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lovelyladyabsinthewrites · 7 months

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From the Ashes Pt. 23

Pairing(s): Pairing(s): Rhaegar Targaryen x Lannister!Reader, one-sided!Jaime Lannister x Lannister!Reader, Jaime Lannister x Cersei Lannister

Warnings: slow burn fic, changing povs, Selmy&Tyrion POV

Words: 2959

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 3.5 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Part 30 Part 31 Part 32 Part 33 Part 34 Part 35

Book Two of Dārilaros hen ōrbar se perzys (Heir of Ash and Fire)

Her nimble fingers were gentle as Ashara weaved them through Tyrion’s tangled hair. “Your hair grows longer. Would you like me to give it a trim dear Vaiko?”

Dishwater blonde hair hangs over his mismatched eyes, Tyrion moves his hand to swipe them away. The boy didn’t even remember when the last time he got his hair trimmed. Those days in Casterly Rock seemed so far behind him. He hadn’t thought once of what should have been considered his home. If he had more happier memories, Tyrion might have been able to shed a tear.

“No.” Tyrion twists a stray curl between his fingers. “I think I like it long.”

Ashara bobs her head in agreement. “Yes it does suit you.”

The salt air did wonders for Tyrion. Nothing pleased him more than to just lean his head back on a warm day and listen to the screeching of the sea birds above. Clashing of waves was better than any kind of bard that had visited the Rock. Only the open sea around him. Training even became easier too. While he wasn’t fast, Tyrion was low to the ground and could adapt to dodge and roll in order to get away from a counter-attack. Selmy realized that instead of seeing Tyrion’s body as a disadvantage, think of them as advantages instead. Both were learning from the other and despite certain shipmates poking fun at a dwarf trying to learn how to sword fight, Tyrion didn’t care. The blisters and calluses on his hands were proof that he was getting stronger. All this training wasn’t for nothing. He may never be as good as Jaime or even Barristan, but at least he’d be able to defend himself if the need called for it. Thinking about his father’s condescending sneer gave Tyrion extra energy to continue on with his training.

Ahead in the distance was a giant blur that was slowly getting closer. Tyrion had to squint his eyes to see what it was.

“Ah, we are arriving to Lys.” Ashara muses. The beautiful Dornish woman smiles on, her journey with them was almost ending. He liked her, she had a dry sense of humor much like himself and her eyes were the most vivacious shade of violet; much like those of a Targaryen. But Tyrion had noticed that he didn’t like Ashara as much as Ser Barristan did. Young in age, Tyrion knew when adults liked each other. Barristan was a man in love every time he laid eyes on Ashara. Sad blue eyes came to life once Ashara would chirp in on a discussion.

“Too bad we’re not porting in Braavos. A book I read said the Titan lets out a loud roar whenever a ship approaches its entrance, to warn the Arsenal of Braavos. That’s so cool!”

Chuckling, she leans over the side and gazes at the young boy. “I’m going to miss you, Young Vaiko.” There was a lingering undertone of melancholy when she said so.

A bitter knot chokes him when he regards Ashara Dayne. “Will you not come with us for the rest of the journey? I hear from Lys it’s not that far from Volantis. That way Barristan and I won’t have to look for another ship to sail on. We could just stay on this one. Just the three of us.”

“I am expected back home. Now that I know Ser Barristan isn’t up to something that would put my brother and Rhaegar at risk, I will be going back to Starfall after we get more supplies for the journey back.”

Pursing his lips, Tyrion looks back out to the water. “Did he tell you who the recipient is? He hasn’t told me anything.”

“I’m afraid not. The recipient is as mysterious as that box that he doesn’t let out of his sight.” In a lower voice she admits “I tried to open it, but the darn thing doesn’t even have a lock!”

Yes, it was an infuriating question on how the chest opened. One Tyrion mulled over every so often when he was bored. Many times when Selmy was asleep, Tyrion would grab the box and spend hours tinkering with it. Every night proved useless and Tyrion ended up going to bed utterly frustrated and cursing that damn box.

“It must be of utmost importance if he hasn’t told either of us.” Tyrion assumes and catches sight of said knight coming up on deck, box securely underneath his arm.

Pretending that they hadn’t just been talking about him, Ashara flashes him a stunning smile that made her dimples more pronounced. “Do you see, Ser? Lys is up ahead. We should be there within the hour.”

Barristan Selmy seemed all too aware that his time with Ashara was dwindling as well.

Ashara removes herself from Tyrion who returns his attention back to the upcoming land. As she walks the length of the deck to Selmy, he couldn’t help but notice the obvious sway of her full hips, the clicking of her heeled boots approaching him. Although Selmy did quite like seeing Ashara in her beautiful dresses, her attire suited her body’s wonderful curves.

Her smile is almost teasing, sidling up to the older knight. In a secretive manner, she presses herself closely to him. “Will you finally tell me who it is you’re delivering-” she taps at the chest that he was carrying “-this to? They must be important if a knight of the Kingguard leaves his charge.” Ashara whispers, intent lilac eyes staring him down. Her full lashes cast a shadow over an otherwise vibrant hue.

This was a delicate matter. Varys made that certain. The truth of (y/n) Lannister was not to be revealed unless it ruin whatever the Spider had planned. Being dishonest was not a trait that Selmy had, but in order to fulfill this odd request, he had to.

The fear that was in Varys’ voice made Selmy realize just how important this mission was. Varys was a confident man of much power in Westeros; there wasn’t much for him to naturally fear.

Plus, it would be unwise to give away information to someone who was technically his enemy. The House of Dayne sided with Rhaegar in this war. If possible she would do anything to protect her brother Arthur and help with the success of Rhaegar’s campaign. “I’m sorry, my lady. I made a vow that I wouldn’t tell a soul. The recipient must remain a secret.”

Even from Tyrion who had no idea that his sister was actually alive and well in Volantis.

A slither in her voice put fear into his chest. “Is it the same vow you gave to Aerys when you promised to protect him and never leave his side?”

Barristan didn’t want his last interaction with Ashara to be about the Mad King. That heavy accusation in her eyes and the disapproval that made her lips curl downward. He didn’t want to be her enemy. Damn his vow. Damn the king.

“It must be more important than protecting the king.” She continues ruthlessly. Satisfied enough that she was able to make Barristan flinch, Ashara backs off. “Do not make me regret helping you. You’re a good man, Ser Barristan. But that goodness will not save you if you are in fact trying to sabotage my brother and Rhaegar.”

He manages a smile. “I understand. You are a force to be reckoned with, my lady.”

Her smile returns as she bumps against him playfully. “And don’t you forget it.”

While the tension between them lifted, Tyrion had been listening intently. Many at Casterly Rock always underestimated Tyrion. They didn’t realize how good of a listener he was. He knew secrets he shouldn’t. Knew strategies that would crush any army.

Nerves ate away at Tyrion when he heard Ashara bring up Aerys. Tyrion could never forget that Ser Barristan was alleged to Aerys. He had grown close to Barristan during their travels. Barristan provided Tyrion a proper father figure which the young boy had been craving for. A patient teacher who was willing to work around Tyrion’s disadvantages, Tyrion wanted to trust him. So desperately Tyrion wanted Barristan to truly be a good guy.

What if Aerys had sent Selmy to hire the Golden Company to aid their armies? The chest could contain gold in order to buy their swords. If Aerys was desperate enough to win, then the Golden Company could easily do just that and destroy Rhaegar. The last thing Tyrion wanted to take part in was helping the Mad King win.

It felt good to stretch on actual land. While Tyrion had grown his sea legs, he much preferred the stable ground. The harbor was busy with stalls of vendors and people minding their own business; going about their everyday lives on their beautiful island. Tyrion had always heard that the people of Lys were one of the most gorgeous people in the entire world. He wondered who could possibly be more good looking than Ashara or Cersei. Well, Tyrion knew it to be the truth now. They had the attractive traits that those of Old Valyria had centuries ago. With their olive skin, it made the pale blonde hair and purple eyes more bright.

Bastardize Valyrian fills the air as bargains are made and vendors shout out the daily catch. All of it was enthralling that it made Tyrion’s neck hurt from swiveling his head in every direction. There was so much to see, but unfortunately they would only be staying in Lys for a short amount of time. Lady Ashara had to get back to Starfall, so Tyrion and Barristan would have to find another vessel to take them the rest of the way to Volantis.

Ashara exchanged a few short words with the captain before joining the two on the cobbled streets. “My captain will find you another ship. In the meantime, how about a drink? There are many quality taverns around the harbor. And you can taste the delicious cuisine of Lys.” She smiled at Tyrion and twirls one of his dirty curls in her fingers. He liked the affections she had given him. And she didn’t seem bothered by his deformity. Tyrion would miss her.

“If you insist.” Barristan chuckled which made Ashara twirl in front of them and lead the way.

“Yes I do! I want just a little bit longer with the both of you.” She admits. Quite easily, Ashara is weaving her way through the crowds making Selmy and Tyrion struggle to keep up with her, especially Tyrion who only stood at three feet. Barristan kept his hand clasped around Tyrion’s to make sure the young boy didn’t get lost. It was an odd feeling for Tyrion, the only people who had ever held his hand in a protective way was his sister.

For it being midday, the tavern that Ashara led them to was fairly packed with many different kinds of faces. Gruff faces, pleasant faces, sunburnt and pretty all alike. At the sight of some pleasure slaves that were skulking about, Barristan made sure to cover Tyrion’s eyes. They showed a little too much skin for a young boy to be around.

They took a table in a lone corner, letting Ashara order the drinks before sitting down. “What do you think Vaiko?”

“I haven’t seen much of Lys, but the bits that I’ve seen are amazing!” He couldn’t keep the excitement out of his voice. How could he though? Whenever Tywin allowed Tyrion to accompany him on his travels, he often kept Tyrion hidden and forbid him from going out. This was different. This was freedom. Freedom and acceptance.

Barristan grinned to himself as Tyrion and Ashara conversed with one another. The boy was beaming and chatting away happily.

From his periphery, he met the gaze of a young boy. A scrawny boy with sullen eyes and hair that stuck out in various directions. He didn’t look out of place, but it was clear from the amount of eye contact that he was there for him. Perhaps one of Varys’ little birds.

Excusing himself, he wonders over to the boy near the door. Immediately he hands Selmy a slip of paper. “Lord Varys instructs that you hand this note to any high priest or guard you may encounter when entering the Red Temple. This is your key inside.”

“Thank you.” He murmurs and puts the paper away safely. In a blink of an eye, the boy had fled. As if never there.

When he returned to the table, food and drinks were already there as Ashara spoke of her skepticism of their destination. “Just be wary of the Red Temple. All there is there are religious fanatics who worship fire.”

“Not necessarily.” Tyrion interjects in a smart manner that makes Ashara raise her eyebrow quizzically. “They revere fire as holy. They worship the Lord of Light.”

Placing her chin on her palm, Ashara says “You know quite a bit. Are you a secret scholar?”

