjects, suspending what was surely about to result in another very unproductive argument. “And I still feel like myself now. It’s just...” She ducks her head, fiddling with the sleeves of her shirt, already frayed from anxious attention. “... I felt so alone? Like, I’d been abandoned, or was suddenly in a world where I’d lost everyone all at once. Again.”
Kara shifts uncomfortably in her seat, now able to feel everyone’s eyes on her, burning holes into her skin. She has long since traded in her super-suit for comfy clothes, and her scarf has been upgraded to a pair of heat vision resistant blackout goggles, but it would take more than 24 measly hours for her to adjust to, well... everything.
“You’re not alone though,” Alex says, giving Kara’s knee a firm squeeze as if in reminder. “You know that, right?”
Kara rubs at her nose, sniffling herself back into some semblance of composure. “Yeah, I know.”
But of course, knowing something hardly ever outstrips the feeling of it, and Kara kinda just wishes that she still had Lena’s scarf on her.
//
“Hey Lena,” Kara calls out softly from the bed. She doesn’t lift her head from her pillow, but still offers a small wave in greeting.
“What gave me away?” Lena asks, and it’s almost playful, which makes everything that much easier.
“Well... Pretty much everything, actually.”
“Ah.”
Then the smell hits her, overwhelming her senses in an unexpected rush of heat and spice. Kara sits up right away, startled. “How did you...” is all she manages to get out, then pushed into her hands is a considerably sized takeout box of potstickers.
“I wanted to surprise you, so I might have created a hermetically sealed lunchbox just to sneak these in,” Lena says, and Kara’s already laughing softly. “The food’s still good though! I literally just slipped them inside right before walking into the building, so...”
“... Thank you,” Kara says. She inclines her head to the spot next to her, and feels the bed sink with Lena’s weight accordingly.
Kara starts eating, but does so with only one hand. The other just fidgets at her thigh, tugging at her sweatpants, lying in wait so impatiently. Then Lena takes the hand and holds it firmly in her own, and finally, it feels like Kara can breathe freely again.
“I never thanked you,” Kara says, “for, you know... everything.”
“You already did,” Lena reminds her, squeezing Kara’s hand.
“I... did?” Kara feels Lena nodding beside her. “Okay... so then, why does it feel like I still have so much left to owe you?”
Lena tries to hold her breath quietly, but Kara hears it; of course, she hears it. “I can’t answer that for you.”
A couple of hours later, when Alex pops into the room for her usual check-in, she stumbles upon an unexpected sight: Lena sitting up on the hospital bed, her legs tucked beneath the sheets as she answers emails on her phone, and Kara fast asleep, curled up around her.
Kara’s still holding Lena’s hand, her face buried in Lena’s shirt where it smells most like her, apparently, besides her hair.
Lena blushes a little, but can’t find it in her to regret her position.
//
“Alex says it’s because I didn’t see your face,” is the first thing Kara says the next time Lena visits. “I pretty much saw everyone else’s, but... never yours. So, I’ve imprinted on you, or something.”
Lena recovers quickly, “Well... what do you think?”
“I don’t know,” Kara admits, running her fingers down the back of her neck, feeling the tender skin still raised in jagged lines. “There’s still so much I feel like I can’t trust right now.”
“But you trust me...”
“Yeah.”
Lena carefully cradles Kara’s hand in both of hers, and it feels like a thank you of sorts. Then Kara draws their joined hands closer and closer, pressing her lips gently to Lena’s knuckles, and sighs in a way that could only ever be an expression of deep gratitude.
//
Kara’s days all seem to unfold the same way, with Alex and Brainy running tests, Lena stopping by once per day for company, and Kara just trying to break up the monotony of it all with podcasts, books on tape, and tossing a tiny bouncy ball around the room to test her reflexes.
For that last one, she has to stop the moment she hears Alex approaching her room, of course, because of all the broken glass and knocked over plants, and such.
Until one day, she overhears a couple of DEO agents discussing some urgent mission—not exactly a rare occurrence, given her super-hearing, but she perks up, ears honing in at the mention of Lex Luthor.
But when they also mention how Lena might be in danger, Kara is already out of bed and flying out the window.
Kara hasn’t flown since donning her blackout goggles, but she remembers enough to travel at a height that would be safe from any threat of collision. And before long, she’s hurtling straight for the source of all the distant commotion now pounding in her ears.
She practically crashes in landing, the earth cracking beneath her bare feet. She whips her head toward where Lena’s heartbeat is fluttering the loudest, then hears low chuckles coming from the same direction.
“You’re all so pathetic and predictable,” Lex crows. “At least try to make it somewhat of a challenge for me. God, it’s all just too easy.”
“Kara, get out of here!” Lena’s voice shouts out to her, muffled and desperate. “It’s a trap!”
But Kara takes a step toward them anyway, and immediately, the entire world seems to scream in protest.
Kara falls to her knees, hands clapping over her ears but to no avail. The excruciating sound is coming from her own head, akin to hot spikes scraping at the inside of her skull. She calls out to Lena, but can’t even make out her own voice over the pain.
She crumples over, helpless, her teeth gritted as she pushes her face into the dirt and shakes uncontrollably. She knows she has to get up; she’s a sitting duck like this. She can’t save Lena like this.
And so, Kara does the one thing that she can do.
She rips the goggles off her face, hurling them somewhere behind her, and jerks her head up.
She sees a blur of colors, then a single hand outstretched towards her, clutching onto something silver and vaguely rectangular.
She fires a burst of heat vision right at that hand, and feels the back of her head explode.
//
“Man... she couldn’t just put them down gently?” mutters a voice that’s not unfamiliar. “She just had to throw the goggles like a goddamn shot-putter or something? These things cost a fortune!”
“All right, that’s enough, Demos,” says Alex, a much more familiar voice. “I’ll worry about the budget, okay? You just get everyone else back to headquarters.”
“’M’sorry,” Kara says, or at least she tries to say. “My bad...” Her eyes still shut tight, she flashes a thumbs up, then lets her arm flop back down to the ground. Alex stops her when she attempts to sit up.
“Hey, not so fast, you jerk,” Alex says, somehow keeping Kara grounded with a single hand pressed against her shoulder. “We’re getting a stretcher for you.”
“I don’t think I need a stretcher.”
“Yeah, well... nobody asked you,” Alex sighs, before grumbling, “God, what’s taking them so long? Ugh, hang on... Hey, can you watch her? I’ll be right back.”
Lena’s there now, and Kara can actually feel herself grinning without even meaning to. “No, don’t... You shouldn’t have come, Kara.” But there’s a smile in Lena’s voice, and Kara’s grin grows wider for it. “I’m serious!”
“Okay, me too.” Kara then winces as a sharp pain gradually surfaces, trickling into reality. “The back of my head is killing me...”
“Yeah, you’re bleeding.”
Kara scoffs. “I don’t bleed; I’m Supergirl.”
“Okay, Supergirl... but somebody got blood all over my shirt, and it sure as hell isn’t me, so...”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Then check for yourself.”
Kara goes rigid, her humor dashed and her brow furrowing heavily.
“... You know I can’t do that.”
Soft fingertips brush down Kara’s face, tucking her hair behind her ear so tenderly. “Listen,” Lena says. “You destroyed Lex’s transmitter, along with most of his right hand, and I think you blew out the implant in your head in the process as well.”
There are thoughts then—the kind that Kara is unwilling to say aloud lest they develop reasons to be true. Thoughts like, what if the explosion damaged parts of her brain permanently? What if it severed that neural link between her eyes and everything else for good? And, how can she risk losing the one person who she believes to be absolutely, 100% real?
Lena draws Kara’s attention with a gentle hand squeeze. “Hey, where’d you go?” she asks softly.
“I’m still here,” Kara says. “Still just right here.”
But Lena seems to understand Kara’s concerns, unvoiced or not, because she leans a bit closer and asks, “Do you trust me...?”
And, yes; yes, she does.
With a deep breath filling out her lungs, Kara slowly opens her eyes. Everything’s a blur at first, just like before. But then little by little, bit by bit, the night sky comes into focus. She stares up at the darkness, counts as many stars as she can to put off the inevitable.
Then her hand is being tugged and squeezed in the gentlest reminder, so she turns her head, blinking her eyes in preparation before looking up to see Lena Luthor smiling down at her.
“Hey,” Kara says.
“Hey yourself,” Lena returns.
Kara nods thoughtfully, then gestures to Lena’s shirt. “Sorry, but I can’t afford dry cleaning,” she says, squinting at the various splashes of red—light but unfortunately prominent against the very white material—and Lena just laughs and laughs.
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hello :3 might I request some hcs shokudaikiri and hasebe (separately) fighting alongside their saniwa? you can make it fluffy or angsty as you want :3 thank you very much!
Fighting along side Shokudaikiri & Hasebe
THIS IS THE MOMENT IVE BEEN WAITING FOR THANK YOU,,,, MY TWO FAVE SWORDS!!!
sorry for delays! i was away for a few because of my birthday ahuueueuuee im tired-
TW: partial gore, graphic implications
Shokudaikiri Mitsutada
He didn’t want you out in the field in the first place, however he was left with no choice but to obey you as their master.
Sometimes he felt like your stubbornness will get the best of you someday, and he has to keep an eye out for you.
His worries will soon fade when he sees your strength. He’ll be stunned at first with how flawless you worked with your footwork as you swing a blade and form spells.
