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shoutogepi · 3 years

Text

Catboy!Shouto

Todoroki Shouto

word count : ~2K (blurb!)

[ ☀︎ ] fluff!!

bio : general catboy!sho hc’s. initial meeting all the way to relationship.

author’s note : a midnight hc that got WAY out of hand. fair warning idk what the fUCK this is, whatever it is is all astrid’s fault. i decided to make this bc i suck at finding fics and i rly wanted to read something about a snuggly catboy!sho.

─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

in my opinion, shouto is already very catlike in certain respects.

he’s aloof and likes to watch rather than engage. he’s very intelligent and he’s driven when he wants to be. and not to mention he’s very loyal to those few that have melted through his ice-protected heart. he’ll probably also only allow physical interaction if he’s the one initiating it...

you didn’t adopt him in human form. at some point you got a cat and you thought that was it— that it was merely a cat. a cute one at that, split down the middle like a patched together hand-me-down. he reminded you of a ragdoll because of his peculiar colors, even though his coat was sleek and shiny. he also had a very prominent air of elegance... overall, a very pretty cat.

however, he wasn’t the nicest animal at first. he was skittish and guarded. he really only interacted with you in order to get food and water, and he didn’t allow you to touch him all too much. any time you had friends over there was no chance he’d be spotted, always hiding in the shadows of your closet or the safe space underneath your bed. when your company would leave, he would slowly crawl out, watching you from a respectable distance as you tidied up before heading to bed.

even though he was kind of a dick, you spoiled him silly. you bought him his own bed since he refused to even go near you. he had his own cat tree and everything, and ample toys too. that was how he first began warming up to you.

you had managed to pique his interest by dragging a ribbon toy across the floor and disappearing around the doorframe. you had been over the moon when he had poked his little head into the room, pupils wide as he eyed the ribbon with intense curiosity.

the morning after that, you had awoken to find him sitting on the very far corner of your bed. it was as far as he could possibly be from you while staying on the mattress, but you were elated nonetheless.

— - —

from then on, your relationship was a little steadier with the feline. he would follow you around your place, always in the same room as you but forever out of reach. occasionally he would allow you to give him a little scratch behind the ear or under the chin, but he would get up and leave after a few seconds of affection.

it wasn’t until he came down with a minor kitty cold that your relationship changed. you took him to the vet. he hated it. he was such a misbehaved boy, but when you had nearly cried as you frantically apologized for his behavior, he strangely became limp, a disgruntled expression on his cute little face.

you took him home and attempted to administer the medicine, even if he hissed and growled at you when you approached him with the distinct vial. you tried to give it to him, and he lashed out and scratched you for the very first time.

it was just a little cut, but it was enough to draw blood. you left the medicine with him and closed yourself away in the bathroom as you tended to your wound, irritated that after all you’d done for him he still treated you like shit. but he was a cat, you reckoned, and so you instantly dropped any malice that had come forth in those few minutes. when you opened the door again, he was sitting at the doorway, ears flat to his head and head lowered, the medicine vial resting before his paws.

after that he allowed you to administer the medicine without complaint. he just layed there and would blink lazily at you while you moved him accordingly, never fussing at all. it was clear that he was sick initially, but each time you gave him that medicine he became more and more like himself. he looked strong and healthy once again. you were relieved.

your relationship kept improving. he would now let you pet him from time to time. sometimes he would even jump up and settle himself into a little loaf next to you as you watched TV or typed away at your laptop. he began sleeping closer to you, sometimes on your feet, sometimes on the vacant side of your bed. the sound of his low purrs lulled you to sleep.

things started getting strange when you started going out with someone you had met. you’d given your number to them when they’d asked for it out of the blue. it was all very innocent, nothing too crazy. just a coffee here and there, really.

that was when shouto started becoming more affectionate with you. he would let out a loud meow in greeting when you came home, running to the door to meet you and promptly sticking his head into the shoes you slipped off your feet. he would sit with you as you went through the work you brought home, even nuzzle your ankles while you made yourself dinner. he would start to sit on your lap when you were watching the television.

he would even let you kiss his head , and he’d slowly blink at you when you praised him for all his handsomeness, for how good of a boy he was. he even started slipping into the sheets with you, allowing you to hold him close as you drifted off into slumber, and kneading at your blankets as the two of you fell asleep together.

but coffees turned into lunches. and lunches to dinners. you started spending less and less time at your place, and he would find himself watching the clock on the wall as he waited for your return. though when you finally would, later and later with each passing date, he was not pleased to find your scent mixed with another’s.

he had stayed in cat form for a very long time. perhaps he shifted into human form when you weren’t home, you didn’t know. you thought he was your cat, and that was the end of it. all you knew was that one morning, you woke up, expecting to have your snuggly companion curled up into your side as usual.

instead, there’s a whole ass MAN tucked into the sheets beside you, long leg slung over yours and his arm wound round your waist. what’s even wilder is that two cat ears stick out of the silky hair on his head, colored the distinct red and white of the fur you have become so accustomed to. a long, furry tail also rests on your thigh, brushing against your skin.

he’s also butt ass naked.

to say you’re shook is an understatement. thankfully he’s laying on his stomach, so you don’t see anything indecent. you weigh your options here— this man is so obviously your cat, there’s no way he’s not. but you have a cat, and this is a man!! man-cat? you can’t care to know the correct terminology.

you decide not to scream, but you shuffle backwards. it’s enough to disturb the creature, and his heterochromatic eyes peel open slowly. he sees you looking at him, and still weighed down by sleep, a mild, content smile curls his lips and a loud purr rumbles out of him. then his eyes move down and he catches sight of his own arm around you, and he scrambles off the bed, ears tucked back and tail bristling as he trips over the sheets.

after you find some clothes for him to wear, you have a rather awkward conversation over breakfast. turns out that he’s been capable of turning into this human form the whole time, but he had become accustomed to life as a cat and preferred it to being a human, as he had a hard time fitting in with his big ears and long tail. you reckoned you, too, would live as a cat if you had the option... especially with such a doting and caring owner as yourself.

now though, you can’t really refer to yourself as his owner. he’s a person, just like you— he just harbors many of his cat-like qualities.

initially it’s hard to adjust, knowing he’s also a man (and a very handsome one, at that). you buy him some clothes and start to cook meals for the both of you. what else are you gonna do, throw him out onto the street?

your interactions become a little forced... you’re just really confused as to how you’re supposed to act around him. he seems to sense your unease, and he shifts back into a cat in order to comfort you. he walks right up to you and hops into your lap, standing up to put his front paws onto your chest, and leaning in to rub his cheek across yours, finishing off with a quick lick of affection.

apparently, he has missed the attention the both of you had become so accustomed to giving/receiving. so, the moment you hesitantly begin to rub his ears, he starts to purr loudly, settling on your lap/chest. he’s really warm and soft, so you end up wrapping your other arm around him and continuing to pet his head.

it becomes routine for you to have this nightly cuddle before bed, but after you’re finished with pretending to pay attention to the tv, you tell him goodnight and shut yourself into your bedroom for the night.

no longer does he receive your praise nor your kisses, and it’s taking a toll on him. he’s needy!! you’ve conditioned him to soak up all your love and now you just stop?

so eventually he’ll sack up and knock on your door, asking why you won’t let him sleep with you anymore. he knows you’re intimidated by his human form, but he thinks the reason is because you’re scared of him. you hesitantly let him know it’s really just because you’re attracted to him. and what do ya know, he feels the same.

another reason why you’d been avoiding him that you’d rather die than tell him is that you’re embarrassed that you just straight stared at him in shock when he used your toilet like a human. eye contact and everything. this was back when you’d first gotten him but now you’re just overwhelmed with residual embarrassment LOLLLLL anyways...

from there your love blossoms !! yay!

now he will walk around your place in his human form more often than cat form. though sometimes he does like to be in kitty form so he can sit on your lap while you’re working at your desk.

snuggles become a norm. he’s very affectionate. absolute cuddle bug.

stressed? cuddles.

happy? cuddles.

bored? cuddles.

i cannot emphasize this enough!!! hold him!! he lives for it! he is baby.

he still loves playing with all the toys you buy him. and what’s hilarious is that he can’t seem to help himself from fixating on those little aluminum twist ties that you keep in the kitchen. he doesn’t know why, but when you toss them across the room he’ll just run for it. nyoom!!

makes sure to bring it back like a good boy every time.

a really good investment is a laser pointer. human or cat, once that little red dot is spotted, you can bet he’s chasing it. this has resulted in broken furniture more than once LOL. at the end of your little play session you guide the laser over to you and he’ll pounce on you!! cue more cuddles.

as if all the snuggles he gives you through the day aren’t enough, falling asleep is complete bliss.

he’ll slip into your covers and wrap his long limbs around you. lithe fingers will caress your skin and your hair, and if you return the favor, he’ll start to purr softly for you. he’s totally into nuzzling you, too. he’ll just nestle his face right into your neck and breathe your scent in, completely at peace. and he can’t help it when his purrs grow louder, an indication of his complete content.

more rarely he’ll come out into public with you, provided he wear a beanie or something to cover those cute perky ears of his. the tail he can tuck into his pants just fine. when he’s out and about with you, he’ll likely stay right by your side, an arm over your shoulder, around your waist, or your hand held hostage by his.

when you’re out on these rare excursions, he will often ask for a boba or a latte—he loves to indulge in those sweet milky drinks every now and then. plus it makes him happy when you’re happy, and you always get excited when you get one for yourself too.

overall 10/10 would recommend adopting catboy!sho. he will give you all the love and snuggles necessary and he’ll be more than happy to accept your affections too.

─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

so... can you guys tell i’m a cat person?

(づ｡◠ ‿ ◠｡ )づ <3 <3 <3

➥ masterlist thanks for reading!! hope u enjoyed whatever... this was LOL

𝐂𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 © 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐩𝐢 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟎. 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

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devilsodas · 3 years

Text

night hawks.

words: 1.5k

pairing: hayakawa aki x reader

also on: ao3

a/n: there is smoking throughout + talk abt memory loss if you’re not comfortable!

part ii

Maybe the second hand smoke was getting to you, but you’ve never seen Aki’s gaze appear so...deprived? Deep ocean eyes honeyed and pensive, suspended in longing. To always observe but never to hold.

And of all things, it was directed at you.

i. smoking section

“Those things can kill you, y’know.”

It’s just the two of you, for once, huddled together in the cramped booth of a hole-in-the-wall-diner. The place was practically a ghost town at this hour, the only sound being the mute murmur of the radio and the ‘clink’ of utensils between the both of you.

You were so enraptured with the anmitsu in front of you, delighted in the honeyed-sweet flavor on your tongue, that you hardly looked up from your plate. It wasn’t until the familiar sour scent of nicotine tickled your nose did your gaze meet the man across from you.

Aki takes a long drag of the cigarette--holding his breath for one, two, three seconds-- a ribbon of smoke leaves his parted lips. The usual gray almost gold in the aged yellow lights.

“Out of everything in the world, this--he bumps the head of the stick into the ashtray, crumbling the second it tapped the ceramic--isn’t what’ll make me kick the bucket.”

And the cigarette finds its rightful home back between his teeth.

Even though there wasn’t a trace of humor in his voice (when is there ever, you think) a laugh escapes you, because it was true.

Neither of you were ignorant of your occupation and the danger that followed it. As devil hunters-no-public safety devil hunters, you faced atrocities that the average person could never handle. Each time you clocked in a day was shaved off your lifespan. It’s almost guaranteed you’ll meet a bloody, bitter end the second you sign up.

In the grand scheme of things, a small stick filled with nicotine and whatever else would be a blessed way to die compared to what your other options were.

But even still, what was the point of fighting for a brighter future, risking it all for just a glimmer, if you voluntarily kept yourself from seeing it because you were too much of an addict? And you tell him as such.

Aki gives you a noncommittal hum, chewing his food.

“Besides,” You start airily, “Those things smell like crap, I don’t know how you can even shove so many in your mouth a day.”

He stops his chewing and raises a brow.

“What?”

“That’s a little hypocritical, coming from you.” He says.

You blink, taken aback.

Aki gives an exasperated look, eyebrows furrowed and frown etched into his lips. He looks at you as if you dropped the ball on some inside joke between the both of you, an important secret that seemed to slip your mind.

When the silence stales, his gaze changes from annoyance to confusion.

“..You’ve smoked before, a ton of times--you still owe me for those two packs you burned through.” He says bluntly.

“Do you have me confused for Himeno? Because I’ve never touched a cigarette in my life.”

The aged fluorescent light between you flicker and it makes his clear cobalt eyes appear to pulse as he searches your face; probing, dissecting gaze piercing right through you and it makes your stomach churn and your mouth go dry. You don’t know what it is that he’s looking for, what he sees when your eyes look back at him that make the fingers cradling the cigarette tense so strongly that it almost shivers in his grasp.

You open your mouth to speak, but his rigid face melts into something more somber.

Oh. You know that look.

Pity.

You swallow.

“Did-did I forget..again?” You ask, but you both know the answer. Aki stares at you for a moment longer, apprehension and something else you know you’ll hate in his eyes before his gaze flits away from you, staring at something just past your shared booth.

“Yeah.”

“..Ah..”

Whatever light and flighty air that mingled between you dissipated at the mention of your contract’s consequences.

If any of your coworkers were asked, they’d all answer in their own ways that you were a strong, dependable, hardworking, devil hunter. Someone you’d want in your corner when you need it most. But if you wanted someone to keep a secret or remember confidential information? You weren’t the one for the job.

In exchange for your devil’s power, it’d pick a memory of yours to eat. It wasn’t always bad--using small amounts of power only resulted in a blip slipping your mind; what you ate the day before, clothes you wore, certain conversations.

Difficult missions that require larger amounts are what do the most damage--weeks, months, even a year could pass through your mind without a trace and you’d never notice. Faces of people you should recognize now a clean slate, current events that you’d never register.(You still remember the red irate face of your buddy when, after a taxing mission, her whole existence was gone from your conscience. The look of absolute betrayal mixed with resigned grief is one thing you wish you could forget out of the myriad of memories you desperately try to hold onto.)

You couldn’t recall how Aki felt about it, or what else you’ve forgotten since you’ve known him, but the glassy look in his eyes makes your chest ache.

He licks his lips and a beat of silence follows. It’s not something unusual, it wasn't like he was much of a talker, but this time it feels just as oppressive as the grey haze drifting along your shoulders. All you could do was stare at the idle cigarette between his stiff fingers, desperate to focus on anything else besides the reason for the tension between you.

“Did I like it?”, a breath of a laugh escapes, uneasy, “The cigarette, I mean.” You look to him, floundering, hoping to distract and will away the dejected look coloring his face. To give you something you knew how to handle. A cool, stoic, dependable Aki. The Aki that doesn’t appear to be ten steps from cracking.

A beat passes, he clears his throat, and the moment is gone. Tension you didn’t notice building in your shoulders deflates and for just a second everything is okay. Just two normal co-workers in a shabby diner blowing off steam.

Like normal people do.

He shrugs and takes another drag in thought. “..I don’t think it’s something you can necessarily like. It’s more of an acquired taste.”

It wasn’t exactly the answer you wanted, but you’ll take it. Anything to escape the thought of your lacking recollection. You rolled your eyes, letting the fake irritation mask your silent sigh of relief. “ If someone’s smoking a pack a day they have to like something about it.”

He watches you silently in response and takes one last pull of smoke from the stick, closing his eyes as he inhales. You imagined how it must taste, what made such a small stick of nicotine so addicting?--was it as woodsy smooth as the smoke pillowing through the air suggested? Or was it like bitter chocolate? Dark and all consuming throughout your mouth until its hinted saccharine flavor glazed along your tastebuds? If you of all people were so dependent on such a thing it must have had a hint of sweetness to satiate your palate.

How did it taste to Aki’s tongue?

His lips part and tendrils of smoke waft towards you. Honest curiosity drives you as you lick your lips, aiming to catch a taste and your eyes dart upwards only to find his pointed downwards, half lidded. Your skin prickles and warms all over.

And of all things, it was directed at you.

Something, somewhere deep in your chest, lurched at the thought. Made your hands sweat and your knee jerk impulsively, only for it to knock with his. But he doesn’t move an inch, and maybe you’re hallucinating, but you swear you can feel the heady heat from him through the thick material of your dress pants. Feel it spread throughout your body, fervid and all consuming.

You can’t help but notice how close you two are. How the cramped and tiny booth creates its own atmosphere to dome you both together compared to the vastly empty diner surrounding it. And yet, Aki still looks at you.With so much space to cast his gaze to, he still looks at you. A heavy weight in his gaze that you’re not so sure you could handle.

Your eyes moves to a indecipherable point behind him and you inhale, deeply, and-

You can feel it deep in your throat and up your nose. The fumy, burnt stench of smoke coating your tongue and you almost gag. Coughs sputter out through your lips and in a panic you reach across the table to the soda Aki had been nursing the whole night, gulps a gallon in size. Aki throws you an irritated look when the sparse patrons look at you both sharply, but you can’t help but notice through your tear ladened eyes that the frown etched into his lips doesn’t reach the silent mirth lying deep in his gaze.

“You liar! How could anyone smoke these when they taste like that!” You say haggardly.

He’s stubbing out the cigarette, the smoke from the ashtray now a curtain to his face and you barely catch the pink on the tip of his ears.

“Some people are just hopeless addicts.”

#aki hayakawa x reader #hayakawa aki x reader #aki hayakawa #hayakawa aki #chainsaw man #x reader #reader insert #writings #did not double check this so if there r errors....

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blobbyclouds · 3 years

Note

Hello There! I hope you are doing well while the quarantine does not end. . . So, I was reading your Link and Sidon HC's with an Oracle S/O and I was wondering if you could write for the other champions with the same. . . Theme, for the lack of a better word. I will completely understand if you do not wish to take my little request. Have a good day! p.s: I love your stories and HC's btw.

Yeah, I’m doing well! Hope you’re alright too <3 I really liked the oracle idea, and writing for the champions is always fun :)

For those of you who are curious or uncertain, an oracle is a person in a church who has a connection to the gods. They are often given prophecies or advice, and are considered very wise and powerful. Generally speaking, they’re peaceful and kind and help people however they can

Warnings: mentioned violence

-Urbosa-

At first your interactions were purely professional. You’d reach out to the goddesses on Urbosa’s behalf, give advice, and help with important ceremonies, the usual

And while Urbosa can be very formal, she’s usually more laidback, and it was that warm friendliness that made you come out of your shell with her

Urbosa would “call upon your advice” more and more, to the point that neither of you even bothered pretending you were together for any real reason aside from the fact you liked one another’s company

Your long, white robes aren’t exactly ideal for long treks through the desert, so she tends to keep dates either in the safety of the city or in a well shaded oasis

Urbosa often teases you a little or is purposefully flirty to make you blush

She often brings you exotic gifts, like rare flowers or expensive jewels

She once got you one of those sand seal stuffed toys <3

You originally wanted to keep your relationship completely private given the nature of your professional connection, but that was difficult in such a crowded city with so many guards around

But don’t worry, the women of the city are very pleased with who their chief is courting

There’s something so ethereal and lovely about you, you’re hard to dislike

The children especially like you because your robes are so magic like

Plus you’re really nice and give them sweets and stories :) so when you walk into the city, it isn’t uncommon for the children to reach you before Urbosa does, so you’re basically mobbed by a bunch of adoring little ones

Urbosa is very protective of you because of the Yiga Clan. She knows better than anyone how much they’d love to have an oracle at their disposal

She just doesn’t want anything to happen to someone so kind and gentle

So whenever you’re wandering about Hyrule, especially in the desert, she insists that you bring guards with

Any threats to you, Yiga or not, are dealt with swiftly. You’re an oracle, a peacemaker. The last thing Urbosa wants you to deal with is violence

-Revali-

He knows how important an oracle is, for both their connection to the goddesses and their own wisdom. Considering that you often lead important ceremonies (such as coronations, knightings, etc) Revali figured it would be smart to be on your good side

But then he caught feelings for you oops

You’re always patient and kind with him, even if he’s being an arrogant show off

He appreciates someone genuinely caring about him more than he lets on, trust me, since making friends isn’t exactly one of his strengths

Whenever you came to visit the Rito, your billowing white robes and large group of guards allowed him to spot you from miles away, and he always makes sure to patrol the sky when you’re coming to visit

He’d swoop down beside you and start chatting, saying he had “happened to be in the area” and figured he might as well join your escort

Obviously, you went from friends to significant others soon enough

On dates he’ll take you to beautiful places high up in the mountain where the both of you can get away from your duties

You’re one of the few people he’ll take flying, so it means a lot

Teases you often because you’re naive and gullible and it’s fun seeing you flustered, but he never goes overboard

You often fall asleep in his hammock full of pillows and blankets because it’s so comfy and safe. His heart did very funny things when he saw you fast asleep there, somehow looking divine and delicate as you sleep

While he isn’t a worrywart, he will scold you for not putting on enough warm layers when you visit colder areas and will insist you take his scarf

Don’t bother making any excuses because Revali is very stubborn when it comes to your safety

He’s protective and won’t let anyone treat you badly because you’re literally a saint. You don’t have much backbone, but Revali has more than enough to stand up for you, like he’ll straight up fight someone for you

-Mipha-

The two of you got along very well right away because you both have very kind and gentle demeanors

You both tend to be soft spoken and have a talent for helping and healing others

Must be fate, right? You’re quite certain the goddesses lined this one for you, your girls got your back ;)

Safe to say being “just friends” didn’t last long

Your long white robes are kind of annoying when they get wet, so she does her best to keep dates in dry places. There are still plenty of options in the Zora Domain and Mipha never fails to find a nice spot

You always feel super safe and comfortable with her, and she feels the same. You two tell each other everything and are always ready to protect the other

It’s just such a pure fluffy relationship, you’re both angels <3

She often gives you beautiful things from the water like shells, pearls, and coral

You stay at the Zora Domain so often that they just permanently keep a Hylian bed and Hylian food on hand

All the Zora and Hylians would absolutely throw hands if anyone tried to mess with your relationship

Zelda and Link have “dealt with” suitors coming for you, same as Mipha’s father has “dealt with” suitors coming for her

And the best part is y’all are oblivious to the suitors

And although Mipha seems all cute and innocent, she can absolutely kick some butt if someone tries to hurt you

Baby Sidon grew attached to you quite quickly and once blurted out, “when’s the wedding?” because he thinks it’d be so cool to have you as a sibling in law!

You were both blushing for a solid week because of that one

-Daruk-

He and all the other Gorons were thrilled when you came to visit

They did everything they could to make sure you, the ever revered oracle, would be safe and comfortable so close to the volcano

When you arrived, Daruk and all the other Gorons were practically falling over one another to meet you

You were so unlike them in the most wonderful ways. You were soft and light while they were rough and heavy, and the wise, delicate aura around you just added to the mystery

You and Daruk grew close very quickly because of his friendliness and dorky chivalry

Sure, the volcano was scary sometimes, but Daruk promised he’d always keep you safe

He made a lot of jokes just to see you laugh, and he’s quite certain it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard

He’s not nearly as poetic with words as you are, and tends to stumble over his words when your wide, innocent eyes are staring up at him so expectantly

All the other Gorons were lowkey shocked when you actually agreed to go on a date with Daruk

Like yeah they all knew Daruk was a great guy but??? He’s dating an absolute angel now?? How???

He always has a plethora of funny stories when you need something to take your mind off serious matters

He’ll use his shielding ability at the drop of a hat to keep you safe

Like all there’d have to be is a small rustle in the bushs behind you and he’s activating his shield and pushing you behind him

Goron food is a bit spicy for your tastes, so the chefs always make sure to go extra, extra light on the spices for your sake. They all know you’re too polite to say anything yourself and that much spice doesn’t settle well with little Hylians like yourself

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fishfingersandjellybabies · 3 years

Text

The Dog Days Are Done - fic

Characters: Dick Grayson, Damian Wayne, Haley the dog, a quick bit of Barbara Gordon Summary: Dick is a good guy. He is. He knows that. Just like he knows that bribing your wayward, animal-loving, emotionally-traumatized brother to come see you with a puppy is exactly what all good guys do. That was a fact. A/N: How their post-Ric/everything reunion should go, but we all know it won’t. If Dick doesn’t bribe Damian at least once with that dog in canon then everything is a waste.

Dick nervously stared at the phone on the counter. Bit his tongue and looked away. Sheepishly glanced back.

“I know you want to.” Barbara hummed in his ear. Softly, though. Gently. Knowingly. “I’m not going to do it for you.”

“I wasn’t going to ask you to.” Dick mumbled, sighing as he pulled his mask from his face. He’d just gotten back from patrol, and it’d been a rough night. Been a rough night after a rough few months.

And Babs knew him way too well.

Because it’s not like he’d said anything. Not overly, anyway. Hints, here and there. Probably. Nothing more. But she knew. Of course she knew.

“I know.” She chuckled. “He’d probably hang up on me if I called anyway.”

Dick smiled. Yeah. Probably.

“…You’re the only one he’s wanted to talk to anyway.” Barbara whispered. A moment to let that sink in, then a lighthearted snort. “You picked a shitty time to be an amnesiac.”

Dick gave a little laugh too. “Yeah, yeah.”

“…I’ll give you an hour.” Barbara decided.

“Or what?”

“Or a certain wayward young hero will be getting a call about a neglected puppy in an abandoned Bludhaven apartment building.” She said cheerfully. Without any other warning, she cut the line to the communicator.

Dick could only roll his eyes.

But…she was also right. He needed to do this. He did.

So he got a water bottle, chugged it, changed his clothes, fed Haley, took her for a walk, gave her a little more food, gave her some treats, took her out for one more potty time, then found himself back at that counter. Staring at that phone.

He hit the button to light up the screen. It’d been fifty minutes since Barbara had hung up. He had ten minutes before she forced his hand. Because he knew she absolutely would – especially after she went through all that work to actually find the number.

He inhaled to steel himself, but before he could exhale, he heard Haley suddenly puke in the corner.

He looked over to the poor puppy, who looked at him sadly, and smirked.

Well, that’s as good a reason as any.

Dick turned back to the phone, picking it up without thinking about it, and finding the speed dial option that he still had programmed. That he never deleted. That Barbara had already put the new, recently-unknown number underneath.

He bit his lip as the line rang, anxieties running rampant through his brain. What if he didn’t answer? What if he didn’t want to? What if he couldn’t? What if he was dead?

The line rang three times. Four. Five. Six.

It was ring seven that the line finally clicked.

“…This is Damian.”

Dick’s shoulders dropped, his heart loosened.

“Kiddo?” Dick asked, but found his voice was hardly a whisper. He cleared his throat, tried to gather himself back up. “Hey, kiddo.”

Damian said nothing.

“This is Dick.” He said dumbly. “This, uh…did…did your dad tell you?”

“That you regained your memory? Yes.” Damian murmured. Dick felt himself wincing. Because…for once in his life, he couldn’t read him. He couldn’t read Damian. “I just…am…coming to terms with it.”

“…Oh.” Dick responded. “Do you…do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” Damian said. Instantly, flatly. So like the little boy Dick had met so many years ago. There was a beat of silence, then. “Did you need something?”

“Uh…yes!” Hope bloomed in Dick’s chest. “Yes, actually, I, uh…you talk to Babs recently?”

“No. Why would Gordon and I be in correspondence?”

“Just wondering. I, um…” Dick smiled, tried to throw it into his voice. “I got a dog.”

There was a moment. “You what.”

“Well, I didn’t get her, I found her. Saved her from street assholes. And she’s not a dog, she’s a puppy. Special needs, too. Has three legs.”

“Congenital or traumatic amputation?”

“Uh…what?”

Damian sighed in frustration. “Was she born like that or is it due to injury?”

“Oh.” Dick turned. Haley was still staring sadly at her pile of vomit. “Born like that, it looks like.”

“I see.”

“Do you want to? See her, I mean. I can send you pictures of her. She’s super cute.” Dick rambled quickly. “But I mean, that’s why I called. I…I don’t know if I’m taking care of her right.”

“If she was born without the limb, she’s probably fine. But if you’re concerned, I’m sure there’s a vet in Bludhaven.”

“Well, yeah, sure. But like.” Dick laughed nervously. “You’re great with dogs. Look at Titus! Even Ace flourished with your attention. How do I get Haley to act like Titus and Ace?”

Damian hummed in thought.

“Also…” Dick scratched at his head. “She just puked, so I…I think I overfed her? I don’t know.” Another pause, and he looked back to the puppy. His puppy. “Damian, I don’t think I know how to take care of a dog.”

And I miss you. He didn’t say. I miss you and I’m hoping you don’t see right through me right now.

There was another few seconds of silence. Then Haley let out a happy bark, and Damian sighed in resignation. “What’s your address?”

It was three days later that there was a quiet knock on the door. Haley growled from her bed, jumping up and stumbling slightly to the floor. Dick smiled at her as he all but raced across the floor. He grabbed the knob and took a deep inhale. He closed his eyes, held the breath, then pushed all the air out of his lungs with a harsh exhale. Then pulled the door open.

Damian stood there.

Dick looked him over, catalogued the changes since he’d last seen his kid brother. He was taller now, and way skinnier. But not in an unhealthy way, in a lanky, awkward, puberty-just-hit way. The baby fat was all but gone from his face, and he was looking more and more like Bruce by the second.

There were also bags under his eyes, ones that Dick didn’t remember being there before, even given their lifestyle. There was a bag in one of Damian’s hands, but the other was free, and his fingers were curled around each other, picking and tapping at the nails nervously.

Damian had never done anything nervously in his life.

Damian wasn’t looking when Dick opened the door, had his head turned back to the hallway, like he was looking for an escape route, or regretted coming and was already thinking about running.

Dick swallowed away that last thought with the lump in his throat. Because he wanted to hug Damian. Squeeze him so tight he couldn’t breathe. But Damian’s body language said not to, that he wasn’t comfortable, not here with Dick. And Dick had to admit, after all they’d been through – that stung a little.

“Hey.” He said instead, letting his smile widen when Damian looked up at him. “Thanks for coming.”

Damian nodded stiffly. “I had some time.”

Dick chuckled, pushing the door open wider. “Glad you could fit me into your schedule.”

“Hardly you.” Damian scoffed walking past him, making a beeline towards the puppy. “I’m here to make sure you aren’t torturing this animal you appear to have kidnapped.”

“I prefer the term rescued, thanks.” Dick closed the door behind them. “What do you think, Haley?”

Haley barked loudly, but happily, barely containing herself as Damian approached. Damian reciprocated her joy as he smiled and crouched in front of her, placing the bag off to the side. It was funny, seeing him with a puppy, with a dog actually his size. Titus always towered over him, even as a baby, and Ace had knocked the preteen over plenty of times, accidentally.

“…Have you actually taken her to a vet yet?” Damian hummed. “Like, just for a check-up?”

“Yeah, after I found her.” Dick sighed, coming up around Damian’s left side. He glanced into the bag as he pushed it out of the way with his foot. It was full of new dog toys, and various bags of puppy food and treats. This kid. “She was getting kicked around by some losers. So I found a place to get her checked out. Just to be sure.”