Blushing, Tyrion picks up his fork. “I just like to read.”

“Even more curious. Only little lords know how to read.”

A moment of silence before Tyrion replies “That’s because I’m the bastard son of one.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend.”

“You didn’t.” he takes a bite and immediately forgets what they had been talking about. “This is the most delicious thing I had ever tasted!!”

Thankfully Ashara just chuckles and drops the subject, much to Barristan’s relief. Even though Ashara was no friend to Lord Tywin, it wouldn’t be good if anyone were to find out that Vaiko was in fact Tyrion Lannister of the rich Casterly Rock. Anyone else of a lower pedigree might contemplate kidnapping the young boy for ransom. Not that Tywin would pay it. Ser Barristan didn’t want to risk it either way.

The parting from Ashara Dayne was difficult for the both of them. Tyrion tried his best not to look back at the tavern where Ashara still enjoyed drinks with her other shipmates who had arrived to join her. They returned to the dock where the captain eagerly let them know that there was a spice ship that would be willing to allow them on board. Everything was moving quickly that Tyrion didn’t have much of an opportunity to miss Ashara. Ser Barristan hustled him on the spice ship as it was due to depart in a few minutes. Back to the sea life for the duo. Tyrion wished he could have explored Lys more, but it wasn’t to be. Perhaps coming back, Barristan would allow a stay.

Eying the knight, Tyrion’s gaze trickles down to the chest that was permanently attached to him. He always seemed to keep one hand on the top, protecting it subconsciously.

“May I ask you a question Ser?”

“You may.”

“We’ve been traveling together for quite a while. I think I deserve to know who we’re delivering that box to. I can’t follow you blindly anymore. If this is all in the name of Aerys, then I might as well have returned to Starfall with Lady Ashara.”

Those watery blue eyes that often looked sad regard Tyrion silently. He waited with baited breath, wondering if the knight would be truthful. “If I tell you, you must not tell a soul.”

That made Tyrion snort. “Who am I going to tell?”

The corner of Selmy’s mouth twitched into a smile. Reluctantly, Barristan drops to one knee in order to whisper the truth into Tyrion’s ear. “The recipient is your sister, (y/n). Tyrion, she lives. She didn’t die in the fire. Somehow she made her way to the Red Temple in Volantis where she is safe.”

Abruptly, Tyrion jumps away from Barristan. Eyes wide in disbelief, for once the well versed boy was at a loss for words. Lips parted many times with questions that were hastily forgotten. Small hands curl into balled up fists. “Truly? (y/n). . . She’s alive?”

He nods in confirmation.

Tyrion sharply looks away, trying to process everything that had been revealed. For a year he had mourned his beloved sister. A sister who loved him when no one else did. Someone who had always been happy to see him when others grimaced at his presence. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“It’s a delicate situation.” Selmy admitted and looked out to the docks of Lys that were growing smaller and smaller. “I don’t know all the details exactly, but this needs to be treated with the utmost care. (y/n) being alive needs to be kept between the two of us.”

There was a sharp pang of fear. “Does Aerys know? Is that why you’re delivering. . . whatever that is to her? Is it meant to kill her??” His questions were growing frantic and Barristan had to calm him.

“Aerys knows nothing of her survival.” Quickly reassuring him, Selmy draws him closer. “He is too focused on the war with Prince Rhaegar. As for the chest. . . I have no idea what it may contain. There is no latch nor lock. Try as I may, I don’t know how to open it. Or if it can even be open.”

“(y/n) is alive.”

“Yes.”

“We’re going to go see her.”

“Yes.”

Barristan Selmy was reminded how young Tyrion was as he started to cry softly. “My sister. . . she’s alive.” **

“My lady! Has Ser Barristan left Lys?”

Goblet in hand, Ashara lowers it partially. “Yes. The captain directed them to someone who can get them the rest of the way. Sit. What’s the matter?”

The young man takes a deep breath. “I’ve heard some urgent news. From Westeros.”

Intrigued, she leans in. “What news?”

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soulmate-game · 3 years

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Not related to the other two Bio!mom Harley AUs that I did. Just... similar. I wrote this instead of sleeping, as per the usual.

—*—*—*—*—*

“I need your help.”

No accent, no threats of violence, no beating around the bush (figurative or otherwise). No fighting or unconscious bodies.

Just Harley Quinn with her hair down, no makeup, and completely serious, in the center of the Bat Cave. Even though her usual exaggerated Brooklynn accent (circa 1950s) had become a pretty inseparable part of her personality over the years, every now and then she forcibly stuffed it down and used her mostly unaccented voice. The one reminiscent of days with less colors on her face, a high bun, and a pristine white lab coat.

Every single one of the Bats and Birds present, fresh from an interrupted patrol thanks to her, could count the number of times they had seen Harley like this on one hand. Bruce would have the most recollections, but everyone else would have plenty of fingers left on said hand. So they all knew, especially when Bruce willingly pulled down his cowl so he could look Harley in the eye, that this was the start of something they were not likely to forget. And maybe their chances of survival were slim too.

“Harley,” Bruce’s voice was still gruff, seeing as he was still mostly Batman at the moment, but his eyes were soft. “Maybe you should tell us what you need help with first. And sit down. You look exhausted.”

Sure enough, there were dark circles under Harley’s eyes. She let Bruce-man lead her over to one of their debriefing tables and sit her down. She let out a huge sigh, her fingers tangling in her loose blond locks.

“I have a confession, and it isn’t gonna leave this cave, capiche?” The slight return of her accent relieved a little of the tension, but not much. Taking this as their cue, the rest of the bats spread out into their usual seats at the table. Bruce stayed near Harley, keeping a hand on her shoulder in silent support. Harley didn’t continue talking until he gave her a solemn nod in agreement. She gulped— an action that immediately returned the tension.

“... fifteen years ago, back when I was still with Joker, I disappeared off the Gotham scene for a few months. I’m sure a few of you remember,” she looked up, and a couple of the older vigilantes nodded. Really, Jason has still been Robin back then. But the memory stuck out in his head now that he was thinking about it.

“Yeah, you were breaking away from him a little bit, which was weird at the time,” Red Hood mused aloud, arms crossed. “I think you helped us out a couple times and did some of your first team ups with Ivy before you vanished. Then a few months go by and you were back in action with Joker, so we mostly ignored it as you just being you.”

Harley nodded. “Ah, my Ivy’s a lifesaver, even back then. She helped cover up the timeline by keeping me in action for longer than I should’a been without putting me at too much risk.”

“Timeline…” Red Robin spoke up, eyes huge even behind his mask. “You don’t mean—“

“Harley,” Bruce breathed, having also caught on. “You were pregnant?”

The air went still. Harley sniffed, eyes watering even as she smiled.

“Oh yeah. Shouldn’t have been possible, ya know? Me ‘n Joker being dumped in that damn acid should have made us both more sterile than an operatin’ room. But I knew I couldn’t raise a kid, so after she was born—“

“You kept her?” Damian interrupted, earning a gentle cuff over the head from Dick. Harley just snorted.

“Yeah. Not gonna lie, I thought about abortion. But the baby didn’t do nothin’ wrong, and I was still in love with Joker back then so I was ecstatic that I was able to make something new with part ‘a him in it. Still, I knew a baby didn’t deserve to be raised in Gotham. Especially not my baby, not with my enemies and history. Not with who her father was. I knew he’d never want her, never let me keep her. So I spent the last five months of my pregnancy lookin’ around for the best possible family to take her in. And I found them in Paris, France. A sweet couple, both of them bakers. Sabine, she’s both adorably sweet and super kickass. Comes from a Chinese family that is crazy about teachin’ their women martial arts. But nothing shady about it, I triple checked. Just bonding through kicking people in the face. Which is perfect, I wanted my baby to know how to defend herself. I knew she’d need those skills eventually. And Tom, that’s Sabine’s wife, he’s a gentle giant. Same size as Bane, but as harmless as a puppy and makes the best croissants ever. Seriously, the best.”

“Harley,” Bruce gently prodded, but there was a tiny grin on his face. Seeing her behaving so… so normally, so proud and reminiscent, was a rare treat. Bruce would be lying if he said he wasn’t proud of how far the woman had come. How she had freed herself and become a better person, mostly on her own.

“Right, right. The point,” Harley took a breath, rubbing her forehead. “I came clean to Tom and Sabine, but apparently they knew who I was the whole time. They just didn’t care— did I mention they are perfect? Anyway, once I explained everything, they agreed immediately to adopting my baby. They’d been wanting kids, but it would’a been too risky for Sabine’s health. That’s how I found them anyway, they were in the market to adopt. We named her Marinette. She took Tom and Sabine’s last names, hyphenated. We decided Quinn would be her middle name. And after that, I came back to Gotham and told myself that she was in good hands and I needed to forget about her. Cuz I was no good for her. I knew that. I went back to my old tricks. And then…” Harley chuckled, but it was self-depreciating.

“Then a few years passed, and I started breaking away from Joker for real. Then we broke up, I blew up Ace Chemicals while you guys were outta town doing Justice League and Young Justice shit. I started dating Ivy. And—“ she smiled softly at the table, clearly seeing something the rest of them couldn’t. “Then Ivy convinced me to go see her. Visit my baby, see how she’s been. And I did. Marinette was seven years old, but damn it to hell she was gorgeous. And say whatever you want about me and Joker— most of it will even be true— but neither of us are stupid. And she inherited all of our intelligence. All of it. She got my blue eyes. But she got his hair, which meant Sabine teased me relentlessly about ‘are you sure she isn’t that Wayne’s kid?’ And don’t make that face Bruce, you’d be lucky to have a kid half as beautiful as my Mari-pie. No offense, Damian. Anyway. Anyway, this is the important part. Or part of it.

“She sat there and listened to everything I had to say. Everything. A little seven year old, who could barely understand English at the time, and she listened without interrupting once. She never threw a fit, she wasn’t angry or confused. I told her about the things I’d done in the past— well, G rated versions— and she didn’t care. She called me Momma Harley right away, said she wanted to meet Aunt Ivy sometime soon, and started telling me everything about her that I’d missed. From that day on, she became my sunshine. The light of my life, and I still call her at least once a week every week. When I disappear for a few days out of the city? I’m visiting her—“

“You’re banned from international travel, Harley,” Dick scolded, but he sounded way too amused for it to work. He knew she had her ways, anyway. Nobody could actually stop Harley damn Quinn from doing whatever she wanted.

“—Ugh, she tells me the same thing every time! Disappointed glare and everything. I don’t know how I gave birth to such a goodie goodie, but somehow I did. Not important though! The important thing is, I’m always the first to hear when something new happens in her life. And we had decided that she wouldn’t visit me in Gotham until she was at least eighteen, but apparently she disobeyed me— which I should have expected honestly— and entered you guys’ WE international scholastic competition.”

“Oh no,” Bruce pinched the bridge of her nose. “Marinette Dupain-Cheng? The contest winner?” He finally pulled out a chair and sat down. “The winner gets an all-expense paid trip to Gotham for them and their whole class.”