And if at least a slash of a blade comes across your forearm, Shokudaikiri heard you groan, him trying to get closer to you in the midst of the enemies attacking him at the same time, he’ll look a lot more frantic.
He’ll be extra sure to tend to your wounds once you return to the citadel. He loves u so much, for real.
In other circumstances, Shokudaikiri sees you get stabbed right through the abdomen, all he could do was helplessly scream your name, unable to save you on time.
Just like some Katsugeki!Tonbokiri shit,,, when the team and you are brought back to the citadel, Shokudaikiri’s main objective is to keep you alive. Blood trailing on the floor as your arm sticking out from the four wheeled-stretcher.
Once you were sent in, letting the Konnosuke’s handle you. Shokudaikiri tries his best to stay on his ground. Comforting the rest of his fellow swords, tending to their wounds and see how their doing, but how was he doing?
Locked away from everyone for them not to see, Shokudaikiri couldn’t help but cry silently. He couldn’t save you, he was too weak.
As soon as Shokudaikiri hears the news from Konnosuke, he dashes to the repair room to see you. You survived.
He’d stay by your side while you slept peacefully, not knowing when you’ll be able to wake up. Other swords have told Shokudaikiri to lay off for a bit and catch a break, he disagreed at first but knowing you’d be upset if he doesn’t take care of himself, he then agreed to comply.
Finally, probably after months, Konnosuke announces that you’ve finally come to your senses. All the worried swords rushed to see you. You were delighted of course! but there was a missing face.
Shokudaikiri had been staying in his room, unable to face you feeling all the shame for what he did; when he couldn’t protect you.
Probably by the time you gain the ability to walk again, you give a brief knock at his door, entering to see puffy eyes on him with a shock on his face.
He started thinking of his self worth, did he even deserve you? You eliminate all those thoughts that made him question his self-worth as you ask him for a nice warm cuddle session, hoping it would make him feel better, softly saying an “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”
Heshikiri Hasebe
Of course, the same intentions; to make sure not even a scratch lands on you.
Sees an enemy attacking you? block that. Sees a blood splash on you? wipe that. He will never forgive himself if he finds you at the slightest state of helplessness.
If you get a graze, man’s gonna be 10x more alert now.
He wishes to just carry you back to the citadel without any worry of having to watch your back. However you insisted on going on with him.
Of course, if you get the Katsugeki!Tonbokiri treatment.. Expect him to keep screaming about bringing you back to the citadel, holding you in his arms, shielding you from anything that could potentially harm the both of you.
And if you do reach the citadel, he will literally drop everything and sprint you to the repair room by himself, the others trailing behind.
He wanted to help you, however he was dragged out of the room, leaving him no choice but to sit still until he hears another word about you.
As soon as he steps out, he won’t hesitate to punch himself for what he had just done. (If you get that TouRan stageplay reference)
“Do I even deserve this position, to work with our Saniwa?”
Like Shokudaikiri, he’ll start to question his worth.
He’d sulk for days, and oh boy it’ll take an absolute WHILE unless he sees you walking around again.
He’ll quickly apologize, as you wave it off that it was just your job.
At the same time you also apologize for worrying him.
Since then, he always wants to see you in his sight, from the corner of his eye. As long as you are within his reach, he’ll be fine.
#touken ranbu headcanons#touken ranbu#touken danshi#shokudaikiri mitsutada#shokudaikiri mitsutada x reader#heshikiri hasebe#heshikiri hasebe x reader
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Always (Nanami x Female Reader)
Rating: General
Content Warning: mentions of blood/injury.
Word Count: 2,827
A/N: I’m open for Nanami x Reader writing requests.
He was late.
It wasn’t uncommon for Nanami to work overtime but he’d never been this late. The hours ticked by sluggishly, until you were pacing your living room with your heart in your throat and your phone in your hand.
You knew something was wrong. You knew it when you didn’t receive his customary text to let you know he was heading out or working overtime today.
And now you felt it. He was not answering his phone.
The worry got the best of you.
Scrolling through your contacts, you sought out a different number.
“Hello?” Gojo answered on the third ring, nearly making your knees give.
“Gojo,” you breathed, voice wavering. “Thank god you picked up!”
“Y/N? Are you okay?” He immediately sounded concerned, no doubt hearing the anxiety in your voice. “Where are you?”
“I’m fine, I’m at home,” you quickly reassured. “But I don’t think Ken is. He’s late Gojo, he’s so late. And he’s not answering his phone and I haven’t heard from him all day.”
Gojo swore softly. “Give me five minutes, I’ll find out where he was sent and get back to you.”
You went back to pacing, now with a slightly more hopeful note in your chest. With Gojo on Kento’s case, surely you’d at least be able to relax knowing where he was.
However, another anxious thought found you before then. What if ... what if Kento was so hurt he couldn’t attend to his phone? What if he was dying?
Your breath hitched with oncoming tears. That couldn’t be happening. So lost in your grief you nearly jumped when your phone rang again.
“Yes?” You answered wobbly.
“Y/N, I know where he is. But I ... I’m not anywhere close, I can’t go check on him. I asked Ichiji to stop by and he’s on his way—“
“Where is he?” You demanded, now scared.
“Titan High, but it’s too dangerous, don’t you dare try to go there Y/N!”
It was too late, you’d already made up your mind. “Sorry, Gojo but I have to find my husband. Thank you for your help.”
“Y/N—!”
You ended the call, dashing to grab a coat and your keys. If Kento was hurt, if he was grievously injured, like hell you were going to sit around and wait for him to die or be rescued. You didn’t care what happened to you then, as long as you could be with him.
Outside, it was raining relentlessly, the skies the darkest grey. It rendered your vision awash with fuzzy colours but you couldn’t slow down, stomping the pedal and whizzing through the streets with your map giving instructions in the background.
Titan High was on the other side of the city, and you cursed everything alive and dead in the half-hour it took you to get there. It would seem you beat even Ichiji to the deserted location.
You stumbled out of your car, and rushed through the metal gate that was left ajar.
Immediately, you felt the lingering swirls of doom in the air as you drew closer to the doors. You noticed fallen chunks of concrete in the open field, and the deformed soccer goal post.
They were all signs of battle that made adrenaline course heavily through your veins. But if there was one thing you feared more than the invisible monsters Kento fought, it was losing him to said monsters.
You made it through the doors, ringing Kento again and again until you thought you heard the distant ring of his phone. It made you race for the staircase, breath puffing out rapidly and sweat beading on your forehead.
It was several degrees colder on the second floor. One wall was entirely blown out, several windows were completely shattered.
Traipsing through the crumbled wall into the classroom, the first thing you noticed was the dust still hanging in the air. The second thing you noticed was the absence of Kento. And finally, you fished out his cracked phone from under a toppled desk.
By now you were so frustrated and scared you could cry. You clutched his phone in a death grip, trying to breathe through the lump in your throat. He had to be nearby.
This time, you threw your reservations out of the window, opened your mouth and screamed his name over and over hoping he would answer.
Your feet carried you to the third and final floor where more signs of battle left the corridor with dents in the metal doors and shattered floor tiles. You struggled through the wreckage, the dust making you cough until finally you arrived at a broken down supply closet.
The yellow light bulb flickered eerily, casting out just enough light to see a heap on the ground.
“Kento!” You cried, falling to your knees by his bleeding figure.
He was propped up against the metal closet, a wad of tissue paper curled to his bleeding side.
He stirred at your voice, blinking slowly. “Hmm, Y/N?” His blood stained fingers pumped your cheek lightly, and he frowned. “Huh.”
Awareness seemed to slam into him moments later as he made the connection that you were real, and actually crouched there with him in the closet. “Wait—“ he struggled to righten himself, breathing strained and you lurched forward to help him. “What are you doing here? How did you get here? Have you lost your mind!”
He wheezed slightly, his hand clutched his side again as small rivulets of blood trickled out through the tissues.
You looked around wildly for anything to use to stifle his bleeding and got up to rummage through the closet and shelves until you found small packaged towels and rags.
“Please don’t talk,” you pled, distantly aware of the tears streaming down your face as you ripped open package after package and replaced the tissue with the towels.
He hissed as you pressed down on his wound, making your heart twist in your chest. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” you sobbed. “We have to stop the bleeding, please just— please hang in there. Ichiji should be here any minute.”
Kento clumsily used the back of his shaking knuckles to wipe your tears. “Hey,” he attempted, still sounding pained. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean ... to yell at you ... you’re okay ... please don’t cry.”
Ichiji found you several minutes later, still crouched over Kento who was thankfully bleeding less now with you there to apply pressure on his wound.
He paled considerably at the sight of the both of you covered in blood, your eyes puffy from tears and Kento’s squeezed shut.
It took the strength of both you and Ichiji to help manoeuvre Kento down three flights of stairs and finally to the backseat of Ichiji’s car.
“To the hospital Ichiji, quickly,” you said, crowding against Kento’s side to press on his wound again.
Half-way through your trip, Gojo called, sounding a little wild over the speakers. “Ichiji, tell me those idiots didn’t get themselves killed!”
“G-Gojo-san,” Ichiji swallowed thickly. “We’re on our way to the hospital—“
“—the hospital?!”
“—because Nanami-san is injured—“
“HOW INJURED?”