“And you arrested those thugs, I assume?”

Dick shrugged. “No…but I did beat the crap out of them.” Dick looked down at his fingers. The scars of Haley’s teeth were mere shadows already. “And she bit me for my trouble.”

“Good girl.” Damian whispered, leaning down and kissing her forehead. Haley became putty in his hands, closing her eyes as he scratched at her ears. “I’m very proud of you.”

Dick felt himself smiling, despite the dig at himself. He watched as Damian moved, noting more changes from last time he’d seen him. While Damian always had the ability to be gentle, especially around animals, he seemed even extra so here, with this puppy. Let his pets be feather soft, held up his hands as the puppy decided that his lap was where she wanted to be. Floated his fingers around her torso as she stumbled up the small incline. Cocooned her protectively with his arms when she settled and closed her eyes.

Dick let his smile falter. Because, while the motions were sweet, and on par with Damian’s normal characteristics, Dick knew him better than that. And Damian’s movements weren’t necessarily out of care, he could see that.

They were out of fear.

Damian was afraid to touch her.

What?

“…How you been, kiddo?” Dick whispered after a moment. Damian merely shrugged. “I missed you.”

“You can’t miss what you don’t remember.” Damian sniffed. “It’s scientifically impossible.”

“Come on, Damian. Don’t be like that.” Dick chastised, quietly. “I missed you when I got back. When the whole family got together to kick ass, and you weren’t there. When you never came home.”

“That’s not my home anymore.” Damian replied quickly. “You’ve talked with Father, I’m sure. He’d tell you as such.”

“He told me what happened. What you said before you ran off.” Dick swallowed the lump in his throat. His own fear. Because he knew Damian. And if he said the wrong thing, Damian would run. Damian would bolt, and disappear off the radar.

Potentially take Dick’s new puppy with him.

“Damian.” Dick sat up a little bit now, watched as Damian flinched at the seriousness of his tone. Put his hand on Haley’s back to ground him. To emotionally support him. And Haley was already good at this, she just nuzzled closer to his stomach. “What happened wasn’t your fault.”

Damian bowed his head. “Yes it was.”

“No, it wasn’t.” Dick pushed. “What happened to Alfred wasn’t your fault. What happened to me, I – you weren’t even there.”

“I should have been.” Damian whispered. “I would have seen the gunman. I would have pushed you out of the way.”

“Yeah, sure. Then the bullet would have hit you and you would have died.” Dick tried not to sound angry, but he wasn’t sure how good of a job he did. “Would that have really been the better option?”

It was a rhetorical question, but stubbornly, Damian answered it anyway. “Yes. It should always be me over you. Always.” Damian looked up, but not at Dick. Kept his gaze forward, out the nearby window. “The world needs Dick Grayson. It does not need me.”

“Don’t-” Dick was lashing out before he realized it, grabbing Damian’s elbow and squeezing. He felt Damian tense under his grip. “Don’t you dare say that again. Not ever.”

Damian looked over, eyes half-lidded and dull. “Why?” He countered, the royalness in his voice not mimicked by his tired features. “It’s the truth.”

“It’s not-”

“I killed Alfred, I do nothing but hurt and torture and agonize everyone around me so yes, it’s exactly as I would deserve.” Damian spit. “If saving you or anyone else happens in the process, than at least you simpletons can convince yourselves that I did not die in vain.”

“It’s not…you can’t…I can’t…”

I can’t lose you again.

Dick didn’t know what to say, didn’t know what to think.

So he didn’t.

Instead, he did what he always did. He didn’t think – he acted.

He used the grip he had on Damian’s elbow to pull him into his chest, engulf him in his arms. Haley grumbled at the movement, but Dick ignored her, holding Damian’s head against his throat, burying his nose in Damian’s hair.

“Oh, Damian…” He lamented. Then quieter, to himself, to the universe, to the very air around them. “What happened while I was gone?”

“…Everything fell apart.” Damian breathed softly. Painfully. He didn’t return the embrace, kept his hands firmly on Haley’s flank, but he did slump into the hold, lean his head exhaustedly on Dick’s shoulder. “Everything…I…I don’t know who I am anymore. What I’m supposed to do. Who I’m supposed to be.”

“You’re supposed to be Damian. You’re supposed to be my little brother.” Dick whispered. “That’s it. That’s it.”

Damian shook his head. “It was through Father’s methods I got Alfred killed. He never acts, always reacts and that’s…that’s not working. That gets innocent people in the line of fire.” A small gasp. “But I can’t…I don’t want to…”

A whimper. A whimper from the great Damian Wayne.

“I don’t want to hurt people. I don’t want to kill anyone. Not…not anymore.” A watery exhale. “I don’t want to be what my mother wants me to be.”

“Neither do I.” Dick answered honestly. “But I don’t want you to be Bruce either. I don’t want you to be anyone but you.”

“But who is that?” Damian shifted to look up at him, so Dick reluctantly leaned back. He didn’t release his child, though. “What good am I if I can’t make at least one of my parents proud? If I can’t help anyone who needs it?” He shook his head, closed his eyes. “Grayson, I’m useless.”

“You’re not. You’re not useless, you’re not what your parents dream.” He leaned forward, pressed his forehead to Damian’s. Damian opened his eyes and stared cautiously up at him. “You’re you, and I love that. I love you, just because you exist.”

Haley whined a little between them, and Dick felt her nosing at the arm he had tight around Damian’s back.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. I’m sorry no one helped you when you needed it. I’m sorry you felt so alone.” He whispered. “But I’m here now. I’m back, and I’m not going anywhere. I’m not leaving you, no matter what.”

“I don’t think you get to decide when you get amnesia again.” Damian drawled bitterly.

Dick snorted a laugh. “Well then I’ll tell you right here and now, okay? If I’m ever unable to say it, for whatever reason. Know that I love you. I have always loved you and I will always love you. No matter what. Don’t ever forget it. Even if for some reason outside of my control I do.”

Damian didn’t respond, but he silently nodded. Leaned a little more weight into Dick.

“…You know, you avoided my question.” Dick sniffed his own tears back, gently running his fingers along Damian’s spine. The boy melted into his touch. “How have you been?”

“…Tired.” Damian admitted softly. “I’m so tired, Grayson.”

“Then it’s a good thing I have extra blankets, and a really big mattress.” Dick laughed. “Humour me, and stay a few days?”

“I…have places to go…” Damian tried. He even tried to pull back, out of Dick’s arms. Dick refused to let him. “A case I’m working…”

“A case more important than Haley’s health?” Dick asked. Damian sighed.

“I knew from the moment you called that it was a ruse to get me to show up here.” Damian hummed thoughtfully. Remorsefully. “Until I heard her bark, I assumed there wasn’t actually a dog here at all.”

“I mean, it was, but also not really. I want to give her the best life I can, and you’re the greatest expert on dog care I know.” Dick shrugged. “And…I’ve never had a special needs dog.”

Damian seemed to consider, then exhaled again. “The longer I’m here the more likely Father will find me. And I…” A hesitation. “I don’t…want to see him. Right now.”

“If you don’t want Bruce to find you, I won’t let him find you. Simple as that.” Dick promised. “Want to make a bet on it? Stay a week, and if he doesn’t find out you’re here, you have to stay another two months at least. If he does, I’ll go with you wherever you want to go, even if it’s back to where you mom is, and only marginally complain about it.”

Damian stared up at him. His eyes were still dull, still tired, but there was a spark there. Just a little one. Just a tiny bit of hope.

“…You’re ridiculous.” Damian chuckled. “And I’m starting to think this was more than just a plot to get me to show up.”

“Oh?”

“Mhm.” Damian nodded, looking down at Haley. She didn’t open her eyes, but she did let her tail happily wag. “It’s feeling more and more like a kidnapping of me, and not necessarily of this sweet girl like I said earlier.”

“Well, what can I say?” Dick asked weakly, extending his legs until they surrounded Damian’s, and locking his ankles together. Now he had dog and child right where he wanted them – in his arms and under his protection. “I wasn’t lying. I really did miss you, kiddo. So damn much.”

Haley yawned, stretching her front leg out until it touched Dick’s knee. “…I missed you too, Grayson.”

Dick smiled, and leaned forward to plant a long kiss on Damian’s temple. “I love you, Damian.”

Damian smiled down at Haley, ran his hand over her head. “…I love you as well, Richard.”

“…Enough to stay for a few days?” Dick tried, leaning his chin on Damian’s shoulder. “Or, like, forever?”

Damian laughed – genuine, loud laugh – and flopped back against Dick’s chest. In exhaustion. In relief. Dick didn’t care. Just held his boy as tight as he could.

“I suppose I can consider it.”

#dick grayson #Damian Wayne

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heyheydidjaknow · 3 years

Note

Hiya! I have a request for an x reader songfic. Snap out of it by the Arctic monkeys gives me so many 2012 Donnie vibes. Maybe one where the reader is in love with Donnie but he likes April and the reader wants Donnie to, you know, "snap out of it" and notice that maybe April isn't the best person towards him. It can end in unrequited love or with a happy ending, that's for you to decide but I just really want to see this concept. Thanks! :>

(feel free to ignore this request if you want 👁️👁️)

Oh, I’m not about to turn away a chance to be pushed out into foreign territory. I admittedly hadn’t known what a songfic was until wikipedia and @kunimikat saved my ass, so this was fun-- and a bit scary-- to write. I hope you like it, even if it might not have been exactly what you were expecting.

April was your friend. She had been for a while, now, since she had moved to NYC. The two of you had come even closer after her kidnapping and initiation into the “Hamato Clusterfuck” as you had affectionately called it at first—you had wisely made a conscious effort to only get involved with them as far as you could throw them, sticking solidly to offering emotional support and half-decent food. At the beginning, you had, on multiple occasions, even begged her to stay out of it, trying to reason with her that getting herself killed by a psychotic armored man with an axe to grind for the crime of hanging out with four teenage shut-ins was an incredibly bad idea. When your logical arguments fell on deaf ears—her owing them apparently being her ball and chain—you had designated yourself as her supervisor to make sure she did not do something overly impulsive. She was reckless, overly trusting, immature, but you loved her like a sister. You balanced each other out.

One of the benefits of knowing someone for so long is that you learn things about them that they do not know about themselves. In April’s case, it had been that she was terrible at making up her mind

What's been happenin' in your world?

You had borne witness to the love triangle transpiring between Donatello Hamato, Casey Jones and her for the better part of a year now. You were relieved that the two boys had backed off each other’s throats somewhat over the period, but it was as infuriating as it was fascinating to watch them fight over her like a chew toy. Of course, April had her preference between the two, favoring the hockey player mainly for his general normalcy, which was a decision you could approve of, but she had hesitated until recently to make that obvious to the other point because, in her words, “The last thing I want is to deal with is all of that awkwardness.” You could hardly blame her for her hesitation, but you thought it almost cruel not to make her feelings apparent to her lovestruck puppy.

What have you been up to?

Donnie was the most tolerable of the five, the most normal in your opinion. He was an infatuated, insecure teenage boy with more an affinity towards machines and, best of all, seemed concerned for your friend, all things that you could get on board with. In your opinion, overbearingness is preferable to negligence in this case, and you were just happy that someone physically capable had her back. As such, when you were stuck at the lair for hours waiting for her lessons with Splinter to be over—you were her ride—you found yourself spending the most time around him, and as time went on, you started going out of your way to do so.

Seeing as April and Casey were your only other friends, it was natural you would get romantically attached. They—a couple by high school standards—approved of your crush, and all you told your guardian(s) was that they were smart, fit, and financially responsible, so they asked few questions.

You knew, logically, this was not a competition and that April had little interest in him.

But something about the way he gazed at her made you burn green with envy.

I heard that you fell in love, or near enough.

His eyes were just so… wistfully longing. He watched as the redhead and her boyfriend played against Michelangelo and Raphael in a game of charades. His expression was just so soft, lips pursing and popping silently as he grieved from his seat in his lab.

It had been a downhill spiral on your end from there, and as your own attachment grew for him, his own depression worsened. Your eyes drifted from your friend as you tried to make him see that, no, the world was not ending because his first crush did not like him back. You would make subtle comments about how happy his brothers were, how happy she and Casey were together, how smart he was and how many people would die for a kind, loving, smart guy to come around and sweep them off their feet. This, again, fell on deaf ears; he would always comment on how, if he were such a catch, April would not have chosen Casey, like It is his fault for her having more of a taste in cocky, fun-loving guys than intelligent ones. Half of it was probably your lack of experience in subtlety, but no matter what you would try to say, whenever romance came up in conversation, his words turned sharp and bitter.

On that day, you just cracked.

I gotta tell you the truth.

You walked over to the lab door, closing it in a single fluid motion. ‘I’m better at being blunt, anyways.’

He blinked; his trance was interrupted by the small slam.

“She’s not into you.”

“Huh?”

You crossed the room and placed your hand on the desk, expression stern and stone cold. “April,” you repeat. “She’s not interested.”

He did not meet your gaze. “You don’t know that.”

“I do, actually.” You leaned down to look him in the eye. “You aren’t her type. You’re supposed to be smart.” You placed the other on the back of his chair, arms cagging him in, almost. “ She has a boyfriend,” you continued, softer. “You know that, right?”

“I do.” He tapped the side of his thumb against the table absently, throat tight. “But what else do you suppose I do? Submit to the fact that I’ll be alone forever?” He looked up at you. “I know this may be hard for you to believe,” he continued, easily slipping out from under your arms, “but I don’t exactly have a ton of options. She’s the only person who’s ever looked at me like that; how am I supposed to move on from the only person who’s ever even given me a chance?”

I wanna grab both your shoulders and shake, baby.

You rolled your eyes, turning to watch him as he crossed to the other side of the room. “That is some blatant bullshit,” you glared curtly.

“Is it, though?” His back was to you as he crouched down in front of his centrifuge, fiddling with it. “As someone who’s never—”

“So help me, if you go off about me not understanding being rejected and feeling like they’d die alone, I’ll rip your tongue out.” You stood back up properly.

“What would you know about it?” He followed suit, eyes locking on yours. “You have other people to choose from.”

“And you don’t?” You crossed your arms, smiling incredulously. “How do we differ, exactly?”

“Besides the obvious?”

You scoffed. “You’ve seen your brothers. Never stopped them.”

“And I’m happy for them, that they’re so charismatic as to be able to find partners so easily.” You could taste the bitterness in his words. “But I’m not them, in case you didn’t notice. That girl out there?” He pointed to the door. “She’s the first and only person in the universe who’s ever given me a second glance.”

“So you’re just fucking blind, now?” You heard your voice rise without your input.

“What’re you talking about?” His voice grew with yours.

“You’re lovesick,” you spat. “Snap out of it.”

Snap out of it.

You ran your fingers through your hair. “Or maybe you’re just dense.” You felt a laugh rise in your throat. “I mean,” you gestured, “clearly picking up on verbal subtext isn’t your forte.”

You gave him five seconds. “What,” you continued, rubbing your face with your hands, “Are you—” You stopped. “You are, aren’t you?”

Nothing.

You took a slow breath, hearing your heartbeat in your ears. “Let me put it in simple, plain English for you.”

I get the feelin' I left it too late, but baby—

“As her friend? You’re a fucking creep.” You crossed your arms across your chest. “Following her the way you did—wait your turn—” A finger interrupted his defense. “Following her the way you did? Objectively creepy. Staring at her all the time? Also fucking creepy.” You felt your nails dig into your skin. “Any person would call it as it is.”

He opened his mouth again to argue. You did not interrupt him this time, but he did not argue, the silence falling like a weighted blanket over the two of you.

“As your friend,” you continued, voice lowered, “as someone who cares about you, I know April, and she can’t give you what you want. It’s not her; she needs to be free, and I love her, but you’re looking for something that’s just not there.” Your voice was certain. “You’re looking for someone to spend your life with. I’m right, aren’t I?”

Snap out of it.

He was still for a moment, looking off into the ether. He nodded, face melancholy.

You walked over, resting a hand on his shoulder tentatively. “I’m not saying it’s stupid of you to not be over her. Again, I love her to bits, so I see the appeal.” You broke eye contact, trying to articulate exactly what you meant. “But I’m worried,” you explained slowly, “you’re only hung up on her because you’re scared of being alone. That’s not fair to her or yourself.”

“Do you know that?”

“No,” you admitted easily, “but you and I are the same way, and trust me, I’ve been around the heartbreak block.” You smiled, trying to relieve the tension.

That earned a chuckle. A small one, but a chuckle none the less.

You reached up, cupping his cheek in your hand. “There are seven billion people on this planet. Any one of them—myself included—would be lucky to have a life with you.”

If that watch don’t continue to swing—

A pause.

“Do you honestly believe that?”

You nodded, your thumb running along the line of his eye socket. “I do.”

—or the fat lady fancies havin' a sing—

You leaned forward, pressing your lips against his cheek gently.

—I'll be here, waitin' ever so patiently—

“Y/N!” You pulled back as you heard April calling your name. “We need a moderator!”

You started back towards the door, waving gently. “I wish you good tidings, Donatello.” You smiled quietly, serenity itself standing in the doorway. “May whoever is fortunate enough to call you their own bring you happiness. You deserve it.” You slipped out of his lab, running over to break them up.

Donatello rested his fingers on where your mouth had lit his skin. He felt a bittersweet smile fade onto his face.

—for you to snap out of it.

And that was when it began.

List of Works

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angelanimedesaray · 3 years

Text

Wings in the Dark Chapter 5: Camaraderie

AN: More Cat and Mouse. I swear its gonna start to crescendo, guys, we’re almost there XD There’s just so much to establish!

Characters: Fem!Vampire!Reader, Levi, Petra, Oluo, Gunther, Eld

Pairing: (Eventual) Levi x Fem!Vampire!Reader

Warnings: Language, Loneliness, Depressed Thoughts

Word Count: 8146

<----Previous Chapter Masterlist Next Chapter---->

*Reader’s POV*

While it wasn’t the most shocking thing that had ever happened to you, being instated as a member, but not technically a member, of the Special Operations Squad was definitely up there on your list of most surprising things that had happened to you. The weird in-between position they gave you to try and mediate how unprecedented it was to have a rookie join Levi Squad after just one expedition may have been a glorified lackey, but it was still a position with Captain Levi’s Squad.

Of course, right now, that consisted of doing the menial chores, message delivery, and other small tasks like that, but you were still a part of the team. They’d only given you this aid position they’d made on the spot because you were so new, and it did a decent job of putting you at the bottom of the food chain until you were more seasoned. However, you were still considered part of Captain Levi’s Squad--you had your own private chambers and everything, which meant you wouldn’t have to worry about not waking up anyone while you snuck out of the barracks every once in a while to get something to eat.

Also, now that you were officially being placed with a squad, you knew what people you had to try and made friends with. Before you’d been hesitant--sure, you understood that the Scouts operated in a way that was going to make teamwork and camaraderie important, so you were going to have to be more social, but you still wanted to be careful about who you let get close. You still had an instinct to keep everyone at an arm’s length besides those you /had/ to keep close, which you had rationalized would include whoever you were put under and the rest of your squad.

While you’d known Levi was watching you and the rumors had been running rampant that a rookie would be joining his squad, you’d been well aware that he wasn’t watching you because he wanted to add you to the group--he was suspicious of you. That sparring match you’d had with him had tipped him off, and he hadn’t relented in his pursuit ever since then. In fact, when he’d told you that you were going to be a part of his squad, he didn’t look entirely pleased about it. Sure, Captain Levi was usually hard to read and usually appeared distant or unapproachable, but the look in his eyes had been...colder. It made you suspicious that having you on the squad had not been his decision, or at the very least it had been one he’d made despite his reservations.

Keep your enemies close, right?

Once it was on the table that this might be a position meant solely as an excuse to keep a closer eye on you, it made your skin crawl, and you approached every situation with caution. You had to watch every step, like you were walking across a tightrope and would drown if you slipped and fell into the waters down below.

When you’d joined the Scouts, you knew that it was going to be difficult to balance being a Scout with hiding your true nature, but this was far beyond what you had expected. It made you dearly wish that you had thrown that match back on the training grounds, that he’d never gotten a sense that you were hiding something so fiercely.

Soon, you were going to be kept up at night with an internal struggle to either stick it out and try to endure so you could do what you came here to do, or if you should just take off and slink back into the shadows.

But you couldn’t bear the thought of going back to that life, as much as it might have been ‘safer’ in a way. You wanted desperately to be here--but did you want it bad enough that you were going to throw all caution to the wind, risk the Captain getting too close to your secret. In the past, before you’d joined the military, you’d killed the people who came too close to exposing you. But that wasn’t an option, here. You knew how valuable Captain Levi was to the Scouts--humanity couldn’t afford to lose him, so you couldn’t afford to touch him. Your only choice was to play this god forsaken cat and mouse game and pray that you came out on top.

Thankfully, the other members of the squad weren’t aware of the cat and mouse you and Levi were caught up in--not yet, anyway. Though they were understandably confused and even a little irritated at the inclusion of a still-green rookie, even if it was as an aid. Maybe the aid position caused a bit more tension, because a new position had been created just so you could be added to the group.

Give it time, you told yourself as you continued cleaning your private room that had been assigned to you, currently working on cleaning the desk off until it had a polished shine to it. Even if Levi hadn’t added you to the squad because he necessarily wanted you here, you were still going to prove that you could belong here, if they would let you.

“Did you finish with the stables?”

“Yes, sir. Mucked out, equipment cleaned, horses fed, watered, and brushed, shoes cleaned, all of it.”

“What about cleaning inside, have you done all the tasks you were assigned?”

“All except what Oluo asked me to do. I haven’t got there yet."

"Well, get to it. And when you're done come down to the training grounds for some training."

"Yes, sir!"

As you walked away from Eld, your ears picked up on a passing comment he made to Gunther when he thought you were out of earshot.

“Is it just me, or is it frustrating how easily and quickly she tends to get all of her tasks done? I can’t even find anything wrong with it, so I can’t claim she’s rushing through it!”

"You too? I thought it was just Oluo complaining about that."

Just as you'd suspected. The others weren't pleased with your easy access to this position. They weren't going to say anything because they trusted Levi’s judgement and as far as they knew it was his decision, but that didn't mean they weren't going to be at least a little irritated. How long had it taken before they'd been added to Levi’s squad? How many expeditions, how much hard work? By all accounts, it looked like you'd had smooth and effortless sailing into a position among the elite.

The fact they kept having you do the shit chores was just a way to kick you back in the dirt and remind you that you were still a rookie, and they were the veterans with experience.

However, you didn't complain. You could do the jobs faster than anyone without loosing accuracy because of it. Not to mention you felt it might be cathartic for their frustrations. Though, now it seemed they had a new reason to be frustrated.

You'd tone it back to appease them, but Levi already knew what your full effort looked like with the cleaning jobs--he'd know you were holding back, and you highly doubted he'd appreciate that when it came to cleaning, knowing his standards.

Quickly, you made your way back inside and up to Oluo's chambers, stopping outside the door and giving a firm knock.

"Who's there?"

"It's L/N, you said you had a job for me to do?"

"It's about time you showed up. Get in here!"

After he'd officially invited you inside, you opened the door, stepping inside and expecting to see paperwork or supplies or something else you would have to deliver or put away.

Nope. Oluo was standing there with cleaning supplies presented in the middle of the room. You immediately knew where this was going, and even you could tell it wasn't going to end well.

"Start cleaning, rookie. I've got more important things I have to get done, and I want it shining by the time I get back," Oluo ordered, complete with a puffed out chest.

You were supposed to follow their orders without question, but you knew Oluo was taking advantage of that fact. Maybe he was hoping having you clean his quarters before Levi inspected them later today would help him look better to the Captain. But you were also certain that Levi would recognize that it was your work and not Oluo's

For Oluo's sake, since you were certain he would be the one getting in trouble, you pushed back slightly.

"Doesn't Captain Levi prefer if we clean our own spaces?" You asked as you picked up the broom. Oluo turned by the door, fixing you with the imitation of an expression befitting a superior who'd just heard a subordinate talk back.

"Huh? How long have you been here, rookie, compared to me?" Oluo challenged. You shrugged, turning back to the cleaning supplies and the room you were supposed to clean.

His funeral.

The window was open to let in natural light and try to chase away the gloomy atmosphere in your room, silence filling the space except for the birds outside and the scratching against the paper you were currently drawing on. Your eyes, however, were unfocused, looking past the piece you were drawing and instead getting lost in the sea of your depressed thoughts.

For three years you’d been back among people, mingling and being a part of society, but never had you felt so...ostracized. You were among people, but you weren’t close to anyone. Your peers thought you were a haughty perfectionist ice queen and were irritated by how easily everything came to you, Captain Levi was suspicious that there was something you were hiding and was watching your every move with a coldness in his eyes, and your new squad mates were currently using you as the gopher to dump all the chores they didn’t want to do onto you while giving you examining, dubious looks from a distance trying to figure out why you were even here.

You sat alone at meals, you didn’t go anywhere on your days off--the closest thing you had to a companion were the horses, and most of them were still frightened by you.

You wanted to be here, but...it was getting so hard just to be here. Was it really worth it if you were going to spend your days feeling like this?

On the paper spread out in front of you, you had a picture drawn from the mental image in your mind’s eye--a single flower in a barren spot surrounded by lush field. The sun shone everywhere else, but this single spot was cast in shadow. Despite the barren ground and the lack of sunlight, the flower was trying to bloom, partially budded, some petals trying to uncurl, but ice covered it’s petals and held prisoner it’s stem, restraining it in the icy chill, needing assistance but nothing around it willing or able to help.

You put down what you were drawing with, a lump in your throat and tears in your eyes as you headed over to your bed and stretched out on top of the neatly made covers, arms digging under the pillow you buried your face in before tears could overflow.

You were surrounded by people, but you’d never felt so lonely, and you wanted it to change. Even though you’d signed up for this and known it would be difficult, you couldn’t take living like this anymore. Something had to change. You didn’t know how you were going to keep your secret while trying to let people in enough to form bonds, but it was the only real option that you had.

The guys were all dubious of you, you could tell from overheard conversations and the looks in their eyes, but Petra...well, you thought if you were going to start trying to build a friendship somewhere, she might be the one to go to. She’d been a bit more...open, about the whole arrangement, and she was actually asking for help and trying to get a feel for you while everyone else seemed to be going out of their way to remind you that you were at the bottom of the food chain right now.

Starting tomorrow...you were going to try and be a companion and hopefully manage to find some friendship. Starting with Petra.

*Petra’s POV*

The mess hall was noisy as ever, making it a little surprising that Captain Levi was still sitting with them at the table after repeating the lecture he'd given Oluo later about doing his own cleaning. Now that Oluo had attempted to have the rookie clean his space and then pass it off as his own, the rest of them got to get the warning to do their own responsibilities without shoving them all off on the new girl.

Petra had felt bad that she seemed to be getting all the crap jobs nobody wanted to do and then some while the others seemed determined to make sure she knew her place, but she hadn't said anything because not once had the woman complained or looked the least bit upset by it. Until today, Petra had been unsure how to even approach her, something about her making her seem closed off and unreachable.

However, today she had approached Petra, quietly asking Petra if she would teach her the nuances for how everything was cleaned around here. Preferences of soaps and organization, what went where and the like. You could clean till everything shone like a new coin, bur preferences had to be taught or learned. She'd been aware of it, and she had been humble enough to approach Petra for answers.

It was only when she was approached that Petra suddenly realized how alone the woman seemed. She never ate with them--in fact she was certain she ate alone--and she was never seen around anyone from her years as a cadet, she didn't seem to leave headquarters to visit family, and if you needed to find her she was either alone in her room or with the horses in the stable. She was never with someone unless she was doing her job.

The thing that made Petra realize all this was how she was approached. The woman shifted her weight, a white knuckle grip on the broom in her hand despite visible restraint, her eyes fixed down and to the side, a slight tremble in her hand and a hunch of her shoulders like she was anticipating some negative reaction, or at least reluctance.

It wasn't right. She was part of their squad, and it was their job to make sure she felt included. Captain Levi must have felt that she was ready on some level to be here, and they were her comrades. At the very least, she should have a place among them--she shouldn't be so alone.

So, while everyone else was chatting as usual around the table, Petra kept an eye out for their new squad member. It took a while, but when the woman finally appeared and left the line to get her food, Petra attempted to catch her attention without the others noticing.

They locked gazes, and Y/N hesitated before she approached their table, making the others look up as she came astride the table.

"May I sit here?" she asked hesitantly, gaze flickering around at the others and lingering briefly on Captain Levi at the head of the table.

"Of course," Petra said instantly, gesturing to an empty seat beside her and flashing a look at the others daring them to disagree while Y/N was taking her seat. "It's about time you started sitting with your squad."

Her cheeks tinged pink in mild embarrassment, Y/N took a few bites of her meal, clearly uncertain about what to do next.

Well, if everyone else was just going to sit here in awkward silence, and Y/N wasn’t going to take the initiative because she wasn’t sure how, Petra would just have to do it herself.

“So, where are you from?” Petra asked her. It was probably the best, simple answer to get the ball rolling on conversation.

“A small town in Wall Rose--it tends to get overlooked, and it's usually quiet around there except the occasional scandal.”

“Do you have much family back home?”

“No, it’s just me.”

The way she said it was short, clearly ending the topic there, but she managed to not make it sound mean--just that she wasn’t entirely comfortable talking about it, which made sense. Petra continued to chat with her, asking simple questions to try and learn more about her, basing some off her observations of the woman--like if she was good with animals. Apparently animals weren’t always that fond of her, but she had a soft spot for them despite some animals distaste of her. She thought she might be good with cats or birds, but hadn’t really had the opportunity to test her theory out.

After a bit of back and forth between Petra and Y/N about their lives and learning about one another, the others started to join in as well--aside from Captain Levi, who seemed content to just focus on his meal and listen while everyone talked around him. As the conversation flowed a little more naturally, Y/N started to loosen up and relax, taking charge of the conversation a few times to ask about the others as well as she bloomed from a closed off background character in a novel to a more outgoing and engaging individual. It was quite the change to witness. She still withdrew into herself with more personal questions, especially about her past before joining the Scouts, which gave Petra the impression that the Scouts were a sort of fresh start for the woman. She shared with them why she’d joined the Scouts, which none of them could deny was a valid enough reason after seeing her in action. She had skill, and if she wanted those skills to be put to use, the Scouts were arguably the best place for them, and the faction of the military with the strongest need for them. Besides, who didn’t want to feel useful? Unfortunately, many Scouts died, and some died so quickly it was easy to wonder if their deaths ever had any meaning to begin with, if it had been worth it. However, Petra had the feeling this one wasn’t going to be one of those recruits that appeared and disappeared without ever leaving much of a mark. She just might be around for a while, especially if she was going to take the time to learn from the elites she’d been placed with and stayed grounded, level-headed, and smart.