“Exactly!” Harley threw up her hands. “Mari told me last week, and I’ve been trying to talk her out of coming ever since. But she’s inherited both of our stubbornness too, and she isn’t budgin’ a bit. ‘Momma Harley, I wanna see you and Auntie Ivy though!’ And ‘Momma, Gotham’s nothing I can’t handle,’ or my favorite, ‘Maybe you’ll finally get to see me dropkick someone three times my size then, and I’ll prove it.’”

“So that’s what you meant by you need our help,” Tim said as he leaned forward over the table. “Joker just broke out of Arkham yesterday. You want us to protect her.”

“I’d prefer if one of you was with her outside of the mask too, as often as possible,” Harley confirmed. “I can’t stop her from coming here anymore, but I also don’t trust Joker for a second. As soon as he sees her, I’m afraid he’ll make the connection.”

“She looks like him?” Damian asked, scrunching up his nose at the ugly mental image of Joker as a teenage girl. Harley shook her head, solemn.

“She looks like a dark-haired mini-me,” she corrected. “She even keeps her hair in pigtails as her way of showing support for me. And I know Marinette can kick ass, Sabine’s trained her well. But Marinette inherited more than I’d like from me,” Harley ran a hand through her hair. “I didn’t notice it until she was thirteen. She got a crush on a classmate, and it was almost like watching videos of me back during the early days of— well, of Harley Quinn. Just without the crime and insanity. She didn’t even realize that she was almost stalking the poor kid until I pointed it out, and luckily I was able to put my doctorate to good use and we nipped that right in the bud ASAP. She never meant it that way, anyway. As soon as I explained things to her, she was horrified and immediately asked me to help her learn how to have a healthy relationship. That was a fun discussion,” Harley grimaced. “But she still gets attached to people really, really easily. Once she grew out of her crush on that boy, she adopted him as her unofficial brother. She already calls Selina “Auntie,” even though I’ve barely mentioned her to Marinette. She gets attached fast, and deeply. And I’m afraid that even after all the warning I’ve done, all the stories I’ve told her—“

“You’re afraid she’ll get attached to Joker just like you did,” Bruce finished for her, closing his eyes. “Because she knows he’s her father.”

“Yes,” Tears were slowly dripping down her face already, her hands curled into fists so tightly that her knuckles were paper white. “You know how he is. If he finds out she’s his biological daughter, he’ll immediately try to take advantage of that. And he’s far too good with his words for people like me and Mari. I’m worried outta my mind. Please. Help keep my baby safe from him.”

“We will,” Jason no longer had his helmet on, or the domino mask that he usually wore underneath it. All of them knew masks were merely formality with Harley nowadays. And he needed to look her directly in the eye so she could see how serious he was. “I can sign up as a bodyguard for the class. It won’t be weird, seeing as they’re tourists and this is Gotham. They also have several rich kids in their group if I remember right.”

Bruce nodded, agreeing with Jason. “That’s a good idea. I can lead the class on their tours of WE personally. That’ll serve the purpose of keeping an eye on her and shutting up the investors that keep begging me to make more public appearances for the sake of the company. Marinette’s name is already released to the news as the winner of the contest, so we can’t keep her out of the spotlight long. Tim, you’ll have to keep an eye on any and all pictures of the class. Try to erase or doctor the images with her in it well enough that connections between her and Harley can’t be easily made. Dick, you and Damian will be in charge of keeping an eye out for any activity from Joker. The slightest hint, and you notify all of us. We’ll decide on a case-by-case basis who is necessary to stick with the class and who goes after the clown.”

“She’s gonna sneak out of her hotel to stay with me and Ivy,” Harley admitted, bringing the (now slightly judgemental) attention back to her. She raised her hands up in surrender. “She didn’t tell me that, and I didn’t approve or suggest it! I just know my baby too well to not realize that that’s her plan. Could ya provide an escort?”

Bruce sighed. “This is gonna be an eventful month.”

#maribat #ml x dc #mlb x dc #soulmate-game #bio!dad au #bio!mom harley quinn #bio!dad joker #maribat fanfic #maribat fic #platonic Harley x Marinette #platonic Ivy x Marinette #platonic brucinette

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spencers-renaissance · 3 years

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The Other Side of the Storm

Summary: Spencer & Luke are not out as a couple but have to attend the same FBI gala where a young, pretty agent insists on flirting with Luke. Misunderstandings and surprising reveals ensue.

Tags: relationship reveal, secret relationship, coming out, jealousy, caught, hurt/comfort, autistic spencer, angst with a happy ending, misunderstandings, found family, est. rel., cuddling & snuggling, domestic fluff

Pairing: Luke Alvez x Spencer Reid

Word Count: 2.7k

Masterlist // Read on AO3

Lets pretend I didn't just disappear for a couple of weeks bc I'm BACK now yay! This is written for a prompt from @ralvezhq who asked: "Ralvez is already dating but no one knows about them yet. they get invited to some sort of FBI gala and a young, accomplished female agent won’t stop flirting with luke and spencer is absolutely not having it so he finds a way to let everyone know they are together." -- I stuck to it except that they're caught rather than willingly confessing, I hope that's okay! I really enjoyed this one, so I hope you do as well.

!!!TW: the woman is very insistent on her flirting and makes Luke uncomfortable when she touches his chest without his consent!!!

“Any particular reason you keep looking over at that table full of Fugitive Task Force members, Spence?” JJ asks amusedly, sipping from her wine glass.

“Mm, I’ve noticed you looking over there a little bit,” Tara muses. “You got your eye on someone?”

Spencer looks down and forces a laugh, but he can feel the tips of his ears turning pink, and knows that he’s not gonna hear the end of this for the rest of the night. The team have never been fond of the FBI Galas they’re forced into attending every year, and unfortunately, Hotch’s usual stunt of pulling a non-urgent case from the stack and jetting off to some far-flung corner of the country to avoid it failed to fool the director this time.

He’d broken the news to them at the start of the week, and conversation in the bullpen has pretty much exclusively revolved around the event ever since. Even Penelope, who loves seeing people win awards and dressing up in her favourite full-glam outfits, has been significantly less upbeat. She only gave him one spontaneous hug all week.

None of them, though, have been dreading it more than Spencer. The others aren’t exactly fond of the faux smiles and convoluted politics and fake niceties either, sure, but tonight he has far more to lose than ever before. Namely, the man sat just out of his direct eye line at the Fugitive Task Force table.

Ironically, he and Luke had gotten ready for the same event together. They’d stood in the mirror side by side and tied one another’s ties in the way that always makes Spencer smile and Luke had gently brushed his hair out of eyes, but when it came time to leave, Spencer called a rideshare, and Luke drove the truck, arriving at completely different times in completely different vehicles.

The thing is, that as much as he loves his team, and as much as the FBI fraternisation policy has been significantly relaxed over the last few years, no one can know they’re together and have been for the last eight months.

Even the thought of Derek or Hotch or even JJ finding out — not only that he’s dating someone but that that person is a man — makes him feel queasy.

Which is why he smiles around an awkward cough and forces himself to meet the eyes of his profiler teammates, fighting every instinct in him to run, leg it out of here, never show your face again.

“No, I’m just looking at the clock above them,” he lies, and it isn’t smooth in any way shape or form but it’ll have to do. “You know I can’t wait for this to end. I haven’t read any Carl Jung in weeks.”

Tara laughs, raising her wine glass slightly. “Now that I understand.”

“Nah, I’m not so sure,” Derek grins slyly, “I think my man has his eye on some girl and he’s just getting a little shy, am I right, pretty boy?” He quirks an eyebrow playfully, leaning over to pat him on the back, and Spencer scrambles to recover.

“Believe whatever you’d like, Morgan,” he says, bringing his own glass to his lips to conceal any tells in his expression. “Doesn’t make it any less false.”

Thankfully, the conversation is interrupted by the Director clearing his throat into the mic on the stage as he introduces the next round of awards. Spencer loses himself in the anonymity of a dark room and a clapping audience, grateful that he’s avoided this round of interrogation.

The rest of the night progresses similarly. Spencer tries to keep his eyes away from Luke’s table — and valiantly attempts to keep from blushing like a schoolgirl when their eyes meet and Luke’s lips quirk upwards in an I-tried-to-stop-it-but-I-just-can’t kind of smile — and the rest of his team rib him pretty relentlessly about this ‘girl’ he supposedly has his eye on.

Hotch tries to get the team to leave him alone, but when a group of skilled, determined profilers all a little tipsy on wine and champagne encounter a friend’s mysterious love life, it’s pretty difficult to stand in their way.

Once dessert is served, though, things rapidly go downhill.

As much as he’s been trying to keep his eyes away from Luke’s table, it’s almost impossible to prevent his gaze from straying in a temporary moment of cognitive lapse every now and then, and while everyone is relatively quiet and occupied, digging into the Belgian waffle dessert, it happens once again. This time, though, instead of a small smile from Luke, he’s rewarded with the frankly heart-stopping sight of a young, pretty agent practically sitting in his lap, trying to feed him dessert.

He looks uncomfortable, and immediately Spencer is hit with an overwhelming wave of insecurity, jealousy, and an urge to protect that strangles his breath for a moment. He stares unabashedly, no longer caring whether anyone sees him because that’s his boyfriend and an extremely pretty woman is all over him and he looks like he wants her to stop, and oh my god, what does he do?

“Is that the girl you like all over that dude?” Derek asks sympathetically, catching onto Spencer’s staring. “It’s alright, man, if she’d choose someone else over you then she’s not right for you anyway. Why don’t you come and enjoy your dessert?”

Spencer senses the rest of the team’s eyes on him, but they don’t say anything, probably from a combination of pity, awkwardness, and confidence in Derek to counsel him through it. He’s hardly cognisant of that, though, instead a roar of emotion crashing through his mind, and he has no idea what to do about it.

When he sees a perfectly manicured hand land directly on Luke’s chest, though; when he sees Luke reject her more firmly, this time pushing her away; when he watches as she clearly gears herself up for some sad protest of self-victimisation, he sees red.

Before he can stop himself, he’s storming across the room over to Luke’s table. “Hi,” he says firmly, audibly pissed off and not in the mood for bullshit, “do you mind if I borrow my friend here? I have some official FBI business to discuss with him. Thanks.”

Without waiting for a response, he grabs Luke’s arm and leads him to the corridor outside the main hall, Luke following quickly and willingly behind him.

“Are you okay?” Spencer asks with his brow furrowed, his hand coming up to gently rest on Luke’s waist as he peers at him concernedly through the dim lighting of the hallway.

“Yes, baby, I’m fine,” Luke smiles reassuringly, raising a hand to Spencer’s face. “I’m sorry you had to see that. She was… persistent.”

“She shouldn’t have made you uncomfortable like that,” Spencer insists, still feeling distressed and anxious despite the immediate situation having been diffused.