Ichiji was sweating bullets now, nervously flexing his fingers over the steering wheel. He’d never heard Gojo-san shouting before and it made him incredibly nervous. “We ... we don’t know yet.”
“Your location, now, Ichiji,” Gojo’s voice came out calmer with a hint of steel underlying it.
“Y-yes, sir!”
“Did you run into Y/N? I swear if something happens to her, Nanami will have me castrated.” Gojo muttered darkly. “Make sure she’s safe, Ichiji, you got that?”
“She’s um, she’s here with me and she can hear you,” Ichiji offered meekly but Gojo had already ended the call.
Silence flooded the car again, but for Kento's harsh, wheezing breaths.
You used your free hand to stroke through the damp wisps of his hair, tugging comfortingly at the crown of his head. “Ken, you have to stay awake,” you told him regrettably, tugging gently at his hair again. “Stay with me.”
He made a soft groaning noise but his eyes cracked open.
“That’s it,” you encouraged, barely managing to hold back a second wave of tears. “Focus on my voice.”
You talked to him about the trip you were organising for next month, where you planned to go, and all the ridiculous endeavours you vowed to pull him into. By the time you reached the hospital, he was struggling to keep his eyes open for a second longer but by then a squad of nurses with a stretcher rushed to his side and you felt some relief wash over you.
You were checked in too, even when you insisted all the blood wasn’t yours, but the elderly nurse in charge gave you one stern look and hooked you to an IV.
Ichiji stayed by your side, shuffling nervously and gulping at every sudden noise, no doubt fearing the appearance of Gojo.
When Gojo appeared an hour later, Ichiji did indeed jump a foot in the air. “G-G-Gojo-san! You made it!”
At least he wasn’t shouting, but something about his expression looked distinctly foreboding. “You,” he pointed a finger at you. “Are an utter idiot!”
You gave him a sheepish look but made no apologies whatsoever.
“What if Nanami hadn’t exorcised the curse, huh? You could’ve died.” He huffed, leaning his long limbs against the wall. “And then I would’ve had to spend the rest of my life avoiding him. Sheesh.”
You shrugged stiff shoulders. “You couldn’t have stopped me.”
“That’s because you’re as stubborn as him!” Gojo said. “And as dumb as him,” he pointed viciously at Ichiji who shuddered.
“I gave you one job,” he told Ichiji. “One. How the hell did she beat you to it?”
Ichiji was looking throughly chastised, sweating profusely with his gaze locked on the floor.
You used your foot to lightly kick Gojo’s ankle. “Stop bullying him,” you said. “It’s not his fault.”
Gojo huffed again, but heeded your wish.
A couple of hours later, you were allowed to see Kento when he finally awoke from his surgery. Gojo and Ichiji lingered awkwardly at the door while you dashed to his side to take his hand and pepper his face with grateful kisses.
Kento wrinkled his nose slightly at you but he was smiling. “Kisses won’t make me less mad at you for putting yourself in danger, Y/N,” he scolded, albeit gently.
“Shut up and accept my love,” you said unfalteringly, earning a laugh from Gojo who finally wandered into the room after you.
“Don’t they just warm the cold cockles of your heart?” He sighed fondly to Ichiji.
“You’re not off the hook either,” Kento threw him a mild glare. “I know you told her where to find me.”
Gojo cleared his throat and ignored him. “I think the moral of today is that we’re all alive. And that’s what we should be talking about. Of course that and the fact that Y/N called you her husband.”
You jolted, flushing as you realised that you did indeed call him that in the heat of the moment earlier.
It was easy to forget sometimes when you and Kento already shared everything. You’d been living together for years, you’d even discussed kids.
You cleared your throat awkwardly. “I think the true moral of today,” you said, “is that Jujutsu sorcerers should never be sent out on solo missions. And you really should invest in some location trackers and an earpiece.”
“Mhmmmm,” Gojo hummed slyly and clapped his hands. “Well now that the lovebirds are reunited, Ichiji and I will see ourselves out, right Ichiji?”
“Yes, sir,” Ichiji yelped, slinking out of the room immediately.
Gojo’s smile was satisfied but it quickly morphed into a serious expression as he gazed at the both of you through his blindfold. “I’m glad you’re okay, Nanami. And Y/N, if you weren’t, I might have had to bring you back to life just to kill you for being an idiot.”
“Yeah, yeah, we love you too Gojo,” you smirked teasingly at him and waved him out.
The exhaustion of tonight’s events were beginning to catch up with you. It was nearing three in the morning and all you wanted was to curl into Kento’s warmth and catch a few hours of rest.
He cleared his throat softly and scooted over. “Come on sleepy head,” he patted the space next to him. “Get in.”
You smiled gratefully as you slid into the cosy space beside him and carefully rested your head on his chest.
The lights overhead dimmed a few minutes later to a hushed warm colour that engulfed the room with shadows.
Kento stroked your hair lightly, his breathing soft but not yet asleep. “I’m sorry I worried you,” he murmured quietly, just as you were beginning to wonder if he was finally falling asleep.
“Ken,” you chided gently. “Go to sleep. There’s nothing to apologise for.”
He hummed contemplatively. “I knew what I was signing up for with this job,” he sighed. “But it never gets easier. Especially that I have you now.”
It wasn’t like Kento didn’t know your true feelings about his occupation. You supported him in everything he did, but that didn’t mean you had to like it. Constantly risking his life would never be something you agreed with.
“I know,” you sighed too, tracing feathery circles over his chest. “It’s not easy for me either. So you can’t blame me for what I did today, okay? Losing you is not an option, I don’t care what your job description entails.”
He squeezed your shoulder lightly, as if to acknowledge your words. “I promise I’ll always come home to you ... even if it means you might occasionally have to haul my ass there yourself.”
You cracked a smile and felt it mirrored against your temple as he pressed a gentle kiss to your brow. “That’s fine by me,” you declared and snuggled closer to him.
Silence descended again but for your rhythmic breathing and the warm thudding of his heart under your ear.
It was a much-needed peace after the storm. He was alive and breathing and in your arms, and you couldn’t have wished for anything more.
“Y/N,” he said a while later, stirring you from the first stages of falling asleep. His thumb was fluttering lightly over your cheekbone, and you suspected the innocent strokes were what was lulling you to sleep.
“Hmm?”
“Did you really call me your husband?”
A wave of butterflies, nerves and surprise cleanly banished any lingering sleep from your system. You attempted a calm, matter-of-fact tone. “Yes.”
You felt the ghost of his smile again. “Was it by accident?”
“Maybe,” you admitted, your cheeks warming. “Does it matter?”
“Maybe,” he echoed and you heard the light humour in his tone. “What if it matters to me to know whether you think of me that way?”
You swallowed. “Well ... we’ve been together for years now. I don’t see myself with anyone else and if it won’t be you, then it won’t be anyone. For me at least.”
The thumb on your cheek brushed lower to hook just under your jawline and tilt your head up. You looked up at him and were startled by the adoring look on his face. “It’ll always be you for me,” he said and pressed your lips together.
You melted under the loving ministrations of his mouth, your heart racing and racing. Everything always seemed too good to be true with Kento, even the overflowing affection in your chest.
Cradling his cheek in your palm, you pressed closer to him, lips lingering together for a long, wonderfully charged moment.
When he pulled back he was smiling faintly, but his eyes were serious. “Do you understand why it matters to me to know?”
You bit your lips shyly. “Well ... a girl can hope ... that it means you like it?”
He chuckled. “Close. Very close.”
“Okay, then tell me,” you pressed your thumb to his lips and tried to resist your smile as you felt his own grow under your touch.
“It means ...” he began slowly, letting the tension mount. “That I do like it of course ... but that I only like it because I feel the same way Y/N. I’ve been planning to ask you. I won’t now, not like this. But I will, soon. And when I do, I’ll hope your answer is yes... I’ll always hope your answer will be yes to me.”
Blinking away a tear, you buried your face in his throat and let out a shuddering breath. “Yes,” you said unequivocally, and cuddled closer to him.
He pressed his face into your hair and smiled. “Sleep?”
“Yes,” you said again, smiling wobbly.
“Do you love me?” He teased.
“Yes.” You replied fervently. “Yes, yes, yes.”
His palm pressed over the back of your head and held you closer, sighing contentedly. “I love you, too sweetheart. Always.”