As the questions drifted away from the personal, in part because of Y/N’s continued reluctance to delve too deeply into the personal, they started peppering her with the twenty-questions kinds of inquiries. What were her likes and dislikes, favorites, hobbies, fears, aspirations, that kind of thing. Some she was able to answer relatively quickly, even if it wasn’t simple, such as having no clear favorite because she liked so many, and other times she hesitated, such as when she was asked aspirations, because she hadn’t given it much thought, being so focused on this current stage of her life.

��What about biggest fears?”

“Oluo!” Petra protested, giving him a dirty look. They were all eating, and this question alone could get extremely dark considering the horrors they faced every day outside the wall.

“What? It’s a legitimate question. Some people are scared of spiders, others heights--though you don’t get much of that one in the military, I think--it could be all kinds of things.”

"I think the answer to that is a little too morbid for dinner conversation," Y/N said with a slightly weak smile, which made Petra think it might actually be something to do with Titans. If it was, it was probably best they didn’t hear it, just in case.

"Nah, it's fine, we're sharing--so what is it? Fire? Dolls? Dead fish?" Oluo asked cheekily.

"Um...being buried alive, actually," Y/N answered, looking down and picking at her food.

"Damn, that is a pretty scary thought. Wasn't expecting that one," Oluo muttered. Petra wasn’t paying attention to him--she was reading Y/N’s body language, how she’d seemed to withdraw into herself and her hand was trembling as she pushed around the food left on her plate. It was most likely at the thought of this fear of hers, if Petra had to guess. The mental imagery alone was terrifying.

At the other end of the table, Levi was staring at Y/N intently, having noticed the same things, and a little more.

“Now that Oluo has officially tried to sabotage the evening, let’s try some gossip: I hear you had a knack for sneaking out in the Cadet Corps and never got caught. What were you doing? I’ve heard some interesting theories,” Gunther said with a perceiving glint in his eyes. Y/N sighed even as everyone’s attention centered on her.

“God damn those rumors are going to follow me for the rest of my life, aren’t they?” she mused, not denying that she snuck out as she took a slow drink.

“Well, Rookie? Care to share?” Oluo asked as she sat down her drink.

She turned to look at the rest of the group, and then with an unreadable expression and in a completely deadpan tone, stated, "I strip naked in the pale moonlight and conduct blood rituals to achieve perfection."

There was a heartbeat, and then snorts, chuckles, a ripple of amusement through the group at the joke.

"Rookie's got a sense of humor," Oluo mused.

Y/N’s lips quirked towards a half smile, taking another drink. "Wish I could say the same for you."

There was a bit more laughter this time, even as Oluo scowled, no one bothering to hide their amusement at the comment.

"And some snark, to boot," Gunther snickered as Oluo sulked. “But really, though, what were you doing?”

Y/N sighed, setting down her drink again. “It wasn’t...actually, you know what,” she said with a sparkle in her eye and a mischievous smile. “I hear there’s a pot for the theories. Place bets on it, maybe one day I’ll actually tell you. Maybe I won’t.”

“Oh, come on,” Oluo complained loudly.

“Now that’s just mean,” Petra said with a cluck of her tongue and a shake of her head while Y/N settled back down, visibly proud of her teasing.

Caught up in their banter and companionable discussion, no one noticed how at the head of the table, laid back in his chair, Levi showed no sign of amusement, his gaze fixated on Y/N with a sharp, cold look.

*Reader’s POV*

After you’d taken your first steps towards developing a warmer relationship with your squad mates, things started to go a bit easier for you. You were still at the bottom of the food chain, and the responsibilities as an aid hadn’t changed, but you didn’t think you were getting as much shit dumped on you. It probably helped that Captain Levi had apparently given them a lecture about doing their own chores instead of getting lazy and shoving them all off on her.

For the most part, it was Petra that you were getting close to. The others were becoming cordial, and you had even approached Eld asking him if he could give you lessons on ODM gear technique after hearing he was quite skilled at utilizing the ODM gear. That seemed to have helped the relationship there--frankly, whenever you showed a bit of humility about still having a lot to learn, they warmed up a bit more.

It seemed there had been concerns that you would be an arrogant big headed pain in their asses with how quickly you’d shot into the elite squad, and showing them that you still considered yourself in a learning position and not above anyone helped assuage those fears.

Captain Levi...was as suspicious of you as ever. Except now you were around him enough to feel the chill in his gaze even after you left his presence. That was a relationship you weren’t sure you were in a position to improve. You’d given him plenty of reasons to be suspicious of you, but you were still trying your damnedest not to give him a reason to mistrust you. Maybe it would just take time to prove yourself in his eyes, but at this rate, it was looking like a /deep/ hole you were going to have to climb out of, and for some reason, it just kept getting deeper.

Since it was going to be the more difficult task, you resolved to worry about making a better relationship with Captain Levi later and instead focus on improving the relationship with your squad mates. Firstly, you didn’t want to be a kiss ass, especially cause you knew it would be obvious. Second, ideally by the time you set about improving your relationship with the Captain, he might have warmed up a bit to you.

At the very least, it would be nice if that chill wasn’t in his gaze anymore.

Right now, Petra was the closest thing to a confidant and friend that you had. After you had initially approached her about learning the nuances for cleaning, she’d taken the initiative to help you learn the ropes and adjust to the other nuances of being in Levi Squad, which involved a lot of dos and don’ts. She’d even pulled you aside one evening and sat you down so she could teach you how to properly make Captain Levi’s tea how he liked it, so that if or when he asked for it--and apparently he eventually asked everyone at some point, at least to gauge their tea making skills--you would be ready. You’d been down in the kitchen for a surprisingly long time for that one, since apparently Levi liked his black tea made a very specific way, and additives weren’t usually his preference, so there would be no masking any off taste.

Shortly after, you’d decided to let Petra know about your secret little garden with your tea making herbs. You’d gone when you both had some free time to spare, crouching down beside the garden and talking with her about the different herbs for your blends you’d added and why, complete with a prepared excuse about why the white sage was so far away from the rest and why you wore gloves when handling the plans at all times.

The white sage you told her needed to stay separate because it was aggressive and you didn’t want it taking over the smaller herbs, when you really kept it separate because it burned at the touch and you didn’t want to risk even accidentally brushing against it while you were working on this hobby of yours. As for the gloves, it was the same concept--it let you handle the sage safely without harming yourself, though you told her it was for cleanliness and to keep your natural oils off of the tea herb plants.

As you’d chatted about the herbs in your garden and potential additions (With Petra suggesting adding the plants necessary to make some black tea blends of your own), you’d caught a familiar scent on the breeze, which led you to hone your senses on the individual’s breathing and heartbeat. They were staying a safe distance away so as not to be noticed, but close enough that if something happened they would be there in an instant. They were tense and cautious, listening intently to what was being discussed.

It seemed Captain Levi had reached the point he didn’t trust you alone with the other members of Squad Levi in places that were hidden from the public eye. Your best guess for his presence was that it was out of concern for Petra, wanting to make sure the other woman was truly safe in your presence.

Once again, you understood his cautiousness, and he wasn’t wrong to be cautious...but the level of distrust still cut.

After about a week or so spent developing a stronger bond with your new squad mates, as the time for another feed drew closer, you decided to confide in some of your concerns with Petra regarding Captain Levi--that you felt you might have made a bad impression on him early on and wanted a way to thaw some of the ice between you two that wouldn’t look like bribery or like you were trying to kiss ass. You’d tossed a couple ideas around, already reassuring her that you were already intending to let time tell and let your own personality and abilities do most of the work, but that the chill was getting a little too uncomfortable on your end for you to keep going without making some kind of first step.

With an upcoming holiday and a debate about the best approach, you’d eventually settled on putting together a small gift of personalized tea blends. Since you didn’t have anything mature in your garden for black tea, you had to go into town to get missing ingredients, going with Petra to get her opinion on the best leaves, best tea bags, any additions that you didn’t have in your garden back with the Scouts or that hadn’t matured enough to use anything from it yet like your rosebush. After you had all of your materials, you’d headed back to HQ and stowed yourselves away in the kitchen to get to work.

Petra had the idea to make a couple different variations--there would be plain black tea, of course, but you’d also had some personal blends that you two decided on, mostly based off of Petra’s experience making Levi his tea when asked to, and her past observations of the few times he’d added something to it. You would have to divide and label the different teas in the container, but it would make it a little more personal.

However, you got her attention when you brought out the white sage, gloved hands grinding the herb up into a fine powder with a mortar and pestle.

“What’s that for?” she asked with a slight frown, watching you intently grinding at the white sage to make sure it was all powder and there weren’t any chunks left.

“I’m going...to add a light dusting of the white sage over the tea bags. Hopefully not enough to alter the taste, but it will still be in there,” you murmured, covered fingers running through the powder to check how fine you’d made it.

“I know there’s superstitions about white sage cleansing of evil and bad spirits, but I know the Captain isn’t, and you didn’t take me for the superstitious type. I just figured you had a fancy taste in tea,” Petra mused. You almost snorted, but stopped yourself short considering you were currently directly over the powdered sage and didn’t want it to go everywhere.

“While I’m sure the superstitious intent of cleansing and warding off evil adds a bit more personal good intent, the short version is that it’s also supposed to do wonders for your health. At least according to that book that’s still stashed in my desk,” you chuckled.

“I didn’t know that...a fine addition, then. You really pay attention to that herbology book of yours,” Petra quipped with a friendly smile, which you returned before setting the white sage aside for later, when your tea bags were finished.

Though only you would know it, if he kept the tea and used it frequently--which was fairly likely with how much tea he drank--then he would have white sage in his system frequently. That alone would protect him substantially from any other vampires lurking in the darkness. You couldn’t predict the actions of other vampires, especially with how impulsive they could sometimes be, but if you were this deep in the Scouts, you would rather be safe than sorry, especially if someone with ill intentions managed to work their way in.

Sure, white sage helped with general health, but the real reason you were adding it was for your own peace of mind to help protect Captain Levi. Why not take the opportunity to do so now that it had presented itself. If you were in the position to, you would give similar gifts of secret protection to more than just him, but you only had so much white sage, and right now, he was the one you had an excuse to do this for.

Now you just had to hope he would accept it.

*Levi’s POV*

As much as Erwin had a point about being able to keep a closer eye on L/N by having her in his squad, Levi was finding the arrangement to be...complicating. The way she presented herself, interacted with the others, the hard work she was putting in, he kept finding himself softening towards her because of it. She was a good soldier who truly put in the effort and then some, and she was quickly growing on the rest of the team. She was observant and thoughtful, and she paid close attention to the needs and preferences of the people around her. She wasn’t boastful or arrogant, and apparently was trying to learn something from every member of the squad. Petra had already taken her in like the natural mother hen she was and was around her quite often, but L/N could be seen around the others as well, just not as much.

For fuck’s sake, she’d even befriended his goddamn horse--he’d caught her in the stables sneaking him some oats and getting playfully nuzzled in return. From her track record, he knew she had to have put in the effort for that to happen, too, considering the horses started off at least spooked by her.

But he knew she was hiding something. He couldn’t ignore the signs he’d picked up on until now, how she dodged the personal and tried to keep her past hidden and buried, couldn’t forget the smell of the Underground and blood on her cape, her lack of a past, her unexplained, effortless natural skills, the regular sneaking out to do who knew what. Maybe it wasn’t as insidious as he kept thinking it might be, maybe he should ease up a bit instead of freezing her out and treating her like an already convicted traitor. But he couldn’t shake this feeling that whatever she was hiding was far from innocent, and he didn’t want to risk the betrayal, or getting his squad any more mixed up in it than they already were.

Though how well they were starting to take to her and how she was already being included into the fold, he was starting to get the sense that he was on a time limit before uncovering her as a traitor or something else terrible would cause unexpected damage.

Of course, he could take the paranoid route and assume that it was all clever, carefully planned movements, actions, and words meant to manipulate everyone around her into trusting her and letting their guards down. Unfortunately, not only was that extremely paranoid, but she didn’t lack the sincerity behind much of what she did like certain psychopaths he’d met in the past. She was very clearly hiding things, and she knew she was being watched, but her sincerity didn’t ring hollow because of it.

Fuck, he hated being in this position. And he really hated that he’d agreed to Erwin’s idea to put him in this situation. Even he knew he was being especially cold to her as if it would help put some distance between himself and the warm individual who was working her ass off for him and his squad in case the worst happened. If he was wrong, though, and what she was hiding wasn’t as malicious as he felt it might be, then he was going to have a lot of reparations to deal with going forward, especially since she was already on the fast track to be a part of his squad for a long time moving forward so long as she continued to survive the expeditions.

It would be so much easier if she just came clean. They wouldn’t have to do all this back and forth, cat and mouse, and they could move on. Unfortunately, even though she knew she was being watched and Levi was suspicious, she wasn’t saying anything beyond that comment she’d made the night before the expedition. Just another reason to believe whatever she was hiding was ugly.

There was a knock on his door, and his gaze flickered up to the shut door across from his desk, a faint frown on his face and Erwin’s findings about L/N spread out in front of him as he was in the middle of contemplating next moves.

“What?” he asked, squinting slightly at the door.

“It’s Y/N L/N. May I come in, Captain?”

Instinctively, Levi covered the documents he’d been looking at with anything that didn’t have to do with her, from supply shortage lists, reports from Hange and Erwin about the Scouts in general, anything but what he was looking at about her, knowing she had a sharp eye and not wanting to risk her seeing just how much he was aware of.

“Fine, come in,” Levi muttered, arm lying against the desk as the door opened after he spoke, and L/N came in hesitantly, something in hand.

A delivery, then. It was too much to hope she’d come to finally confess her secret to put an end to their unspoken chase. A pity.

As she approached, Levi noticed that she was rather fidgety, obviously nervous or at least a little embarrassed, and she was clutching the tin box in her hand rather rightly. What the hell was this about that suddenly she was a nervous cadet instead of the relatively calm and steady individual he’d been chasing secrets over up until now?

And then he remembered what day it was.

You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me...

As understanding lit up in his eyes, he held up a hand. “If this is an attempt at a bribe, L/N--”

“It’s not,” she said firmly, and Levi had to give credit to the balls she had to cut him off like that. She didn’t even seem to regret it, plowing forward before he could start down the path of rejection again.

“It’s a gift, no strings attached or anything like that. Petra and I put it together, it’s for the holiday...and it’s also partially a thank you, on my part,” she said before taking a deep breath, setting the box down on his desk neatly on a clean space front and center before stepping away. “I know I haven’t made the best impression, and you didn’t have to put me with your squad in any capacity, but you did, and I intend to make sure it’s not something you end up regretting.”

It seemed they were both well aware of the game they were trapped in, and she was well aware of her position. He had to give her credit for not bolting, if she knew the position she was in and how much scrutiny she was under. Either she didn’t feel what she had to hide was that serious, which wasn’t likely with how hard she was trying to hide it, or she was that confident in her abilities to keep the truth hidden.

He still wasn’t sure he could entirely believe that this wasn’t a bribe, though. It could very easily be taken as one, or at least a thinly veiled attempt to get him to like her--or at least not be as cold with her. And she’d involved Petra. It was almost like she’d name dropped the other woman in order to prevent him from immediately rejecting the gift, because it wasn’t just her that had put effort into it.

Levi stared her up and down intently, eyes narrowed slightly out of suspicion as he tried to gauge her intentions and sincerity. After a few tense moments where she simply endured his piercing stare without so much as a tremble--there was the collected individual he’d seen up until now--he looked away, down at the papers across his desk.

“If that’s all, you can go,” he said bluntly as a way of dismissal. She was lucky he wasn’t telling her to take it back. He wasn’t openly accepting it, either, he was still going to decide what to do with it, but he wasn’t sending it back with her, either.

It was the closest she was going to get to accepting a gift right now.

L/N snapped a salute, apparently deciding it was better not to say anything and to just take the semi-win and leave. Once the door shut behind her, Levi waited a few more moments before he put the random papers he’d grabbed back where they belonged, pulling the tin close so he could get a look at what was inside now that she’d left.

Opening the tin, the fragrance that escaped immediately told him what the gift was--black tea, but a variety of different blends. And it was good tea, too, if the scent was anything to go by. Groups of the tea bags were sectioned off, labeled by the variant they were, such as the one blend that included lemon, or the one that seemed to have blackberries in it. The tea bags were definitely homemade, telling him the blends were specially made by her and Petra, thought going into the ingredients. There was a white powder dusted over all the tea bags that turned out to be white sage upon closer inspection.

An odd choice...especially since it was on every tea bag and not certain blends.

The wild thought crossed his mind that they might be poisoned, and he scowled, attempting to brush aside the paranoia with the thought that it would be far too bold and obvious of a move, especially with Petra helping put it together. He doubted she would have been able to get such a thing past Petra, too, considering the woman’s experience making Levi’s tea.

I’m going fucking crazy, he thought to himself as, despite his rationalization, he pulled out one of the tea bags and started methodically pulling it apart piece by piece to make sure there wasn’t anything fatal slipped into the homemade blend. He made sure to avoid touching it as little as possible so it was still usable when he was done, shifting through the ingredients in the blend and making sure he recognized every one.

Nothing suspicious about it. Aside from the odd choice of white sage.

If it really was meant to be a bribe, though, did he want to take it? He didn’t want to waste the tea, so he wasn’t going to just throw it out. He could re-gift it to Hange or Erwin, but he knew that would be a slight, and L/N hadn’t been the only one to make it--Petra had helped.

Dammit…

He’d just have to let it sit there until he could figure out what he was going to do with it. He could speculate on conspiracy theories about what it was meant to be, if it really was anything more than a gift, until he figured out how he was going to handle it.

It really could be what she said, though--a gift for the holidays and a thank you, maybe even a peace offering in the hopes things wouldn’t continue to be so tense between them. The contention would continue, though, until he found out what she was hiding.

Levi settled back into what he’d been doing before she came to his office, looking over the details Erwin had provided him, a small frown on his face as he looked over official documents and police reports that were roughly forty years old about a double homicide in the town that had spawned local legends and horror stories to frighten children. Why was this included in the report Erwin gave him? One of the two victims was the girl that L/N shared a first name with, the only thing resembling a tangible connection to the town she claimed as her hometown that Erwin could find.

He was going to have to talk to Erwin and try to get a day or two off so he could go investigate in person. He needed more information than what was in these reports, and he would only find what he wanted by going there in person.

Once more, there was a knock on the door, this time followed immediately by a familiar voice calling, “Captain?”

Ah, this was a meeting he’d been waiting for.

“You can come in, Petra,” he called, finally putting away Erwin’s reports in a safe place as Petra entered the room and headed for Levi’s desk. She didn’t bother asking why he asked her to meet him, simply took a seat and waited for him to speak.

“What do you think about our new member?” Levi asked after he got settled in his seat. Petra’s surprised eyes wandered to the gift still sitting on the desk, a questioning look in her eyes even though she complied to answering his question.

“Do you mean in skills or compatibility?” Petra asked for clarification after a moment’s hesitation.

“Compatibility.”

He was already well aware of her skills--she wouldn’t have even been placed as an aid in the squad if she didn’t have skills to become one of the elite. Skill was one of the first things he looked at when choosing squad members.

Petra seemed even more confused that he was asking after her personality more than anything, but again, she didn’t question him.

“She’s quiet and reserved, for the most part, but after spending a couple weeks with her, once you manage to get her to open up she has a warm and caring personality. She’s a little socially timid, though, I’m sure you’ve noticed; like she’s thinking of how she should act before she does or says something. At least at first, before she gets more comfortable and gets into the flow of conversation.”

Petra paused to consider, a small frown on her face. “She’s a creature of habit, that’s for sure--she’s always wearing the same necklace, all the time--I’ve never seen her without it, and there’s certain places she’s always at during certain times of the day. I’m a little worried about her health, though. I didn’t notice it at first, but she hardly seems to eat. She doesn’t get much on her plate, and she’s always smuggling things that are safe for horses to eat to the stables to bribe the horses instead of eating it herself. She doesn’t seem affected, not yet anyway, but I’m still worried about it.”

Taking the mental notes for later in case that information proved important, Levi pressed a little further. “What about the others? It seems like she’s fitting in well.”

Petra nodded. “She’s getting lessons of some kind from almost everyone, and she’s been a lot better about being social. She’s making a genuine effort to be a part of the squad, and to be perfectly honest, I like having her around.”

“Anything else?”

Petra’s gaze flickered over to the box sitting on the desk again. “If it’s not too presumptuous, Captain--I don’t know what impression she made when you two first met. She mentioned it may not have been the best first impression, but...she really is trying to be worth the chance she’s been given to be a part of this squad, and her attempts appear genuine to me. Perhaps give her another chance to make a better impression.”

Levi didn’t answer her, and he kept his expression unreadable so she wouldn’t see his reaction to her words. It was more incentive for him to close this messy chapter, and it helped clear up his thoughts on how to act going forward if this secret didn’t turn out to be something crazy like treason or murder.

“Thank you, Petra. You can go, now,” Levi finally answered in an indifferent voice. Petra got up and gave a quick salute, then quietly left the room without any further comment. Once she was gone, Levi got to his feet with a slight sigh.

He needed to see Erwin.

Next Chapter---->

Levi Tags: @clary-quinn @humanitys-hottestsoldier@whalerus @sunny-flo @thirstyforsometea

Wings in the Dark Tags: @regalillegal @animeluver23 @theshylittleelfgirl @queenthorin1 @dilucs-thighs @sociallyanxiousmouse

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jaskiersvalley · 4 years

Note

thoughts on a centaur au? Jask is a Buck and Geralt is probably one of those Draft horses! maybe when jask goes to Kaer Morhen they are fascinated with Jasks' antlers and Lambert hangs shit on them like Lil'Bleater or bowls

This ask made me do some happy wiggles of excitement because centaurs!! I adore your idea of Lambert hanging things on Jaskier’s antlers and we’ll get there, but first, I think a bit of tension is needed :D

The forest was overrun with men who hunted indiscriminately. Jaskier had been avoiding them y climbing higher and higher up the mountain he had always been warned away from. But he figured that nothing the mountain hid could be worse than what the humans were doing. At least, he thought that while it was daylight and he had energy. Now thought, it was dark, getting cold and Jaskier was hungry. He hadn’t had the chance to grab provisions as he had fled, an arrow glancing off his side, leaving a sluggishly bleeding gouge. Around him, the trees had stopped being large and welcoming with the sun peeking through them. Instead, they loomed menacingly, hiding any number of evil threats.

Exhausted, Jaskier couldn’t go on any longer. He found a small clearing next to the path, haphazardly gathered up a few armfuls of leaves for a makeshift nest and curled up as small as he could, hoping none of the howling creatures would stumble upon him. Sleep, no matter how tired he was, didn’t come easy. Every small snap of twig had Jaskier flinching, trying to listen out for anything prowling closer. Heart fluttering in his chest, Jaskier tried to calm himself yet he didn’t dare even hum to soothe his worries.

He was so caught up in calming his heart and stopping his trembling, Jaskier missed the soft fall of heavy hooves.

“You sure have strayed far from your patch, little buck,” a deep voice all but growled and Jaskier was up, legs buckling nervously as he looked up at the new arrival. He was big, taller and broader than Jaskier. “What brings you to our territory?”

Our?! Jaskier’s breath hitched as he twisted and saw that two more similarly built centaurs had materialised from between the trees. He was surrounded, outnumbered and outclassed. If he had been less exhausted and not injured, Jaskier might have been able to outrun them but, in his current state, he couldn’t even slip past them in all likelihood.

“I was hoping for a quiet, peaceful night in relative safety,” he managed to spit back, wit and tongue still as sharp as ever even if his body wasn’t.

Eyes glinted in the dark, positively predatory. Worse, moonlight filtered through the trees and Jaskier caught sight of scars littering torsos and faces. There was nothing friendly or reassuring about the new arrivals. What Jaskier didn’t expect was a low rumble of laughter.

“You won’t find that here.” And Jaskier didn’t think he could have heard anything less friendly. He braced to make a break for it, willing to risk his all because the only other option was to stay put and die.

“Stop being mean, Lambert,” the one behind Jaskier sounded amused and a lot closer than he was a minute ago. Jaskier whirled around, head tipped down to at least look like his antlers could do some damage if he was pushed. “Relax, little buck, we mean no harm. Could smell your blood and merely came to investigate.”

A hand merrily smacked Jaskier’s rump and he bucked, kicking out and skittering away, colliding into a firm chest with a squeak.

“That was mean, Lambert,” the chest rumbled under Jaskier as hands helped right him. “Go check the traps and pick up our bundles. We’re done for tonight and heading back. Eskel, take the rear.”

The one who was evidently called Eskel grumbled something under his breath about them not being bleeding hearted softies but he still moved as told, offering Jaskier a small half smile.

“Apologies about our herd. Brutish but well meaning. Come back to our home, we’ll tend to your wounds and you’ll be free to go whenever you want. We’ll even give you some food for whatever journey it is you’re obviously embarked on.”

Options were slim pickings and Jaskier could either go with them or run. He was too tired to run though so he allowed himself to be led up the mountain. The path was difficult, he delicately stepped over larger cracks and holes in the ground that the others seemingly avoided naturally, like it was a habit of theirs.

Sooner than expected, they were outside a giant, sprawling keep. Parts of it were crumbling away but a good portion of it appeared to be well maintained.

“Welcome to Kaer Morhen,” the leader said, opening the doors.

“Geralt, what is the meaning of this?” Another large centaur asked, standing opposite the open door. In the flickering light of torches, Jaskier could see they were all draft horses but heavily scarred as if, rather than working in haulage, they fought for their keep.

“A stray. Found him just before the Forktail’s Pass.” Turning to Jaskier, Geralt smiled. “This is Vesemir.”

Vesemir looked about as welcoming as a pit filled with hungry wolves and when Jaskier was ushered past him, he tried to give the old and grizzly centaur a wide berth.

“Let’s have a look at your side then I’ll show you to bedroom.” Geralt said, ushering Jaskier into a room that looked like an infirmary. “Though Eskel’s usually better at healing.”

“Damn right I am,” a voice joined them and Eskel walked in. He should have looked so much more frightening in the light, what with scars marring his face and arms. Yet all Jaskier could see was someone who had a lot of pain in his past.

His side was gently prodded, cleaned and a light bandage was wrapped around it. All while Eskel was doing that, Geralt was silent in a corner and occasionally staring at Jaskier. Or rather, his antlers.

The bedroom Jaskier was shown to was basic but functional. Most importantly, is had a lock on the inside. Though what it would achieve was a mystery when any of the inhabitants of the old keep could probably very easily kick through the wood of the door. It didn’t stop Jaskier feeling a little better as he slid the lock into place. Exhausted, he pulled the knitted throws and pelts into a nest and curled up, leaning against the rest, pulling it away from the wall a little to make room for his antlers.

In the morning, Jaskier was disoriented and still tired. His stomach was actually hurting with hunger so, fighting down the worry, he opened the bedroom door and did his best to strut towards the sound of quiet murmurs and the smell of food. All chatter came to an abrupt stop as Jaskier all but pranced in. His rescuers were still terrifying but at least Jaskier didn’t think they were going to slaughter him immediately. At least, the pelts he’d slept on were all predator ones.

“Good morning my handsome heroes,” Jaskier forced a smile. Eyes followed his every step but nobody moved until Geralt cleared his throat.

“Help yourself to food.”

Permission granted, Jaskier helped himself, piling a plate high with food and trotting to the table. He could pretend this was normal, that he belonged, was one of the giants who lived here. Four sets of eyes were trained on him as he ate and he ignored them in favour of taking a bite and lauding the chef with a happy moan.

His hosts never stopped looking at him, sneaking glances even when they tried to get back to their own meal. Plates empty, it was Geralt who offered him a small smile.

“Shall I show you round?”

If Jaskier hadn’t had antlers, he was certain Geralt would have offered him an arm to guide him. However, too close, Jaskier had to turn his head so he didn’t take Geralt’s eyes out. They had stopped in the courtyard when Geralt finally mustered up some courage.

“May I?” His hands were raised towards Jaskier, reaching for his antlers.

“Of course!” Jaskier even dipped his head to allow it, appreciating how gentle and soft Geralt had been on their impromptu tour. “I shed them once a year. Probably due to do it in a few weeks.”

A wicked smirk split Geralt’s lips wide. “I have an idea.”

There was a general fascination with Jaskier’s antlers amongst the others. While Geralt asked for permission to touch them, Eskel only looked at them surreptitiously. Lambert, on the other hand, was on a mission to be secretive and mischievous. The first time Jaskier ended up with a sausage on his antlers, he thought he’d had a mishap at breakfast and thought nothing of it.

However, the incidents kept up. There was a paper chain, carefully crafted that was draped to span his antlers after Jaskier woke from a nap. For the rest of the day, he proudly wore it, suspecting Lambert was the culprit behind the draping. Though the crafting of the chain was much more the kind of thing Eskel would do. It became a game after that, Jaskier noticed. While the others worked tirelessly to keep their keep and surrounding lands safe and their gardens free of pests, they needed some downtime. Which was where Jaskier seemed to fill a hole in their lives. Singing and bringing a splash of colour and art into their lives, Jaskier was reluctant to leave. Especially when Geralt invited him to late evening walks through Vesemir’s rose garden. It was all incredibly sweet.

As sweet as it was, Jaskier was a bit outraged when he woke up to see Lambert hightailing it out of the room and half the kitchen hung on his antlers, clanging bad enough to make Jaskier jump which only dislodged more pots, adding to the noise.

His antlers had been itching for a few days and Jaskier longed to find a good tree to rub against. Instead, he got to ask Geralt to rub the bases for him.

“Payback is going to be so sweet,” Geralt rumbled and Jaskier nodded. The antlers were a little loose. All he needed was something a little heavier on them and they’d likely fall. “I’ll encourage him.”

Sure enough, when Jaskier was pretending to snooze the next afternoon, Lambert appeared with Eskel’s prized goat. It was a sweet, placid thing, Jaskier quite liked Li’l Bleater. He watched as Lambert approached and hefted the goat up. The weight of a happy goat settled on Jaskier’s antlers and there was a small snicker from Lambert. Eskel rounded the corner and he froze at the sight. Which was the exact moment there was a crack and one of the antler fell.

Lambert caught Li’l Bleater before he could fall but there was horror on his face as he watched Jaskier’s antler on the floor.

“Oh fuck. Oh fucking fuckity fuck.” Lambert backed away and even Eskel looked too stunned to do anything.

Pretending to wake up, Jaskier shuffled around and froze when he so obviously caught sight of his antler. Raising a hand, he patted where the antler had been and, with his best acting skills, looked up at Lambert with devastation in his eyes.

“What have you done to me?”

There was a shriek and Lambert crashed into Eskel as he tried to run away. They stumbled, legs tangling and Vesemir came running to see what the upheaval was.

Jaskier was already doubled over laughing and, from the other side of the room, he could hear Geralt hooting.

“I broke the buck!” Lambert cried. “I broke him.”

Vesemir took one look at the scene, stomped over to cuff Lambert on the back of the head and turned to give Jaskier the same treatment.

“Idiots. The lot of you.” However, his eyes strayed to the antler on the floor. “You got use for that?”