“You’re right,” Luke agrees. “And she should’ve listened to me when I told her I was taken. I’m sorry you had to see someone flirting with me so openly like that, carinõ, I know you still get insecure about things like that.”

Spencer sighs, relaxing slowly the more he hears Luke’s voice as steady and strong and kind as it always is. He steps forward and buries his face in Luke’s neck as he nestles in close for a comforting hug.

“You know I only have eyes for you, right, sweetheart?” Luke whispers softly, one arm holding his waist and another tangling itself in Spencer’s loose curls.

He nods into Luke’s neck, but doesn’t make any move to pull away, just enjoying the warmth and closeness of standing so intimately with the man he loves until—

“Spencer!” Derek’s voice pulls him violently from his sweet escape from reality and horror instantly floods him as he jerks away from Luke, staring at Derek in a nauseating mixture of alarm and trepidation.

“What…” Derek stares right back at him as both JJ and Tara come tumbling through the doors behind him, looking ready for a fight—

Oh. That makes sense. They all saw him storming towards a woman they thought he had a crush on, then pull the man she was flirting with out into the most secluded corridor surrounding the hall. Even considering Spencer’s character, he has to admit that the circumstances definitely look like he was gearing up for a fight, and everyone knows that he is not the kind of person who could hold his own against an ex-military man who chases down criminals for a living.

“You’re… not fighting him,” Derek says hesitantly, the puzzle pieces clearly falling into place for him.

Spencer shakes his head minutely, and is only thankful when Luke inches closer and wraps an arm around him. After all, he has nothing more to lose.

“You were looking at him, not her,” Derek continues slowly.

Spencer nods, unable to meet the eyes of any of the three friends standing in front of him.

“You’re dating him,” he says, still sounding shocked, his voice almost entirely numb. “You’re gay.”

“Or bisexual,” Tara offers, and Spencer takes a little comfort in the fact that she doesn’t sound shocked or upset, her voice warm and helpful. He tries to meet her eye, but he can’t work up the courage and buries closer into Luke’s embrace instead.

“Gay,” he whispers.

“Spence,” JJ says quietly, earnestly, “why didn’t you tell us?”

It’s too much to go into right now, too convoluted and long of a story for him to explain when even choking out a single syllable takes a herculean effort, so he shrugs instead.

“We were talking all night assuming you were interested in a woman,” Derek says numbly, more to himself than anything, but Spencer watches out of the corner of his eye as he shakes off the shock and comes back to himself, slowly putting more of the puzzle together as he looks at Spencer. “That’s why you didn’t tell us. We’ve been making assumptions all this time and hurting you in the process.”

“Oh, Spence,” JJ whispers sadly, stepping a little closer.

“I’m so sorry, pretty boy, I— I should’ve known or tried to be more inclusive at least, I’m so sorry I made you feel like this.”

The regret in his friends’ voices and the absence of a negative reaction brings him out of the safety of Luke’s arms slightly. His boyfriend is eyeing him with serious concern, and he tries a smile to reassure him a little, squeezing his hand.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” he manages, clearing his throat awkwardly as he finally succeeds in making eye contact. “It’s a long story and I’ll tell you another time, but, uh— this is Luke. We’ve been together for eight months, two weeks, and four days.”

Luke smiles fondly. “As much as we didn’t expect to reveal it like this, it’s nice to meet all of you properly,” Luke says warmly, shaking everyone’s hands quickly before stepping back to Spencer and interlocking their fingers, pressing a quick but meaningful kiss to his temple.

“I’m really glad you felt able to share this with us, Spence,” Tara says encouragingly, smiling at him in that bright, reassuring way of hers that rivals Penelope in the warmth and comfort it radiates. “I’m proud of you.”

Something about her reaction this entire time has him wondering whether she already knew. He’ll ask her later when he feels less like his heart is still firmly lodged in his throat.

“Me too, kid,” Derek agrees, smiling as well. Spencer wonders whether the initial shock and numb reaction was more a response to his own behaviour than anything about him and Luke, and the thought makes him feel substantially better.

JJ grins, stepping forward and grabbing Spencer’s other hand. “Me three.”

Before anyone can say anything else, the doors are opening again and Penelope is flying through them.

“Oh! Thank god you’re all okay! You just ran off after Spencer and I left you guys to it because I thought you could handle it better than I could but then you didn’t come back and even Hotch was worried, and—” she cuts herself off as she realises everyone staring at her, and slowly she takes in the scene around her. “Oh my god, I’ve missed something. Oh my god, I missed a moment, didn’t I? What have I told you guys about having moments without me? Someone tell me what happened, please, before I explode—”

“Alright, Penelope,” Spencer chuckles, interrupting her. He’s known her for too long to expect her to cut herself off when she’s on a tirade like that. “Uh, this is Luke. My boyfriend.”

“Your… your boyfriend? Oh my god, I finally get to meet him? Wait you told the others? Oh my god I’ve missed so much!”

“Penelope knew?” Derek asks, surprised.

“Half of mine and Spencer’s mutual friends are FBI Agents, and the other half are drag queens, of course I knew,” Penelope dismisses him, “but he wasn’t ready for me to meet his boyfriend yet or even know his name and I very nicely did not go hunting to find him out because I could’ve done that, but I didn’t, because I value you so much as a friend, Spencer, and I’m so glad you finally—”

“Penelope!” Spencer interjects, laughing even more as the tension and distress he’d felt only minutes ago finally melts away fully. “Do you actually want to introduce yourself to Luke, or do you want to keep rambling about drag queens?”

“Right! Yes!” she says eagerly, turning to Luke. “I’m Penelope and it is so nice to meet you, like you don’t even know how much I’ve wanted to meet the man who has my blueberry muffin blushing bright pink in the corner of my batcave while he texts on the phone, and I know you call him carinõ because I saw a text once and it’s the sweetest nickname ever, you are just the cutest, and we are going to be best friends—”

Spencer rests his head on Luke’s shoulder as he listens fondly to Penelope rambling and his friends chatting amongst themselves and everyone getting to know the most important man in his life — the only man he’s ever wanted anything long term with, the only man he’s ever wanted to actually marry one day — and a warm, sweet feeling of contentment floods his chest.

It’s far from the way he thought he’d feel after the team found about Luke, and he savours it, holds it in his mouth for as long as he can before swallowing the memory and filing it away to treasure forever. A moment like this deserves that kind of reverence.

“How are you feeling about tonight?” Luke asks gently as they crawl into bed, tired but happy at gone 2am. He pulls Spencer into his side as soon as they’re under the duvet, resting his chin on his head as he always does.

Moments like these make Spencer smile, the kind of familiar routine that’s so essential to their relationship. Luke had figured out early on that close physical contact and firm touches make him feel safe and settle his racing mind, so they’d worked out positions that made them both feel comfortable, and now relaxing into them is second nature.

“A bit weird,” Spencer admits after thinking for a moment. “I’m happy that they know now and everyone took it well, but it’s strange. A significant part of who I am has been not only that I’m gay, but the dedication I felt to protecting that secret. And now that it’s out, it feels like something private has been bared for my friends to inspect.”

“I think that’s only natural,” Luke muses quietly, pressing a kiss to Spencer’s curls. “It’ll take some getting used to, but you’ll adjust eventually.”

Spencer sighs. “Yeah, you’re right. After I tackle telling Hotch and Rossi, it’ll be nice not to have to hide it. I’ll be able to talk about you at work and maybe even go crazy and put a photo of you on my desk.”

“Wow, that is wild, check you out,” Luke chuckles, before they settle into a comfortable silence in the warm glow of their bedroom. Eventually, he speaks up though, quiet and reverent. “I’m proud of you, carinõ. I really am.”

The words instantly make Spencer smile, a light blush tinging his ears again. He hides his face in Luke’s chest, scooching impossibly closer into his arms. “I love you,” he whispers.

“I love you, too, Spencer,” Luke replies, a happy sigh in his voice.

He reaches over and turns off the bedside lamp. His hand returns to Spencer’s hair and something clicks into place somewhere, a fundamental alignment of the universe that brings a feeling of something so incredibly right as their breathing rhythmically matches to one another and they slide into the welcome embrace of sleep.

I hope you enjoyed that! I had a lot of fun with this one. If anyone has any more ralvez relationship reveal prompts, feel free to send them my way!

Taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @hotchseyebrows @reidology @spencerspecifics @tobias-hankel @marsjareau @hotchscotchh @oliverbrnch @im-autistic @thataveragenerd @anxious-enby @kuolonsyoja @ropoto @cmily @nudgerox @love-pyramus @notevanbuckley @downwiththedoorpoole @nomajdetective (Add yourself to my taglist here!)

#my writing #ralvez #criminal minds #cm #luke alvez #spencer reid #ralvez fic #ralvez fanfic #ralvez fanfiction #luke alvez/spencer reid #luke alvez x spencer reid #spencer reid/luke alvez #spencer reid x luke alvez #ralvez fluff #ralvez relationship reveal #ralvez au

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redrobin-detective · 3 years

Text

sleep like the dead

“And now, I, Technus, shall finally have my electronic vengeance on you, ghost child and conquer this puny human world!” Technus shrieked, exiting the portal in a suitably dramatic fashion. The various weapons around the lab shook and trembled from his power and static from his core crackled, raring for a fight with his favorite enemy. Only the Phantom didn’t appear.

“Hmm, maybe I wasn’t loud enough,” Technus mused before starting up again. “Pathetic Phantom! You can only hope your miniscule half human strength will be enough to take on my squiggling mess of the tangled wires of terror!” He threw back his head and cackled loudly, waiting for his nemesis to show and the battle to begin. His laughter petered out after a bit and the lab became silent once more.

“Well, now he’s just being rude,” Technus fumed, floating up through the ceiling. “Don’t ignore my threats, child. I know you’re here, I can feel your cold core.” He stopped once he reached the ghost boy’s human lair, hovering a few feet from the bed where his rival was sprawled out, sound asleep.

“Come ghost boy, it’s time for fisticuffs! I have some new moves and some great catchphrases I’m ready to try out on you!” The technology ghost exclaimed in excitement, miming some punches. Phantom didn’t answer, just kept laying there barely moving save for his soft, shallow breaths. Technus watched as his breath fogged with each exhale, his core’s ghost sense but it still didn’t awaken him. “Child? Have you expired?”

He leaned forward and gently poked the boy’s cheek. It was squishy but firm unlike a ghost’s exterior and he could feel the dense bone underneath. Phantom didn’t so much as twitch. Technus drew back his hand, unsure of what to do. He’d surprised the child while he was in bed before but he always woke up and they fell into the usual routine. But now he’d changed the script and if there was something ghosts didn’t like, it was change. He flew back down to the portal and sped into the Ghost Zone at top speed, searching for someone who would be able to help him understand.

“Wow, baby pop whooped your butt that fast? Either he’s getting better or you’re getting more pathetic, my bet is the latter,” Ember teased as she strummed to herself from a floating rock near her lair.