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okay bear with me on this one because i’m going to hop in the limb-stretcher 5000 and make one hell of a reach
so i have a tendency to do uquizzes with responses that i feel like my favorite characters would make as like a warmup stretch to writing and one came across my dash, so i did it as moonjo. i was going to reblog the original post but i figured op didn’t want a bunch of sfh monologuing in their notes lmfao. the quiz is called ‘what ghost are you?’ and i will include the link in a reblog since tumblr doesn’t keep posts with embedded links in the tags
anywho,
i got “the host”
“you’re not a ghost. it’s kind of you to share your body with one.”
at first i was like ‘wait what’, but then i started overthinking and i have somehow managed to twist it around in my head into something that probably still doesn’t make sense but i’m too in my feelings about it not to share:
jongwoo was moonjo’s greatest masterpiece. moonjo went out of his way to do things for jongwoo so that he could bring his artwork to fruition. in essence, he turned himself into something of a catalyst for bringing out what he saw in jongwoo. it might be a bit of a stretch to say that he was a ‘host’ for jongwoo, but let’s break down ‘jagiya’ real quick
i read online during one of my obsessive google searches that ‘jagi’ in its most literal form means ‘oneself’. add the -ya to that to give it extra meaning and throw it into a setting where someone like moonjo uses it when referring to someone like jongwoo, and it’s suddenly got even more weight
when the hallucinated scene of moonjo fighting deukjong happens, moonjo says (at least in the netflix translation) “you can’t kill me, because there are too many of me”. i don’t know if jongwoo said the same thing when he was actually killing him or even if that whole thing was also in his head (damn the unreliable narrator trope lmao), but the point i’m getting at here is that the general understanding is that moonjo all but implants himself into jongwoo’s very state of existence
and chances are in the process jongwoo had a very similar effect on moonjo. jongwoo was visibly afraid of moonjo as the series progressed, but he didn’t choose to obey moonjo out of that fear. he pulled when most people would push, and while the baseline of his reactions (choosing to leave eden, asking to stay with a coworker to avoid going back) are pretty normal, they’re also not, because they’re coupled with him battling the impulse to fight and/or kill people. jongwoo isn’t so much a soulmate to moonjo as he is the filler to that emptiness moonjo has been searching for.
i feel like he would gladly identify himself as a host for someone like jongwoo. and whiile this skews way off from ghosts or possessions or the actual meaning of this quiz, i couldn’t help but ramble about it
you guys totally wanted me to not make sense in the sfh tag right?
#strangers from hell#hell is other people#타인은 지옥이다 (Hell Is Other People)#lmfao why am i doing this#seo moonjo
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Playing Nurse (4/4)
Summary: Fred Weasley keeps showing up in Hogwarts’ infirmary, where you apprentice when you’re not in class, but he quickly becomes more than just a patient to you.
Warnings/notes: Blood, dental injury, bruising, broken bones. Language, kissing, some nudity, coming out. Not super graphic but it takes place in the school infirmary so people’s injuries and illnesses are described. Trans masc!Fred x fem!reader. Last chapter! Thanks for loving this one as much as I do you guys :)
Tags: @lucymfer @accioweaslcy @manuosorioh
4. We Must Stop Meeting Like This
A week goes by before you see Fred again. You’ve pretty much given up on him liking you after your somewhat unexpected last encounter. But, like clockwork, he’s in the infirmary again over the weekend.
When you arrive for your shift, the infirmary is already bustling. Pomfrey is doing intake on a group of students while a stern but somewhat worried looking McGonagall stands by. You take in the scene: Ron Weasley is there with a busted lip, Malfoy’s a few feet away, holding his head and looking dazed, Crabbe and Goyle by his side in disheveled states. You’re unsurprised to see an incredibly peeved Katie Bell, her stockings ripped, glaring at the Slytherins. She’s limping heavily.
“What happened here? How can I help?”
“There was… a fight,” McGonagall says tiredly.
“Go ahead and examine Ron, should be a quick episkey, and then move on to Mr. Crabbe, I think it’ll be much the same but I haven’t had a proper look yet,” instructs Madam Pomfrey.
You take Ron to an exam table and give him a quick once over while asking him what happened. He explains that Fred and George weren’t having it and things escalated quickly.
“Turned into an all out brawl before anyone could get a word in edgewise. Percy was watching and ran to snitch, well, thank god he did, because they’re in really bad shape,” he says.
“Who? The Slytherins?” you say, using an episkey charm on his lip and a few stray scratches across his arms, probably from being thrown to the ground in the scuffle.
“Fred, especially, and Malfoy, and…” Ron continues, but you’re no longer listening. You look around and notice that the twins are unaccounted for. You’re finishing up on Ron when George and Filch come in carrying a stretcher with Fred on it. He seems barely conscious. You walk alongside them, asking all the questions you know to ask. This one is yours- Pomfrey is busy with Malfoy, who you suspect has a concussion, and will probably need to look after Katie’s ankle next.
George tells you that Malfoy hit Fred with a stunning spell, but after he fell, they kept kicking at him. You elect not to revive Fred fully yet, first casting a pain relief spell. You examine his clothed torso, feeling along his ribs, and notice that one of the bones feels out of place. You frown and continue lightly feeling along the area, and notice that he seems to be wearing a tight, thick undershirt.
“He’s got a broken rib. We’ll have to remove any garments that might constrict the area to set the bone properly. Could I ask you two to step out for a moment?” you ask, gesturing to the curtain out of the cubicle. Filch departs, but before George leaves he pauses.
“Don’t tell anyone, ok? It would break his heart,” he says seriously before stepping out.
You have little time to wonder what he means. You cut open Fred’s tee shirt and, as you suspected upon palpating his torso, find an undergarment laid tight across his chest. Like a sports bra, maybe, but why- in a flash, you understand the secret Fred was talking about the other day, and what George was saying to keep to yourself just now. It’s a binder. Of course.
You waste no time reflecting and slice his binder cleanly down the middle to remove pressure from the area. You set about doing a complex set of spells- first checking for internal bleeding, then setting the broken bone back in place, then casting a bandaging spell so he’s not tempted to move about before it’s fully set.
“Rennervate!” you say, flicking your wand in Fred’s direction. He comes to, looking around in confusion, his eyes finally landing on you.
“How do you feel?” you ask him.
“Utter shit,” he says. “What happened, exactly?”
“Stunning spell from Malfoy or one of his goons, George said. You wound up with a broken rib from getting kicked while you were out, but the scan didn’t show anything else too terrible. Just a few bruises.”
“Those cheating bastards. I’d love to spit in their faces right now,” he says, moaning as he tries to sit up.
“Just lay down,” you say, resting your hand gently on his shoulder. “It should be pretty much healed by tomorrow morning, but it’s going to be painful until then. If you want, I can ask Pomfrey to give you something to help you sleep while I’m out fetching you a new shirt,” you offer. You pulled the blanket up to cover his chest when you finished working on his ribs, but he’s still shirtless underneath. You watch as he realizes you must have seen his chest while you were patching him up. He grimaces uncomfortably.
“Are you okay?” you ask.
“I’d like that shirt, please,” he says, pursing his lips. You dash off to one of the cabinets to fetch an extra set of clothes and an extra blanket, since you know he’ll be staying the night.
“Here,” you say, “I’ll be back in a few minutes.” You excuse yourself to let him change, and touch bases with Madam Pomfrey. McGonagall has taken Ron, Crabbe, and Goyle, who are all fully healed, back to her office. Katie Bell is sitting on an exam table, still looking quite angry with her swollen leg propped up high. George is lurking worriedly near the door. You make your way over to him.
“Hey,” you say quietly. “Fred is going to be perfectly fine by tomorrow. Madam Pomfrey will have a look at him to make sure there’s nothing I missed, since it was a serious injury, but his rib is all patched up.” He sighs in relief.
“And don’t worry, I won’t say anything,” you add discreetly, smiling knowingly at him. He relaxes fully and nods in return. “Good luck with McGonagall. She did not look happy.”
“Thanks, Y/N. Take good care of him,” he says, nodding towards his brother’s bed before leaving to accept his punishment.
You return to Fred’s bedside to find him looking quite sheepish.
“Feeling okay?” you ask softly.
“Sure. Bit embarrassed. I wasn’t hoping you’d find out like this, you know.”
“Your big secret is that you’re trans? Freddie, who in the world would care about that?”
“I dunno, some people.”
“Uh, yeah, bigots,” you say, laughing. “I certainly don’t care. I’m just glad you’re ok.”
“Thanks to you. Wanna sit?” he asks sweetly. You can’t say no, so you agree to wait with him at least until Pomfrey comes in to look him over.
“So, did you ever talk to that girl?” you ask, trying to make small talk after all the excitement. He looks at you like you’re a nutcase.
“Y/N, are you thick?” he laughs hard, causing him to wince and hold his torso. He gasps in pain, but grins through it. “Honestly, who did you think I was interested in?” he asks, biting back laughter. You look at him, your cheeks hot. What is he getting at?
“How should I know? I hardly see you, outside of keeping you alive in here,” you say defensively.
“Wow, I thought for sure you knew. I was so embarrassed when you didn’t say anything, I’ve been avoiding you for weeks!”
“What? Why?” you ask, but it quickly dawns on you what you may’ve been missing. “Wait… what?!” you say, your hand flying to your mouth.
“Yep, you got it.”
“You like me?”
“Yes, you idiot!”
“Come here,” you say. You lean down and plant a chaste kiss on his cheek, but he pulls you in gently for a real kiss, a long one. You feel so much tension you didn’t even know you were holding in leave your body, and stand back up, laughing big, just as Madam Pomfrey parts the curtain.
“Well, everyone seems in good spirits in here,” she says. You both nod awkwardly.
“Y/N has been taking such good care of me I hardly knew I was hurt,” Fred says cheerfully. Pomfrey gives him a quick once over, agrees with your diagnoses and treatment, and leaves you two alone once again.
“You know, we have got to stop meeting like this,” Fred says, looking up at you. “Not that you don’t look lovely in your apron.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“How about a date?”
“I certainly wouldn’t object to a nice evening with a ruggedly handsome young man,” you say, giggling gleefully. He flashes a big smile, showing off his chipped tooth.
“Well, it’s a deal. You get me up and going again and I treat you to dinner,” he says.
“Deal! I've got to go, though,” you say, planting a sneaky kiss on him before you leave, “I am at work, after all.” You practically float out the door, proud of your work in more ways than one. Fred Weasley. Yours at last.