“It’s yours, parental figure of the herd,” Jaskier leaned down to pick the antler up and offered it to Vesemir.

“You’ll do,” Vesemir snorted and took the antler, much more gently than Jaskier had expected. “You know your way round already. Stay as long as your heart desires. And maybe ask Geralt about his heart too.”

He gracefully ignored the snickering comment from Lambert about getting the old breeding block out. Though Eskel did cuff him on the back of the head for good measure. Jaskier had never felt more at home or more accepted. He decided he could easily spend several seasons at Kaer Morhen, seeing if it could truly become the home he’d craved all his life.

#geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #lambert #eskel #vesemir #centaur au #long post #tldr: buck jaskier finds a home with the draft horse witchers of kaer morhen

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ibijau · 3 years

Text

Futures Past pt7 / On AO3

Lan Xichen's plans for the day get derailed, but not as much as he feared

After a long and silent eternity, the people of Yunping Huang finally started to wake up, as did their Lan guests. Lan Xichen and Nie Huaisang, both relieved to have company at last, joined everyone else for breakfast. The younger boy made a point of sitting as far away as possible, clearly still upset about that Su She incident. Even like this, Nie Huaisang threw a sharp look toward Lan Xichen when Lan Qiren dropped by to announce that they would all be staying until that afternoon, since the three sect leaders present had things left to discuss.

Lan Xichen tried his best to look surprised at the news, and discreetly nodded at Nie Huaisang to confirm he would still be helping.

By the time Lan Xichen felt it safe to head out without risking being seen by his uncle, Nie Huaisang was already at the door of the sect, nervously biting his nails again and tapping his foot on the ground as if waiting to be given a chance to bolt out. He must really have wanted those spring books, Lan Xichen thought.

It wasn’t so hard, convincing the Huang disciple guarding the entrance that Nie Huaisang was actually allowed to go out if it was in Lan Xichen’s company. It helped that Lan Xichen, in spite of his age, already had a small reputation going for him, and that he’d performed so well against those fierce corpses the previous day that the guard was a little in awe. The two boys then headed out together, having agreed to stick together until they were out of view, and to meet again at a certain hour when they had both taken care of their respective errands. They would surely be scolded when they came back, but less than if they returned separately.

Nie Huaisang was about to run off on his own when they heard someone calling their names behind them. They turned as one, terrified to have been already discovered, only to find Jiang Cheng running toward them, a frown on his face.

“Where are you two going?” Jiang Cheng asked when he caught up with them, throwing them a suspicious look.

“Nowhere,” Lan Xichen said.

“And we’re not going together,” Nie Huaisang added. “We just happen to be heading out at the same time.”

Jiang Cheng’s expression only turned more suspicious. If that Huang disciple had been easy to fool, it seemed Jiang Cheng remembered that Lan Qiren’s punishment of Nie Huaisang had made no mention of exceptions.

“Can I come with you?”

Lan Xichen gave the younger boy a puzzled smile, and turned to look at Nie Huaisang, awaiting his answer. He hadn’t noticed that the two boys had talked at all the previous day, but he wasn’t surprised either that they’d have some affinity.

They weren’t supposed to have met yet, but Lan Xichen remembered that they would become somewhat close the following year, especially after that Wei Wuxian boy would be sent home. He didn’t think the friendship between Nie Huaisang and Jiang Cheng had gone anywhere after they’d left the Cloud Recesses, but it would still be good for them to…

“No, I meant with you, Lan gongzi,” Jiang Cheng corrected with some embarrassment, having followed his gaze. “I had a few questions I’d like to ask you, about yesterday. Lan gongzi really was very impressive,” he explained with a small bow. “I hoped he might spare some time to teach me?”

The request startled Lan Xichen, as did the rather mild and calm tone in which it was made. Come to think of it, in that terrible future he’d very rarely interacted with Jiang Cheng without Wei Wuxian being present as well, who always unwittingly drew out the worst sides of his shidi’s personality. And then, after Wei Wuxian’s death… well, Jiang Cheng just hadn’t been a pleasant man with anyone.

He too would grow into a lonely man, Lan Xichen recalled, and the idea upset him. How much could have been changed, if he hadn’t relied so much on Meng Yao’s friendship, if Jiang Cheng had had someone on his side other than Wei Wuxian?

“I have an errand to run,” he explained, only to see Jiang Cheng’s face tighten at the apparent rejection. How odd, that he’d never noticed before that Jiang Cheng was a little sensitive, but he recalled an argument in that temple where Meng Yao would die, and… well. Sensitive was a mild thing to call it. “It’s fine if you come as well,” Lan Xichen heard himself say.

“Really?” Jiang Cheng asked, sounding almost suspicious.

It would be a dreadful idea to think of dragging the son of a sect leader into the sort of places where Meng Yao could be expected to be found. But Jiang Cheng looked too pitiful to be left behind, and Lan Xichen decided even if this visit to Yunping City turned out to be a failure, he could always try to come again later. He’d have to lie about the reason why, but since it was for a good cause, he figured it wasn’t too big of a crime. In fact, maybe it was for the best if he gave up for the day. He hardly had a plan on how to deal with Meng Yao, anyway.

“I was also impressed by how well Jiang gongzi did yesterday,” Lan Xichen said with a smile. “For being so young, you are very competent already. I was wondering why Jiang zongzhu had brought his young son to a Night Hunt that could have been dangerous, but after seeing you in action I understand better.”

“Yes, Jiang gongzi was really impressive,” Nie Huaisang exclaimed, as if he knew enough about martial arts to give his opinion. “Yunmeng Jiang trains for flexibility and speed, right? It really showed! And you have very good posture and a strong grip on your sword. I think even my brother would have found nothing to say against how you fought!”

Lan Xichen threw Nie Huaisang a sharp glance, surprised to hear him make such an accurate assessment of Jiang Cheng’s skill. Apparently lacking any talent himself didn’t stop him from understanding the strength of others.

Jiang Cheng’s cheeks turned a little pink at the double praise.

“You’re both too generous,” he said in a tone of voice that made it obvious he thought he deserved the compliments. Then, quite suddenly, his face turned sour. “To be honest, I’m only here because Wei Wuxian was supposed to come as well and we work well as a team. But he got punished and had to stay behind. If you’d seen him, then…”

“That Wei person isn’t here though, so who cares about his skill!” Nie Huaisang cheerfully cut him. “If he got punished, he can’t be that good. Ah, but I really should get going now… Jiang gongzi, please entertain Lan gongzi for me, and I’ll see you both later when it’s time to leave!”

With this, Nie Huaisang darted away, the way he’d been wanting to do since Lan Xichen first saw him that morning. For someone so reluctant to do any physical exercise Nie Huaisang could run fast, and in the blink of an eye he had just disappeared in the sparse early morning crowd.

“What a weirdo,” Jiang Cheng remarked.

“He’s a very unique person,” Lan Xichen agreed. “I just hope he won’t get himself into too much trouble. Ah, well… shall we go?”

“Sure. What’s your errand? I’ve been here a few times before, maybe I can guide you around.”

For a brief moment, Lan Xichen was very tempted… but no. He would find another occasion to deal with Meng Yao. This was important too, he felt.

He'd been focused on saving Nie Mingjue, on protecting his sect's library, on averting Meng Yao's fate, because those had been the thing weighting down the man he would have become, but he didn't have to stop at that. There were many more tragedies in the world, small and big, and maybe Lan Xichen could change those too.

Maybe Jiang Cheng didn't need to grow with no friend but Wei Wuxian.

“Forget about my errand, it’s something that can wait. Instead, would Jiang gongzi show me around while we chat? I’m sure you know some interesting places.”

The praise, however mild, had an instant effect on Jiang Cheng who proudly nodded, and offered to take Lan Xichen to the market by the lake, where some sellers always had some unique things to sell, he claimed, as well as delicious food. Besides, if Lan Xichen didn't enjoy the market, then they'd have the option to just walk by the lake and enjoy the sight. It seemed like a pleasant enough plan so Lan Xichen agreed.

As they walked side by side, Jiang Cheng started asking questions about Lan Xichen's performance the previous day, and about Gusu Lan's style of cultivation in general. Jiang Cheng was surprisingly observant, it turned out, and quite curious as well as gifted with a good memory. He lacked the sheer genius that Wei Wuxian seemed to have, but hard work and stubbornness were valuable skills as well. After just this short chat, Lan Xichen thought it made sense that Jiang Cheng had managed to single-handedly raise his sect from the ashes, in that future that couldn't be allowed to happen.

He thought, also, that his future self had missed out by never taking the time to really talk to Jiang Cheng. The younger boy's character was a little rough around the edges, but he knew how to be polite, and some of his remarks showed an understanding of politics that surprised Lan Xichen. In some ways, Jiang Cheng reminded him of Nie Mingjue as he had been before rising to power.

When they reached the market, their conversation drifted to lighter topics. Jiang Cheng was disappointed at first to learn Lan Xichen was a strict vegetarian who couldn't handle any spice to his food, but quickly took it as a challenge to find something his companion could still taste. They also wandered from stall to stall, checking on the various wares offered. Lan Xichen was thinking of buying something for his brother, who had been quite unhappy to be left behind when Nie Huaisang had been invited, but wasn't sure what to pick. A year from then he could have gotten something rabbit themed and be done with it, but Lan Wangji hadn't yet developed a love for those animals, and was just impossible to shop for.

Just as Lan Xichen was about to ask for Jiang Cheng’s opinion, since he was of a similar age to Lan Wangji, a commotion further away in the market caught their attention. There seemed to be an argument happening just three stalls away from them, between a seller and a young customer whose voice Lan Xichen had the displeasure of instantly recognising.

Lan Xichen pinched the bridge of his nose, and sighed. Of course Nie Huaisang would have gotten in trouble.

“Isn’t that…” Jiang Cheng started, squinting toward the altercation.

“It is. I’m sorry, Jiang gongzi, but I fear our little excursion ends here.”

Lan Xichen darted ahead, and couldn’t help feeling a little grateful when Jiang Cheng decided to follow, even though this didn’t concern him.

Nie Huaisang, it turned out, had gotten into an argument with a middle-aged man selling cultivation manuals. Both he and the man were shouting loudly at each other, sometimes trying to drag two other people into their fight, a boy whose face Lan Xichen couldn’t see but who even from the back was radiating embarrassment at being caught into this, and an elegant woman who looked just as ashamed.

“If you don’t want me to ruin your business, then you should have an honest one and this wouldn’t happen!” Nie Huaisang was shouting, pointing a threatening finger at the merchant even though the man was two heads taller and at least twice as large as him. “But if you scam people, then I’ll call you a scammer, and a disgrace as well. I’m going to denounce you to the Yunping Huang sect, and then they’ll just…”

“You’ll keep your stupid mouth shut if you know what’s good for you!” the merchant retorted. “Or else I’ll…”

“I’m not scared of you!” Nie Huaisang boasted. “You’re just a liar and a scammer and I’m not scared and I’m going to make sure you never sell fakes again!”

“I'll teach you some respect, you brat!" the man shouted, as he grabbed a sheathed sword from his stall and raised it above his head in a threatening manner.

There were a few frightened cries coming from the crowd that had gathered to watch the argument, but nobody seemed inclined to move forward and protect an insolent but scrawny child from a much more imposing adult when the adult in question had a weapon. Lan Xichen and Jiang Cheng too only watched with some curiosity.

Even a cultivator as mediocre as Nie Huaisang could deal with such a situation. The merchant might have been big, but the way he moved and breathed showed he had no martial training at all, while Nie Huaisang was already positioning himself to avoid whatever blows might be thrown at him. And anyway, even without seeing the blade, Lan Xichen could tell that the man’s sword was of very low quality and would likely bend or shatter should it encounter the blade of Nie Huaisang’s high quality sabre… but it was unlikely it would come to that.

The issue of the fight was obvious to all watchers, although Lan Xichen guessed that most of the crowd was deeply wrong in their certainty.

Among those people was the boy standing near Nie Huaisang, and who appeared to be involved in the dispute as well. He and the woman with him had been trying to get out of this mess up until then, but seeing Nie Huaisang in apparent danger, the boy’s posture changed and he sprang forward when the merchant brought down his sword, pushing Nie Huaisang out of the way.

The boy cried in pain and fell to his knees when the sheathed sword hit his shoulder, while the woman with him gasped in horror and ran to his side to check on him, as did Nie Huaisang once he got over the surprise. It had not been a particularly hard blow. That merchant, regardless of his business practices, must have known that seriously harming even a particularly bratty teenager would turn the crowd against him. But the boy wasn’t strong, and even that light attack seemed to have been too much for him.

Sensing that the situation was about to go bad, Lan Xichen pierced through the crowd to try and calm things down, Jiang Cheng still trailing behind him.

There were a few murmurs when the two of them came into view. The people gathered there glanced at Lan Xichen dressed all in immaculate white, at Jiang Cheng in rich purple, took note of their posture, the sword at their hips, and started whispering among themselves. The merchant too, who had been so confident when arguing with Nie Huaisang, and who had started accusing the other boy of faking his injury, went pale when he realised that some true cultivators had joined them.

The man immediately started gathering his merchandise to run away, but wasn’t fast enough to stop Lan Xichen from grabbing one of the manuals on sale. He quickly browsed through it, and pinched his lips.

“That is indeed a fake,” Lan Xichen announced, much to the shock of the crowd. Then, behind him, the woman yelled in rage. She jumped to her feet and abandoned the hurt boy to throw herself at the merchant, slapping him so hard he dropped all his merchandise.

“You liar!” she shouted, trying to slap him a second time. “I’ve been buying from you for nearly a year! You said A-Yao would become a cultivator for sure with those!”

“They’re real, they’re real!” the merchant replied, trying to shield himself from her blows. “Maybe your son just doesn’t have what it takes!”

“No, he’s got it,” Nie Huaisang announced, causing all eyes to turn on him. He had kneeled down to grab one wrist of that other boy, and seemed to be inspecting his meridians for any sign of talent. “In fact, I think he could be very good. He just needs some real lessons.”

The boy’s mother stared at him for a moment. Her eyes were wide with surprise at first, but quickly her expression turned into one of triumph at the news of her son’s potential, before she became enraged again and started hitting the merchant once more, demanding her money back. After a moment, Jiang Cheng intervened, trying to calm down the woman while preventing the merchant from fleeing now that his crime had been exposed. Lan Xichen should have helped, he truly should have, but he couldn’t tear his eyes from the woman’s son.

From Meng Yao.

Because that boy, shorter than Nie Huaisang but with a slightly broader frame, who looked dazed from the unexpected turn his morning had taken and perhaps also from the blow he’d suffered, was Meng Yao. Having seen his face there was no doubt possible, even if he was younger than Lan Xichen had ever known him. That boy was the one who, one day, would murder Nie Mingjue and many others, who would ingratiate himself in Lan Xichen’s good graces, who would use Lan XIchen's reputation as a shield before ultimately turning him into a hostage, only to die by his sword.

Lan Xichen felt his throat start to close, the now familiar choking sensation slowly seizing him as he watched Meng Yao, until…

“Really, you’ve got great potential,” Nie Huaisang exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear as he patted the other boy's hand. “You know, my da-ge is a sect leader. Maybe you’ve heard of us, Qinghe Nie? Well, my da-ge is its sect leader, and if I tell him about you, I’m sure he’d be thrilled to let you join us!”

“Nie Huaisang!” Lan Xichen cried out, his panic fading quickly in the face of absolute horror.

Everyone turning to stare at him. Meng Shi stopped trying to hit the crooked merchant, and liked her son seemed puzzled by his intervention. So was the crowd still watching everything unfold as if it were a particularly entertaining play. Jiang Cheng frowned but retained his hold on the merchant, while Nie Huaisang…

Nie Huaisang was not happy, a scowl forming on his face.

“Nie gongzi shouldn’t go around making this sort of offer,” Lan Xichen said, only to see Nie Huaisang’s expression grow darker still.

It wasn’t quite the open hatred he would have shown two decades in the future, at the second funeral of Nie Mingjue, the very last time they would have spoken.

It wasn’t far from it either, and that realisation made Lan Xichen shiver.

“I’m not saying anything unreasonable,” Nie Huaisang argued. “I know my da-ge, and if he hears about a competent person who wishes to become a cultivator, then for sure he’ll want to give them a chance. It’s the sort of person he is.”

Of course Nie Mingjue would give Meng Yao a chance. That was how Lan Xichen had ended up in this whole mess, wasn’t it?

“I am most grateful for these venerable immortals’ interest in my son,” Meng Shi said, returning near her son and bending to wrap an arm around his shoulders, the very picture of a proud mother. “But this will not be necessary. I have good hopes that someday my A-Yao will enter the Jin sect, and…”

“No!” Lan Xichen and Nie Huaisang shouted at the same time.

Meng Shi startled at the cry, as did her son.

He looked so young, Lan Xichen thought. So young and innocent and… but of course, Meng Yao was innocent, more so than when they would have met in that other future. He hadn’t yet lost his mother, though Lan Xichen thought her complexion already betrayed early signs of illness. He also hadn’t yet been thrown down the stairs of Jinlin Tai by his own father, not for nearly another year, if Lan Xichen were to guess.

Meng Yao was just a boy, who hadn’t yet started on his path of murder and betrayal.

He was a boy who could still be saved, just like Nie Mingjue.

“Oh, I really wouldn’t recommend that you try joining Lanling Jin,” Nie Huaisang said, throwing Lan Xichen a suspicious look. “It’s not a very good place, not unless you’re born into money and power. Their sect leader is a bit of a prick, too.”

“Nie gongzi shouldn’t gossip,” Lan Xichen said out of habit, earning another glare.

“It’s not gossip if it’s the truth. Everyone knows Jin zongzhu is the worst,” Nie Huaisang insisted. “Did you hear about that girl he seduced some years ago? Da-ge said she was just sixteen, and then she got with child, and then he told her that he’d take care of the child, and then he got bored and never went back again.”

“Oh, the one from that rich family in... what was it again? Mo village?” Jiang Cheng remarked. “I’ve heard mother talk about that one. She’d been pestering Jin zongzhu about taking their son into Lanling Jin, but he was worried his wife would figure it out. But Jin Furen still heard about it even like that, and she made a scene. That’s why he stopped going. Well, that and he’d started playing with that other girl… where was it, the one because of whom he didn't go home for two months?”

“No gossip,” Lan Xichen repeated without conviction, his eyes set on Meng Shi.

She’d gone pale at the mention of another bastard, paler still at the news that even a woman of higher standing than hers had failed to make Jin Guangshan keep his promises, but she said nothing and only tightened her grip on her son’s shoulders. Meng Yao too looked shaken by what Jiang Cheng had said, but he appeared less distraught than his mother, as if perhaps he’d already guessed this might be the case but kept on hoping for her sake more than his own.

“It’s really not gossip,” Nie Huaisang claimed, throwing Lan Xichen another annoyed look. “Anyway, Lan gongzi, what if you went to fetch Huang zongzhu and your uncle and Jiang gongzi’s father? Then you won’t have to hear anything that might upset you, and after we’ll get to deal with that man who scammed money out of honest people.”

Lan Xichen hesitated, glancing again toward Meng Shi. She didn't look like she might still try to send her son to Lanling after this, not for a long while at least. But to leave her with Nie Huaisang who had apparently decided to ruin all of Lan Xichen’s plans by inviting Meng Yao into Qinghe Nie.

And yet, there was no other option but for Lan Xichen to be the one who fetched the grown-ups.

If Nie Huaisang went, Lan Qiren would lose time scolding him, which would give that merchant a chance to run away, or to turn the crowd against them if he was smart… not to mention the Meng family probably had other business to deal with and wouldn’t wait forever, not even for a chance to enter a cultivation sect.

If Jiang Cheng went, he might just get ignored. Lan Xichen hadn’t personally seen it yet, but he knew his future self was aware that Jiang Cheng had a… complicated relationship with his parents, and Jiang Fengmian didn’t particularly favour his own son.

But if Lan Xichen went, his uncle would give him due attention, as he always did when Lan Xichen made it clear he considered a matter important. Perhaps he might even listen to his nephew’s argument in favour of a poor but talented young man, one righteous enough to get hurt trying to protect Nie Huaisang.

That might mean further punishment for Nie Huaisang but Lan Xichen, furious at the other boy for trying to ruin his great plan, didn’t feel particularly sorry about that.

“Nie gongzi, don’t make any more outrageous offers while I’m gone,” Lan Xichen ordered, then turned to Jiang Cheng. “I’m sorry to impose on you, Jiang gongzi, but please keep the situation under control for a little while. I know I can count on you, and I’ll try to be quick.”

Nie Huaisang rolled his eyes, looking more angry at Lan Xichen than before, if that was possible. It mattered little, because Jiang Cheng’s face shone at being trusted like this by someone older, and he nodded with such serious that Lan Xichen felt a little less worried as he left the little group behind.

#xisang #nie huaisang #lan xichen #jiang cheng #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #jau writes #double time travel #operation: give everyone friends that aren't going to die/betray them

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mourntheantagonist · 3 years

Text

Happy Valentine’s Day Everyone!! It’s Finally the Day to share my piece for the @harringroveheart-on !! (If you didn’t already see it posted on ao3 yesterday)I went with the prompt: secret admirer!! enjoy some flangst and have a wonderful day whether you celebrate the holiday or not!! ❤️

Fortunately

read on ao3

***

Billy needs a job.

He’s two months fresh out of the hospital but that doesn’t matter. The local pool was closed for the winter and Neil was adamant that he get out and find work as soon as he was able to walk, despite the fact that he could only do so for only short periods at a time.

And he’s forced to take what he can get. January wasn’t the best time of year to be looking for work in Hawkins. He told himself he’d apply at any place with a help wanted sign displayed in their window. And he did. Application after application. Stellar fucking resume. The only problem was that not many people were looking to hire on the guy who looked just minutes away from death each time they saw him. Didn’t want to put the guy with the hideous scars and the sickly frame in front of customers. Though, they’d usually let him off with the same similar speech about how he “just wasn’t what they were looking for.”

Luckily for Billy, there was one place that was just as desperate as he was. Li’s Kitchen. The local Chinese restaurant that had just needed to make several layoffs to keep themselves from closing. They quickly hired him on to wash dishes in the back because he was ready and willing to work for minimum wage. Making just $3.35 an hour, it was enough and at least it got Neil off of his back.

So he’d haul his ass into work every day on the dot. Walking the full half-mile distance through snowy paths to the restaurant since the Camaro was still out of commission. Trudging along, praying he didn’t slip because his ribs were still fragile and just a simple impact of a good fall could break them again. The walk was simply exhausting. By the time he’d enter through those double doors and set off the bell hung above, he’d be completely out of breath and exhausted and his shift hadn’t even started yet. But fortunately it was just washing dishes. How hard could it be?

Apparently. Pretty fucking hard for a guy who could hardly stand up straight. The heat radiating from the hot steam of the water making him lightheaded almost instantaneously. The boiling hot water against his arms and hands sending him back to those days flayed out in the sun as the ultraviolet rays burned through the skin. The liquid dripping from his face that he couldn’t differentiate from steam or sweat taking him back to the sauna. Feeling his insides heat up and burn like fire inside his gut. Trapped in a prison that was his own body. He just wanted to crawl into a bucket of ice.

His only saving grace was that this time it was winter, and he wasn’t actually flayed. Just overheated and weak. He'd take his breaks behind the restaurant digging his feet into deep snow and letting the chill breeze cool him down. Lighting up a cigarette to get his body to an equilibrium of hot and cold. But the good feeling only lasted as long as he stood outside, immediately getting the same sick to his stomach feeling as soon as he walked back in. Hunched over the sink in the kitchen just trying to move fast enough and stay standing.

He figured he was lucky enough to get the job, that he couldn’t afford to disappoint, because then he’d be entirely out of options. Unemployed and still stuck under his father’s roof on Cherry Lane, this time accompanied by a deeper rage. If Billy didn’t have a job to get to, Neil would have no reason to hold back anything. No reason not to leave bruises or cuts. But it was getting harder and harder as the days progressed. Never enough time in the day to rest and recover enough to brave the next one. He was running on borrowed energy and excessive amounts of caffeine.

There came a moment when he nearly passed out into the sink full of porcelain plates. His breathing became shallow as his vision got blurry and dark. His head spun and his balance faltered and he needed a fucking drink of water.

One of the servers caught him just before he was about to go down. A man older than him but not by much. Same build as him before the accident but easily with an additional five inches on him. Billy was probably at least ten pounds lighter now that a bulk of his muscle had wasted away in that hospital bed. Making him easy to catch.

“You look like shit hargrove.” is what the man says, but Billy barely registers it because everything is muffled. The sounds of running water into the metal sink being the loudest noise he can hear. The man tosses one of Billy's arms over his shoulder and hauls him into the break room. Billy’s doing exactly zero of the work. Letting his legs fall limp and his feet drag against the tile floor. He sits him down in one of the metal chairs and hands him a small cup of water from the jug. “Drink you’re dehydrated” he says, tilting the bottom of the cup upwards so that it’s forced into Billy's mouth and down his throat. “The dinner rush is almost out, I’ll take care of the rest of the dishes, you just stay in here and try not to pass out again, sound like a plan?”

Billy nods his head and drinks the rest of the water in the cup before letting his head fall into his hands and his eyes fall shut as he tries to regain his composure. Cool himself down and slow his heart rate.

By the time his coworker — Zachary, he remembers — comes back into the break room he’s better. Not quite ready to get back to the sink and the hot steam cloud that comes with his job, but better.

“When’s the last time you’ve eaten kid?” Kid. Sounds really odd coming from someone who could be no older than thirty.

“I had toast this morning.” Billy hadn’t actually been eating much lately. Not finding the time in the day to sit down to have a meal in between work and recovering from said work. His hours conflicted with family dinner so he was left to fend for himself. Neil made it very clear that what was in the cupboards did not belong to him. So all he had to his name was a single loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter.

“Well guess what. It’s closing time and you’re not leaving here without a meal. So go sit down at one of the tables and pick anything you want from the menu.” Does Billy have pride? Yes. But is his stomach turning and his mouth watering at just the thought of some orange chicken? Also yes. So instead of arguing with him about how he can take care of himself, which is debatable at this point, he just says thank you and finds himself a table in the corner. He doesn’t expect Zachary to follow him all the way there and sit down right across from him.

“Don’t worry about paying. My dad will cook it up for free.”

Oh right. Zachary Li... The owner’s son.

And suddenly things went from awkward to outright uncomfortable for Billy. Because he was sitting here eating dinner with another man who would be footing the bill. Sure, Zachary was just his coworker and in his mind the exchange had absolutely no weight to it, but to billy it was so fucking heavy. The thought of Neil barging in to see the display and not giving two seconds to read the situation before he started throwing punches. Because it didn’t matter if it was a date or just dinner with a coworker. If it looked a certain way, then that’s how it was.

But the other thing was he couldn’t just get up now. Not without an explanation. So he sucked it up and said he’d have the orange chicken, earning a scowl followed by a laugh and a nod because of course he’d order that and none of the authentic chinese food dishes. But then he ordered the same thing because they both have fallen victim to american colonization.

And chef Li made a damn good orange chicken.

And this one did not disappoint. But it’s not like he really had the chance to taste it since he was too busy inhaling it. Finishing his entire plate before Zachary had even made a dent. And Billy was slightly embarrassed by it. But zachary said nothing. Just continued with his own meal without acknowledging that Billy had scarfed his own down in no time at all. Making other dry conversation with Billy and constantly refilling his water glass with the pitcher every time it got below half full.

When he’s just about finished is when chef Li brings out a small plate with fortune cookies sitting on top, one for each of them. They each take their own and crack them open.

“What’s it say? I got an inch of time is an inch of gold for the thousandth time. I swear elizabeth is getting lazy with these”

Billy looks down at his, and can’t help but laugh.

“A beautiful, smart, and loving person will be coming into your life.”

Hahaha. Hilarious.

“Well then we better hope that these things come true. Though I have a lot of time and have not seen any gold fall into my lap yet.” he laughs and pops the cookie into his mouth, Billy does the same. “Hey dad, you gonna open one?”

“Sure.” he says. Pulling one from the container in the back and breaking it open quite aggressively. “Allow compassion to guide your decisions. Boring.”

They both just laugh. But then Zachary gets this weird look in his eyes. “Hey dad? What if Billy made the fortune cookies instead?”

“Who would wash the dishes?”

Zachary just shot him a look. Yeah, Billy's medical condition and clear exhaustion didn’t go unnoticed by the staff. That must have been what that look meant.

“Read that fortune again, Dad.”

He looks down at the slip of the paper in his hand and almost instantly tosses it to the floor.

“You’re a pain in my ass Zach. alright then Billy, you available in the mornings? I can have Elizabeth show you the ropes tomorrow and if you’re any good you won’t have to wash dishes anymore. That will be my ungrateful son's job.”

“Hey-“

“No ‘hey’ nothing. Have compassion, remember?” he swats Zach with the towel that hung over his shoulder.

Billy just stayed silent for the whole exchange. Only nodding his head when asked if he was free in the mornings. He wanted to tell them to fuck off. To tell them he could do his job perfectly fine. A bold faced lie, but still. However, he also recognized that he couldn’t continue the way he was going. He was three shifts away from an ambulance ride to the emergency room, and that would just piss off Neil further.

So instead of speaking up, he silently agreed, and suddenly found himself walking the same distance he did every day, this time at seven in the morning when the rest of his house was still asleep. Another bonus. Less he had to see Neil, the better. And he’d be home in time for family dinner, the only meal he was welcome to join. And as much as he hated sitting across the table from his Dad, Susan's cooking served as a pleasant enough distraction.

Liz gladly showed him how to make the cookies. Constantly expressing how much she hated making them and is happily giving up the job to billy. That didn’t make him feel too great about it.

But then it really wasn’t bad. Just tedious. Slightly boring and mindless. Made his hands ache after a couple hours of folding the fortunes and squeezing out the batter, but it was ten times less painful than doing the dishes. He got to make them while sitting down at a table before the place even opened. No crowded kitchen or hot running water. The only heat he experienced came from opening and closing the oven, and that only happened for seconds at a time.

And the best part.

He got to make the fortunes.

Typing out several sheets of sample fortunes on a typewriter, cutting them into slips using the paper guillotine. It was definitely strange they never bothered to check his work. They had way too much trust in a guy like Billy to write fortunes. Free will to throw anything in there.

Did he ever veer away from the script posted to the wall? No. But the fact that he could was so funny to him.

He never once considered he would actually want to throw something else into those fortune cookies, until that first tuesday in the middle of his shift right as they opened for lunch and he saw a familiar figure enter through the glass doors into the restaurant. Bell chiming behind him. Craning his head upwards so he could get a closer look he recognizes Steve, picking up a to-go order still wearing the dark green family video vest. Steve didn’t even notice him. Just grabbed his white paper bag, dropped the bill on the counter, and walked out the door. Flashing a smile at Liz who was up running the counter.

But Billy, he saw Steve. He stared at Steve for the duration of his time in the store because he was totally and completely whipped. Totally entranced for long enough that the cookies he was folding had already hardened, and Zach was giving him a weird look when Billy visibly shook at the sound of the bell chiming for the second time, pulling him from the trance.