“The ghost child won’t wake up and fight,” Technus said in a rush. “I went to the human world but no one answered my challenge. I went to his human lair and he was just lying on his bed thing and he wouldn’t move, even when I touched him.”

“That’s not like him, he’s usually more hopped up and ready to fight than a groupie on coke,” Ember frowned, setting aside her guitar. “Well come on, sparky, lets go check the kid out.”

They developed something of an entourage making their way back to the human portal. A few of the locals had heard that the infamous half ghost child was behaving differently and well, curiosity didn’t stop when the cat was killed. Skulker chuckled menacingly under his breath, Youngblood bounced around the adults. Johnny and Kitty had been going to the real world anyway and decided to tag along.

“Were his folks or Jazz home?" Johnny asked, riding his cycle slow enough to keep pace with the group.

“Who?” Technus questioned, “er no, the annoying children always with him were not around for once.”

“Annoying yes but they don’t live- uh occupy the same lair as the brat,” Johnny explained. As a younger ghost who’d held onto his humanity more than some, he had a better grasp of human culture. “His parents, the crazy ghost hunters in the blue and orange jumpsuits. Or his sister, Jazz. She has red hair and is kind of a know it all. They’re his family, they live with him.”

“Oh those weirdos,” Youngblood said wrinkling his nose. “Always loud and shouting about ripping apart ghosts. They’re not even good hunters.”

“Obviously, they haven’t noticed they got a ghost living with ‘em,” Ember added with an eyeroll.

“It’s a very stressful situation, Danny was worried about what they’d do if they found out,” Kitty frowned before sticking her tongue out at Johnny. “Danny’s a good guy, at least he talked to me about things that mattered.”

“Good target practice, you mean,” Skulker declared as they entered through the portal. Instinctively they all looked up to where the ghost boy’s core was humming but sensed no movement. “Alright, I will admit that is weird. Let’s see what the whelp’s up to.”

It was a bit cramped, the five of them crammed into the small room especially when they were keeping their distance from the room’s only living occupant. He had not moved since Technus had last been in here. At their entrance, his breath fogged again and he shivered for a second before settling back down.

“Well, he’s alive at least,” Johnny shrugged before leaning in close to examine him. “Kid looks wiped though.” He picked up the boy’s bony wrist which had been dangling off the bed, his fingers brushing the floor and held it up before dropping it. His knuckles rapped against the ground but he didn’t stir.

“Johnny, leave him alone, he’s trying to sleep,” Kitty hissed, yanking her boyfriend back by his ear.

“Come on, I’m not doing anything bad,” Johnny defended. “But, come on, how often are we gonna get a chance like this?”

“Hmm is human sleep that interesting that the ghost child would ignore all of us?” Technus asked, floating over and laying himself down on the bed. He laid there on the bed next to the boy for a few moments. “I do not believe I’m doing this correctly.”

“Nah you gotta close your eyes and go off to dreamland,” Youngblood said, grabbing a sock off the floor and then some papers from the desk and began stacking them on the half ghost’s head. The boy still didn’t react in the slightest.

“Is dreamland close? Another pocket dimension like the Zone?” Technus, ever the scientist, asked curiously.

“No, you idiot,” Ember sighed before tentatively reaching out and laying a hand on Phantom’s chest. “Yow, man that’s weird.”

“What?” Skulker asked, having been mostly content to watch until now. Youngblood had now piled several more items on the ghost boy’s head but he slept on, unawares.

“It’s just,” she scrunched up her face as she looked for the words, “I know what ghost cores feel like and I’ve been around enough humans to know the signs of life but he’s got both at once. His core flares and fades opposite his heart beat. It shouldn’t work but it does, somehow.”

“He is a most curious specimen, I rarely see Plasmius in his human skin so it’s hard to compare,” Skulker commented. “Of course Plasmius I can understand. He acts like a ghost, thinks like one. But the child, he’s certainly a ghost but he’s also decidingly... human.”

“That’s why we should be leaving him alone,” Kitty frowned, plucking Youngblood out of the air and moving him away from the sleeping teen. “If Danny isn’t waking up with all of us causing a racket then clearly he’s exhausted. We bother him enough, let him rest and fight him some other time.”

“But I wanted to fight now,” Technus whined, rolling over on the bed and resting one arm over the ghost boy’s body. “The Phantom surely wants to hear my latest monologue on how I’m the supreme ruler of everything electronic and beeping.”

“I know I don’t,” Youngblood shrugged.

“Me neither,” Johnny scoffed.

“Or me,” Ember muttered, putting her hands on her hips.

“Just let him rest,” Kitty said shooing the others back and gently brushing some of the kid’s hair out of his face revealing sallow features and dark marks under his eyes. “It’s hard enough being human much less a ghost on top of that; between fighting us and trying to have a normal life I bet he hardly gets any sleep. The least we can do is give him a break before he breaks.”

“I suppose it’s not sporting to kill a sleeping prey,” Skulker pouted. “And it’ll make his defeat more meaningful if he’s well rested and not uh,” he gestured to the Phantom’s general state of disarray.

“Better appreciate it,” Ember sulked for a second, kicking away some pajama pants from the floor. “His stupid human life. I’d give anything to sleep again, just for a minute.”

The ghosts sat in quiet contemplation for a moment, the dead looking enviously and curiously on the silent, sleeping boy, on a world they could only watch but not engage in. The moment was shattered by the front door slamming open.

“DANNO WE’RE HOME AND WE BROUGHT CHINESE!” Resonated through the house. Startled awake, the ghost child leapt out of the bed and hovered about a foot above it for a moment before sinking back down.

“Darn it Dad, I was napping,” Danny grumbled before he opened his eyes and saw several of his ghostly enemies standing awkwardly in his room. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Technus lounging on his bed. “What the-”

“Oh good, you’re awake!” Technus tittered happily, leaning into his personal space. “Ready to hear my spiel?” The temperature in the room dropped rapidly as his core ramped up and spilled over into his eyes which were no doubt glowing a fierce green.

“Get out of my room!” He shouted, reaching over to grab his emergency under the bed thermos but a sock falling from his hair into his face distracted him.

“Hey, just stopping by but we were just on our way out, sleep well, Danny sweetie!” Kitty said dragging the whole group through the floor. His core thrummed in agitation until he felt them cross the portal into the Ghost Zone. He sat there for a moment, shaking and panting from the adrenaline rush before he decided he really didn’t want to know. He flopped back onto the bed and reached over on his nightstand for the bottle Jazz had given him the other day.

“The heck is in this stupid sleep aid?”

#danny phantom #another flash is the pan DP fic #just something about Danny being so tired (also ODed on Nyquil) that he just misses his ghost sense going off #and the ghosts being there and without all the threats of death #just kind of hanging around #looking over him curiously snooping #how often do they get to like see him up close?#he's a freak! lets look him over also stack shit on his head!#and the weird space where you just cant remember being human and what sleeping is like but also being so envious that you cant do it anymore #((also just a note that Danny had all his enemies in his room and slept soundly but woke up in a jolt when his parents got home))#((take that as you will))

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smallrainclouds · 3 years

Text

Tangled starlights

(working title)

Also hc that Hypnos is also working when he sleeping, he does his job as God of sleep. He can also do a normal sleep so he can get rest. But he doesn't get nearly as much he needs.

Part four of marriage AU

No beta.

🌙💤💤🌙

You stood in the dusty room as Hypnos floated around, lighting the candles on the walls.

You didn't think you would return to this room. Not after what happened a few days ago. Your stomach twisted in anxiety. You weren't upset exactly but you didn't expect such a strong response.

"And no one has kept up with the library?" You asked. You didn't want to think about *it* right now.

You walked along the shelfs, the scrolls seemed to be calling for you.

"Mother made this place before Hades took over the house for her and he didn't deem any of this stuff important." He replied, and pointed to a door at the far end of the room.

Hypnos waved a hand around. "There are more in that room also. When she was younger, she used to collect as many stories and knowledge as she could. But she never took the time to actually organize it."

Hypnos lit the last candle and floated down to stand. He kept some distance between You and him. Only his bright eyes followed you around the room as you wondered.

"If you don't want to, it's totally fine. This is a lot-"

"N-no. I want to!" You shook your head. "I helped Athens with her library the few times she needed to update it."

You stopped and turned with a smile. "Also I like a good story and I don't doubt that your mother has some great ones in here."

Hypnos returned your smile and you tried not to think about how close he was last night.

"Great! I'll get Dusa to help you clean up the dust in here." He glanced around the room, "And maybe some chairs and tables."

"Yes. Might be helpful." You teased him. And felt a little warm at his laugh.

🌙💤💤🌙

Several hours in and you were bone tired and dusty.

So.Very.Dusty.

"Hey Dusa! How is it looking up there?" You called out. Dusa quickly floated to You. Her green, shiny skin was now dark gray with dust but that didn't stop the beaming smile.

You smiled back, already so fond of Dusa. It felt like You had spent a day with one of your sisters.

"I think we got all the dust! I'm just sorry we had to remove all the scrolls out of their place." She glanced at the piles of scrolls in the corner, carefully stacked together.

You shook your head, "It's okay. I've been told it was already a bit of a mess so no harm done."

"O-oh good!" She bobbed in the air. " I think-"

"Oh wow, I didn't realize we had so many scrolls." An male voice drifted through the door.

You and Dusa both turned toward the door, surprised at the visitor.

Zagreus stood, hands on hips as he looked at the pile that loomed over him.

"O-oh Prince! Be careful!" Dusa rushed over to him. You followed, of course he will show up when you and Dusa were both a mess.

"Don't worry, I won't touch it." Zagreus smiled at You. " Sorry for coming at a bad time. I heard from Mother Nyx that Hypnos' wife was taking over the library. And I realized I haven't induced myself yet. I'm Zagreus.

"My name is Y/N and I would shake your hand but…" You held up your hands, covered in dust and grime.

"Of course. If you ever need anything, just let me know." Zagreus' mismatched eyes studied your face as he said it.

"Thank you, Prince Zagreus. Dusa has been an amazing help already." You tilted your head to Dusa who blushed.

"O-oh it is not a problem! I'm happy to help!" Dusa murmured.

"Dusa is amazing isn't she? Our hardest worker for sure." Zagreus praised, he sounded so proud of her.

"Oh oh my, excuse me! I- I need to get cleaned up." Dusa rushed out, her blush visible even with the dust

"Oh dear." Zagreus said. "We might have been a bit much. But it is good that she hears it. Goodness knows Father doesn't understand how hard she works for this house."

You weren't quite sure what to say. You didn't want to take sides yet or ever if it can be avoided. You have seen too many times what happens when two gods get into a fight with each other.

"You'll have to forgive me but Dusa is right. A hot bath sounds like a dream right now." You smiled at him, glad for the excuse.

"Of course! I will leave you to it, Y/N!" Zagreus nodded and waved goodbye as he left.

You sighed. Hopefully this room will be worth the trouble.

🌙💤💤🌙

You couldn't remember the last time you felt so relaxed. There was nothing like a hot bath, you mused.