#cw blood#cw broken bones#cw kissing#cw inury#cw broken bone#cw coming out#cw being outed#fred weasley#fred weasley x reader#fred weasley x y/n#fred weasley x you#fred and george#draco malfoy#george weasley#poppy pomfrey#madam pomfrey#professor mcgonagall#argus filch#weasley twins#ron weasley#hogwarts romance#hogwarts fanfic#fred weasley imagine#fred weasley fluff#fred weasley angst#trans!fredweasley#trans fanfiction#fred and george weasley#episkey#crabbe and goyle
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Reply to @detective-with-one-arm ‘s open starter here
She knew it was unwise to be out this late. She knew it was a bad idea. But being at home while she turned was just as bad an idea. She’d go stir-crazy and cause a racket for the neighbours.
Besides, this was a better place to turn. Out here in the park where there were plenty of places to hide and a comfortable spot under a bridge to sleep and treat as a temporary den. And it would be a good place to avoid being caught.
Rachel kept a close eye on the moon cycles. She couldn’t afford to make a mistake. Not with her lycanthropy. She knew how she got. She wasn’t a monster. She knew that. It was just too easy to get scared and confused and that only made other poor onlookers scared and confused as well.
Out here in an empty park was the ideal place for her to galivant around without worrying about accidentally hurting or startling anyone. Or worse, getting caught and potentially killed.
She could already feel her skin itching and her teeth hurting. Her face felt like it was being pulled apart by an industrial stretcher. But she had to make it to the bridge. There, she could transform safely without anyone seeing her.
Rachel hid in the shadows of the park boundaries, weaving between trees and avoiding the few people that were out late wherever they were. It was starting to get hard to walk as her feet were starting to change into paws and the smells all around her were starting to grow more and more intense.
Finally, she spotted it. And just in time for her night vision to become more apparent. She quickly rushed towards it, dropping onto her hands to gallop towards the underside of the bridge and hide out in there to ride out her awakening.
She wasted no time making her way there, quickly dashing her way under the bridge before her clothes could start tearing. They were extremely cheap clothes she bought for the purpose of her cycles that tore very easily.
It had taken so long, but he’d finally been able to escape.
Freedom.
This was worth it... right?
Being hungry wasn’t new, same with sleeping on the hard ground. He’d spent the last week trying to put as much space as possible between himself and that monster’s home, and so far he’d been lucky, but how long could he last if he couldn’t figure out how human’s worked?
He’d been told to move from the bench he’d been sitting on earlier; something about going to a shelter instead of taking up public space. So he’d moved on, spending his day trying to find something to eat before returning to the park and curling up under the bridge.
He was free, but he was still looked down on, and he didn’t know anything about how to live like this. Six always knew he’d been kept in the dark, kept ignorant, but it was terrifying how much he didn’t know about everything.
Curling in on himself, hiding, when someone... something? Suddenly appeared at the edge of the bridge. He didn’t want to move again tonight, it was dark and he wasn’t open on all sides here. Fear gripped him when the other person grew, their outline changing from humanoid to something much more similar to a canine.
Body frozen, Six barely felt the tears filling his eyes. A week on the run, of being free, and now he’d managed to be found by what he could only guess was a werewolf.
Please. He didn’t want to die. Not like this. He still hadn’t found a new set of clothes, or slept in a real bed.
“... Plea-se” Please don’t hurt me, kill me. But his mouth was too dry for the words to form, throat burning from the terror. He couldn’t even bring up his arms to protect his neck, too well trained to leave himself open for easy access.
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jeankasa | guidance
yeah i gave them a header what abt it⁉️
this ship is gonna be coming up a lot on this page because i have immense love for this pair
also, i would just like to make it clear that i do know eremika is canon. i don’t ship it personally. pls don’t attack me
warnings/notes: modern au!, blind!mikasa, cursing, mentions of bullying, mentions of insecurity, hints of depression, shit ending
if someone had ever told mikasa that she’d lose her sight at the age of 19, she would’ve brushed it off.
but now here she was at 19, service dog attached to her hip as she navigated through the streets. her clumber spaniel dog, who she named vanilla, turned her to the left, trying to lead mikasa to the her favorite coffee shop. when she felt a small wave of air and heard the sound of vanilla’s nails clinking on metal, she knew that she was at her desired location.
with caution, she walks inside the shop and turns her head to the side to figure out where she was from muscle memory. before she could contemplate, vanilla lead her through the webs of the tables and to the counter to order. she put out her left hand, trying to feel for the edge of the counter so she could hear the cashier.
she felt at ease when she felt the cold metal on her fingertips, inching her feet forward to let them bump into the counter as well.
“hello,” mikasa said to the cashier, praying that there was one actually there, “i’m blind, so i apologize if i seem to be difficult.”
“it’s alright!” the cheery cashier said back, “let me know if you need help with the menu.”
mikasa thanks her and orders herself a vanilla bean frappe, even though she thinks it’s basic; she quite enjoys it. vanilla leads mikasa to a table and she cautiously sits down in her seat in fear of that there might not actually be one there.
“oh, did you need something,” she heard a baritone voice ask her when she plopped her butt in the seat.
“oh! i didn’t know there was anyone sitting here. i’m blind and vanilla led me to this seat,” she explains, getting ready to get up to find another seat.
“y-you don’t have to leave..!” he suddenly shouts, startling mikasa, “i mean... you don’t have to leave, you can sit here. i’m jean kirstein.”
mikasa’s face heats up as she sits back down, “i’m mikasa ackerman.”
“i’m going to grab your hand to shake it, is that alright,” jean asks and he smiles at mikasa’s nod.
when jean touches mikasa, she feels a jolt of electricity run down her spine that makes her shiver.
his skin is rough against his own and her hand is small in comparison. her hand is encased in warmth while his is encased in cold.
jean’s face was a cherry red as he stares at mikasa. she’s honestly gorgeous, black lipstick on her plump lips with a small blush running across her cheeks. her hair ebony and was a tiny mullet, bangs spread across her forehead.
her hand accidentally came into contact with his sketch paper, and she quickly yanks her hand back towards her in fear.
“i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to touch that.”
“don’t worry, it’s just my sketch pad. i’m an art student at trost university,” he waved his hand, despite her lack of sight.
“my brother and our friend go to trost. our friend, armin, is a marine biologist students. he’s really sweet. my brother’s name is eren, he’s studying criminology,” mikasa gives a sad smile and jean knows it’s because she wants to go to trost too.
“oh i know them. i don’t... exactly get along with your brother a lot,” it manages to make mikasa crack a real smile.
“i’m not exactly surprised, he’s a very brash person,” he watches her hands lean down to pet vanilla.
before he’s able to get a word in, her name is being called for her to get her drink. her eyebrows furrow from frustration, she doesn’t know where to go.
“i’ll get it for you,” jean’s already getting out of his chair, walking over to the counter with her drink on it.
she thanks him when he guides her hand to hold it.
“so,” jean doesn’t know what to say, “shouldn’t you be getting back to... your house?”
“i should, but i don’t want to. i don’t get to go out alone much,” he nods at her.
“i’m sorry if this is rude, but were you always... blind,” jean asks slowly, gesturing his large hands in a circle.
“no, i haven’t. i started losing my vision around my 13th birthday. it was gradual and by the time i was 16 i could barely see anything, now i can’t see at all,” mikasa seems sad as she explains her situation, dejectedly sipping out of her straw.
“i’m so sorry, i couldn’t imagine going through that. you’re strong for enduring that,” jean puts his hand on top of her’s, flinching at mikasa’s flinching.
“i don’t feel strong,” she frowns, “i’m always being coddled and i can only talk about it with armin and vanilla, even if she’s a dog. you barely even know me and i’m dumping my baggage onto you.”
jean’s face flushes at the realization, “no, no, no! don’t worry, i-i asked! if anything, i should apologize for asking so much.”
mikasa shakes her head, earrings clinking as they dangle down.
“it’s alright, i haven’t gotten to talk to many people like this is a while. what’s your number,” she’s taking out a phone with a light purple phone case.
he doesn’t know how she uses it, but he’s not going to ask. he takes and when his thumb presses against the contact app, he jumps at the robotic female voice telling him ‘contacts’. guess he got his question answered.
he types in his number, trying to get used to the robot calling out each letter and number as he types.
he never thought he could learn so much in such little time.
————
jean never thought that him and mikasa would become friends. if he were being honest, he thought that mikasa wouldn’t text him after he gave her his number. he’s not that interesting in his opinion.
but luckily, she did. and now, a couple of months later, he’s guiding her hands to paint on a canvas in front of her. she’s anxious and hesitant as jean helps her swipe the paintbrush across the canvas.
“relax your body, i’ve got you. the picture will look weird if you’re too stiff,” he rubs his thumbs in circles over her wrists.
she takes a deep breath and jean can feel most of the tension leaving her body. he guides her hand to paint a large stripe in the color of a peach, hands warm against her cold skin.
“paint what feels right, let your body move on its own,” his hands slowly leave her wrists, and he watches as she runs the brush across the canvas with relaxation.
back and forth her brush runs, lips parted in slight relaxation and concentration. her face has splotches of lavender and bubblegum pink on it, and her hands are covered in a maya blue mixed with the purples and pinks.
jean can’t help but feel himself swoon at the sight, milky grey eyes darting around the canvas aimlessly and her reluctant free hand feeling for the edge of the canvas to let her know how far away she is. she’s in a loose white button up where the sleeve are cut at her elbows. her vancouver blue skirt ends at her scraped knees and her feet are bare, making her toes curl around the stretcher of the stool she’s sitting in.