“So harrington, huh? He’s your fortune?”

Billy got all wide eyed and jerked his head to the right to look at him. Completely zoned out and unprepared to defend himself, instead just stuttering out a string of nonsensical “I”s and “no”s and “it’s not”s. Failing miserably to get the lies past his tongue.

“Relax dude. I don’t really give a shit. Elizabeth, however, might. Girl doesn’t stop talking my ear off about you.”

But that just goes in one ear and out the other. Billy still continues to stutter out as best of a denial he can but his heart is racing, his stomach is churning, his palms are sweating, and the cookies are burning!

“Shit.” it’s the first full sentence he’s been able to get out. Rushing over to the oven and pulling out the hot pan of nearly completely blackened circles.

And Zach is just standing there laughing. Waving the smoke out of his face as Billy tries to blow out the miniature fire he caused on one of the cookies.

“Still gonna try and deny it?” he says.

“Fuck off. Seriously.”

Zach just backs away. Hands in the air. “Okay, okay. I’ll mind my own business. Lover boy.”

Billy promptly tosses one of the finished cookies at his face. “Whatever you think you saw. Keep it to your fucking self, alright?”

“Got it. Loud and clear.” But he’s still fucking giggling and Billy is currently contemplating murder. Eyes darting to the array of knives in close reach. Shakes the feeling. Killing the boss's son probably wouldn’t look good on evaluation.

Did he tell anyone? No. Did he tease billy relentlessly about it every fucking day. Of course he fucking did. Especially on days Steve walked into the restaurant for a to-go order. Nudging him in the arm with a little “Guess who’s here?” in a sing-songy voice.

And to think Billy thought having someone know and not crucify him would be a good thing. He'd rather he just hate crime him behind the restaurant instead of the constant, and I mean constant, ribbing.

Eventually moving on from teasing behind the wall of the kitchen to suggesting he go out and take the payment to actually pushing him out the swinging doors to do it. “Talk him up Hargrove. Put on the moves.”

There were no moves. But there was a conversation. A good one. A nice one. They just talked about themselves and caught up. Not really seeing much of each other once he was out of the hospital. Only having seen Steve in passing on days he’d bring max by for visiting hours. But they never actually talked much during that time. He’d come up to the room with her saying “Thought it’d be nice to see another familiar face.”

And it was.

Billy was not paying much attention to this conversation. Answering Steve's questions and asking his own, but he was definitely distracted by how close their hands were to each other, both rested on the counter, supporting themselves. If you asked Billy after the conversation what they talked about, he could only recall two things. One; he works at family video, not really substantial. And two; he said he looked good.

“You look good Billy.”

Yup, Billy was completely gone.

So maybe the constant teasing wasn’t completely terrible. Especially now that he’s given him such a stupid stupid stupid idea that he’s one hundred percent going to go through with because it’s about fucking time he wrote some fortunes of his own. He had several typed out and ready to be placed into a cookie whenever they received another call for an order for ‘Harrington.’ The first one was innocent enough. Pulled straight off the list of sample fortunes.

“You always bring others happiness.”

Just something simple. He just saw it on the list and it made him smile. Thought it would be nice to see Steve smile too.

The next few were similar to that one. Pulled straight off of the list but tailored specifically toward Steve.

“You are working hard.”

“Have a beautiful day.”

“You look pretty.”

But that last one was different. Because on the back of the last one he wrote in ballpoint pen.

- The cookie maker ♡

And that’s when it became a thing that they were both aware of. Now it was a romantic gesture and not just an act of kindness or a series of coincidental fortunes. Now steve was on the lookout for who made the fortunes at Li’s kitchen, but at the same time trying to keep the mystery alive so that the fortunes would keep coming.

Billy started writing out his own.

“I like your hair.”

“You have a terrific ass.”

“Somebody’s got a crush on you.”

Zach wrote that last one.

Then they got deeper.

“You make me happy when I don’t think that’s possible.”

“You make the pain go away.”

Steve never failed to blush at each and every fortune with the signature heart on the back.

But it was dragging on. And Steve was getting impatient. Started to ask around, eventually learning that robin had seen Elizabeth Li making them one time.

Elizabeth Li is sixteen. Absolutely not.

And now he feels bad for letting it drag on this long. Taking himself to the restaurant to let her down gently. When he walks through, Billy is standing behind the counter. Confused because he didn’t usually order on Wednesdays, and especially not this late in the day.

Was that a weird thing to know?

“Do you have an order to pick up?” Billy asks.

“No. Not today. I was actually hoping I could talk to Elizabeth, is she around?”

And Billy's heart just sinks to the floor. The slight smile that was on his face now completely gone and shattered to pieces.

“Yeah. I’ll go get her.” he says, with a heavy heart, disappointment clear in his voice.

He sends her out to the front and lingers in the back, ear pressed to the door trying to listen in like some creep.

“Look, elizabeth. I’m really flattered and I appreciate the fortune cookies, but you’re way too young for me. I’m sorry.”

Shit.

Is Billy supposed to be worried or relieved?

He can’t even see her face but he knows she’d be giving him her death stare right about now.

He can hear her say it through clenched teeth and he shouldn’t find it so funny but it is.

“Yeah. Okay, sorry about that. I’ll definitely stop doing that. Have a good day Steve.” And she just walks away from the counter and Billy barely jumps backwards in time to not get a door slammed in his face.

“You better fucking fix this Hargrove. I am not going to go down for this for you.”

Zach had just walked into the kitchen from the break room. Chef Li and the rest of the staff are just minding their own business.

“What did I miss?”

Elizabeth is all up in Billy’s personal space. Inches away from his chest looking up at him from her height of just five feet and three inches.

“Steve fucking Harrington thinks I’m his little secret admirer.”

Her face is red in anger but Zach’s is red from laughing so hard.

“Now that’s fucking funny.”

“If you don’t tell Steve, I will. I covered for you out of the kindness of my heart, but I’m not that kind.”

“Isn’t that the truth.”

“Shut up Zach!”

Zach was laughing. Billy however, was suddenly not. Head now bowed, sighing heavily.

“I can’t do that.” It was a quiet and sudden change of tone that altered the mood of the situation entirely. The only people who could hear were just the three of them because the sound couldn’t overpower the noises of chopping vegetables and the clanking of pots and pans and the sizzle of cooking meat.

“Why not?”

“Fuck you. You know why.”

“Well what was your plan Romeo?! Were you just never going to tell him?” she threw her hands in the air like he was being ridiculous. The only thing that was ridiculous was that he ever went through with it in the first place.

“I don’t know. Okay? I don’t fucking know.”

Zach came up from behind him and offered a reassuring hand to his shoulder. “Look dude, my little sister is a bitch but she’s right. You have to tell him. I’ll have your back when you do.”

“Tomorrow.”

“What?” Billy jerks his head back down to look at Liz.

“Tell him. Tomorrow.” Her arms were crossed and she clearly wasn’t taking a no for an answer.

“Fuck the both of you. My shift is over.” Billy pushed past her and out of the restaurant. Leaving his jacket behind and walking home through the cold weather. His converse getting wet from the slushy snow, soaking through to his socks making him even colder all over. He’s internally freaking out and his heart would be beating out of his chest if his nervous system wasn’t operating at a decreased rate due to potential hypothermia.

He can’t even think. Just kicking his feet against the wet pavement letting the breeze take him over. If he dies, he doesn’t have to tell him.

Headlights pass him by as he slowly walks the distance home, nobody caring about the guy who cheated death just months ago inching closer back to that point instead of further away. Nobody stops to offer him a ride or even check to see if he’s okay, and he’s not even sure if he even wants to make it home. It would be preferable to just fall asleep in one of the bushes outside than having to make his day even worse by introducing Neil into it. Sitting at a dinner table, making nice and pretending like everything that was going well for him won’t come to an end twenty four hours from now. All the joy of making those little fortune cookies and just imagining the look on Steve’s face every time. The look he knew for sure was one of happiness despite never seeing it because it wasn’t a coincidence Steve’s lunch orders became more and more frequent.

But in his peripheral a set of headlights did seem to slow. That was either a sign he was meeting his savior, or potentially his kidnapper. Honestly at this point they are the same thing.

“Billy?”

You have got to be kidding me.

“Hey Harrington.” His teeth are chattering and his voice is shaky as he says it. Is it the cold? Or are his nerves finally beginning to work at the worst time possible?

“What the hell are you doing out here?”

“Walking home.”

“You’ll die out here.”

“If only.” He says it under his breath but Steve still hears it. Letting the car come to a complete stop rather than the slow pacing he was doing before.

“Get in. I’ll take you home.”

Billy just waves him off. “I’ll be fine on my own.” And he continues walking at his slow pace.

“I wasn’t fucking asking. Get the hell in Hargrove. Before I drag you in here.”

Billy stops and sighs. Kicking more slush into the air. “Fine.”

He walks around to the passenger side and lowers himself into the seat. Groaning as his body aches from the motion. Steve doesn’t acknowledge it. Just puts the car back into drive and heads towards Cherry Lane. Silence in the car as Billy breathes into his hands trying to warm them up. He’s pale. Looks like he’s never seen the sun before. His face is flushed. Even in the state like this Steve carries the same sentiment from that first conversation at the restaurant.

“You look good, Billy.”

He doesn’t say that. But he’s thinking it.

They eventually pull up to the white house with the screened in porch, and Billy grows visibly tense in his seat. He’s not moving. Just darting his eyes from the clock in the car and back to the house with the lights on.

“Everything okay?” Steve asks. But Billy’s eyes continue to move back and forth as his breathing quickens slightly more as each second ticks by. Showing no sign that he heard the words that came out of Steve’s mouth. He reaches over the center console and grabs his hand. “Hey.”

Billy looks over like a deer in the headlights. Eyes ever so slightly glossy. Clearing his throat he tries to speak.

“Can you take me somewhere else?” He asks.

He doesn’t want to go home. Can’t begin to even think about seeing his Dad today. He just wants to crawl under his covers and go to sleep. Dream of a reality that isn’t his own. Not this fucked up shit show he’s stupidly gotten himself into.

“Where?”

“I don’t know. Anywhere but here?”

Neither of them realize Steve is still holding his hand. Not until he squeezes it tighter, recognizing the pain in Billy’s voice. Not for what it meant but just that it was there. He didn’t need to nor want to know why Billy didn’t want to go home. Just wanted to make it so he didn’t have to.

“Is my house okay?”

Billy hesitates, but nods.

And they turn the car around.

- : -

Billy wakes up the next morning on Steve’s couch to the sound of a microwave’s hum followed by a loud ‘ding’ that echoes off the walls. He just remembers walking through the door of Steve’s house and immediately laying down on the first soft surface he could find. Remembers Steve saying he’d be upstairs if he needed anything before quickly drifting off into sleep without a care in the world.

He went to sleep without a pillow and a blanket, and woke up with both.

Billy rubs away at his eyes while Steve enters the living room from the kitchen with two plates in his hands.

“I made you a hot pocket if you want one.” He sets the plate onto the coffee table before he takes a seat in the chair beside the couch. Billy sits himself up and takes the plate, cooling it off with a quick blow of his breath before biting into it. “You have work today?”

“Yeah, at eight. What time is it?”

“Only seven fifteen. I have to be in at eight thirty so I can drop you off if you want.”

“You don’t have to.”

“It’s seriously not a problem man, and no offense but you don’t look like you’d make the walk from here to there.”

Billy laughs.

“I thought you said I looked good.”

Shit. It’s weird that he remembers that.

But Steve blushes. “Well yeah, just not ‘two mile hike’ good. But you’ll get there.”

“Thanks.”

“Why are you working anyway? Shouldn’t you still be recovering?”

Billy frowns. “My Dad is making me.”

Oh. That’s why he doesn’t want to go home.

The situation is awkward now. Silent as they finish their breakfasts and drive off in the Beemer. Pulling up outside the restaurant fifteen minutes before his shift starts. Billy suddenly reminded of what he’s supposed to do today as soon as he looks at the sign out front.

“Uh, hey. Listen. Come by the restaurant for to-go. On me y’know, as a thank you.”

“You don’t have to-“

Billy cuts him off.

“Yes. I do.”

- : -

When Billy walks into the kitchen in the same clothes as yesterday nobody says anything. Nothing about his undone hair or his or his early arrival to work. Instead he’s met with apologies exiting the mouths of the two Li children as they corner him in the break room.

“We’re sorry about yesterday. It wasn’t fair for us to do that to you. Elizabeth said she won’t tell Steve.”

They were waiting for him to yell, or at the very least get his anger out some way.

But instead Billy smiled. Barely there with just the slight upturn at the corners of his mouth but it was there, so distinct from his natural grimace. “It’s fine.” He says.

Zachary and Elizabeth are entirely confused. Looking in between each other like ‘did you just see what I just saw?’

“What has you so chipper?”

His smile just grew slightly wider.

“Spent the night at Steve’s last night.”

The two’s eyes grew to the size of saucers.

“You what!?” They both said in unison.

“Jesus! Not like that. I just slept on his couch.”

Billy could see the cogs turning in each of their heads. Trying to figure everything out like it was some complicated math problem. “I think I’m going to tell him. Today.”

“Really?”

Billy nodded, threw on his skull cap, and left the dumbfounded siblings where they stood. He had a fortune to write, and cookies to bake.

He was so meticulous this time. Making sure they were perfectly round circles, folded exactly in half. Throwing nonsense fortunes into each one. Avoiding the one sitting by itself on the table beside him. Too afraid to throw it into a cookie, each time he tossed in another basic off the list fortune was just Billy trying to talk himself out of it.

But he inches closer and closer to reaching the point of no return. First by putting in Steve’s lunch order. Next by finally slipping the fortune into a cookie. Next by slipping the cookie into Steve’s bag, and finally at the strike of noon, handing the bag to Steve, insisting he pay for it while Billy continuously denies him. Telling him to go enjoy his meal and stop arguing with him.

When Steve walked out the door Billy thought he could stop holding his breath. But he couldn’t let it out. Thought the anticipation lied with handing the meal to Steve, now feeling his breath caught even more now that he had. It was the anticipation of not knowing. He had to know.

But Steve left with the cookie still intact.

So he had to wait.

- : -

Steve brought his lunch into Family Video. The same thing he always ordered. Feeling a warm sensation in his chest at the knowledge that Billy knew his order. Fried rice and soup dumplings. Robin was there, waiting to mooch off of his food since she never bothered to bring her own lunch, but would also refuse to let Steve buy her anything.

If he didn’t know any better he’d think she liked him.

But he did know better not even to entertain that idea. She was just the girl who liked to eat Steve’s food because that’s just what she did. She’s standing there with her grabby hands, ready to start digging into his rice. She peruses through the contents of the bag and pulls out the plastic containers and the one fortune cookie that he always got.

“Did you let her down easy?” Robin asks, waving the cookie in his face.

“Yes. She was weird about it. But I guess she took it well.”

“Well that’s good. Can I have this one then?”

“Sure. Go for it. I don’t like them all that much anyway. I just like them for the fortunes.”

“Well then let’s see what Steve Harrington’s fortune is today, shall we?”

Robin cracks it open and gently pulls the slip of paper out from inside. Popping the cookie into her mouth as she pulls it taut so she can read it.

Her eyes squint. She pulls it closer to her face, just inches away like she can’t see what she’s reading. Like she’s confused.

“What’s it say?”

“Umm.” She just shakes her head. Mouth still full with the fortune cookie as she passes it along to Steve.

He takes it from her hesitantly, and a look of confusion washes over his face as he reads the words.

“I’m not Elizabeth Li.”

“What?” He says it mostly to himself, because what the fuck?

He turns it over and is expecting to see the same little signature. The vague ‘the cookie maker’ with the tiny heart.

Well the heart is still there.

But it says something else.

- Billy ♡

“Holy shit.”

- : -

It’s a painstakingly long rest of his shift. Doing the same old boring jobs like cleaning up, manning the front counter, and bussing tables when he’d finished the daily batch of cookies. It usually felt like a long five hours, but today it was excruciating. He could feel Zach and Liz’s eyes on him the whole time. Like they were watching intently so they didn’t miss the moment where he inevitably exploded from all the anxiety in his chest.

Billy’s constantly playing out different scenarios in his head. Steve barging into the store and punching him in the face being the one that’s the most prevalent. Occasionally letting himself get slightly hopeful and imagining the opposite.

But there was a third scenario he considered. That Steve just wouldn’t come back at all. Let him down by not even bringing him up. Robbing him of the closure he needs. He’d rather Steve just punch him in the face. That was a kind of rejection he could handle. One that gave him a reason to let go. Not one that left him hanging on by a single thread.

His shift is quickly coming to an end and he’s debating on how desperate he is to wait and linger around the restaurant with his small shred of hope that he comes back. His neck hurts from jerking his head towards the door every time the bell chimed. Hoping to see the boy with the chestnut hair walk through only to be greeted by another local he refused to learn the name of.

He’s losing his goddamn mind and he needs a fucking cigarette.

His shift comes to an end and he clocks out. Escaping to the back of the restaurant behind the dumpsters, lighting up a Marlboro Red and sinking his weight against the brick siding of the building. Feeling himself shiver when the heat of the flame warms the tip of his nose. Breathing in the smoke trying to regain some sense of calm that completely left his body as soon as he handed the bag to Steve. Too many hours on this high alert feeling that he can’t even recall what relaxation feels like anymore. Just accepts the burning in his lungs in the cold outside weather with just the hum of low traffic and the sound dripping gutters as the closest thing he’s going to get to that for the time being.

Finishing his cigarette, he tosses the bud into a puddle. Dragging a hand over his face as he prepares to walk back into the crowded restaurant that would feel completely empty because it was lacking the one fucking person he wanted to see.

He could go see him.

No he couldn’t. The ball already was in Steve’s court.

He opens the door and Zach is standing right there like he was waiting for him.

“What the fuck dude?”

“No. Shut up. Someone is in the break room waiting for you.”

Billy doesn’t get the chance to register his words before he’s being grabbed by the collar of his shirt and dragged and pushed into the room, where Steve is sitting at the table.

Just looking at him. Studying him.

“Look, Steve –“

“Stop.” He cuts him off. Continues to stare before hesitantly reaching into his jacket pocket to pull out what looks to be a ziplock plastic bag. Opening it and dumping the contents of it out on the table all while Billy is left standing there unable to speak, couldn’t even if Steve would let him. The ability to get words out being entirely suppressed by the sight of about ten slips of paper spread out on the table in front of Steve. Steve just looking back down at them and not looking back at Billy. Lost in another trance. He starts moving them around on the table. Moving them away from each other so that none are touching each other and they are all completely exposed. Steve smiles. Gets up from the chair.

Walks over to where Billy stands with his back pressed against the door, holding tightly to the handle for a quick escape. Steve moves so slowly, like he’s forging his plan with each step until their chests are just inches away from each other. Steve’s looking down, away from Billy’s gaze. Taking Billy’s hand in his, causing him to shudder. “You know I rushed over as soon as I could. Thanks for the lunch Billy.” Billy’s just silent and completely still against the door. Steve’s hold on him is loose yet he feels entirely restrained. “I can’t believe it was you.”

“I’m sorry.” Billy practically chokes on the words, prompting Steve to finally turn his eyes up toward him. Seeing how his eyes have grown glossy and his face has turned a pinkish color.

“What for?”

“That it was me.”

Steve squeezes his hand tighter, brings another to Billy’s cheek gently and Billy feels like he’s being suffocated under the touch. Like instead the hand is wrapped around his throat and pushing against his airway. But he leans into it. Steve’s touch is so soft and he lets his eyes fall shut to burn the sensation into his memory.

“Don’t apologize for that.”

His eyes are still closed when Steve moves forward and kisses him. Shooting open as soon as lips make contact and he suddenly stiffens like a board. It’s quick and chaste and he doesn’t get the opportunity to kiss back before it’s over.

“You can’t… you don’t –“

“But I do.”

“This isn’t a joke, Steve.”

“I agree.”

Billy’s left standing there. Rubbing at his lips that were just touching Steve with the pad of his thumb.

“I don’t know what to do.”

Steve smirks, moves back into Billy’s space so his breath is hot against his mouth.

“You could kiss me, asshole.”

Billy doesn’t need to be asked twice.

#harringrove #steve harrington #billy hargrove #mandi writes tresh #fanfic #harringrove heart-on #harringrove heart on #stranger things

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ninacarstairss · 3 years

Text

Golden

Just some self indulgent fluff for the herongraystairs week where Jem is well and never became a silent brother, Tessa never had to let go of half of her heart and Will has the two loves of his life by his side but still keeps on biting vampires

“You cannot possibly tell me you bit another vampire, Will!”

Will and Jem had just came back from a patrol night that had taken a turn for the worst. There seemed to be some peculiar demon activity in some parts of Soho that turned out to be a rogue clan of vampires wreaking havoc in taverns and clubs, attacking when people were most drunk or tired from a long night. Charlotte had sent out Will and Jem to try and neutralize the problem, together with Gideon and Gabriel. When they found themselves in the den of this clan, outnumbered and unprepared to fight them with proper weapons, they'd tested one of Henry's latest inventions to even their odds: Henry had manage to produce a device that radiated light as bright as sunlight but with different components. It might have worked well with demons, but it did very little to vampires, since it was artificial light. Even so, it was their only chance, so Will had lit the device and the searing light caused the vampires to back away for a moment. They had soon realized it couldn't hurt them, but a second's hesitation was all the Shadowhunters needed. Gabriel shot his arrows and covered for the others as they lunged for the rogues. The place went dark again in a few moments but they succeeded nonetheless.

As they came back to the institute to check on their injuries and update Charlotte on the night, Will had slipped away to look for Bridget and ask for a bucket of holy water to be delivered to him without fussing anyone else, but Jem had of course found him.

“I knew you'd do that, you nitwit!” Jem says as he comes up behind Will. “This is the fourth time in six years, I'm starting to think you enjoy drenching yourself in holy water.”

“I certainly do not,” Will replies, a playful spark in his tone. “It was necessary, that vampire was sneaking up on you!”

Jem heaves a sigh. “Thank you for your heroic gesture, my dearest Will” he mocks, “but I'm certain you're aware that you had weapons on your gear for a reason, aren't you?”

“I– well, I had to think fast.”

Jem throws his head back and laughs. “You surely weighed the options carefully,” he says. He throws an arm around Will and heads for the corridor where their rooms are. “Come on, we need to get you out of that gear and get you drunk on holy water,” a ritual, Jem thinks, they were probably too accustomed to by now.

Will smiles and follows him. “Find Tessa on your way up to the attic. And ask for books. I'm going to need a distraction.”

“Are you implying,” Jem frowns, “that Tessa and I aren't a fitting enough company?”

Will grins a plants a kiss on Jem's mouth. “I think you know the answer to that question quite well.” He flashs a dazzling smirk at Jem before he makes for his room to change out of the gear.

– – – – – – –

“So, did this one taste particularly good?” asks Tessa as soon as she comes into the attic, a tray of pastries balanced on her hands for the long night ahead of them. Both Jem and Will laugh.

“Yes, my darling, quite salty and bloody. There was something missing, though”

“Let me guess, your senses?”

“Why, has he ever had any? Did I miss that?” asks Jem.

“Ah” Will heaves a dramatic sigh. “Betrayed by the ones I love the most. You should be thankful.”

“And you should be drinking buckets of holy water instead of bathing yourself in it,” Tessa shoots back. “But thank you for saving our dearest Jem,” she says, her tone softening on the name. She leans in and gives him a featherlight kiss.

Tessa lays down next to Jem on the floor and lets her head rest on his legs. “What happened, then?” she asks, looking up at Jem's clear eyes.

“We ran into some ill-mannered vampires.”

“Meaning that they were quite happily calling us their dinner,” intervenes Will.

“Yes,” Jem concedes. “It was a rogue clan. They must have been newly turned because no other clan had ever heard of them. However, we tried using Henry's new invention to gain some time.”

“Did it work?”

“Better than his last invention,” says Will. “This one didn't almost deafened us all.”

“It was actually very helpful,” confesses Jem. “It gave us time to even the numbers. Then it stopped working, everything went dark again and, as we were fighting, Will apparently bit yet another vampire.”

“You know, Will, you are becoming quite predictable” Tessa says, chuckling.

“Oh! How– ” cries Will.

“Yes,” Jem cuts him off, “my love, you should try some new moves sometimes–”

A splash of water comes at them. Jem and Tessa hear Will laugh as they shake droplets of water from their faces and hair. Jem's half-drenched clothes cling to his body and Tessa's dress feels twice as heavy soaked in holy water. Their gazes meet and a laugh escapes them as they watch Will grab a soaked pastry from the tray with a rather satisfied look on his face.

There is still a dramatic frown on Will's face when he turns back to look at them and Tessa and Jem exchange a brief glance, their eyes gleaming, smiling at what they both are thinking.

Jem's grin widens even more when his eyes return on the dark haired boy. “Have I ever told you how cute you look when you're angry?”

That earns Jem another bucketful of water but this time he dodges most of it, as he lets out a bark of laughter. The shadow of the scowl on Will’s face vanishes with a chuckle and Jem notices his gaze soften as it lays on him and Tessa and the smiles on their faces.

Time seems to stretch out for a moment as their gazes intertwine and lock. An always inexplicable quietness settles in the air between them as they take in the sight of each other in the soft gleam of sunrise. Jem catches Tessa's grey eyes washed in the golden light and Will's tousled wet hair sticking to his forehead. Driven by a desire he cannot silence, he raises a hand and cups the nape of Will's neck, running his lean fingers through the silky curls, and Will revels in the touch. Jem's other hand seeks Tessa's and she closes the distance between them to kiss him. In the familiarity of the moment Jem thinks of hundred others like this, when the warmth in his chest rises to a steady flame, a sure certainty often bigger than himself, a warm embrace in which he would gladly lose himself over and over again.

And he does; savouring the love gleaming in Will's impossibly blue eyes and Tessa's soft lips, welcoming this marvelous feeling he never thought he'd have the chance to experience.

They sit still for an infinite amount of time, the golden light pooling in the room, the stinging smell of holy water still dampening the air around them.

After a while, Will smiles and grabs another one of the pastries, a spark crossing his eyes. “So,” he asks, a mischievous undertone again in his voice, “did you bring me any real entertainment?”

His eyes meet Tessa's as she takes out a book from behind her back. The cover, Jem knows without having to see it, reads A Tale of Two Cities. He rolls his eyes as Will smiles. “Ah, you know me well, my beautiful Tess,” he says as he reaches his hand to the tray to grab some more food. “You know,” he adds, taking a bite, “holy water tastes much better with these things.”

Jem grins as Tessa opens the book and starts reading aloud. Will's eyes lay on Jem for a moment and he looses himself in that immensely deep blue and the gentle expression in it.

In the warm light of sunrise Jem finds himself thinking that if their wretched pasts, if the pain they'd endured and the people they'd lost were what it needed for the three them to be together on the floor of an attic, drenched with holy water and surrounded by pastries and a good book, it was all worth it.

Tag list: @cordaisya

(let me know if you want to be added!)

#cece writes #my writing #herongraystairs week #herongraystairs #i’m not entirely happy with how this turned out #i definitely can’t write 1800s english #will herondale #jem carstairs #tessa gray #tid #the infernal devices #tid fic #tsc #tsc fic #the shadowhunter chronicles #shadowhunters #userfandomsnett

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fragileizywriting · 3 years

Text

C'est la Sea

pairing: Luka / Marinette word count: 9,111 chapter: 1/2 rating: E summary: There’s a mermaid in his bed. A pouty, pretty mermaid on his bed. “Why are you wrapped up like a sushi roll, sweetheart?” “It’s cold,” Marinette shivers, just to prove her point. She collects an edge of the blanket to cover herself back up and make a bigger mess out of the covers, trying to tuck in her tail. “Why is it colder on land than it is on sea? How are you able to withstand this much frost, Luka? Even my scales are starting to go stiff.”

AO3 | Chapter One | Chapter Two

I just can't stop myself from writing Lukanette...

Written for my lovely and beautiful friend @valiantlyjollynightmare !!! Your mermaid AU is so wonderfully written and it gives me so many feels that I had to get the mermaid fever out. Please enjoy!!!

Life is simple and stagnant on land and it goes like this.

Wake up. Put on clothes. Find breakfast somewhere in the tiniest kitchen he’s ever been a witness to. It’s compact to the point that it’s hysterical, and it would probably fit someone of normal size. She’d fit in the kitchen just nicely, because things are about her height and eye level, but he has to crouch in order to see inside the fridge. Why are things so small?

Either way, after breakfast he leaves the house and goes to class.

And the classes are mind-numbing, and repetitive, and after the longest chapter of marine ichthyology he almost sleeps through, he’s on his way to find his friends. He’s made a couple of friends for the few months he’s been around, and tries to socialize with them after most of his morning classes have finished, and attempts to enjoy their company before the second block of afternoon classes happen. His friends are kind, and also in the same field as him, so they’ve mostly come close out of the nature of being in mutual classes, but they’re not anyone he’s really gotten close to.

So he’ll eat lunch with them, at some point. Start his next block of classes, and try his best not to roll his eyes at the casual inconsistencies referenced in the slideshow. Find his friends again, if any are available after class, and eat dinner at some point. Walk home, and politely decline any and all attempts to hang out after they’re finally done for the day— after all, everyone knows that he’s extremely busy studying for his classes.

They ask about her often, ask if he’ll be going to visit her for whatever break they have that gives them a sliver of days between classes, asking for pictures of her and well wishes. They ask about her students, ask if she’ll be getting anything for teacher appreciation week that’s common in Canada, and ask about how his life and family are back there before he transferred.

He makes up lies as he goes, of course, because he’s never actually been to Canada and certainly has never been to Quebec, but it seems to be working. His vague knowledge about the West Atlantic works in his favor because none of his classmates are from there, nor have they ever gone themselves. His friends mean well, knowing the feeling of longing when it comes to missing another person, and always offer condolences to the transfer student who seems to be a fish out of water in a new country with a funny Canadian accent, but they aren’t aware of the true nature of his relationship with her.

They know that he’s married. Human customs are similar to his, and the gold band on his left ring finger is a clear sign. Some people he’s met over the past couple of months have shied away and lost interest in him when they’d looked down to see that he never takes the ring off— he doesn’t hold it against them. His friends speculate about how she manages to handle the long-distance without him, but they have no idea just how hard it actually is.

Because they don’t know about the bond fever.

The fever that makes it harder and harder to breathe without her.

Every moment not thinking of her is just a distraction. Every moment not being next to her is biding time. Food tastes bland, music sounds wonky, and all his body wants to do is move. Staying still will make him curl up and stagnate for the rest of his days, and if he wants to leave this part of his life as fast as possible, he can’t afford to stop moving.