You tore off a part of the warm bread and popped it into your mouth. You eyed the pomegranate but went for the olive. Save the best for last you thought.

You laid on top of the covers, feeling like the most spoiled being alive. You went for another olive.

What a day. But at least you were moving forward and now there was a job for you to do.

inevitably, you thought about Hypnos. He was still at work, you last heard. You knew he slept on the job but that wasn't a rest. Not really.

You thought about what he said before. How being more powerful than your sisters. No one ever said that, why would they? It is clear what the gods liked.

Hermes may have the only exception (at least until Hypnos) that enjoyed her powers but even then he never said what Hypnos did.

Hermes had always pushed a little more, made her try harder to be a little more quick and clever. Your older brother in everything but blood. Hermes had been one of the few people You missed other than your sisters.

He did travel to the underworld sometimes. Maybe you could see him again. Give him letters for your sisters.

Your eyes drifted closed, the dark red

canopy were the last thing you saw before sleep overtook You.

🌙💤💤🌙

There were sounds outside your door. You blinked at the candles by your bedside. They were much lower than before you went to sleep. The only sign that any time had passed at all.

You frowned at your door. It sounded like an argument. You stood and quietly walked to the door. You pressed your ear against it.

But the bloody thing was so thick, you weren't sure what was being said.

But you weren't going to just stand there especially after being woken up so rudely. You looked around your chambers for a weapon. Just in case.

You frowned when you realized there was nothing. You would just have to be ready to slam the doors.

With a deep breath, you pushed your bedchambers open.

The two men outside went quiet. Hypnos and another man You didn't know stood before you.

"Great, just great. Now look at what you did." Hypnos snapped at the other man.

"Me?" The man snapped back. He was about the same height as Hypnos but unlike Hypnos he wore only dark colors. His scythe loomed over all three as it gleamed even the candlelight.

"Yes you!" Hypnos grumbled. He turned to You, his normal smile gone. And you couldn't help but notice how much deeper the black circles have gotten.

"Y/N, I'm sorry. You will have to forgive us for our lack of manners. You can go back to sleep now." Hypnos turned back to the man. "Brother, I think our 'little talk' is done for now. You should be getting back to work right?" Hypnos' tone was sharp.

You didn't realize he could sound like that. Also brother?

The man frowned, and looked at You then at Hypnos.

"Fine, but you have a duty to the house. You need to grow up at some point."

Then he turned on his foot and walked away.

Once he was out of sight, Hypnos sighed as he looked at you. He was floating, the candles highlighted his face.

"I didn't know you had a brother." You stepped out of your bedchambers. You were only in a draped linen gown, a little inappropriate but you were too curious not to know.

"Two brothers, Thanatos and Charon. You just 'met' my twin, Thanatos." Hypnos said.

You could hear the exhaustion in his voice and your heart twisted. You will ask more about his brothers later.

"Have you gotten any sleep?" You felt silly asking the god of sleep if he got any rest. But those dark circles were all the proof you needed.

"Sure, I fall asleep on all time especially on the job!" Hypnos' smiled meanly, his hands spread out in a mock shrug.

"I mean real sleep." You crossed your arms. "Surely, the naps you take aren't enough."

Almost out of nowhere, a thought came.

"Wait, what exactly are you doing when you napping?" You asked.

Hypnos raised an eyebrow and silent took over.

"Does it matter?" He finally responded.

"It matters. At least to me." You didn't know what to make of this whole argument. There was something you were missing but you don't know what.

Hypnos was silent as he stopped floating. He walked closer, his light golden eyes not leaving your own eyes. You resisted stepping back, staying in place with your arms crossed. You cursed how warm you felt when Hypnos stopped in front of you.

"My brother is the God of Death. He gets those last few minutes of a human's life. Unbelievably terrifying for those poor humans I imagine." Hypnos leaned forward, his hand pressed against the wall, next to your waist.

You could feel a blush crawl up your neck and cheeks. "And what do you get?" You asked, hating the small tremble in your voice.

"One third. Sometimes more than that. Slowly over the years. When I sleep, I can go to humans and give them sleep or take away any sleep they want."

Hypnos' eyes were beautiful and you felt so exposed.

"So you haven't been getting much real sleep at all." You said, tearing your eyes away. On impulse, you reached up to touch the obol. You heard his breath hitched.

You had to put a stop to this. Or you would do something very foolish.

"Right then come along." You grabbed his wrist and pulled him into your bedchamber.

"Ah…" Hypnos sounded unsure.

"You need some sleep. I can't trust that you will if I leave you alone in your bedroom." Your blush was getting worse. "Also I doubt I will be able to get any more sleep. So I'm just going to keep an eye on you while I finish up some letters."

You cleared off the bed and gestured towards your bed.

Hypnos just stood there. "You don't-"

You waved his words away. "No one will bother you in here, so just try to get a nap in."

You sat down at your desk, feeling very foolish. You grabbed a blank paper and started writing down tasks for the library.

You heard Hypnos moved around and settled in your bed. You thought you heard him murmured something but didn't turned around to look.

Eventually you heard his soft breathing. This time you did look. He didn't get under the cover but did take one of the pillows and was on the opposite side you slept on.

If anyone asked why you allowed this, you just say you were helping your husband as a wife should.

Nothing more, nothing less.

You nodded, and tried not to think how your heart fluttered earlier.

🌙💤💤🌙

Your eyes blinked open. Frowning in confusion, you looked down at your papers. A blanket slipped off your shoulders and pooled around your feet.

Last night ( or day) memories flooded back. You had fell asleep at your desk.

You turned to look at your bed but Hypnos was gone. You didn't like how disappointed you felt. No need for that for that, you scolded yourself. You grapped the blanket to return it.

Only when you got closer, did you see what Hypnos left behind.

On the bed, a bottle of nectar and a note was tucked under the bottle.

'Thanks.' No name or anything, not that You needed one.

There was however a picture of an smiling face next to it.

"Oh Hypnos." You laughed.

Oh...

Oh dear what have You gotten yourself into to?

🌙💤💤🌙

#hypnos x reader #hades game #hades hypnos #this fic had taken over my life #the brothers love each other #they just having a rough patch rn #Hypnos could be bit of a jerk though #i love him

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scarletdawnxx-blog · 3 years

Text

Bucky Barnes x Reader One Shot

A/N: Hello All! I was recently inspired to start writing again. This is my first reader insert. Thought I would give it a try. Music is a big muse for my writing so a lot of my stuff will feature, be inspired by a song, or both. This is based on Wish you were gay by Bilie Eillish. Hope you enjoy! 18+ Mature Content.

You panted as you calculated your next move. You knew Bucky was a master assassin and a super solider, but you didn’t expect him to go so hard on you just sparing together. You could barely think about your next before he was coming at you again. You had tangled with both Nat and Steve before and were pretty well able to handle yourself, but Bucky kept coming at you with relentless aggression, and you wondered who had pissed in his cheerios that morning.

You dodged another right hook and tried to sweep his legs from under him only for him to jump out of the way and come up behind you and put you in a head lock. You used all your force to rear up and flip him over onto his back on the mat. You felt some satisfaction thinking you may have finally got the upper hand, but he was up quickly and hit you square in the chest sending you toward the wall of the gym that made hard contact with your back nearly knocking the wind out of you. Bucky then pulled a small knife from his back and threw it directly at you landing right next to your head. You looked over at it stunned before looking back to Bucky.

“What the hell Barnes, weapons really? What is your problem?” You asked shocked that he would take a simple training session so far. You pushed yourself off the wall giving yourself a little momentum going in to kick him in the gut, anger swelling inside of you, but he caught your foot flipping you down onto the mat. You had thought you were finally getting through to him and building at least somewhat of a friendship. You couldn’t deny that you wished it was more, but he blew so hot and cold you never knew which way was up with him.

“My problem is you are sloppy and let your guard down to easily, you get comfortable and that will get you or a team mate killed.” He said aggressively pointing a finger in your face . You just looked at him appalled that he would think you would ever put a member of the team at risk.

“I think we are done for the day,” Nat said. Steve, Nat, and Sam had all gathered to watch as yours and Buckys training session had turned from a simple sparing match to and almost drag out straight fight.

“I agree,” you said getting up and pushing past Bucky heading to your room.

“You know she could have you on your ass in a second if she really wanted to,” you heard Steve say. It was true, you never wanted to rely on your secret weapon, this power that was inside of you. You still didn’t understand it yourself, it scared you. It was one of the deals you made with the team when you joined. It would only ever be if there was no other option. Most everyone outside the core group thought you were just a skilled fighter and spy like Natasha, skilled with a computer and combat first aid. You could stitch up just about any wound in the middle of combat if you need to. You would sometimes help Tony or Bruce in the lab tinkering here and there. You and Bruce had a quiet understanding with each other. Each having something inside of you that you didn’t quite understand and that you tried to keep at bay. You two could quietly sit together for hours. It helped knowing that there was someone like you on the team.

Bucky had joined after you, so he wasn’t privy to that personal info. You made your way back to your room and turned your shower on. You were covered in sweat and your nerves were a little on edge after having a knife throw at your head. Any other time Bucky knife skills would have been a turn on. Watching that man fight should be illegal for the things it did to you, though being on the receiving end of a sharp projectile coming towards your head was another matter all together.

You peeled off your training gear and slipped under the hot water letting it wash over you and clear away the day. Your mind and shoulders began to relax as the water ran over you. You leaned your head against the wall feeling the cool tile on your forehead, with the warmth of the water on your back it helped to center your thoughts. You kicked yourself for having, what can only be described as a crush, on the one team member who was the most closed off. You all had trauma, it almost seemed like trauma was a requirement to be an Avenger, but Bucky closed himself off from everyone, well except Steve. Maybe he was gay, you mused to yourself. You wished he was gay. That would make things easier.

You finished up your shower, wrapped yourself up in a towel and fell on to your bed exhausted. “F.R.I.D.A.Y. What time is it?” You asked. “Three in the afternoon Ms.Y/L/N. A reminder that Mr. Stark is throwing Captain Rogers birthday party tonight, your dress has been pressed and placed in your closet.” the A.I. replied. You groaned remembering the party. Why Stark had insisted on a 40’s themed party was beyond you, but he loved any excuse to through a party. You decided to get a little nap in. Determined you were going to enjoy the evening despite the days events.

You awoke up feeling refreshed, grabbed a bite from the kitchen to take back to you room and started getting ready for the party. “F.R.I.D.A.Y. Play some Glen Miller for me.” You said to get yourself in the mood for the party. There was something about 40’s music you loved and you found yourself excited at the idea of putting on some vintage glam. You were just about finished getting ready when a knock rapped at your door.

“Come on in,” you called from your bathroom thinking it was Nat dropping by to head to the party together. You came out of the bathroom fiddling with your earring and not looking up. “Thank goodness you are here Nat, i need help with this dress.” When you heard a deep cough you looked towards your door and saw Bucky standing there in a 40’s military uniform. Damn did he look good. He has cut his long hair short again and with it styled he looked more handsome than ever. You stood stunned for a brief moment in nothing but your undergarments and heels. Knowing you looked amazing and not wanting to let him get the best of you, you stood confidently and asked what he wanted. He stammered and turned around to not look you.