“i think i’m finished,” she says as her fingers loosely hold the paintbrush in her hand.
jean looks at the painting and he feels a sense of pride in his gut at the sight. despite how much he guided her hands, she still managed to create a masterpiece all on her own.
the painting is messy, but jean loves it nonetheless. the painting is of a mix of pink peonies arranged in a vase with hydrangeas and himilayan blue poppies, peach ranunculus flowers with their petals spread in blossoming. there’s a dash and a mix of different colors in each flower that makes it feel completed and some of the colors dash out of the lines of the flowers and mixed into the honey brown background.
it’s messy and choppy, and if mikasa were an art student, she’d get a 68% on this painting. but in jean’s eyes, she’s scored a 100%.
“it’s beautiful,” he smiles, taking the paintbrush out of her hands and onto the cart of paint supplies next to the easel.
he grabs a thin brush and dips it into a black, signing it as ‘m.a.’ in the right hand corner.
“i doubt it,” she shrugs, “when will i be able to hang it up?”
“probably in a few days. i’ll text you when and i’ll come over and hang it up,” he helps her off of the stool.
“thanks,” she nods hand now reaching up to search for his own.
he puts his palm against her’s, taking note of how much smaller her dainty, yet tough, hands were against his own. their fingers intertwine perfectly and their temperatures contrast each other’s.
mikasa’s got a small blush as she stares at jean’s chest. jean lets go of her hand, moving it to her cheek along with his free hand and tilts her head up to look at his own.
jean leans down a bit and their lips connect in a sweet kiss. mikasa’s lips are soft and wet against jean’s. they shiver at the other’s contrasting temperature, but deepen the kiss anyways. jean pulls away and watches mikasa’s eyes flutter open and her face get even more red.
it has him kissing her again.
————
mikasa’s giving small chuckles and smiles as jean walks behind her and holds her hands up above her head in his own, guiding her bare feet through the runny sand. vanilla is running circles around the two of them, barking and partly happily.
jean’s making arrogant comments, which is why mikasa’s smiling, as he leads her over back to their group of friends sitting in a sandy fire pit. mikasa’s smile fades when jean sits her down on a bench in front of the fire, the sound of voices flooding her sensitive ears.
it’s mostly sasha and connie, cackling at one another obnoxiously. jean sits on mikasa’s left and eren is at her right.
“we can roast marshmallows now that the lovebirds are back,” connie snickers and it has everyone but eren, mikasa, and jean laughing.
eren’s pretending to gag as he bumps his shoulder into mikasa’s to look over at jean above her head. mikasa doesn’t need sight to know that there’s a sneer on jean’s blushing face when he also pushes his shoulder to her’s.
“stop it,” she says, “i need help with my marshmallow.”
“even blind, mikasa still scares you,” armin laughs to eren, taking a metal stick and a marshmallow from sasha’s outreached hands.
“it’s not like i’m the only one scared of her. jean’s quaking in his boots!”
jean ignores and stabs a marshmallow onto his own metal stick, guiding mikasa’s hand to grip around the wooden handle at the end. he positions her arms to hold the marshmallow over the crackling flames of the fire, and then starts to put his own marshmallow on a stick.
the conversation continues on without comments of both jean and mikasa, now focused on teasing eren. when mikasa’s marshmallow is finished, jean puts the handle of his metal stick between his knees. he’s taking ahold of graham crackers and hershey’s chocolate after he pulls mikasa’s stick away from the fire. he holds her stick at the handle and guides her with his voice to arrange herself a s’more.
“now close it carefully around the marshmallow,” he says and she obliges with caution.
he puts the metal rod on the bench beside his thigh, kissing her cheek as she bites on the s’more.
“it’s messy, be careful,” he’s holding his marshmallow back out over the flames.
she turns her head towards him, giving a small pucker of her messy lips. he kisses her lips, the sticky residue of the marshmallow sticking to his own. he laughs when he pulls away and licks his lips, enjoying the gooey treat.
he’s putting together his own s’more now, occasionally looking towards mikasa, who’s listening to sasha and eren’s conversation with rapt attention. she’s got chocolate, crumbs, and melted marshmallow spread across her mouth.
“babe, let me wipe your face off,” he’s grabbing a paper plate and sitting the s’more on it, then place the plate on the bench.
her eyes look downwards as jean wipes off her messy face with the sleeve of his shirt; something he doesn’t usually do.
“thank you,” she turns her head away, hand patting his thigh in search for his hand.
with his left hand, he holds his s’more. he gives his right to mikasa, who leads it to put his arm around her shoulders. he smiles and tugs her closer to him, kissing the crown of her head before he eats his s’more.
he groans when the flavors hit his tongue, going in to take another bite but stops at mikasa’s head turning to him.
“can i have a bite,” she asks innocently, like she didn’t just have one of her own.
“you just ate one,” he furrows an eyebrow.
instead of a reply, she opens her mouth in hopes for jean to put the s’more against her lips. he rolls his eyes while shaking his head, putting a corner of the s’more against her pretty pink lips. she bites down and he revels at the sight of her small smile.
“thank you.”
“whatever, you would’ve kept bugging me if i hadn’t,” jean snickers, pecking continuously at the crown of her head.
“true,” she smirks and nuzzles her head against his lips.
he shoves the rest of the s’more in his mouth, mikasa only knows because the everyone laughs at the sight. when he’s done chewing, he leans close to her ear to whisper to her.
“i’m gonna go to the car real quick and get a blanket. even with the fire it’s starting to get colder, and you’re wearing a sundress.”
mikasa gives a silent nod, and feels her mood dampen whenever he gets up and leaves.
“can i talk to you,” she lifts her head a bit while she processes the voice.
“yeah, what’s up marco,” he sits next to her.
“nothing’s up. i just wanted to thank you, i guess,” he gives a breathy laugh.
“what for? i didn’t do anything.”
marco put a hand on her shoulder while he smiles, ignoring the fact that she cannot see.
“mikasa,” he starts, “jean’s a lot happier because of you.”
“oh,” she blinks, “i didn’t do anything. if anything, it’s the opposite. he helped me accept and love myself even though i was blind. he guided me.”
marco laughs, “mikasa, while he may have guided you and your hands, you guided him into becoming a better person. he was so lonely and sad before you. he would have one night stands a lot of the time just so he wouldn’t have to sleep alone. his sketchbooks used to be so gloomy and bitter before you and now his sketchbook radiates life. there are so many sketches of you and the people around him, and he hadn’t done that since sophomore year of high school. he paints with light colors instead of the gloomy grey’s and blue’s he used to paint with. he’s so comfortable and content with you, and i’ve never seen him act that way with another person besides myself. he loves you, mikasa.”
mikasa feels herself crying at the speech. ever since mikasa was little, she always felt out of place, even with eren and armin. they were so vibrant and passionate to the point where mikasa could barely comprehend it. mikasa felt she had never made an impact of anyone, not even eren.
in high school, kids would whisper about her in the hall. she always acted unbothered but late at night she would cry silently under her blanket. mikasa never thought of herself as special, even if she was blind. mikasa often felt ashamed of herself for so many reasons; her lack of passion, lack of speech, lack of emotion, and her blindness. she often felt suffocated by the coddling and unsaid expectations eren’s dad left on her shoulders.
when she met jean, it was a breath of fresh air. someone treated her normally and would make her feel free. she felt like she fit in with jean, that he didn’t think she was weird for flaws. she asked him about it once, and he replied that when he said he loves her, he meant her flaws as well. jean made her feel special yet normal at the same time. he never let her lack of sight become a hinderance, instead guiding her with his hands and his voice.
to find out she impacted the person who changed her whole world made her emotional and happy beyond belief. she was also bewildered at the discovery because not once had she impacted someone to her knowledge.
“oh my god! i’m so sorry, i-i didn’t mean to make yoy cry!!!” marco’s freaking out and mikasa doesn’t need sight to know that all eyes are on her.
“mikasa?! what’s wrong?!” eren’s booming voice fills her ears.
“just happy,” she sobs and rubs away her tears.
“hey babe, i got a thin blanket so it might not warm you up too mu— what happened?!!” mikasa hear’s jean’s voice getting closer.
“i’m okay,” she sniffles, but jean ignores her and pulls her onto her feet. it has vanilla following behind.
jean leads her further from the group, stuttering out apologies as if he had done anything wrong. when he stops, he turns around and cups mikasa’s damp cheeks and kisses her nose.
“what’s wrong? what happened? are you okay,” he worries, voice cracking.
“i just,” her own sob cuts her off, “marco told me that i guided you into changing a-and i’ve just never had a-an impact on anyone.”
jean relaxes with a sigh, kissing her softly on the lips.
“he’s not wrong, you’ve impacted me in a way i can’t explain. i’m also sure that you’ve impacted so many people, you just don’t know it. you are so special,” he smile fondly, wiping away her tears.
“you make me feel special,” she laughs through her tears, “and i’ve never felt that, and you know that.”
he hums while he nods.
“cause, again, you are special. my special girl,” he murmurs to her right before he kisses her.
“you’re special because you guided me in the right direction of happiness,” he mumbles against her lips.