So, he’ll arrive home after school, and check up on the coral and fish in his tank to see if everyone in there is fine and not having a turf war without his knowledge. He’ll attempt to have a conversation with his fish, and feed them until they complain, because he’s never gotten the hang of actually taking care of pets. He’ll spin his ouroboros as he continues to waffle between staying and powering through, or the second option of leaving everything behind and dropping everything in favor of her. Work out to get rid of feelings of loneliness— of this horrible, aching bond fever that grips his heart enough to squeeze and hurt and make him regret ever turning to the surface in the first place.

He’ll take the scenic route, along the shore, looking over the ocean he knows and loves dearly. The sun will set over the sea as he takes a break when the buildup of lactic acid in his body gets too painful. It’ll take him hours, probably, of hard running down by the water, but it’ll be enough to get him to stop thinking about her for even a smidge.

Take a shower, afterwards, and making absolute-positive sure that his ouroboros is safely and securely wrapped around his wrist, lest he loses his sea legs— and try to talk to his fish again to get a conversation. Try to finish his homework before passing out asleep on his bed.

Sometimes he remembers to pull the bedsheets up on him. But most of the time he falls asleep in whatever position he’s laid himself down onto the bed, waking up with his arms and legs facing all the wrong way and the alarm on his phone blaring at him to wake up. He wakes up stiff, and sore, but there’s barely any time to sit back and relax before his day starts all over again.

Rinse.

Wash.

Repeat.

Over and over until the days glaze and mesh in his head.

He’s tired— the fish are his only true company, for now, and they rarely talk to him unless they’re begging for food. Sometimes they have a conversation with him when he really gets personal and deep with them, but they don’t really offer much advice, other than the occasional idea to spice up his diet and take a new route to school.

There’s nothing that can get him out of this slump. Nothing above land, anyway. Some days, on the weekends when he has enough time to, he opens the windows that box his mattress as well as the windows in the living room, and lets the salty breeze fly in through the whole houseboat— indulges in the idea of being back home with her— before he begrudgingly faces back to the stacks and stacks of homework piled on his desk.

It’ll be worth it. Just a year and a half left. The ring on his finger is proof enough of that. The bond fever may hurt, and may try to push him to go home, but he knows that she’ll be upset with him if he doesn’t finish school. She’ll probably shove him back up here herself, with her pouting and determined face. She’s docile, but bull-headed, and sometimes the storms in her eyes are as terrifying as the sea he’s from, and he’s certain that she won’t be satisfied until he has that diploma in his hand.

So, he puts his bag down by the door, kicks off his shoes, deadbolts the door behind him, and goes hunting for anything in his fridge that is available. He’s hungry, and he’s far more metabolic in this form than in his normal one, something about being on land just makes him hungrier— and nothing is safe from him when it comes to food.

His houseboat is about the size of a clam, the kitchen itself smaller than a pearl, but the ceiling is tall enough so that he doesn’t have to keep his head down whenever he walks around, so he can’t exactly complain— even when he opens the door to his fridge the size of a child, there’s nothing but a lettuce head that is definitely more white than green, a small box of blueberries he buys every time he makes eye contact with it in the store and thinks of her, and his leftover carton of eggs. The box of blueberries is full, still, and he’s convinced that he leaves it in the fridge until it rots just in case she ends up showing up and wants her favorite food.

But…

Life is simple, and stagnant on land, and he’s forgotten to do groceries this week.

Rinse, wash, and repeat.

He makes quick work of making the saddest scrambled eggs he could possibly produce in his lifetime, using up all of the leftover eggs— six of them, and he won’t be able to regret the amount of food he’s eating until he wakes up tomorrow with absolutely nothing to eat— and proceeds to bin the shells immediately. He eats over the sink, a utensil in one hand and the handle of the pan in the other, spooning and chasing runny eggs into his mouth, barely paying attention to the flavor.

He’s famished. And it’s not like he’d even be able to taste the flavor, anyway, from how bad his heart hurts. Bond fever is a finicky thing.

At least he remembered to throw the eggshells away in the proper place, instead of letting them clog up the sink.

He’d compost them, if he had any plants to take care of— but that’s always been her department, not his. The walls of his one-bedroom one-bathroom boat are sparse and empty— simply just a bed with a comfortable duvet and blue sheets, his tank full of fish that don’t offer enough company, a desk with some shelves to study at, lined with textbooks, and a wobbly table to eat at. He’d splurged on the extra desk— he could’ve just used the eating table— but knew it was probably better to keep his school papers and food away from each other. Besides, the back left leg of the table definitely looks like it’s about to cave at any point. It’s why he’s started just eating standing up and over the sink.

But she would never let him live like this.

It’s a clean house, and everything has its place, but it’s barren. Almost as if he doesn’t really live here.

And to be honest, he doesn’t. Physically, he spends most of his time here, but— bond fever makes him completely and totally disoriented. Mentally and emotionally he is nowhere near land, but rather in her arms, away from this simple and bland house.

But if she were here… truly here, instead of a fleeting moment…

She would decorate the walls with paint. Put up shelves. Print out photos, and frame them, because she’s enamored with the idea of ink and stains and items that permanently stain other things. She’d taken up to painting quite well, the last time— buying a selection of beginner’s acrylic gouaches in many different colors, and had set to work painting for the first time in her life. The world had exploded onto the canvases. Boats, sunrises, shores from distant islands, a turbulent and salty sea— she’d painted like she was taking a photograph and was developing it right onto the canvas.

He wishes he had the paintings with him now. Anything and everything to keep him company— any remembrance of her is such a blessing. He’ll take it all, if he can. Somedays, the ring on his finger just isn’t enough to keep his heart from hurting. He’ll catch sight of a bolt of ruffled pink fabric in a store window that is so glossy and sheer and delicate that he’ll find himself spinning his ring nonstop, dreaming of being together with her again.

Just a year and a half…

She’d line the shelves with rocks. Trinkets. Keychains from cities they’d gone to together, braided knots, and beautiful jewelry. And how could he forget the plants upon plants she’d shove into every square inch of the place, to the point where the houseboat would be a living and breathing creature from all of the greenery? Sunflowers— peonies— roses— lilacs— geraniums— tulips— every flower she could possibly find at a flower shop would somehow make it onto a flat surface in the houseboat.

This houseboat is empty without her. He spins the ring on his finger, thinking to himself about her— wishing and longing to see her. Just a year and a half more. He can visit on holidays, if he can afford it— but this isn’t just for him. It’s for her, too.

He flicks the light on in his room after washing the dishes, in the process of taking off his shirt, getting ready to try talking to the fish today in the far corner, the furthest away from his full-sized mattress, before giving in to go on a run along the docks. He almost throws his shirt onto the bed— when— well.

That’s when he notices the mermaid on his bed.

The sleeping mermaid on his bed.

She’s dozing off— hidden under his blanket, the mass of blue covers pulled tight around her naked shoulders. One of her pale arms has escaped from the mess she’s made of the fabric, and it hangs off the bed— steam rising softly off of her skin like she’s slowly being cooked, matching ring glinting in the light of the lamp on his nightstand. His eyes widen at the sight of her— the slow and soft drag of her tail fins against the floor as she inhales and exhales, because even curled up she can’t fit all of her on the mattress. She’s never been considered large, not proportionately, but the tail fins are long and delicate, and the mattress is far too small to fit the both of them if he were in his normal form too.

Pink, shimmery and translucent fins flutter as if caught by a slow breeze— petal-like in shape and it always feels silky against his fingertips whenever he’s touched her in the past, and today it looks no different. He follows the line of her fins back up to her tail that disappears underneath the comfortable blanket, where she’s wrapped herself to keep warm from the stale and stagnant air that permeates the room. He’s always liked the temperature around him to be colder, because of how he grew up, but she’s never been able to handle the slight freeze unless she’s been charmed, the little reef-dweller. Either charmed or wrapped up so tightly around him in order to soak up his body heat, nearly squeezing him to death. He sleeps with an eel of a woman, whenever they’re together, completely and totally reluctant to ever let him go.

Like now.

She’s here.

Here.

Strangling the blanket around her shoulders to keep the cold away from her.

His heart squeezes, and he finds himself on his knees, not exactly kneeling on the mattress but rather the floor just in front of her— gently parting the blanket enough to locate her other arm. She hums at the back of her throat when the cold air reaches and pebbles her porcelain skin— face pinching softly at the cold— before she blinks awake when he whispers her name in order to rouse her.

He’s always loved her blue eyes. Especially when they look at him, shining and shimmering like diamonds. “Mmmm?”

“Hi,” He checks her ears for her own magical charm. They’re there, and safely secured on her ear lobes, two perfectly beautiful pink pearls. They had been wedding gifts to her from her job at the school, that many of the parents had chipped in to get her a charm that would be able to withstand long periods of time outside of the sea, and he’s never been so grateful as now to see her wear them. “How long have you been here for?”

She’s always been a slow riser when she wakes up, so the first few seconds of her being conscious again are routinely docile and sweet, and today is no different. Her face softens the moment she recognizes where she is and who she’s looking at, a certain sweetness in her eyes that makes his heart hurt. “Luka? Oh, oh— Luka—”

She latches onto him tightly, pulling him close by her arms around his neck and shoulders with a happy noise. She smells of the ocean, even though she’s dry— her soft black hair just as silky, and just as long as it’s always been. It spills between his fingers as he combs through it, almost liquid on the web of his fingers and down his wrist, and he spends a moment or two just basking in her warmth, basking in the way she sighs against him. She kisses the closest skin available to her, which seems to be his shoulder, his collarbone, his chest, and his bicep— smiling happily up at him when he pulls away enough to look at her in the eyes.

“Marinette— Marinette— I can’t believe you’re here.”

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Her eyes look glassy with tears. “Your fish told me you would be home later— why are you here so early? I thought I had time to surprise you and greet you at the door.”

“You must’ve slept for too long,” He noses at the shell of her ear. “This is about the time I get home every day. But little pearl, what are you doing here? Did you travel safely? Don’t get me wrong, please— I’m so thankful— but when did you show up? No injuries? It’s not a holiday at home, I don’t think, is it?”

“I’m okay. Everything’s okay. No one saw me, and no one tried fishing for me. I just couldn’t keep waiting for you to come back,” She hums. Marinette’s always been a singer, ever since they met for the first time. Always a tune in her voice, always singing and humming away like a never-ending record player. “I’ve missed you so much, Luka, you have no idea— so I just decided that today was enough waiting. I dropped everything off and told my parents that I needed to see you— you, my darling sky.”

“I’m so glad you’re here.” He kisses her. And then again. And then again. And again. He keeps doing it until it hurts to not breathe— but even then, he doesn’t really find the desire to pull away. After all, this is much easier than what he’s dealt with for the past year. “Every day, my heartache just keeps getting worse— this is horrible. How are we supposed to keep this up for another year?”

“And I thought the wedding would’ve been the hard part of all of this— turns out that the bond is just as real as they say.” She giggles as she pulls him closer. He leans over her, wrapping an arm around the smallest part of her waist, resting his open palm on her upper back to support her as he lays her back down. She’s handsy— he doesn’t blame her— brushing her fingertips on all the skin available to her, making an unsatisfied noise when she reaches his jeans. “Take these off?”

Ah. Lovely Marinette. Always so handsy and desperate for close contact— as if he’s any better. He hasn’t seen her in so long, he’s seconds from stopping the pleasantries and letting her know just how much he’s actually missed her. “But—”

“You’ve never been shy before.” She clicks her tongue with a silly little eye roll. She traces his tattoo on his arm, a small smile on her face, following the compass rose’s north tip up his arm. She makes it to the boat with seven sails, before looking up at him rather confused. “There’s nothing you haven’t already shown me— I’ve seen every single centimeter of you and every last scale. Unless— uhm— has something changed?”

“No, nothing has changed— relax that worry in your eyes.” He laughs, and can’t help himself when he kisses her again, slow enough to distract her as he pulls his jeans off, leaving his boxers behind. Her eyes blow wide at the sight of him naked, save for the jade ouroboros around his wrist and the band of his underwear. He hopes it isn’t inside out. “I just meant that I’ve barely been able to look at you, and I know you won’t let me go until it’s tomorrow if I let you have your way. You’re hidden underneath the blanket— let me look at you first before your tail disappears. Why are you wrapped up like a sushi roll, sweetheart?”

“It’s cold,” She shivers, just to prove her point, attempting to pull a fast one on him and reaching for the waistband of his boxers before he snags her wrist with a laugh. Thin and soft shoulders curl underneath his palms in an attempt to stop heat from escaping, and she collects an edge of the blanket to cover herself back up and make a bigger mess out of the covers, locks of her hair spilling over the blanket, pooling to where her waist should be. She tries to tuck in her tail with mixed results. “Why is it colder on land than it is on sea? How are you able to withstand this much frost, Luka? Even my scales are starting to go stiff.”

“Reef-dweller,” He grins.

“Yes, yes, continue to make fun of you poor wife who cannot contain heat because of biology. But you don’t have your scales on you right now, you sea serpent.” She pouts. “I should be much more suited for this cold than you should be, right now.”

He guides her burritoed form closer with a warm smile. Her fins flutter, delicate and sweet, as he pulls her close enough for her to rest part of her tail on his lap as he gently reaches for the edges of the blanket again. “It isn’t actually that cold. You’re just losing heat so you can get your sea legs, remember?”

“Unfortunately, I’m starting to remember the hard way. Stars, I keep forgetting how uncomfortable the transformation is. Maybe I’m doing it on purpose.”

“Let me see you,” He noses at her jawline.

“Only if you promise to warm me up after,” She teases, and she actually manages to snap his waistband against his hip, making him hiss at the sensation. She giggles, kicking up her tail delightfully at the noise he makes. “Please, sky?”

They’re politely ignoring the way he’s starting to fill out his underwear already at the sight of her. It’s instinctual, of course, because of bonds and magic and, well, it is Marinette that’s looking at him like she’s famished. “Of course. You don’t even have to ask.”

Steam billows from the opened pocket of the blanket the moment he unwraps her and finally takes a good look at her. Sweet stars, he’s missed her so much, and he shows her just how much by touching her everywhere. She shivers under his fingertips as he traces the small scales that line her chest and stomach. They’re starting to retreat and fade, now that the drying process is finishing up, but she’s still completely smooth and too scaled to have her human characteristics just yet.

“You’re shivering, my sweet pearl.”

“Yes, but— your hands are so warm,” She sighs.

There’s a gentle swell to her chest, hidden beneath the neat rows of hazy pink scales, but the swell isn’t as much as what she has in her human form. He’d learned early on, when they’d first tried their magic charms and had gained their sea legs, that he loves all versions of her body— including when her chest fills his palms with such softness he feels like weeping, with pink peaks that make her sing whenever he tweaks them. Everything about her is delicate, like the world’s most fragile flower.

But very soon, he’s going to end up with an entirely naked woman on his bed instead of a mermaid. Both are lovely ideas. He’ll be able to watch her wobble on her sea legs for an hour or two before she relearns her balance, and have to guide her by her naked hips if she wants to leave the room. She’ll probably want to stretch her legs, and take a turn about the very small boathouse, but they probably won’t be able to leave the house today. That look in her eyes is telling.

As if he’s any better.

He traces the rows of scales down her stomach, the scales getting thicker and larger as he reaches just about where her tail technically begins at the hips. Her arms, too, have patches of translucent pink scales that are starting to disappear in favor of just skin, and he follows the long line of her tail down with a palm.

He skirts over the area that he knows she so desperately wants to guide him to, gaining a brief huff and pout from her as he instead grazes along her scales all the way to her long and beautiful curtain fin. His touches are soft, and barely noticeable— but it’s enough to get her to twitch.

He starts to tickle her.

“Luka,” She slaps her tail on the mattress in an attempt to make him stop tickling her, and her hand grabs for his— but her laughter is so contagious he can hardly stand it himself. “What— ha— what are you— oh, stars— d-doing?”

“I haven’t seen my wife in almost a year,” He gives her a smile, laughing at the way she squirms uselessly under his hands. “Can I not touch her?”

“You can touch— but—” Such sweet laughter! “But why— oh! Why touch me there when I’m ticklish?”

“Oh? Would you rather me touch you higher?”

“Yes,” She giggles. “Oh, please, I know exactly where I’d like you to touch me. But buy me dinner first, at least.”

“I’ll do more than that, sweetheart.” He licks his lips, watching the way she shifts to prop herself on her elbows. She blows her bangs out of her face when it starts to fall across her lashes, looking at him with sparkling beautiful eyes. She’s so pretty. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, and all of that, but his love for her has never diminished in the first place. Sweet beautiful melody. “What is it that my lovely girl wants?”

“Hm…”

“Make it count, of course. Your tail is going to disappear soon.”

“How about: you tell me that you want me like this, sky,” She peeks at him from under her lashes.

He wants her in any form, this won’t be too hard. “I want you.”

She’s feeling cheeky, isn’t she? That smile is proof alone. “Tell me you need me.”

“As if I have to say that.” But she prods him with a cute pout when he rolls his eyes, and he acquiesces: “I need you.”

“Tell me you can’t live without me.”

“I’m miserable without you. So miserable.” He means it. And she knows it. “I don’t want to keep doing this long-distance anymore. I’ve never been so miserable.”

She tilts her head to the side with another hum, looking around the room. “Tell me you’ll let me decorate our home— it’s so bland in here. Where are all the flowers? The music?”

“Please decorate—” His brain flatlines. “Wait, decorate? This house? This— our— house? Home?”

“Surprise!” Another peal of laughter escapes from her, and it follows through her body to a delicate flick of her tail.

His eyes widen. “You— you’re staying?”

“Yes!” She nods, shimmying on her elbows as she grins. “Yes yes yes!”

“But— Marinette— you—” Sweet stars, she’s staying. She’s staying. How could he ever want her to go? The love of his life, the jewel in his heart, and his wife— staying for longer than a few fleeting moments when she can afford to slip away from home? Oh— oh— his heart could burst.

“I can’t stay away from you.” She confesses, cupping his hand and kissing the gold band on his finger. She balances her upper weight on her other elbow, but doesn’t seem to struggle under her own weight. “I’m tired of being away. The bond is making me miserable, Luka, and I’ve had just about enough of it. So, I decided to make it easy on the both of us.”

“But—”

She winks. “I know.”

“And—”

“Yes, that too.”

“Also, your job—”

“I know,” Her laughter is so sweet. He can’t even finish his sentences without her answering as if they’re on the same wavelength— oh— he’s missed this woman so much. “I know, sky. I know. But all of it will be there still when we go back next year. My students won’t go to the next teacher until five years from now. I’ve already talked to the other teachers about me disappearing off with you for a year.”

She… she would really be willing to give up everything, just like that, just for him? Her students, her daily work, her desire to teach? Her desire to nurture? All of it, just to be with him? “I can’t do that to you, little pearl. I know how important your students are to you— I can’t ask you to stay away from them. Maybe I should just go home with you, instead.”

“Luka, honestly! You’re not doing this to me, I want to stay with you— and you better finish this degree of yours. You’ve worked too hard! You know why I couldn’t come with you in the first place, but a year has changed and things are better now, my parents got help from a new family that’s moved into the reef. We can afford a year away from home now, my sweet. A real year away. You know I get one year off to stay with my bond.”

“But that was only as soon as you get married— that was, sweet stars— it was eleven months ago.”

“And I never used it,” She informs him, as if he hadn’t also spent the last year lonely and miserable. “So it’s still viable. I told you, I already talked to the other teachers.”

“But our family—”

“—is completely and totally better off without me constantly sighing in their ears.” She shrugs with a soft smile. It’s a little difficult, given that she’s still propped up on her elbows, but she makes it work. “If I touched my ring one more time in front of my mother, she would’ve personally pushed me out of the ocean herself. Not to mention your mother, telling me that ‘it’s not good to leave your bond alone, lassie. Bonds need to be cultivated, lassie’. Two mothers pushing me up onto the docks, telling me to sleep easy for at least one night. Better me than your mother dragging you back home to deal with me and my nightmares.”

She looks thin. Thinner than usual for springtime, and her face definitely looks a little darker than usual. His poor Marinette, how could he have done this to her? But it’s not like he isn’t affected in the same way, either… all of those nightmares and dull days, wishing to see and hold her. “Have you been eating? You’re looking thin.”

Perhaps they shouldn’t keep trying to test the universal truths with their bond. They really need that year together, don’t they?

“Me? You look thin, Luka.” There’s a frown making its way to the edges of her lips. “Is there not enough food for you? When was the last time you ate?”

“Tuttering pearl,” He murmurs. “Always worrying about me.”

“With good reason to,” She pouts. “Of course I worry about you, sky. What kind of spouse would I be if I didn’t ask my husband if he’s okay? Not a very good one, right?”

“I’ve been eating okay. I eat more in this form.”

“You look pale, my sweet.”

“You’re not the only one who’s been having trouble,” He admits. “Life has been so stagnant without you that I’m kind of just running like a machine. The days are all a blur, and it’s gotten to where I don’t even remember days unless I have a test or homework due that day. I already knew that university was miserable, but— ah, little pearl— don’t cry. It’s alright.”

Marinette’s going to burst into tears. “How stupid of me, leaving you alone.”

“No, sweetheart. You didn’t leave me alone.”

“You’re not as healthy as you usually are,” She hushes a bit when he kisses her, but it’s not enough. “I should’ve been here.”

“No. No, you didn’t do anything wrong. I was the one who left, and I shouldn’t have done that to you. To us.”

“I should’ve come with you.”

“I should’ve waited.” He kisses her again. And again. And again. “I should’ve waited just a little longer to come back up here.”

“You would’ve missed the scholarship if you had. Life could’ve waited for us back home— I should’ve come with you.”

Her tears taste like the ocean, too. “It’s okay, pearl.”

“Oh, sky,” Her eyes are so watery, even as he tries to calm her down with a gentle hand running down her scales. “What idiots we were.”

He tries for a smile. “Everyone told us this would happen.”

“They did,” She nods, sniffing into his palms as he cradles her face and wipes her lower eyelids free of tears. “They did, and we didn’t listen, and it’s cost us a whole year away from one another. How were we supposed to know it got this bad? It hurts to breathe without you.”

“I guess we were just supposed to listen to them,” He kisses her when she tilts her head up in an indication that she wants his lips on hers. He kisses her enough to make her eyes slip shut, and for her body to shiver as he reaches around her again to hold her at the waist. Sweet, sweet Marinette.

“Never again. Never ever again. I’m so thankful I’m here— I won’t let you go. I need you so much. Will you have me forever?”

There’s no need to ask. “Always. I did end up bonding with you, after all.”

She snorts, almost surprising herself with the noise. “A wise choice, you know. I’ve been told I’m very ‘agreeable’.”

Luka finds himself smiling. “Which parent said that?”

“Her child was impossible to console, every morning there was a new battle with this student. Every afternoon his mother would tell me that if no one ends up bonding with me by the following winter, she’ll start courting me herself, completely oblivious to the ring on my finger. She’s amazed at how easy I handle children, and I’m amazed she can just ignore the clear signs of me having bond fever for this long.”

“You’re perfect at your job,” They both laugh when he’s close enough to her to press his forehead onto hers. “But remember that you’re not the only one that wants to take care of their loved one. No more bond fever. I promise.”

“Definitely not. I’ll make sure to chase it out of our bodies on my own, if I have to.”

“Won’t stop until it’s gone?”

“Making up for the time we spent away,” She nods. “It might take us a little longer than normal, from how bad the fever’s gotten, but I don’t think you mind.”

“Greedy.” He grins. “How will I survive?”

She folds herself around him, encircling him as tightly as possible while still allowing him to move his arms. There’s genuine muscle behind the delicateness of her scales and fins— and while she can’t actually hurt his skin with her scales from how tough-skinned he is even in his human form, he is worried that she might accidentally hurt herself by how brittle and fragile they are. She’s still drying out, going through the process of getting her sea legs, meaning that her tail and fins aren’t as slippery as they usually are. “You’ve been captured, sky. No use trying to escape now.”

Their charms soak up most of the oils on their body, allowing them to fully dry out and gain human legs. Marinette is in the final moments of the transformation, which gives him about thirty more minutes of enjoying seeing his wife like she normally looks before she’s safely hidden amongst other humans.

But still, unbeknown to his wishes to see her completely laid flat, she continues to wrap around him, humming at the back of her throat as she soaks up his body heat, coiling around him like an eel. Cold little pearl. “Still freezing, my sweet?”

“I’m feeling a little better. I don’t think I’m losing any more body heat, but I’ll take any opportunity to be attached to you. I don’t want to let you go for the next ten days. Or weeks. Or months. What do you say to a whole year of us together in this bed?”

“We need to eat at some point.”

“I believe you said that there are delivery services available?” She hums. “I really liked pizza the last time. Do they make pizza with blueberries on them?”

“I’m not sure they do.”

“They should,” She makes a happy noise. “The taste would be sublime. Blueberries are so wonderful. Or how about blueberries and peaches on the pizza?”

“Humans would probably tell you that the pizza you’re craving is a crime.” His laughter is genuine, bubbling out of him at the idea of Marinette eating a slice of what humans consider revolting. “They don’t put fruit on them.”

“They’re missing out on flavors they never would’ve imagined.” She pouts.

“What are we going to do with your horrifying taste palette? You have the appetite of a sea-dweller. Are you sure you’ve lived your entire life in the reef?”

“All of my years, yes.” She giggles. “I don’t imagine I would be a very good sea-dweller. Much too cold down there.”

He smiles when a shiver travels down her tail at the thought of the water. “Oh, yes, how could I have forgotten that I promised to warm you up? Maybe I should cash that in now.”

A hand makes it to his boxers. She snaps his waistband with another version of her soft smiles and those wandering, glittering blue eyes, and, oh— it’s impossible for him to take off his underwear like this, with her tail completely wrapped around him like she’s a snake— but his wife is nothing short of persistent as she kisses his side. He shivers when her tongue sneaks against his skin, wet and moist, and he can feel himself involuntarily twitch his toes at the feeling. “Maybe I should warm you up instead, sky. You look like you’re having a rough time.”

“Absolutely not.”

“But—”

“You are hopelessly mistaken if you think I’m going to allow you to have free reign of my body before I’m able to enjoy the last sights of you like this.” Even as his toes continue to twitch with the way she mouths at his ribs. “You ravenous woman. You’re terrible at sharing, and I’ve missed you very much.”

“Oh, it’s not as if I can’t just take off my earrings and let you enjoy touching my scales some more.”

“You know what I mean,” He scrunches his nose. “Let me do this properly.”

“I’ll let you do whatever you’d like as long as I get to go first.” She tugs at the elastic. “Please? Just a few minutes, Luka? A decently sized amount of time to get my mouth on you?”

Oh, conniving mermaid. “I do not make deals with you. The last time I did, I ended up getting married to you.”

“As if that’s a bad thing!”

“I don’t regret it,” He shares a grin with her. “Definitely not. But you just have a way of convincing me to do things.”

“Oh, so I convinced you to marry me? Funny, I remember something about how you were convinced you were bad for me, but couldn’t help yourself but to keep trying to court me…” She giggles when he attempts to squeeze out of her grasp, rolling his eyes affectionately. “There’s no escaping, sky. Not with your sea legs, I’m afraid.”

It’s true. He is a lot stronger than her with his tail. With just about anything, really, because merfolk from the reefs are nothing compared to the ones out in the open sea with hardened skin and longer figures, but…

“This bed will break if I get rid of them,” He manages to get one of his legs out, much to her complaints. She’s far too dry for her to keep a genuine grip on him, poor thing. “Stretch out, little pearl. I’m curious to see how well you can last.”

“Will you take me like this?” She gasps, letting him unwrap her enough for his other leg to slip out from underneath her. “Oh, sky, yes please! I’m not sure—”

“We’ll do that next time. I have something else in mind.” Although he’s willing to try. Maybe when she isn’t on the cusp of transforming out of her tail, because that would take a little longer for them to find the best position— she’s always so small and tight as it is. It would be easier in water, of course, so that she’s in whatever position is more comfortable for her, but with his ouroboros on he breathes like a normal human. Sadly, he would probably drown himself.

Marinette would kill him.

A good way to go. But still killed and drowned all the same.

She’s still ticklish under his fingertips when he brushes over her scales again, but her cheeks are slowly pinking as they make eye contact. She’s not shy— definitely not. Honestly, she’s much more adventurous than him, in this aspect, but it’s been so long since they’ve been together, and he hopes that he remembers how to please her to the point she sings. Even though she’s excited, and he can tell by the way her fins twitch at the end of the bed, she mostly keeps still as he follows her scales back to where she’s wanted him to be from the very beginning.

Ah, there she is.

This spot is definitely not dry.

Soft, and full of slick, she opens gently to his prodding fingers with a sigh. Her nails are blunt, but they feel like little needles on his shoulders as she grips him, trying her best not to squirm and overwhelm him. Her body is tightly wound, almost hurtful, and even with the slick she’s not that easy to sink into down to the knuckle like he’d imagined. He hisses at how tight she is, feeling his cheeks heat and something stir at the base of his spine, panting as he hears her squelch as he pushes in more and more. “Why are you so tight, pearl?”

“I— oh— haven’t had much time to myself, the school keeps me so busy—” She makes a noise of contentment anyway, brushing her hair back and around her as he fingers her open. She’s a pretty sight, with her hair long and flat like ribbons near her waist. If he twists his finger this way… maybe she’ll… “And you know I don’t like doing it— oh, stars! Luka, yes, more of that—”

“Easy,” He grins, making sure she doesn’t squirm completely away from his hands. She wants to stay, she does, and he knows that, but she’s always too excited to keep still and let him finish. She wants all of it. She wants all of him, and always ends up rushing to the good parts instead of enjoying the moment. “Finish what you were saying, sweetheart.”

She huffs when he stills his finger, batting her tail along the end of the mattress. “I don’t like doing it alone, you know, and it’s been rather lonely doing it.”

“I know what you mean,” He fills in the silence between her panting, twisting his finger again and making her eyes roll as a groan leaves her.

She bites her lip. “I’d rather you help me out, it always feels so much better— oh— you’re just so good, sky.”

“Oh, am I?” He meets her gaze almost challengingly, slowing his fingers down enough to get a shine back into her hazing eyes. “So does that mean you thought about me?”

Does he really deserve that fin slap onto his shoulder? He would say no, but, there’s not much of an argument to be made when she rolls her eyes. “Of course I thought about you. What kind of ridiculous question is that?”

“Let me guess,” He tilts his head to the side, blinking at her with shaggy hair in his lashes. “Did you think about the last time we did it? How I’d made you sing for hours?”

“No— I mean, well, yes— but—” She moans.

He hums. “You almost woke up our neighbors with your sighs. Pretty little thing.”

“You know, I also thought about my husband hurrying up whenever he decided to finger me,” Her smile curls silly when all he does is laugh and continue to stall. Slicking his fingers against the soft and wet slit, only gently sinking in only to pull out again, making her mewl out. “I want to get you out of those boxers, damn this tail! Your cock is calling my name, I know it— if only I had the legs to catch you with, you’d see the summit of my desires.”

“Oh, I’d love to see that. A reef-dweller, trying to outmaneuver a deep-sea dweller.”