“I just....um....sorry....I didn’t mean to....do you wanna maybe put a robe on or something?” You rolled you eyes and walked to your bed to pick up your dress and slid it on.

“It’s safe to turn around now, “ You told him. “And since you are here be helpful and zip me up?” You tuned your back to him facing the mirror in your room. You saw him come up behind you. His metal arm resting on your hip, you could feel the coolness through you dress and it made you shiver slightly and you hoped Bucky didn’t notice. As he zipped your dress you could feel his knuckles graze your back and your breath caught in your lungs. This wasn’t the first time Bucky had touched you, shit he had just beat the shit out of you a few hours ago, but this felt more intimate. You could feel his breath on the back of your neck, and his fingers slide across the back or your neck and down your shoulder. You stared in the mirror watching him the whole time, you could have sworn you saw him smell your hair and once again you were very confused on where you stood with his man. His blue eyes locked on yours in the mirror and you thought for a brief moment you could see desire in his eyes. You wanted nothing more than to turn around and grab the collar of his jacket and pull him into a deep kiss, forget the party and stay in your room with him the whole night. Before you could act on it he backed away from you.

“What was it you needed,” you asked annoyed. This man somehow made you want him so bad, but at the same time punch his smug face.

“I wanted to apologize for earlier, the knife was uncalled for.” He said straightens himself up.

“It was a little aggressive, why are you the hardest on me?” You asked him.

“I’m hard on everyone.” He stated simply. You rolled your eyes, he wasn’t gonna give you the answers you wanted so what was the point of pressing. “Glenn Miller?” He asked pointing up motioning to the music.

“What can I say, I like old things,” you said in a somewhat flirty tone. “Was that all you needed Barnes?” You asked looking at him with a small head tilt.

“Uh...Yeah, Ill see you at the party.” Bucky said rubbing the back of his neck and heading to the door. “You look beautiful by the way, the guys would have been painting you on the side of their planes during the war.” He said with a small smile as he waked out just as Nat was walking in.

“What was that about?” She asked. “Nothing, ready to head down?” You asked checking yourself over once more.

You head down to the large two story “entertaining space” as Stark like to call it. The band was in full swing and you could hear laughter and conversation filling the room. Grabbing a glass of champagne from a passing waiter you and Nat joined the crowd saying your hellos on the way. You saw Steve, Sam, and Bucky gathered around the pool table. Laughing and drinking, all in vintage Military uniforms and you silently thanked Tony for making this a themed party because boy did those men look good.

“How is the birthday boy,” you said greeting Steve with a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“Having some serious deja vu,” he laughed.

“Well that’s what happens when your 97 years old,” you teased. “You boys want to play with someone who actually knows what they are doing?” You asked taking Steve’s pool que.

“Be my guest,” Steve said with a smile putting his hands up and backing away slightly.

“Wanna make it more interesting with a bet?” Sam asked.

“Always,“ you responded leaning across the pool table towards him and Bucky with a flirty smile. “What will the odds be?” You asked as you started to rack up the balls.

“We doing teams?” Sam asked.

“Sure, you three against me? That seems like fair odds.” You stated confidently.

“Oh that’s how it’s gonna be huh?” Sam asked always amused by you.

“That’s how it’s gonna be.” You said. “I win and you three have to take me for a spin on the dance floor, I don’t look like this to just sit and be pretty.”

“And what if we win?” Bucky asked finally speaking up. You laughed to yourself.

“Whatever you boys want to think up“you said as you lined up your shot breaking the balls and sinking 5 right away. “I’ll take solids.” You said as you lined up your next shot sinking three more balls before the guys even got a chance. They just stood in awe of you.

“I feel like we have been tricked,” Sam said as he lined his shot up only sinking one ball before missing a shot. You knew they never stood a chance against you. Years of hanging in a bar with your alcoholic father had given you more practice than you would ever need. You enjoyed this though. Hanging with the guys and laughing as you made easy work of the pool table. “Eight ball left top corner, “ you said leaning over the pool to line up you last shot, you glanced over your shoulder to see that Bucky was checking you out. “Like what you see soldier?” You asked as you sank the eight ball with no trouble. You turned around to see Bucky slightly blushing and trying to avoid eye contact with you as Sam teased him slightly.

“Well boys i think we have been had,” Steve said offering his arm to you. “Care for a dance?” He asked.

“Absolutely old man,” you said and let him lead you to the dance floor. The music was lively as Steve spun you around the dance floor. You can’t remember the last time you were having this much fun, not just yourself, but the group as a whole. The superhero business didn’t exactly lend itself well to normalcy. No going out with friends or really having normal lives at all. Any attachments where a liability and a possible target for anyone trying to get to you. You were lucky you didn’t really have any family to speak of anymore. Except you guess the people around you now and you were thankful for them. You made your way over to the bar after dancing with Steve, grabbing your favorite cocktail you started to make your way around the room, saying hellos here and there and making small talk with some of the other guest. Rhodey telling one of his War Machines stories that you had heard ten times before but the locals always found them amusing. Tony and Bruce having a debate over something. Nat, Clint, and Agent Hill, enjoying their drinks and laughing. You assumed about one of Clints kids since he was showing pictures on his phone. You smiled to yourself as you continue to scan the room, your eyes eventually landing on Bucky. He was staring at you from across the room as he sipped a bourbon. He had a not so amused look on his face, but a hand wrapping around your backside pulled your attention away as some random, fairly drunk man tried to ask you to dance. You politely declined, removing his hand from your body and walking away. Bucky you noticed had disappeared from his previous spot. You found Wanda and Vision cozied up together and sought familiar faces in hopes the man got the idea and left you be.

“Y/N you have been getting quite the attention tonight,” Wanda commented as you perched yourself on the arm of the chair opposite them. You blushed and smiled.

“Not from anyone that matters,” you joked, or at least you hoped it came across as a joke. You knew who you really wanted attention from.

“Heard training got a little intense today, but you seem to have recovered,” Vision commented.

“A little misunderstanding.” You said.

“ I’ve come to uphold my end of the wager,” Sam said offering his hand to you. You finished your drink and placed it on the tray of a passing server and let Sam led you to the dance floor. “So how many men did you swindle out of some pocket change with your impressive pool skills?” Sam asked over the music.

“My fair share.” You smiled remembering how you use to hustle men out of their money to get by. You had been on your own since you were 17 and only had so many skills at the time.

“You could have warned us,” Sam joked with you.

“You never asked, and where would the fun be in that anyway.”

“Steve knew didn’t he?” Sam asked.

You laughed and nodded. Steve had found you once playing by yourself on a night you couldn’t sleep. You had just gotten back from a particular grueling mission and were having a hard time readjusting. It became a small tradition for you guys after that night. After every mission, once everyone had settled back in, you and Steve would find yourself around the pool, play a few rounds. He would tell you stories of growing up, you never much opened up about your past, mostly just kept asking him question to keep the topic of conversation squarely on him. Steve was the big brother you wished you had growing.

The night continued on, you had a few more drinks, a few more dances, and were really starting to feel relaxed and happy, your face almost hurting from all the smiling you had been doing. Steve and Sam were swapping stories with some old WWII vets, the other core members of the group had started to gather closer together. You were surprised to see that Thor had stopped by. He wasn’t on earth often. He tipped his drink in your direction as you leaned against the bar, content in people watching. You smiled and returned the gesture. He motioned to the small flask in his hand and back at you and you laughed and shook your head no. Never had you had such a bad hang over as when you trusted him with a drink. You felt a cold hand touch your arm and turned, a little to quickly for how many drinks you had had, and lost your balance slightly. Luckily Bucky had such quick reflexes to catch you before you made a fool of yourself. You were pressed very close to him his face nears yours.

“Guess I’m the last one who hasn’t held their end of the bargain yet.”

“I didn’t think you were ever going to” you said coolly.

“A deal is a deal right.” You nodded and made your way to the dance floor, where the music had been more up beat when you danced with Steve and Sam, a slower song began to play. Bucky pulled you in close, his vibranium arm wrapped around your waist as he took your right hand in his. You were so close you could swear you felt his heart beat. He smelled so wonderful, warm and welcoming, a smell that made you feel safe and tingle all over. You swayed along to the music in comfortable silence, looking up at him you noticed he had been staring at you. You couldn’t help but stare into his eyes. You could stare into them for the rest of your life and not feel like it was long enough. You were mentally kicking yourself for having these feelings for someone you were sure didn’t feel the same way about you. But as you stared into his eyes you thought again you saw desire there, your faces just a breath away, it wouldn’t take much to reach up and kiss him. You thought he may have been thinking the same thing. That was until the song ended and he quickly let you go and walked away without another word leaving you in the middle of the dance floor alone and confused.

“Well that was interesting” Nat said coming up behind, startling you.

“Damn it, Nat don’t do that.” You scolded her.

“I thought he was going to kiss you for a minute.” She mused as you walked over to join the rest of the group of avengers that had gathered.

“Right, after he nearly killed me this afternoon.” You joked back with her.

“He is a hard one to read, I’ll give you that.” She handed you a drink and you took it.

“Do you think there is something going on between him and Steve?” You asked which caused her to almost spit her drink out from laughter.

“If Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes are gay then I’m the Queen of England,” Nat responded laughing and shaking her head.

“Well they are just so close and I never see any of them with women,” you continued quietly with her so the others didn’t overhear.

“I can assure you Steve is not gay,” and she sipped her drink giving you a sly smile.

“Natasha Romanoff are you sleeping with Captain America?” You asked in fake shock.

She gave you a wink and smiled. Good for them, you thought. If Steve had a best friend other than Bucky it was Nat.

“What are you two conspiring about over there?” Tony asked pulling your attention back to the group.

“Nothing,” you both responded at the same time causing the group to laugh.

“Well Rogers, did I throw you a great party or what?” Tony gloated

“I have to admit, tonight was much needed.” Steve allowed Tony some small satisfaction. The evening had been much needed. Somehow the conversation turned to odd talents that the group had, other than what they brought to the team. Sam talked about his excellent cooking skills, Nat could play the piano, Vision had learned some magic tricks which you found amusing.

“I already know Y/N secret talent, she is a pool shark, girl is a seriously hustler” Sam said.

“Actually that isn’t my only talent. I used to sing, way back when.” You told the group.

“Oh I have got to hear this then,” Tony said getting up.

“No Tony, really, I haven’t sang in front of a large group in years.” You pleaded.

“Oh come on, live a little,” Nat nudged you and the others agreed. You sighed looking at the group in front of you. Again your eyes found Bucky. They seemed to always be searching Bucky out. Again he was at a distance, sipping his drink. Some girl gabbing away at him but his eyes were on you. It riled something up inside of you and you stood.

“Alright, you guys better enjoy this,” you said.