“ditto,” mikasa gives a small smile, “thank you for guiding me.”
#attack on titan#shingeki no kyojin#aot fanfiction#snk#jean kirstein#jeankasa#jean x mikasa#snk mikasa#attack on titan mikasa#mikasa ackerman
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Lt., Phone Home Part 2 (Part 1)
The Engineer’s Adventures
1-1 • 1-2 • 2 • 3 • 4
A sequel to Lt., Phone Home For @autumnleaves1991-blog who said she’d read one if I wrote it.
Pairing: Captain Christopher Pike x F!Reader (no Y/N)
Warnings: none really! Canon typical injuries to other characters, alcohol consumption, plot
WC: 1.6k
A/N: I’m still so new at this!
If you’d been able to finish your level three diagnostic before the Layrians sent you to the past, you would have detected the fault and this wouldn’t have happened.
You only have a second to think that, though, because ‘this’ is a console exploding in Chief Engineer Louvier’s face, sending him, Ensign Devrin, a Tellarite newly transferred to the Enterprise, and Crewman Park flying.
“Engineering to sickbay! Medical Emergency!” You have your communicator in one hand, tricorder in the other, scanning. You want to check on Louvier, see if he’s okay, but there’s a fault in the EPS system and if you don’t get it locked down quickly, the warp core may blow. You look around to see who you have, and a lot of shocked eyes meet your gaze. You take charge.
“Harrison, see to Louvier and the others. Okorafor, vent the plasma manifolds. Mason, isolate the console from the rest of the system. Everyone else stand by.” You run through the checklists in your head.
“Engineering to Bridge, there’s a problem with the EPS system and we’re going to need to shut down the warp core immediately. Louvier is injured,” you add, explaining why you’re calling and not him.
“Yellow Alert. Helm, drop us out of warp. Keep us updated Lieutenant,” Number One’s voice is calm as you feel the ship’s vibrations change as you drop into normal space.
“Computer, emergency warp core shutdown. Authorisation Gamma Epsilon one-two-zero.”
“Unable to comply. Control circuits are offline.”
The console must have taken out the circuitry when it blew. No time to fix it – you need to do this manually.
You dash to the other central console, the one that’s still undamaged, and start entering commands.
“Michaels, if I can’t shut the core down we may need to eject it. Can you check those systems are running please?”
You really need someone to keep an eye on the impulse engine too, since if that overheats it can cause a lot of problems but you can’t eject it. You look around – a team of medics have arrived and are loading the injured onto stretchers, helped by a couple of engineering crewmen. You should be getting reinforcements soon now that the ship’s at yellow alert, but they aren’t here yet. You spy a gold uniform, standing out among the red and blue.
“Captain?” What’s he doing here?
“I was passing by when I heard the yellow alert. Number One told me the problem was here. Can I help?”
“Yes.” You point to a console. “Monitor the temperature of the impulse drive. If it gets above 400 Kelvin, increase the coolant. If it doesn’t come back down, let me know.”
“Aye, Lieutenant.”
You go back to your console, manually going through the power-down checklist. It’s stressful, especially when there are a few hiccups along the way with errors related to the damage that occurred, but you’re in your element here.
“Warp core offline,” you announce at last, as more staff arrive finally. Now you can get to fixing the actual problem.
“You have more than earned that drink,” Captain Pike says, as you walk down the corridor together some time later. The ship is back at warp, Louvier is in sickbay still recovering from plasma burns, but he, Devrin and Park will make a full recovery. Repairs are almost complete, and you would have stayed until they were done had Pike not gently remarked that you had mentioned you had a prior arrangement. You hadn’t mentioned it, of course, but no one else was to know. Pike had stayed in Engineering for the duration, fetching and carrying, checking readings and generally making himself useful. Having him around was good for crew morale, especially when you hadn’t known the prognosis for your colleagues. Your friends. Now the remainder of the work is in the capable hands of Lt Asher who came in a couple of hours early for gamma shift tonight.
“I need it,” you say, fervent. “This has been a day.”
“I didn’t think I was going to be able to drag you out of Engineering, but now that I have... would you like to get dinner? I think we could both use a decent meal.”
You suddenly realise you’re starving. “Thank you, Captain. I’d like that.” You smile at him, and he grins back, showing his dimples again.
“Call me Chris now we’re off duty,” he says as you reach the turbolift and he pauses to let you go first.
“Sure, Chris,” it comes out easier than it did on Earth in the past, somehow. Maybe you’re used to it.
The Captain’s dining room is spacious, and well appointed. It has a dining table and chairs, and sofa and low table with a vase of fresh flowers beneath a large window, showing the stars going by at warp. The lighting is soft, but a small spotlight highlights a model of the Enterprise on a shelf in the the corner. The overall effect is pleasing, but it seems a little impersonal, somehow. Except maybe the large earthenware pot on the shelf below the miniature ship. That doesn’t seem like the sort of thing a starship designer would put there.
“A traditional Navajo pot,” Chris says, following your gaze. “It’s from California, where I grew up. I don’t eat here often, but even here it’s good to have a reminder of home.”
He heads to the synthesiser. “Is chilli okay? It’s based on a family recipe. But I do keep tweaking it. It’s my go to comfort food, after a day like this.”
“That sounds really good,” you reply, letting him pull out a chair for you and watching as he brings nachos, sour cream, salsa, guacamole and two wine glasses from the synthesiser.
“It’s not beer, but it is real,” he says, opening a cupboard set beneath the synthesiser and withdrawing a bottle of red wine and a corkscrew hanging just inside the door.
He pours you each a glass. “Zinfandel, from California. Another taste of home. Cheers,” he says.
“Cheers,” you reply, clinking your glass and taking a sip. The flavour is bold and you taste berries, with maybe a hint of liquorice and vanilla. “This is good,” you add, taking another sip as he brings the food over.
“Given today, only the best will do,” he gives you a lopsided smile, blue eyes twinkling, and you can’t help but be charmed.
Conversation flows easily over the delicious meal – Pike’s chilli is good, and you tell him so. He tells you about growing up in the desert, and you chat about your former postings, swapping stories of engineering disasters. As the evening wears on you find yourself on the sofa, box of dark chocolate truffles on the table in front of you, with only a couple left. You yawn a little, and catch sight of the chronometer above the synthesiser – when did it get so late?
“Keeping you up past your bedtime?” Chris winks at you, and you grin back, totally at ease.
“You’ve got to admit, it’s been a long day. I can’t help thinking that if those aliens could’ve held off for a few minutes before pulling us through time, I could have finished my diagnostic, and the excitement in Engineering wouldn’t have happened,” you say as you stand.
“You were good, though,” he says, standing with you. “Not many days you can say you saved both the timeline and the ship.”
You feel yourself warming at the praise, and cover it by getting your jacket from where you’d shed it on the back of your chair earlier. Chris helps you put it on, lingering close.
“I believe it’s traditional at the end of the date to walk the lady home, but I’m guessing you can find your way,” he says with another little smile, voice a little deeper.
“Maybe that tradition wouldn’t be appropriate, but I can think of another that would work,” you say, and you feel your heart beating a little faster.
“Yeah?” He asks, his hands on your shoulders, and your eyes linger on his mouth before travelling up to his soft blue eyes.
“Yeah,” you say, and your voice comes out breathy but you don’t mind because he’s drawing you closer, one hand on your back, one hand moving along your jawline. He tilts his head and your hands come up to his chest, feeling the muscle there beneath his shirt. Your eyes flutter closed as his lips find yours and then the ship falls away and it’s just you, him, and the stars making warp trails around you. You gasp slightly and open your mouth, and his tongue brushes yours and you taste chocolate, red wine, and him. Your hands move round his neck as the kiss deepens, and you press against him.
Eventually you break apart, breathing heavily. There’s a slight look of surprise in his eyes, and you think it must be reflected in yours – you didn’t expect your good night kiss to be that intense.
“Well, good night, Chris. Thank you,” you say, fastening your jacket, trying to get a handle on your breathing.
“Dinner tomorrow?” He asks, eyes searching your face. “Maybe, uh... in my quarters?”
“Yes, I’d like that,” you say. “See you tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow,” he says, taking your hand and pressing a kiss to your fingers, eyes full of promise. You pull your hand away reluctantly, smile, and leave before you can get tempted into anything more. Even though you’d like to you have alpha shift in the morning and he has a whole ship to run.
You wonder what tomorrow will be like. Maybe another unusual day would be a good thing.
#Christopher Pike#Christopher Pike x Reader#Christopher Pike x You#Captain Pike#writings of the girl from outer space#fanfic#fanfiction#Star Trek discovery#star trek strange new worlds#writer wednesday#kind of#The Engineer's Adventures
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Snake Bite (Part 1)
I wrote fic! For the first time this year. New fic! yeah, I know I have WIPs, but the muse was misbehaving and rebelling all over the place, so as you saw in a previous post (amongst all the amazing fanart, wow), I wrangled it and this is what I came up with. It’s not much and isn’t finished, but fic! I hope you enjoy anyway.
Many thanks to @scribbles97 and @tsarinatorment for the read throughs and support. you guys rock ::hugs you both::
-o-o-o-
It was a beautiful evening. The day had been hot, but the sun was waning and a breeze had picked up enough to disturb the cloying heat prologuing the cool desert night.