“You’re not as scary as you think, sky,” Her shoulders shake from laughter, and he retaliates by curling his fingers just so in order to get that whine back into her voice. “I’ll— oh my— h-have you know, I got over your differentness—”

“My ‘differentness’?” He grins, but she doesn’t elaborate.

“—within the first year of meeting you. Maybe even the first month— I knew from the moment your eyes turned into gold that I was going to marry you. Our friends were confused and terrified of it— but I knew that you’re nothing more than a guppy. And I knew it from the moment you scales changed colors to match the reef that I had found my eternal love.”

“Sweet,” He muses, trying his best not to blush. “But you are still no match for a deep-sea dweller, my love. They’re tougher than nails. The bullies of the merworld.”

“Oh, I’m sure that’s true.” But she doesn’t make eye contact with him anymore, instead looking down at his boxers with a knowing look. His body stirs as she continues to look at him, wetting her lips with a slow drag of her tongue, enraptured by what she sees. “The ever scary deep sea, with their terrifying personalities and scary men who want nothing more than to please their wives.”

“And I, of course, wouldn’t know anything about that.”

Something in her switches, and her gaze snaps up to his. He looks at her shining eyes, watching them widen into a lovely shape as she whines at the back of her throat. “Let me have you, Luka, before I lose my mind from how much I need you.”

His finger goes back to making her sing. “I love it when you beg, sweetheart.”

“Ridiculous man,” She rolls her eyes but it almost feels forced as her face turns redder and redder. “Just— oh— watch out, sky, because once you’re done I’ll return the favor.”

She drags him closer for a kiss. He eases another finger into her, desperate to make the humming noise turn into a full-on shout, but he gets distracted by the way her tongue presses into his. Inquisitive, as usual, his pearl is frantic for him as she curls her tongue into his mouth, parting her own lips in a moan when he angles his head to the side and nips at her bottom lip with his teeth.

She’s alive under his fingers. Tight, yes— warmer than a furnace, too— she’s everything he loves and craves. He’ll chase the bond fever out of her, too, even if it takes him all night, but the way she sings praises of his fingers curling and uncurling in her as he works her open is a sign that it might not be long before his pearl is gushing over his fingers.

But the bond fever won’t be that easy to solve. They have a whole year to make up for, of course, but he’s certain that this is in the right direction. To hell with obligations of tomorrow, or even all of the groceries he knows that they have to go and get when he has her gasping and moaning from his actions— he hasn’t heard her sweet and moaning voice in months. It’s a sweet song that he’ll hold forever in his heart.

“Luka— Luka—” She purrs.

Or tries to, at least, since they’re outside of water and the sound doesn’t travel like it should. Regardless, it’s a rumbly and poetic noise that warms him all over, evidence that the strain in her shoulders is starting to lessen, and evidence that she’s relaxing completely. He almost straddles her, his knees on either side of her tail and careful not to step on her hair, pistoning his fingers in the way he knows will alleviate that curl in her spine.

“You’re so beautiful, sweetheart,” He could watch her come undone by him for the rest of his life. “Nothing in the world compares to you.”

Oh, and he knows she loves hearing him say that. Luka knows she’s the happiest when he pays attention to her and goads her with endless amount of praise. None of it is ever lies, or forced— which is probably the reason why she loves it so much.

As if to prove his point, slick squelches out of her as she sighs. She’s taking his two fingers so well, even as it’s a tight fit, even as her body attempts to push him out because his fingers are much bigger than what her body reasonably allows to penetrate her, but still, she’s doing so well— even her scales are shining in the lamplight from the amount of fluid she’s producing, and it makes the pink scales look all the more vibrant. “Sky— oh, please, sky—”

“Just a bit more,” He whispers. “I want to watch you just for a little longer. My darling. My wonderful and absolute darling.”

“Please—” She’s babbling a bit, leaning into his hand he has at her cheek, looking at him with those diamond blue eyes. “Please, Luka, please— oh—”

Oh, he loves it when she begs.

“Come for me?” He nips at her jaw and mouth. He’d bite and lick her at the chest if she had her sea legs, but there’s nothing but smooth scales to mouth over, and it would probably be best not to get any lacerations just because he couldn’t wait for a bit longer. “Be a dearest for me and come for me, little pearl.”

Her tail goes completely rigid when she does.

He feels his fingers get squeezed just as she throws her head back, and catches sight of her earrings starting to glow. He pulls his fingers out just as the magical charms release and stain her skin, and he blinks at the sight of beautiful cream-colored legs wrapped around his hips. Not to mention her pink slit, sticky from his help— he can’t stop himself from going back to her and using his fingertips up and down the sensitive flesh that has her twitching and mewling behind a hand.

“Oh! I— I forgot I’m more sensitive—” She flinches when he comes into contact with her clit. He rolls her flesh between two fingers, enjoying that cute face she makes, before— wait— are her thighs locking because she’s— “Luka— oh stars—”

“Twice back to back, pearl?” His eyes blow wide when she comes back from gasping and crying. “Oh, sweetheart.”

“Oh. I didn’t expect— oh.”

“Sweet Marinette. You’re so perfect, just like usual.” He murmurs as she starts to settle back down, starting to slow her twitching from his fingertips. “How are you feeling?”

“Mmmm,” She hums instead of answering, and he can’t fault himself for chuckling. “That one is going to cost you.”

“Is it?”

But the sight of her is mouth-watering, so breathtakingly mouth-watering— and he’s halfway to just opening her up again with his fingers and exploring all of her new skin available. After all, the swell of her breasts is so appetizing, her face flushed and glowing as she loses a bit of steam in favor of drowsily blinking up at him— he wants nothing more than to suck bruises onto her porcelain skin and have her continuously cry out.

His own arousal is an afterthought, so long as he can keep her with him looking this beautiful and this dazed.

But the world tilts very much soon after he makes that thought.

“Yes, my lovely sky. My turn— I’ll make sure you to give you two as well.” She smiles, saddling him with a fervor that he should’ve expected by now. The space between her legs is sticky and warm, and he can feel her wetness through his boxers as she sits right where he’s sure is most comfortable for her. Her thighs feel like the perfect weights against his hips, slotting against him like a perfect pair.

Her eyes are brown, now, just as dark and vast as the sea he grew up in before meeting her. Her human eyes are beautiful and nostalgic to his past, and he finds himself captivated by them every time. He loves her in all forms, after all, bond or not— she’s beautiful to him in all versions he’s ever met her, even as he plays with the strands of her slightly shorter hair, relishing in how soft it still is against his fingertips.

“Go easy on me, scary serpent, you know I bruise easily,” He grins at her, palming up the soft flesh of her legs. She shivers at it, still sensitive after just transforming. No doubt her body is still trying to make sense of the sudden change, but she seems to be more in favor of putting all of that on the back burner and focusing on him. She captures his wrist, and kisses softly at his ring when she brings his hand up to her face— he tries his best not to pay attention to how her breasts feel like silk against his arm and elbow.

“Not a chance, my dear.”

AO3 | Chapter One | Chapter Two

#pro lukamari #pro lukanette #fragileizyfic #fragileizylukanette #lukanette endgame

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whump-town · 3 years

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The Unforgiving Tide

Today I got my first dose of the Covid vaccine so to celebrate I wrote Mortch h/c because I love it and I can't help it. It's also centered around one of my favorites-- Route 66 so enjoy the pain assholes

No warnings or anything just the normal stuff

Derek Morgan knows one thing for certain and that is that there is absolutely no way that anything about love is a choice. The absolute light of his life, the person who puts a pep in his step and gets him through the day is Penelope Garcia and that is who he would choose. Day in and day out, it is Penelope and he loves her to the ends of the Earth but love, as Derek has come to understand it, is very much so not about choices. Rarely is it ever the easiest and that’s, of course, the option Derek has been given. Because while Penelope fancies the worst type of men and the prettiest women Derek gets her polar opposite.

Which is strange because he knows he’s heard somewhere that love like his balances out in some ways-- that Aaron and Penelope should have more in common. But Aaron looks like if the Grim Reaper walked among them and Penelope as if one person could harness all that is the rainbow. Well… maybe that’s only for straight people and those not screwed by life into falling in love with brooding, silent idiots like Aaron Hotchner.

None of them say it, and he’s acutely aware that he’s mostly the reason why, but it feels strange without Hotch here with them. Dave unflinchingly keeps them moving on, doesn’t push at Derek’s coiling rattlesnake of a mood, but he keeps them in motion. The others need it because this is the part of the job that they stumble over. The part that requires they leave certain things behind. Today it’s Hotch not even an hour after seeing his limp form moved from the conference floor onto a stretcher. When they’d watched for seven and a half minutes as he lay on the floor unresponsive. Deaf to Dave frantically calling out his name, to JJ trying to squeeze his hand to make his fingers curl back around hers.

Derek had sat on the plane looking at all the signs he’d managed to miss. The WebMD page pulled up on his screen so he could flick back and forth between his messages with Aaron and the symptoms listed out on the page. Felt his stomach churn as each symptom made its way into their conversations from the week. How Aaron had known something was wrong but Derek hadn’t, he wasn’t even concerned. He’d let Aaron turn food away and didn’t press on that like he should have. Aaron had told him his blood pressure was low, anxiously rubbing at his fingers and his voice going breathless with his struggle to admit that. Derek had… He’s become blind to the countless, never-ending problems with Aaron’s body and now Aaron’s having emergency surgery for something Derek should have seen. Alone in Virginia while Derek hunts down some girl who likely doesn’t want to be found.

Because Derek hadn’t seen.

He hadn’t known.

“He’ll be okay,” JJ whispers, squeezing his fingers the same way she had Aaron’s. He looks down at their joined hands, hears Dave calling out for Aaron again. Hears the silence of his own thoughts, remembers that he’d just stood there. Maybe the problem isn’t Aaron at all…

Somehow he ends up angry, not at himself, but at Aaron. The doctors are always warning him about things like this. Dips or rises in his blood pressure are detrimental to his body, he can’t regulate his body temperature like a normal person. He has to have so much caloric intake daily. When he doesn’t meet that level he’s playing a very dangerous game with his body. Throw in the anticoagulants that he takes, the Lexapro, the steroids that bombard his body to fight off the arthritis swelling in his right hand. There are so many more and Derek can’t even begin to name them, Aaron can’t either. If he misses a dose their day crashes to the ground.

He needs that medicine to survive and Derek doesn’t need to be told that somewhere along the line this can be accounted for. That he’ll find one too many of something in one of those prescription bottles pushing the cabinet’s ability to stay closed. A doctor’s going to tell him Aaron’s weight has dropped again and they’ll probably put him on some special diet that makes him miserable. Have him choking down thick smoothies choked full of spinach and vitamins and some special blend of chalk.

Where was Derek?

He’s in the kitchen with Aaron, they eat ⅔ of their meals together. Derek checks these things so how did it slip by him? How did he miss something so in his face?

-------------

Time is very warped but he knows the intensity of the pain eating up his body. Overwhelming heat spreading through him, breaking his skin out in a cold sweat that leaves him shivering and moving wounds that he can’t see but he can most certainly feel. His dry lips part and he grunts, eyelids too heavy to do more than flutter but he can see the blurred outline of someone by his side. Can track pale flesh to where it’s connected to his own.

“Hotch?” a cold hand presses to his face, a finger brushing through a tear that slides down his cheek. “You’re okay.”

That’s not really the question, not the most pressing thing on his mind. Memories tangle in his poor understanding of past and present. Tasers and gunshots and stabbings-- he can’t discern what has happened with what already did. Bits of tragedies creating a confusing web he finds himself ensnared in.

He sees blonde hair, feels those cold fingers ghosting along his skin. “Garcia?” he asks because he needs one solid piece of truth to hold onto. “What happened?” She won’t lie to him, he trusts this blindly. There’s something about the two of them, with or without Derek in the equation, that draws them to one another. A safety he finds in all her brightness, like turning your face to the sun and he is everything that she is not but there is always safety in his shadows. A place she can tuck herself into to escape being known for just a moment and just be.

She squeezes his fingers, bringing feeling to them. The movement is something to focus on, something real where only hazy snippets have made themselves known. “I don’t--” she’s uncertain if she’s allowed to tell him. The risk of upsetting him far larger than her want to please him by telling him. “Everyone’s ok. We’re all okay.”

His hum of understanding comes delayed, his presence of mind slipping. He wants to press on, ask more questions, and know exactly what she means by everyone and what “okay” constitutes. Not because he doesn’t necessarily trust her but because he isn’t sure how many people is everyone. Jack? Did he hurt his own son? Is Emily here? Did he hurt her? What about Dave? He feels distanced from Dave but he won’t forgive himself if he hurt the other man. And what of Derek? Oh… Derek, would she really tell him if he were hurt?

She presses her palm to his forehead, working her fingers through his soft hair. Smiling when he turns into her, closing his mouth and giving in. Stopping this futile fight. “Just rest,” she assures him. “You’re okay.” He thinks, passively as she presses a kiss to his temple and tugs the blankets closer to his chest, that she’s being too tender. Too nice. He hasn’t got the proof just yet but he’s too tired to push for more.

-------------

Derek goes home as soon as they land in Virginia, he can feel their eyes on his back as he moves to his car without comment. They got Samantha Wilcox and now his job is done, nothing he does anymore has to be something that they see and he cherishes the thirty minutes it’s going to take to get home. Thirty whole minutes to do what he needs to. Cry or scream or punch something and all without Spencer’s sad eyes following him or JJ trying to be supportive. He just wants to feel unabashed and freely, without consequence.

He turns the volume of his CD up, tears form and the last thing he wants to hear are his own sobs. He’s not focused on the music, he just needs something loud and distracting to get him home. The CD starts to play and quickly, harder than what’s necessary he turns it off. It’s Aaron’s and angry tears that he can’t blink away swell in his eyes as he thinks about how much he hates the song “Back In the USSR”. It’s just bad music but Aaron loves it.

And he’s back to thinking about reality and not this bubble of nothing he’s trying to convince himself he has. Aaron’s go-bag is with Penelope but there are other things that he needs that won’t be in there. Derek realizes that he has no idea if the hospital will need Aaron’s other prescriptions or just what all he should bring to the hospital. He really doesn’t know anything at all but home is safe and it’s not the hospital so heads there.

He grabs what he knows Aaron will want.

Aaron’s worn copy of Anna Karenina is sitting on his nightstand, his reading glasses on Derek’s. They once had a case to go in but Derek doesn’t waste time looking for that, just tucks one of the sides into his shirt. He goes to his own dresser and pulls out a flannel. Aaron has plenty of his own, and ones that fit those abnormally long arms of his, but he’ll prefer this one nonetheless. Not that it’s special, it’s just Derek’s. There are other, nonessential, things that he grabs mindlessly trying to think about those stupid lists Aaron’s always making for this exact case scenario but he can’t remember everything.

Derek grows flustered and with a thick sigh, tears swelling in his eyes, he throws himself across their bed. His chest hitches and he moves until his face is in Aaron’s pillow, breathing in that distinct smell of his soap and detergent. This is his fault, isn’t it? He can’t begin to think about how many times Dave warned him something like this would happen. That loving Aaron means things like this and watching his back. That this isn’t fieldwork and he can’t let his guard down the second he thinks the dangers over. And he’d promised Emily when she left he could handle it. He loves Aaron so it shouldn’t be that hard and she’d smiled so sadly when he said that and now he wishes he hadn’t understood why.

His phone buzzes in his pocket and he has half a mind to ignore it. Whatever it is can wait but he doesn’t want to miss anything with Aaron. “Hello?” half his face is still pushed into the bed.

There’s a crackle over the phone, something being moved and Penelope’s voice just slightly distanced. He’s just about to speak again when the sound gets clear. “Sorry!” she offers. “Hotch looked cold so I was fighting the blanket monsters in the closet to save him!” She sounds just breathless enough that he can imagine her standing on her tiptoes trying to fight down a blanket from somewhere too high.

He knows there’s no way Aaron asked for a blanket. “How is he?” Derek asks softly.

Penelope sits herself down in the visitor’s chair and looks over at Hotch. He’s sleeping, hasn’t so much as moved a muscle since he woke up. “Confused,” she sighs. She’s not really sure if he had looked cold but she can’t stand just sitting here and watching so she had to do something and besides, Hotch is always cold.

Derek hums.

“Are you coming?”

The others are all probably there already. He knows he’ll use this trip home as his excuse but he could have asked any one of them to collect these things. They wouldn’t even need him to tell them where things are, wouldn’t even need to be told which things to get. He’s just stalling and he knows it. “Yeah,” he pulls Aaron’s pillow close. Wrapping his arms around it like it’s the body of the man he wishes so badly were here right now. Then Derek could think about something else-- the way Aaron’s legs get tangled in the bedsheets or the fact that he drools when he’s sleeping really, really good.

But Aaron isn’t here.

“Yeah, yeah I’m coming.”

He’s met with tears. Spencer stands before him, shaking the limb of a tree in the wind of a great storm. The kind that would wake Aaron in the middle of the night, enticing him with the sharp whipping sounds and the crashing of distant trash cans. Forcing Derek to wake up shivering, wondering where Aaron’s dragged himself off to. He’s fairly certain he no longer knows how to sleep without Aaron there-- without the feeling of his comfortable weight settled against his hips. Aaron always sleeps so close to him, never more than an arm’s length away.

The tears that hit Spencer’s cheeks are like the fat drops that ping off the windows. The harder ones always startling Aaron until he can self-consciously glance at Derek and see if he noticed. He always does. Spencer pulls his mouth open, moving his jaw like the hinges of an old front door.

“Is he dead?” Derek doesn’t feel up for waiting for all the foolishness of whatever nonsense Spencer’s come up with. Whatever it is that he’s gearing up for can wait, Derek only cares about one thing.

Reid glances to the floor, “I-- I-- He’s, ugh, Garcia’s still back with him.”

Good. Derek squeezes Spencer’s shoulder as he passes but doesn’t say anything. Spencer doesn’t do well with this business, the realization that the people he loves crack. They stumble and they fall and they get hurt and Derek doesn’t feel like lying. Because Aaron is like this a lot and Spencer won’t believe him anyway.

He passes Dave and he gets a good supportive nod. “I called Emily,” Dave tells him. “I think she’d appreciate it if you called her back later.”

Derek nods his head, she’ll likely want to speak to Aaron. He can already hear that argument but it’ll be good for someone to be angry with Aaron. God knows Emily won’t be pleased. It’ll give Aaron something to focus on, an argument to win while everything else falls in around him. Because he already knows Emily’s going to threaten to come home but Aaron won’t let her. Derek smiles as he thinks about that, she’ll wait a week he already knows. In a week she’ll be down here and she’ll be met with one of Aaron’s tired sighs while she vehemently denies she came home to make sure he was really okay.

Derek doesn’t understand why they can’t just say express worry like other people.

Penelope greets him with a tight hug as if she’s squeezing all the bad feelings away. He lets her try but she pulls away and knows she was unsuccessful. “He’s been very well behaved,” Penelope tells him brightly. As if they’re talking about Derek’s mischievous toddler. “Almost… snugly.” He’d let her hold his hand, turning himself in towards the comforting hand she’d placed against his cheek. No one else’s definition of warm but for Hotch that’s… it’s pretty snugly.

“Mmm,” Derek knows he’ll get the moody, if not clingy bits of Aaron but he’ll be okay. “Thank you,” he tells her sincerely, squeezing her hands and sinking into the hug she wraps him into. “He doesn’t like--” he can’t get the rest of the words out, choking on tears. Aaron hates waking up in the hospital. Derek’s seen it enough to know. It’s too disorienting but a familiar face always helps.

Penelope nods, squeezing him. “I know,” she whispers. “I know.”

With a nod, Derek pulls away and he wipes his eyes. Tries to pull himself together but he’s been too angry all day, too on edge to really clean up.

“He’ll be happy to see you,” Penelope says, her bags collected as she’s stepping out.

Derek can only hope that’s true.

He settles down in the visitor’s chair and frowns when he sees how swollen Aaron’s right hand is. He finds the grooves of the joint easily, rubbing at the boney digits mindlessly as he searches the bed for the TV remote. There’s got to be something on the TV. It’s not football season anymore but baseball is on and that’s the best sport according to Aaron. Derek wonders how he ended up with someone who hates watching sports so much but that can make things interesting. But baseball… Aaron hates everything else but won’t complain when Derek puts on baseball of all things.

Aaron makes a soft crackling sound as he wakes, turning his head from Derek, and grunting a half whimper when he can’t pull his hand away from Derek’s hold. He pries his eyes open, mouth too dry to form full words but the sound of his lips touching sounds just enough like Derek’s name for him to smile up at Aaron. His eyes close again, pinched with the pain rolling through his chest and the agitated flames licking at the joints of his right hand. The latter of which Derek is not helping as he rotates his thumb over the swollen skin, digging into hurt like he’s trying to draw blood.

Tenderly, Derek moves Aaron’s fingers to the bed, standing with a groan of his own when the small of his back lights up like timber as he stretches out. He smiles when he sees Aaron’s hazily drugged gaze go right to where his shirt rides up over his hips and blushes furiously when he’s caught. Derek hums to himself, shaking his head but smiling all the same. It’s cute, he thinks as he pours Aaron a cup of water. Very cute, he decides when he finds that the blush hasn’t crept away when he turns back to him.

“Small sips,” Derek directs softly, holding the straw to Aaron’s lips.

The first sip hurts, burns his sensitive throat as it goes down but it creates an insatiable thirst. He greedily pulls at the straw for more until Derek pulls it away from him. If Derek could have it his way, he’d never tell Aaron no but too much water will make him sick. While Aaron looks at him now as if a victim of something truly heinous, he’ll be thankful when he has nothing in his system to throw up when the anesthesia wrecks his stomach.

Derek sits back down and picks Aaron’s hand back up, eyes flicking to Aaron’s when he whimpers at just the gentle touch. Without a word, Derek resumes his rubbing to try and soothe the joints of his hand into some sort of reprise in normal hood. But Aaron’s exhausted and confused, nearly overwhelmed by the drugs and Derek and the weight of his chest, and he whimpers. Tries to pull away again because all he knows is that touching hurts and can’t fathom that it is so much worse when Derek doesn’t wring the pain out.

“Ouch,” Aaron croaks, breathlessly grunting and trying to move his fingers. It’s as pins have been set in the bones and he cries out at this new overwhelming pain. “Please,” he asks Derek, “stop it. Hurts.”

Derek shushes him softly, pouring his attention into willing Aaron’s pain into submission. “You’re okay,” Derek promises. “You’re okay.” But his words do nothing to stop the pain and Aaron just looks back at him. Sad, pained eyes darting over Derek’s face. “It’s okay, Aaron.”

Aaron turns his head, gasping slightly at the way it pulls at the stitches. “Sorry,” he whispers. Looking up at Derek and searching Derek’s face for some inclination of truth. Of what’s happening but he’s certain there’s something to be sorry for. There’s no way he hasn’t done something he shouldn’t have. Pushed something or forgotten it.

Derek wipes the single tear that falls down Aaron’s cheek away with his thumb. “You haven’t done anything wrong,” Derek soothes. “You’re okay.” That seems to work in some small way, Aaron swallowing thickly but not dragging his tired eyes away from Derek’s. Slowly he combs his fingers through Aaron’s hair, pushing back the long strands. With a smirk, seeing the blissed eased way Aaron has fallen back into the pillow at his touch alone, he feels a spark of mischief hit him. He can’t help but smile. “Emily is going to call you later,” he whispers, smiling brighter when Aaron groans. Pinching his face up. Derek rolls his eyes, “you love her.”

Aaron cracks an eye open, setting a drugged sort of haze scowl onto him. “Don’t let her hear you say that.” With a shake of his head, he knows his Aaron’s back, just a grumpy little glimpse but he’s there. Fighting his way through the drugs. “I mean it,” Aaron grumbles. The last thing he needs is Emily getting the idea that he might actually cherish her friendship.

Derek does roll his eyes this time, “if you behave you can buy my silence.”

Aaron cracks an eye open but doesn’t complain. Derek’s going to tell Dave anyhow so it doesn’t matter if Aaron does behave, even though Derek knows he won’t, Emily will hear it. He might even sprinkle something else in there as payback. That what he gets, serves him right for scaring Derek like that. Derek is really going to enjoy watching Aaron get himself out of this hole but for now…

He squeezes Aaron’s wrist, smiling when Aaron turns his head towards him humming just under his breath. “I love you,” Derek confesses softly and it’s rare that he gets a verbal reply but he’s learned to lean into the numerous ways Aaron knows how to say it. And today he doesn’t hear the words back but tomorrow he’ll find a popsicle or a jello cup waiting for him. Aaron’s grumpy scowl lightening when he steps into the room. And Derek will know that Aaron loves him too.

#mortch #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #derek morgan

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cozy-the-overlord · 3 years

Text

Dances and Daggers

Summary: The Summer Festival is upon Asgard, as is the tradition of the dagger ceremony, where each unmarried gentleman chooses a lady to bestow with the honor of carrying his dagger for the night. As Prince Thor’s betrothed, Teki’s only goal is to accept his dagger with grace and hope that her violent stepfather doesn’t find fault with her in the process. But Prince Thor is unpredictable, and when he ignores his engagement on a whim Teki finds herself in a desperate situation. Luckily, Thor isn’t the only prince in Asgard…

Pairing: Loki x Original Female Character

Chapter 14: The Reckoning

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Word Count: 2,438

Chapter Summary: With Loki gone, Teki finds herself reaching a breaking point.

A/N: I’m sorry.

This chapter includes depictions of violence.

Thanks for reading!

TW: Graphic violence, child abuse

Tags: @lucywrites02 @gaitwae @moumouton4 @berriemalfoy @whatafuckingdumbass

if you want to be tagged, feel free to just send me an ask/message! :)

Read it on Ao3!

The rest of the day passed in a blur. Somehow, Teki managed to return to her rooms, although she didn’t remember how—she was fairly certain the Queen had offered to escort her back, but she wasn’t sure if she actually had or not. Perhaps she was in shock, or perhaps her mother’s training to keep a mannerly expression was rooted deeper than she realized, but some way or another Teki made it back to her bedroom before she completely fell apart.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair. She sobbed into the front of her dress, the words circling her head in an endless chant. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t fair.

He was the only person she had, the only person she could talk to, the only person who would listen. He was the only place were she could smile, where she could stretch out and actually breathe instead of suffocating all alone laced into a crimson dress. He was the only person in her life that didn’t have to care about her and somehow the only person who did.

And they had taken him away.

It was clear that her mother and Osvald had known about it. The dressmaker debacle made sense now—it was all planned, to keep her and Loki from protesting until it was too late. That night, Teki face down on her bed, hiccupping into her pillow, listening them whispering outside her door.

“It’s a good thing,” her mother was saying. “Even with her throwing a fit about it. I’m glad the King agreed. He was just mucking everything up.”

Teki turned her head to the wall, staring but not seeing. Empty vials of poison danced across her vision.

Was Daddy mucking everything up too, Mama?

She was still sniffling that night when her door creaked open just a crack.

“Teki?” Brant’s voice was hushed, uncertain. “Can I sleep with you?”

She quickly wiped her cheeks, humming in quiet affirmation as she grasped for her responsible voice. “Did you have a bad dream?”

Ever since he had learned to walk, Brant had been sneaking into her room at night, fleeing his bed and the snarling creatures he was certain lurked in the darkness. He had only stopped this a few months ago, after Osvald found them curled up together one morning and spent breakfast ranting on about how Teki was turning his son into a recreant.

But tonight, Brant shook his head as he crawled under her covers.

She frowned. “Then what’s wrong?”

He stared up at her with wide eyes that glistened in the faint moonlight coming in from the window.

“You’re sad,” he said.

Oh, Brant. Teki pulled him close, and he hugged her back. She rested her cheek against his sandy hair. It was nice to have somebody to hold on to.

“Yes, I’m sad right now,” she murmured. “But it’s going to be okay. I promise. I’ll be fine.”

“I have to take care of you,” he whispered solemnly. “Prince Loki told me I’m s’posed to.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “Prince Loki?” she asked. “When did he tell you that?”

“He came while you and Mama were gone. He said they were sending him away and he had to talk to you. He said he’d be learning more magic things, so when he came back he’d be able to give me wings.”

Teki bit her lip. She wondered what he would’ve said, had he managed to get to her before they sent him off. She thought of the day of the Games, hidden away in the healer’s tent.

I don’t want you to marry my brother.

Next to her, Brant inhaled.“Teki?” he asked slowly, as if he were afraid to put the thought to words.“Do you think you could maybe marry Prince Loki instead?”

There was a lump in her throat as she pushed his bangs out of his face. “No,” she sighed. “It has to be Thor.” Saying out loud only made the cords around her heart pull tighter.

“I like Loki better,” he whispered, barely a breath.

Teki stared into the nighttime shadows. “So do I.”

Suddenly, Brant grinned through the darkness. "We could run away!” he hissed excitedly. “Prince Loki says there's secret tunnels all over Yggdrasil. We could go through one and meet Loki in Vanaheim!"

"Brant." She hadn't heard that one before, but it sounded like something the prince would tell her brother. Teki felt very tired. "That's just a story. They're aren't any secret tunnels."

"Yes there are! He told me where— I put them on my map!" He sat up, readying to crawl off the bed. "I'll show you!"

Teki pulled him back. She wished she had his steadfast belief in everything-- in magic wings and secret tunnels and happily ever after. As it was, all she could do was hold him closer. "It wouldn't work," she said. "They'd follow us and take us back. It wouldn't work."

For a moment, Brant seemed completely deflated, but then he perked up once again. “If I change my wish, do you think he could make it happen?” he asked excitedly. “Instead of the wings?”

Something about his face, the way hope seemed to radiate from his smile, crushed her even more.

“No,” she whispered. “Nothing’s going to change.”

…

The next week was less of a continuous period of time and more like a string of actions that looped over and over again. She dressed. She played piano for Frigga. She picked halfheartedly at her food. She waited for Thor to ask her to dance, then waited for him to move on once he had. She fell asleep to the empty throbbing of her heart.

Rinse and repeat.

Sometimes at night, she’d pull Loki’s dagger from its sheath and stared at her reflection in the polished blade, running her hands over the golden snakes on the hilt and wondering what he was doing. He had said he had always wanted to study in Vanaheim. She wondered if he was enjoying it. She hoped he was. Somehow, the thought that he was just as miserable worlds away from her as she was here made Teki feel even worse.

Her mother tolerated her gloom for a bit, but by the end of the week it was clear she was ready to move on.

“I had an idea!” she announced one day after barging into her room without warning. Teki had barely any time to shove the dagger into her nightstand drawer, but luckily her mother didn’t seem to notice her scrambling. “You know those little white cakes you love, that they make for the Winter Festival? I was thinking that perhaps we could convince the chefs to make an early batch. We’re nearing fall after all, and I can’t imagine that they’d refuse a request from the Crown Prince’s bethrothed!”

Teki mumbled a nondescript reply. Speaking to her mother—even looking at her—had suddenly become one of the most difficult tasks throughout the day. She avoided it when she could.

“Or, perhaps the three of us could take a day trip to the countryside! Remember that little cove we visited when Brant was a baby?”

When Teki didn’t even bother to answer this time, her mother huffed indignantly. “Tekla, I am trying here. You can’t just sit and mope in your bedroom forever.”

“Why did you marry Osvald?” Teki asked suddenly. It had been a question that had clung to her like a shadow for the last few days, Loki’s words rattling in her head. Your mother had a plethora of other options. Why Osvald? Of all people?

For a moment, her mother was stunned into silence. She laughed nervously. “Well, your stepfather and I met, and we got along very well, and we felt that we liked each other very much—”

“I don’t believe you.” The Teki of last month—the Teki of last week—would have fainted at the thought of such bitter words, but now she didn’t even flinch.

Her face darkened into a deep scowl. “What do you mean you don’t believe me?”

She should’ve stopped there, but the simmering resentment that had been bubbling within her for so long had just found a vent.

“Why did you really marry him?” she snapped. “What did he do to get you to marry him?”

“Stop!” her mother snapped. “I’ve had enough of this from you! You’ve had your time to sulk, now we have appearences to maintain.” She stormed from the room, only pausing briefly in the doorway to spit one threat. “If you won’t listen to me, then perhaps you should have a talk with your stepfather.”

The door slammed as she left. Teki sat in silence as the vibrations echoed in her eardrums. She had the sudden urge to scream—just to scream, at the top of her lungs until the windows shattered and the very foundations of the palace shook—but she swallowed it.

…

It came to a head the next day. She had just taken Brant for a walk in the gardens—his idea, as he insisted that looking at flowers always made people feel better. It had been sweet sentiment, and Teki tried her best to smile for him as they strolled past the lake, hoping that her brother didn’t realize that the sparkling water only reminded her more of Loki.

When they returned to their apartment, Osvald was waiting just inside. His cold glare immediately screamed trouble, but it wasn’t until she realized what it was that he was holding that Teki’s chest turned to ice.

“I found your little hiding spot.” His voice was low and dangerous as he tapped her father’s journal against his other hand.

Teki didn’t say anything. She watched the journal swing up and down against his palm, hypnotized by the soft beat of worn leather against skin. Besides her, Brant whimpered, gripping her hand more tightly. She didn’t move. Something kept her frozen in place, but it wasn’t the usual chill of fear. No, a single thought broke through the fog in her mind as she watched her only physical memory of her father dance in Osvald’s hands.

How dare you.

“You stole from us,” he continued. “You went through your mother’s things and you stole from us.”

“I didn’t steal anything.” She felt Brant stiffen at her words. You didn’t talk back to Osvald. They both knew this. They both knew what would happen if you did. But the fire blazing within burned through her caution.

Osvald was seemed taken aback by her bitterness, but he recovered quickly. “No?” He stalked closer to her, waving the journal in her face. “You’re lying to me now? Is this what I’ve raised? A filthy, lying little thief?”

“I didn’t steal anything,” she repeated. Every instinct in her body was screaming at her to drop her gaze, but she held her glare into his glittering eyes. How dare you. “That book is my father’s. It belongs to me.”

His scowl deepened. “I am your father. And I will not tolerate this behavior—”

“You’ll never be my father.”

She cried out when his fist crashed into her abdomen, doubling over as pain exploded across her ribcage and air rushed from her mouth. Her stepfather grabbed her by the shoulders and shoved her backwards, slamming into the door. Colors splashed across her vision as her head smacked against the wood. Before she could completely lose her balance, Osvald yanked her up by the front of her dress.

“You think you’re tough, don’t you?” he hissed, throwing her back to the floor. Somewhere in the background, Brant was sobbing. “Brave little bitch.” His boot collided with her chest. Teki’s pained scream almost drowned out the sickening crack from her ribs. His foot came down again.

Her chest was on fire.

Teki coughed as she struggled to shield her abdomen, the taste of blood metallic and heavy on the back of her throat. He kicked her again, crashing against her lower back. When she gasped for her next breath, it felt like burning coals rushing down her airways.

“You never seem to learn, do you?” he snapped. She braced herself for the next blow, but instead her stepfather cursed.

Painfully, she craned her neck just enough to see her little brother pulling at Osvald’s arm. “Stop it!” he cried, tears running down his cheeks. “Get away from her!”

No—

Teki fought to get up but her limbs weren’t working properly, everything was throbbing, she couldn’t move, she couldn’t breathe—

Brant shrieked in pain, a horrible screech that cut Teki to her very core. The room shook as a body hit the floor, Osvald growling words that she couldn’t hear over the pounding of her heart.

Get away him from Brant—get him away from Brant—

Her brother lay lifeless on the ground, Osvald towering over him like some malevolent spirit about to feast. Teki wasn’t sure how she made it to her feet, but once she did, she flung herself at her stepfather with the last shreds of strength she could muster.

He must not have been expecting her to move, because when she collided with him her meager effort was enough to send both of them tumbling to the ground. Her body howled as they hit the hard wood. She had barely enough time to gulp for air before Osvald had her pinned to the floor.

“Is that the game you want to play, you fucking cunt?” he snarled, his hand a vice around her neck. Teki thrashed against his grasp, but he only pounded her head against the floorboards. “Is this what you fucking wanted?”

She couldn’t breathe. Teki clawed at his hand in a panic as she battled for air, scanty gasps that were rewarded with a tighter grip.

She couldn’t breathe!

“Please!” she choked as his wild eyes bored into her. Her vision was going white around the edges. “Please!”

Osvald didn’t budge.

He’s going to kill me.

Tears flooded the corners of her eyes, running down the sides of her head.

Dead dead dead dead dead dead—

Please! she screamed in her head, for her voice no longer worked. Please! Mama! Norns! Somebody!

But it was only Osvald, panting down at her with eyes as black as Hel—

I don’t want to die!

Only Osvald, sneering mouth twisted in laughter because he knew no one else was coming—

… please …

But there was nothing. Even her stepfather dissolved into a million bits of sparkling glitter as Teki faded away into the white abyss.

#loki x ofc #loki marvel #loki fanfic #dances and daggers #dances and daggers chapter 14 #the reckoning

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toomanyrobins2 · 3 years

Text

One Year: October

Summary: Clint Barton, college football star, has a new interest: Y/N Y/L/N. But with her father gone all of the time, a younger brother, and going to college, Y/N has no time for dating. Will Clint get the yes, or will life get in the way?

Pairing: Clint Barton x Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Content warning: nothing really yet, occasional cursing, mentions of drinking and sex later

Notes: I'm sorry to anyone who's been tagged in this before, but I've been forced to start from scratch on this account and I'm going to be reposting all the chapters

masterlist // november

Y/N Y/L/N was sitting outside in the quad with her best friend and roommate, Nat, between classes when her phone rang. She dug it out of her bag and answered. Her brother’s school was calling to tell her that Asher was sick. Y/N cursed, she knew the stomach bug was going around and it was going to be a crappy next few days. She asked Nat to send her the notes for the lectures before rushing to her car. In the parking lot, she was digging around trying to find her keys in her purse. She heard her name called and saw Clint Barton and his friends standing around by their cars. He jogged up to her and she could see over his shoulder that they were all watching them. “Where you going?”

Y/N was confused why Clint was talking to her. She rolled her eyes internally at the invasive question. The football team was notorious at their college and she didn’t have time to be one of their flavors of the month. “Places.”

He leaned against the car door, “Are purposefully secretive, or does it come naturally?”

“Oh, I’m all natural, Barton,” Y/N jerked on the door handle, knocking him off balance. “Now I have to go. My brother is sick and I have to pick him up.”

“But it’s the middle of the day. Don’t you have class?”

She took a deep breath to keep herself calm. It wasn’t Clint’s fault she felt this way, she was just stressed about Asher, “Look I’m sorry. I wish I had the time to make idle conversation while you decide whether I’m worth sleeping with. But, I don’t. I have a sick kid to get to.” Y/N threw her stuff in the car and peeled out of the school.

Clint walked back over to his friends who had watched the exchange take place. “She looks like your number one fan,” Sam said, laughing at him.

“Oh fuck off. She’s just busy.”

“Looked like she couldn’t wait to get away from you.

—————————————————————————-

In the three days since she’d got the call, Y/N’s life had been sniffles, cuddles, and soup. Just as she had predicted, a sickly five-year-old was exhausting for any parent, but for a 20-year-old it was beyond overwhelming. Y/N had just planted him in front of the TV when she heard a knock at the door. She swung it open and was greeted by a familiar face, “Mrs. Barnes! What are you doing here?”

“I’ve told you before, call me Winnie!” She held up a dish, “Anyway, I heard about Asher and thought I’d bring dinner by. This stomach bug has been going around and Rebecca had it last week.”

“Oh, that’s so nice of you. It’s been a hectic three days.”

“Have you called your father, dear?”

Y/N nodded, “I left a message with his assistant, but by the time he got back here they’d be on the mend. I’m almost certain I’ll send them back to school tomorrow.”

“Well, I have to get going anyway and pick up Becca. I’ll see you at the Halloween parade next week?” Y/N nodded and closed the door.

Winnie Barnes was her savior. A single mother who had taken pity on Y/N over a year ago. Three years ago, after another nanny had quit, Y/N had started taking care of her two younger siblings. Her father was rarely home and the women he had impregnated had no interest in raising children. This combination led to a 17-year-old raising a three-year-old all on her own. Last year, Winnie had befriended Y/N and since then she tried her best to offer support. Y/N refused to talk about her father’s absence, but they both knew her father was rarely home. Thankfully, Winnie’s magic had worked again and the next day, both kids were feeling much better and life could return to normal.

Y/N was sitting outside of a coffee shop on campus, the autumn sun warming her. She was transcribing all of the notes she had missed last week when the chair opposite her became occupied by Clint Barton. He smiled at her, “There’s a party tonight. You should come.”

Y/N barely spared him a glance, keeping her eyes on the paper, “Thanks, but I can’t. I have plans.”

“Plans? What kind of plans?”

She weighed her options and decided that there was only one way to get him to leave her alone, “A date.”

“You have a date?”

Y/N sighed and shut her notebook. “Don’t sound so surprised, Barton, or I’ll think I should be insulted.”

“I didn’t mean it that way. You just don’t seem like the type to casually date is all.” Y/N sighed and closed her notebook. She crossed her arms and just stared at him. “Is there something on my face?”

“No, I’m just trying to figure out what it is about you. You’re so annoying and yet, I don’t have the urge to throw my coffee in your lap.”

“Let’s call that my charm,” the boyish grin that he gave her made her laugh. “Now, why did you reject me last week? I’m obviously not repulsive to you.”

“Reject you? What was there to reject? I don’t remember anything being asked.”

Clint glared playfully at her, “Don’t play stupid, it doesn’t work for you. You know what I was trying to do.”

“Look, Clint, you’re right. I did know what you were trying to do. You’re cute, but I have a younger brother and I’m really the only person around.”

“You think I’m cute?”

Y/N laughed, “Of course, that’s what you get out of it.”

Clint smiled at her again, “I hear you, though. I’ll back off, but just know I’m not giving up.” He pushed his chair back and started to walk away, but turned back around, “By the way, you didn’t actually say no.”

———————————————————-

Clint was in the kitchen with Bucky talking about the party that night. Becca, Bucky’s younger sister, came running into the room, “You can’t go to a party! My Halloween Parade is tonight! You guys promised you would come!”

He crouched down, “How about we go to your show and then the party after. Deal?” He held out his pinky. Becca surveyed him for a second and then held out her finger in agreement. That night, when they got to the school, Winnie was immediately pulled in by friends. Parents chatted away, occasionally asking him and Bucky how their second year of college was going and how working at Stark Industries was. He noticed the woman next to him kept looking around and leaned over, “What are you looking for Mama Win?”

“This lovely girl, Y/N.” Clint perked up at the name, “She’s around your age and usually is at these things. I saw her younger brother, but not her. Oh wait, there she is!” Winnie waved over to the teenager.

Y/N smiled and greeted her, “Sorry, I’m late. The joys of costume emergencies and five-year-olds. It’s a lethal combination.”

Winnie waved away her apologies, “Is your father here?” Y/N was quick to make excuses for her father. She had been doing it for years. The older woman nodded sympathetically, “Oh, well that’s too bad.”

“Yes, he was very disappointed to miss this.” Clint could tell that she was hiding something, but before anything also could be said, they were interrupted by a young boy running up.

“Y/N! Y/N! Carter spilled juice on my shirt”

His classmate plastered a smile on her face, even though Winnie and Clint could that she was overwhelmed by the chaos, “It’ll be okay. I’ve got a change of clothes for you in my car.”

“Why don’t I take him to the bathroom and get him cleaned up while you run and grab the clothes,” Winnie offered.

Y/N looked relieved, “That would be great. Thank you,” she quickly started to leave the gym.

Clint jogged after her, “I thought you said you had a date tonight.”

“I do. At Pizza Charlie’s. It’s a tradition to take the kids after school events. Plus with trick-or-treating tomorrow, I just don’t have time for frat parties or hangovers.” They stopped in front of the car and Clint looked into the trunk. He saw that her car was made for kids. She had changes of clothes, toys, and snacks.

“This is your car?”

“Yeah,” Y/N was confused, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, it just looks like Winnie’s. You weren’t kidding when you told me that stuff earlier.”

“My dad’s pretty busy. So I spend a lot of time with my brother. You learn to be prepared. On another note, what are you doing at a kindergarten spring concert?”

Clint rubbed his neck and blushed, “Winnie’s like a mom to me, and Becca is like a little sister. A very persuasive sister who has made it clear to Bucky and me that we are needed at every school event.”

Y/N laughed, “Oh yes, I am very familiar with the persuasiveness of five-year-olds. There is a reason we keep going to Pizza Charlie’s and it is not because I think the food is good.” The duo headed back inside and Y/N split off to the bathroom, while Clint went back to Bucky.

“Dude, I can not wait to get out of here. People are sending videos of the party set-up and it looks awesome.”

“Yeah, I’m actually thinking of bailing tonight. Practice killed me.”

Bucky stared at the blonde. His blue eyes were like lasers, searching for the truth, “You’re going to Pizza Charlie’s with that Y/N girl aren’t you.”

Clint was so confused, “What the hell, man?”

“I’m psychic,” Bucky laughed at his friend’s face, “No, I’m messing with you. Mom told me she and Becca are going with them after. Figured you had hopped on in hopes of more time with Y/N.”

“You are a truly terrifying person sometimes.”

Winnie and Y/N came back with her sister and sat down with Bucky and Clint. After the concert had ended, Asher sat down on Y/N’s lap while everyone spoke. He looked up at Clint, “Are you Y/N’s boyfriend?”

Y/N choked on the candy she was eating as Bucky roared in laughter, “Ash, what the fuck?”

The little boy pointed at his sister, “That’s a dollar in the jar. And what, he kept staring at you!”

“You can’t just ask people that without some warning.”

“Okay, how do I warn them?”

Y/N was stammering for an answer and Clint decided to help her, “I’m not your sister’s boyfriend. I go to school with her.”

“Do you want to be her boyfriend?”

“Asher Y/L/N, what has gotten into you? Enough.”

The boy was pouting, “I heard Aunt Nat telling you that you needed a boyfriend and that you need to lie down or something. I don’t know what laying down has to do with the boyfriend thing, but I thought I’d ask.

The situation was like something out of Y/N’s nightmares. Bucky was in tears from laughing, Clint was trying his best not to laugh, Winnie was trying to get Bucky under control and Y/N just stared at the ceiling, willing the universe to give her strength. Finally, she turned to Asher, “I will give you $5 to end this conversation and never bring it up again.”

“Deal!” Y/N slapped the bill into her brother’s hand and rubbed her temples.

#clint barton #hawkeye #clint barton imagine #avengers imagine #hawkeye imagine #clint barton x reader #hawkeye x reader #avengers #avengers au #avengers x reader #college au #toomanyrobins

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aprilsrant · 4 years

Text

Praised be writer’s block | Young!Remus Lupin x Slytherin!Fem!Reader.

SUMMARY: in the midst of an upcoming war and worries about the future, (Y/N) bonds with an unexpected person, golden boy from gryffindor house himself.

WORD COUNT: 3,000, more or less…

A/N: this is my first time doing this, so if you have any suggestions please let me know! also, if you can, reblog so it can reach more people, it’ll help me a lot.

All of this wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for @peeves-a-legend, which btw is an amazing writer. I can’t thank you enough!

Masterlist.

The gif below is not mine, credits to the original maker. And yes, I see robert sean leonard as a young!remus, but you can imagine whoever you want.

In one of the few sunny and warm mornings left of the season, (Y/N)’s mother had dragged her to Diagon Alley to buy her school’s supplies. The term for her sixth year was about ten days away from starting and going there didn’t thrill her anymore. She had retarded the visit as long as her mother’s patience lasted (which wasn’t a lot considering the woman had belonged to Hufflepuff), and no one had been succesfull on finding the reason, althought her mum suspected it.

(Y/N) hadn’t felt the rush of excitement run through her body in a long time when she thought about going back to Hogwarts, and buying supplies meant she was only a step closer. Her first two years were more than she could ever ask for, but everything came crashing down on her at the young age of thirteen.

(Y/N) had started to notice the repulsive look on people’s faces whenever she tried to help them, all looking down at her green robes as if she had grown a third arm or a second head overnight. She realised, with now a heavy weight on her heart and a new insecurity over her mind, that not all Hufflepuffs were kind and inviting. Maybe, she supposed, they were too proud to accept help from anyone else.

Or perhaps, (Y/N) was too naive to think she could defy centuries of old stereotypes and unhealthy competitions while wearing a green and silver tie.

But the rude comments and weird stares had not affected her in such a long time. She didn’t show them how angry she got about those and how much she wanted to scream at those Gryffindors to get over themselves, because if she did, she was proving their point. All snakes, young or old, end up being violent creatures. Instead, a new feeling of uneasiness had settled in her mind, washing away her minor problems.

Peace no longer reigned over the Wizarding World. Rumors of a war were spreading like wildfire. Voldemort’s ranks got bigger and bigger with the passing time, and more muggle families and muggleborns were being wiped out, like they meant nothing. In those dark times, not having magic or being from a family with the wrong kind of ancestors, could determine your doom.

In her case, she wasn’t at the top of the Dark Eater’s food chain as a halfblood, but that didn’t ease her nerves. She was more worried about her father, a muggleborn, her grandparents and several other friends. Many of their families wanted to go into hiding and she knew that this year and the others to come, Hogwarts wouldn’t be so magical.

Once they passed through the brick wall at the Leaky Cauldron, their first stop was the Apothecary, which (Y/N) had refused to enter because of the disgusting smell of bad eggs and something more repulsive she didn’t identify. Instead, she decided to visit Quality Quidditch Supplies. It’s not like she played the sport, Merlin knows how awful she was at throwing or hitting things, and playing as Seeker was not an option. But she always attended the matches, channelling every single piece of energy her body had onto cheering for Slytherin’s team.

(Y/N) made her way to one of the corners of the shop, wanting to see the newest Quidditch gloves her best friend had talked about so much in her letters. Maybe she could get her a new pair for her birthday, so she could start the season with brand new gloves. But looking at the price, she realized a cheappier gift would have to do. Her family wasn’t the richest and she knew her parents were struggling with money lately.

“Expensive, aren’t they?,” asked a voice from behind her. She turned around, one of the gloves still on her right hand, and noticed that the voice belonged to no other than Remus Lupin. She was lying to herself if she said he wasn’t good looking. Those dark brown eyes and soft hair had gotten to her when they were in their fourth year. (Y/N) had spent weeks, maybe even months, crushing on him and, of course, annoying her friends to no end about how perfect he was and how he was one of the few decent members of the lion house. But she never tried anything, she had a long list of excuses that, maybe, exceeded the many numerous reasons why she liked the Gryffindor so much.

“Definitely,” (Y/N) finally answered with a grimace in her face, “I thought I could get a pair for my best friend’s birthday since she’s a Chaser, but I’m not so sure now”.

Remus offered her a small smile and muttered something about how her best friend would appreciate anything she would give her. After that, neither of them said anything and only the noise of other people’s chattering could be heard. She looked around the store, trying to think about something that would lead to more talk, while Remus put his hands in his jeans’s pockets and changed the weight of his body to his left leg.

A few more seconds passed and (Y/N), not tolerating the awkward atmosphere anymore, was the one to initiate the conversation this time.

“So, um, Remus, are you, um, planning on joining the Gryffindor Quidditch team? Since, you know, you are… here”.

Merlin, her sister was right, she did need to start socialising more.

“Oh no, not a chance,” he answered letting a snicker escape his lips. (Y/N)’s mouth turned into a little smile because of the sound, not noticing at first. “I’m just here because of James and Sirius, they wanted to see some new brooms that came out this…”.

Remus words were interrupted by the same people he’d just mentioned. James Potter and Sirius Black, the most known students at Hogwarts, were walking towards them. (Y/N) tried to put on a neutral face, not showing her true thoughts on the two boys.

It wasn’t that she hated them. At some point, she had found her pranks on those horrible Slytherins funny, but after last year her opinion on them changed drastically. It appeared to be that they couldn’t distinguish who were the “good” Slytherins therefore they’d just played cruel jokes on every single member of the house. Or maybe, they didn’t think Slytherins could be nice and decent people, so all of them deserved to be made fun of.

“REMUS!,” they both shouted at the same time. Almost everyone in the shop turned to see them, and as (Y/N) moved uncomfortable with a scowled look because of the new, and unwanted attention, she wondered why they had to be so bloody loud all the time. “We were looking for you, but it seems you have found some company”.

Remus’s cheeks changed to a soft crimson after Sirius’s comment.

“Careful now, Rem, snakes tend to bite and some of them are poisonous.” James’s eyes shined with mischief as he spoke.

(Y/N) rolled her eyes at that, but instead of keeping quiet as she normally would, she responded to Potter’s remark, surprising the others and herself in the process.

“Excellent observation, James. Now, how much time did it take you to come up with that and for how long you’ve been wanting to use it? Perhaps, it was after that particular Quidditch match where Slytherin shredded you into pieces ”.

His face no longer showed a fun expression, but, in it’s place, was a face with narrowed eyes trying to hide the fact he had been caught. (Y/N) smiled at that, she was not this kind of person but it was good to see Potter embarrassed after he had humiliated her in front of half the school just a few months ago. She knew Sirius wanted to say something to save his friend, but as his mouth was starting to open to spill some sarcastic or stupid comment about her house, Remus stepped in.

“Sirius, don’t say anything, just leave her alone,” he began, giving the pair a pointed look with his eyebrows raised, “we were only talking, there’s no need to start acting as if she’s going to bite my head off”.

Dumb and Dumber, as one her Slytherin friends liked to called them, stared at Remus like he had transformed into a Hipogriff. (Y/N), as surprised as she was, glanced at him with a confused, yet somehow grateful, look on her face. In return, he smiled at her and grabbed his friends from the shoulders, making them walk towards the door while mentioning something about having to meet up with Peter at Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlor.

Before reaching the door, Remus turned around, let go of Sirius for a moment and waved at her with a grin, one that made her cheeks blushed and her stomach flipped.

|||

It had been months since the interaction between her and Remus, plus James and Sirius. A small smile and a certain glow in her eyes stayed present on her face for the rest of the trip to Diagon Alley with her mother, who had not missed the sudden shift in her daughter’s appearance.

She hadn’t talked much with him again (only a few more times because of their prefect meetings), but the little interactions between them remained. Like the gentle and kind smiles they would send to each other while walking in the school grounds and greetings from afar with a short wave of the hand.

Winter break was just around the corner when they met again. Both wrapped around heavy coats, gloves and scarfs protecting them from the cold wind and the freezing fog. (Y/N) would have been pissed about her feet getting wet from the snow if it wasn’t for the outstanding landscape it created. A pure scenery, grounds and trees and roofs of the castle covered in white, in such terrible and corrupted times.

“Lovely, huh?,” he mouthed.

What is it with this boy and sneaking up on people?

(Y/N) nodded, still unable to tear her eyes from the view. When she finally did, she became aware of how close they were, elbows almost touching. Releasing a shaky breath, that quickly changed into what it looked like fog, (Y/N) peered at him. The end of his nose was red, matching his cheeks, while his lips were pale and dry from the weather. It was an adorable sight, perhaps even more worthy of her attention than the snowflakes falling from the sky.

“What makes you go to Hogsmeade on this particular frosty afternoon, (Y/N)?”

“I could ask you the same thing, Remus,” she exclaimed, the corners of her mouth quirking up as she mentioned his name, “but, if you really like to know, I’m heading there because I forgot about some Christmas’s presents. What about you?”

Without perceiving it, they had both started to walk towards the small town, making their way through the layers of snow.

“I just, um, wanted to visit Hogsmeade one last time before, you know, going home.” For a moment, (Y/N) had the idea of hearing some kind of hesitation while he spoke, as if he wasn’t entirely sure of what he was saying.

This time, (Y/N) would not let the conversation turn awkward so rapidly, after all this was her chance of having an actual opportunity with Remus. So she swallowed the majority of her nerves, which were quite a lot, and planted a smile on her face. But before the words could come out of her mouth, Remus himself had beat her.

“Would you like to come to the Three Broomsticks with me?,” he questioned.

It took her a few seconds to understand what he had asked because of how rushed he’d spoken. Her eyes widened at the notion of going on a date with him. Was it even a date? A small voice wondered inside her head. Ignoring it, she replied with a short yes. His entire demeanour immediately transformed. Remus’s eyes didn’t hold too much worry now and a large smile decorated his face.

The trip to the popular pub was shorter than it normally was, but (Y/N) guessed that had been for how much she and Remus talked while walking to the town. When they arrived, the warm and cozy ambient, although a bit smoky and crowded, received them like a bright lamp post in the middle of nowhere pointing out the pathway. Even if (Y/N) loved winter and snow, a hot butterbeer didn’t seem too bad after being exposed to the cold wind.

Sitting down at one of the tables from the right corner of the shop, right next to a large window and giving the back to one of the walls, she could see the entire place. But her eyes were now glued to the Gryffindor seated in front of her, who was trying not to look like he was going to pass out from the nerves of having a date (was it a date?) with the most gorgeous girl in Hogwarts, maybe even the whole world.

They passed the rest of the afternoon getting to know each other, chatting regarding the things they loved and hated from Hogwarts; complaining about professors and the amount of homework they sent; laughing because of some ridiculous story told by Remus (he swore his breath got caught in his lungs as he watched her throwing her head back while letting out a loud laugh, eyes shining with happiness and not caring, for the first time, about the looks from the people in the place). They discussed their favourite muggle authors, the most amazing films that had ever been made and their dreams after finishing their education.

(Y/N) had felt herself falling all over again for him while watching him talk about how much he’d loved being a professor and being there for his students. The passion and shine in his eyes rivaled even the brightest star in the night sky.

And Remus had seen the same expression in her face when she talked about becoming a known writer in both the muggle and wizarding world. Despite her excitement, he recognised something else in her eyes, perhaps uncertainty or even sadness. When he asked about it, (Y/N) confided in him the fact she was scared about trying it.

“What if it’s a waste of time? What I’m supposed to write about?”

“It won’t be a waste of your time if it makes you happy,” he reassured her, “and the ideas will come to you, don’t worry. You can even write about us.” (Y/N)’s eyes quickly made their way into his after hearing that. “I mean, about this part of our world”. She couldn’t help but feel quite disappointed.

“Wouldn’t I be violating the Statute of Secrecy?”

Remus raised his shoulders a little as he pressed his lips together, clearly trying to stop a smile from forming in his face.

“It’s not like the Ministry is going to find out,” he whispered, so only (Y/N) could be able to listen to him, “ who’s going to tell them about it? Me?”

A scoff left her mouth and she rolled her eyes playfully at him. Was this really happening? Remus Lupin, the boy she had a crush on in her fourth year, sitting in front of her, encouraging her to follow her dreams.

“Is the Golden Boy and Prefect of Gryffindor House actually saying that I should just break an International Law?” she joked while shaking her head in disbelief, “McGonagall would be so heart broken”.

Now it was his time to roll his eyes. Directing a smirk at her, he leaned back in his chair, more relaxed and with a new light glowing around him.

“Look, I would love to write about this world. But ambition is not the only trait that got me in Slytherin,” (Y/N) declared. She beamed when he furrowed his brows together in confusion, getting closer to the table and placing his elbows on top of it. “Violating that Law is having a death wish and self preservation is one of my top priorities”.

“I can’t help but agree to that”.

The hours kept running and people began to leave the pub, but not them. They had stayed until the owner told the teenagers he was closing. Not (Y/N) nor Remus had noticed where the time had gone. Quickly, they collected all of their belongings and left the establishment in a hurry. (Y/N) didn’t want to think about the punishment they’d received if they were caught.

Fortunately, they made it to the castle in one piece. Once they were a few meters away from the entrance, they started to laugh. None of them knew why, it just seemed like a good time to do it.

“What happened to you and your advice of breaking the rules?” (Y/N) said in the middle of a laugh.

“I hope this doesn’t become a tradition, Mr. Lupin, Ms. (Y/L/N),” a stern female voice said in front of them. Professor McGonagall was standing gracefully in front of the door, her arms crossed over her chest and a furious expression implanted in her face.

Remus and (Y/N) looked at each other, the same thought running through their minds. They were so screwed.

|||

December 25th.

Dear (Y/N):

I’m sending this letter to wish you a Merry Christmas and a great New Year, even though it’s not the 31st yet, but well… that doesn’t really matter right now.

I remembered you talking about how much you wanted to read more classics, and I couldn’t help myself. Inside the box, you will find Frankenstein, by Mary Shelley, and Wuthering Heights, by some other lovely woman named Emily Brontë. I’m not so sure about why you would enjoy them as much as I did, but maybe they’ll inspire you on your journey of becoming a writer. It won’t hurt visiting new worlds to fill your mind with ideas.

Also, and I hope this doesn’t bother you, the books are not brand new. They were read by me and have some marks on the pages, but I don’t like giving new books as gifts. I think that if they were used, they are even more special and hold more value.

Can’t wait to see you once the break is over.

Sincerely, Remus John Lupin.

|||

The grin on her face never abandoned her after reading Remus’s letter and opening the silver paper with golden stars all over it, in which he had wrapped the two books he had mentioned. In fact, it lingered on her for the rest of the day, accompanied with a special and renovated brightness in her eyes.

Before letting the owl return back to its owner, (Y/N) gave her some food and water, and when it was ready, she attached a small box with red paper on the exterior and a green bow at the top. She had also prepared a gift for him, even if it wasn’t that meaningful (at least, that was what she thought). (Y/N) only hoped he would enjoy the chocolate stash, full with different muggle and wizarding ones she had thought he could try, while the owl stepped away from her windowsill.

Around eight p.m, she finally went to bed and despite spending the day interacting with her family, (thing that tired her out pretty quickly), (Y/N) was more awake than ever before. Laying down on her bed with a cup of tea and an old blanket that had once belonged to her sister, covering her legs, she grabbed one of the books Remus gifted her, ready to dwell in Mary Shelley’s world.

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