Perhaps he shouldn’t have stepped off the decking in a suit with a champagne glass in his hand, perhaps he should have left his explorations for another night when he could have been dressed appropriately, but Virgil was used to grabbing the moment and the inspiration when he could. Tomorrow was never guaranteed.
Tonight was a rare case. Lady Penelope had invited the Tracy family out to her station in the outback for an evening of entertainment. There were a number of notables there and Scott had been heard to mutter something about working holiday, but Dad had shushed him and promised to take some of the networking load.
It was times like these Virgil felt a little guilty. While he didn’t mind a party and it was certainly fun to socialise, he felt he didn’t have that suave business sense like Scott, his father and even to a certain extent, John, who hated parties at the best of times. Though if you gave John a long distance communication method and he could have anyone eating out of his hand. A skill Scott deployed on many a business occasion.
No, Virgil was more of the practical sense. Something broken, he could fix it, someone hurt, he could tend to them. Juggle the fallacies of business and the underhand agendas? He had no patience or tolerance. Besides, he had reliable feedback that he couldn’t lie to save his own life.
But whatever, he was good at what he was good at.
So, sometimes the quiet desert evening was more attractive than the bustling social scene inside.
He eyed a bird of prey circling far above and wondered vaguely what type it was. Thoughts of different birds on a different farm came to mind.
A sigh and he swallowed a sip of champagne.
The bubbles popped on his tongue.
Perhaps he shouldn’t have stepped out, dressed in a suit, carrying a glass of champagne, but the evening was picture perfect and the quiet so alluring.
He didn’t go far. While Australia had become more familiar since they had moved to Tracy Island, it was still vast, still had a reputation of being deadly to the unwary, and this was no Kansas farm.
The red sand under his feet glowed in the evening sun.
Sharp grass - learnt the hard way - grew in tufted spikes along the path, tiny flowers dotted between the rocks. Penelope had said that spring was on the region and that they might see some lovely flower displays.
Virgil fully intended on investigating as soon as possible.
The path rose a little as he climbed a hillock and he couldn’t help but look back over the ranch buildings to the glowing presence of Thunderbird Two parked on the far side.
He had brought her with him for two reasons, the first being in case of a callout. The second was more related to that business manoeuvring thing. The overt presence of an International Rescue vehicle, while never explicitly used in dealings, was useful as a reminder to those who may forget exactly who the Tracy family were.
Virgil’s lips thinned as he stared at his ‘bird. It was a Dad thing. One of the many new things his father’s return had introduced. Scott had never used IR as a business tool and Dad technically wasn’t, but there was a contrast between how Scott worked and how their father worked and there were lots of little things like this that made that obvious.
The fact the Thunderbird was high up on her struts and towered over the landscape was functional and strategic at the same time.
A sigh and Virgil took another sip of champagne before turning to once again follow the path up the hill.
He didn’t see what he stepped on, but he felt it.
Soft, moving, he had that split second of realisation that his foot had encountered something alive, a stumble to try and avoid hurting whatever that was, and he overbalanced, only managing to not faceplant in the dust due to many years on the training mats with Kayo.
He still landed in an uncoordinated mess in the middle of one of those spiky grass tufts.
It stabbed him through expensive fabric.
Ow.
And rocks. There were rocks.
Damnit.
Red dust coated his pants and suit jacket and there was a definite scuff on one shoe.
Whatever it was he had nearly squished, slithered off into the grass on the other side of the path.
It only took him a moment to connect the dots.
He’d stepped on a snake, apparently, a little one, but a snake.
In Australia.
The continent renowned for such deadly reptiles.
Aw, hell.
But Virgil was an experienced responder. There was no need to panic. He rolled himself off the grass, his eyes pinned to where the snake had disappeared.
The grass complained and stabbed him a few more times through his clothes, but he got onto his hands and knees.
Nothing obvious was hurting, other than all the needle pricks, so that was a good sign.
His dress shoes were more red than black, along with the nice charcoal suit pants. The sooner he got off the ground, the better, but the medic in his head was yelling at him.
He yanked up both pant legs and poked around his socks, examining his skin for breaks. Even then, he almost missed it.
Two tiny little pin pricks on the inside of his right ankle.
Shit.
The current locations of his family members flitted through his head.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
It was going to be absolutely fabulously newsworthy to have one of the Tracy brothers carted off in his own ‘bird simply because he didn’t look where he stepped.
The setting sun was still calmly gazing over the landscape, lighting everything up in gold. But it felt far more sinister now.
The breeze ruffled his hair.
Sitting in the dirt, knowing he shouldn’t move, Virgil sighed and thumbed his comms. Maybe he could minimise the damage.
“Gords, you got a minute?”
-o-o-o-
Gordon was having a great time.
If there was something he missed living on an island in the middle of nowhere, it was this.
Penelope had one soft hand on his arm and was smiling at him as several of her friends laughed at one of his jokes. The fact the stuck-up toff, Duke Butterfingers, looked less than pleased was just icing on the cake. He was definitely on Gordon’s scorn list after his snide remark regarding Sherbet versus his ‘real dog’ wolfhound blah-blah.
It appeared the dog was smarter than the owner.
But Pen’s girlfriends were great conversationalists and it was nice to talk to someone other than family or those with their lives at risk for a change.
Yes, it was proof that he needed to get out more.
The subtle twitch of his collar comms against his skin wasn’t to be ignored, however.
A hand on Pen’s hand. “Please excuse me a moment. Duty calls.” He did not bow. Well, not really, but the amused smile and the sparkle in Penny’s eyes made it worth it anyway.
Her hand squeezed his arm and let go gently. Her eyes didn’t leave him immediately. “Felicity, do tell me about your new parlour. I hear it is being featured in Great Homes of Britain?”
If her blue eyes hadn’t turned away at that moment, it would have been questionable as to whether he would have been able to leave. But leave he did, wondering which family member he had to torture in the future in revenge.
Finding himself a polite corner, he opened his comms and frowned at his brother’s worried voice. “Virgil? What is it?”
It took a moment, enough to grab Gordon’s attention a little more. “Virg?”
“I’ve been bitten by a snake.”
“What?!”
“I’m up the hill at the back of the ranch. I stepped on a snake.” I need your help. It wasn’t said, but it was obvious. “Don’t tell Scott or Dad. Yet.” That last was said a little tentatively.
But Gordon was already moving, running the list of dangerous snakes that could likely be found out here through his head. If anyone noticed him dash from the room, he didn’t really care.
Compression bandage. Immobilisation. “You stay absolutely still, you hear me?”
“I’m aware of the procedure, Gordon.”
The location of first aid kits in Penelope’s house was quickly overridden by the vast store of equipment out in the carpark in Two.
Gordon was in a full out run before he realised it.
The evening was cooler but still warm from the day as the sun still hadn’t gone down. Two loomed over everything as Gordon dashed between cars and dodged guard rails. Two parking attendants stared at him as he tore past, but he ignored them.
Reaching Two, he swiped a dance of finger code over his left jacket sleeve and a control hologram leapt up from the fabric. The keys to his brother’s ‘bird were a necessity he was ever grateful for in this moment.
The great green Thunderbird hummed to life and lowered on her struts, smooth as ever, down enough for her forward hatch to reach him. He jumped on board and was in the first aid lockers without a second thought.
The countdown in his head was predictably short as his comms went off only a few seconds later. That would be John.
Gordon ignored it and switched back to Virgil.
“Any idea what type of snake?”
“Small and brown. It’s all I got. Didn’t see it. Stepped on the poor thing.” A pause. “I’m sorry, Gords.”
“It happens.” He slammed the locker shut, grabbed a hover stretcher and linked it to his comms. He cursed the lack of his uniform and all its inbuilt necessities with it. The essentials woven into his suit jacket and collar comms were barely minimal.
A brief thought of moving Two to his brother faded quickly as he poked the pilot’s dash and Virgil’s location lit up. He wasn’t very far away at all and there was no room to park Two anyway.
No room in the Australian Outback? An oxymoron, but it would be faster to just grab his brother and throw him on Two.
It was going to be bad enough lifting off once.
He jumped back onto the hatch and lowered himself. Securing Two he broke into another run. “You know you’re not going to be able to hide this from Scott, Dad or anyone here? You’re going to hospital, bro, and Two’s the fastest way. No one is going to miss her launching.” He leapt over a fence, the hover stretcher darting to follow.
“I know.” It was a quiet and sad answer.
“Medical status, Virg. How are you feeling?” He peeled around the corner of the main building and fixed his eyes on a figure part way up a hill in the distance.
Virgil waved.
“Gordon, report! John says it was you who accessed Two. What are you doing?” Scott, as commander as ever.
A harsh breath as his feet hit the bottom of the hill. “Thunderbird Four responding to a medical emergency. One of Penelope’s guests has been bitten by a snake. Evac imminent.” Another breath as he finally made it to Virgil’s side. The expression on his brother’s face could only be considered despair. “Scott, we will need media management. Victim is high profile. We need to keep this on the downlow.”
A pause as Gordon set down the first aid kit. Virgil’s lips were tight as he pointed to the red and swollen twin pin pricks on the inside of his right ankle.
Gordon shoved open the kit and, without another word, grabbed bandaging.
Scott’s voice was sharp. “FAB. John is accessing Five. Victim identity?”
Virgil sighed and his shoulders dropped before he thumbed his comms. “Scott?”
“Virgil?”
“It’s me.”
-o-o-o-
TBC
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