“Excellent,” Tony exclaimed rubbing his handing together and walking you to the stage. “Ok everyone listen up. We have a treat for you this evening. A singing Avenger. Not to be confused with a singing telegram. So everyone give it up for Y/N”. The room clapped as Tony made his way off stage. You talked to the band leader and they know the song you wanted to do.

"Baby, I don't feel so good", six words you never understood "I'll never let you go", five words you'll never say

You began to sing your body moving with the beat of the music.

I laugh along like nothing's wrong, four days has never felt so long If three's a crowd and two was us, one slipped away I just wanna make you feel okay

You looked straight at Bucky

But all you do is look the other way I can't tell you how much I wish I didn't wanna stay I just kinda wish you were gay Is there a reason we're not through? Is there a 12-step just for you? Our conversation's all in blue 11 "heys" (Hey, hey, hey, hey) Ten fingers tearin' out my hair Nine times, you never made it there I ate alone at seven, you were six minutes away

You were really starting to enjoy yourself and had forgotten how much you liked to perform.

How am I supposed to make you feel okay When all you do is walk the other way? I can't tell you how much I wish I didn't wanna stay

You motioned for the crowd to join you on the next line

I just kinda wish you were gay

And they all joined except Bucky who stared at you with an equally amused and annoyed look on his face.

To spare my pride To give your lack of interest, an explanation Don't say I'm not your type Just say that I'm not your preferred sexual orientation I'm so selfish But you make me feel helpless, yeah And I can't stand another day Stand another day I just wanna make you feel okay But all you do is look the other way, hmm I can't tell you how much I wish I didn't wanna stay I just kinda wish you were gay I just kinda wish you were gay I just kinda wish you were gay

You finished the song to loud applause and raised your glass in a silent toast with a smug grin on your face.

“Alright everyone, give it up for Y/N. And I would just like to say if being an Avenger doesn’t work out, you will certainly have a career in entertainment and I will take full credit for your discovery.” Tony said. “I would like to thank everyone for coming out to Captain Rogers birthday party. You all look amazing, please continue to enjoy the open bar and music and don’t forget to tip.” Tony finished before the band continued to play on. The group greeted you with another round of applause and cheers.

“Thank you, thank you,” you said giving a small curtsy. “I think I will end the evening on a high note and turn in.” The group protested but you were very ready to head back to you bed, the endorphins wearing off. You made you way back down to your room, the halls dark and quite, a vast difference from the party going on 5 floors above you.

“That was quite the performance,” a voice whispered in your ear and your fight instincts kicked in and you grabbed the head of whoever was behind you, flipping them over you and on to their back, and placing a heeled foot on their chest, ready to fight.

“Jesus, Barnes, do you have a death wish.” You asked seeing the shocked face of Bucky looking up at you from the ground. You stepped back and helped him up.

“Where did that strength come from,” he asked dusting himself off. You just shrugged. The power inside you had just swelled, and you cursed yourself for not having more control over it.

“Maybe don’t sneak up on a person in the dark,” You fired back at him going to walk around him towards your door when he grabbed your arm stopping you.

You looked from his arm to him, an eyebrow raised on your face. He stepped closer to you, wrapping your waist with his metal arm pulling you in and pressing your body against his. It all happened so fast you barely had time to realize his lips crashing into yours. He dropped your arm wrapping you fully in his as he deepened the kiss, running his tongue across you lip, urging you mouth to open. Your arm ran up his chest feeling his muscles under your fingers. They made their way to his hair and you buried your fingers in it, your mouth welcoming him. Your heart pounding in your chest and a warmth spreading over your body. He lifted you up and you wrapped your legs around him not breaking your kiss. He pushed you against the door to your room, dropped an arm fiddling with the door handle to get it open. It finally sprung open and Bucky carried you inside, closing the door with his foot. He placed you back down on your feet, still kissing you as he got rid of his jacket, and shoes. Your fingers started to undo the buttons of his shirt and pushed it off his shoulders exposing his bare chest to you. You allowed yourself moment to take him in and began to kiss down his neck to his chest, your fingers exploring his torso. His warm skin, running across the scars where his arm had been replaced. You placed light kisses over them, thinking maybe you could kiss away the pain he had endured all those years. You took his left hand in yours and brought it up and placed a small kiss on the palm of his hand while looking him in the eyes, there way so much behind them, longing, sadness, and something primal that made you weak in the knees. His hand snaked behind your neck and pulled you in for another deep kiss. This one was not as urgent, it was tender, it told you more about the man standing in front of you than any conversation ever could. He poured all of himself into that kiss, the boy Steve knew growing up, the soldier that was captured and tortured, the broken man that had been on the run and alone, and now the man that had found a family and a home again. A man still struggling every day to find himself again. He pulled back from you and looked in your eyes asking for permission. You gave him a small nod and turned around. He unzipped your dress and it fell to the floor. His hands roamed up your body feeling your curves as he kissed your neck, a hand slipping into your bra and tugging at your nipple sending a shock wave straight to your already wet folds as you let out a gentle moan. You turned around and laid yourself back on the bed and Bucky took you in never wanting anything more in his whole life. He made quick work of removing his pants before crawling on top of you and capturing your mouth in another passionate kiss. His body felt so good and right on top of yours. His hand slipped behind your back undoing your bra and helping you to toss it to the side as he took a breast into his mouth, his tongue swirling around and teasing your nipple. You could feel the scuff of his five o’clock shadow against the softness of your skin and your whole body was on fire for this man. His free hand traveled down your body and slipped into your panties. Running a finger through your wet folds. You hadn’t been touched like this is so long, you arched into his hand, and moaned. He kissed you again as his finger continued to explore, his thumb slipping over your clit as he slide a finger inside of you and then another. You were coming undone quickly. He took his time drawing his fingers in and out of you, your body matching the rhythm of his movements. You could feel an orgasm building, the intense feeling almost to much to handle. You wanted to cum so badly but not as badly as wanting to feel Bucky inside of you. You grab his arm, still his movement and he looked at you confused.

“ Do you want me to stop” he asked concerned.

“ No,” you said in a breathy manor. “ I want to feel you inside of me, I need to feel you,” you said sitting up and pushing him down onto his back. You removed the last of his clothing before removing your panties. You stroked the hard length of his cock before positioning yourself over him. You took him in slowly, enjoying each second of feeling him fill you. You could hear him moan and that alone almost sent you over the edge. You leaned down and kissed him before slowly moving your hips back and forth, feeling him deep inside of you, hitting just the right spot. You continue the slow pace, taking your time. Placing your hands firmly on his chest, sitting up you continued to ride him, his hands roamed your body, one moved to your hips urging your movements, the other massaging your breast and tugging on your nipple. You orgasm building anew.

“ Look at me,” he said and as your eyes met his you came undone. Your orgasm hitting you, taking over your whole body. The sensation was overwhelming. Your lips crashed into his as he lifted you and rolled you on to your back, not even breaking the contact between. He held you tightly as he began to move in and out of you, his movements keeping your orgasm going. You didn’t know how much more you could take. Your nails racking across his back, feeling his muscles flex under them.

“James,please.” Escaped your lips as you felt another orgasm building. Something that had never happened to you before. Your words seemed to urge him on as his movements became faster and deeper.

“ Say it again,” he growled into your neck.

“Please,” you moaned

“No my name,” he responded kissing you.

“James,” you whispered against his lips. It didn’t take long for him to come undone inside of you setting off another intense orgasm.

You laid there, connected, breathless, heart pounding, bodies covered in a thin layer of sweat. Bucky rolled off of you, you shivered, the absence of his warmth left you open to the coolness of the night air. He pulled you in close, as he moved the bedspread to cover the two of you. Being wrapped in his arms, your lust satiated, your body relaxed in the afterglow, you felt how tired you were. Bucky placed a kiss on your forehead.

“It’s ok, sleep doll.” He whispered to you. You smiled to yourself. He was definitely not gay, which he proved to you again in the morning. And many days after that.

#bucky x y/n #bucky imagine #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #rating: mature #marvel #avengers #romance #oneshot

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ushidoux · 3 years

Text

Be My Last - Iwaizumi x Reader (Pt. 3)

Summary: You have trouble getting over a past relationship and it’s preventing you from moving forward. (~2.5k words)

Warnings: again poor communication!!! angst, no sex in this chapter

A/N: Let me know what you think!

Part 1|| Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5

---

“Oi, you fucking bastard, you knew!”

Iwa losing his temper over the phone wasn’t exactly atypical, even if it had become a less frequent occurrence, but for once Oikawa was actually genuinely surprised to hear his friend this angry over the phone. Especially given that it was almost 2pm in San Juan, which made it the very early AM in Tokyo, so whatever had worked him up had also kept him up way past his bedtime, given that Iwa was now extremely careful about his sleep hygiene.

Oikawa took enough time to properly swallow the bite he’d just taken of his choripan before answering.

“What did I know, Iwa-chan?” He finally inquired, setting down his sandwich in the wrapper spread across his lap before leaning back into the park bench on which he was sitting. It was a wonderful sunny day, the type of day where it was a shame you were being yelled at, he mused briefly.

“About ___ and Ushijima.”

Oikawa’s eyebrows furrowed, not that Iwa could see the confusion on his face. There was a short pause which Oikawa broke eventually.

“Am I missing something or…?” His genuinely confused tone didn’t serve in any way to make Iwa less irritated.

“You didn’t say anything!” He hissed loudly enough that Oikawa winced, holding his cellphone a good distance from his ear before answering. “You used to tell me about that motherfucker’s every move, and now that it’s useful information, you have nothing to say?”

Oikawa frowned.

“Why are you blaming me for your communication issues, Iwa-chan?!” He all but whined.

When Iwa’s voice grew silent on the other line, Oikawa grew slightly nervous. But he was right. This was a particularly severe lapse in communication between Iwa and you that he was now projecting onto him, severe because clearly it had ended up being a bigger deal than it should have been in the first place.

As much as Iwa didn’t want to admit it, yesterday evening was evidence that something was very, very wrong in his relationship with you, or at the very least a residual tangled web of feelings to sort out, and it wasn’t exactly something he could easily fix or improve on his own.

Not that he wouldn’t try.

“What happened?” Oikawa finally asked, and Iwa retreated.

“Nothing. I’ll… talk to you later.”

The phone cut off on Iwa’s end and Oikawa sighed with mild irritation before returning to his lunch thousands of miles away.

On the other side of the globe, Iwa made his way from the balcony to the bedroom, setting his phone down on the nightstand and taking a glance at you who had appeared to be finally sleeping soundly, but betrayed by the intermittent soft hiccups of someone who had been crying just moments earlier.

He hadn’t meant to make you cry. In fact, he hadn’t even meant to force another discussion at all, but hours after the last guests had filed out, none the wiser about the fight that had just transpired earlier (even if Hinata had made a single innocent comment about the bruise blooming on Ushijima’s cheek), the elephant in the room had grown entirely too large for him to bear. Unfortunately, the simple demand for clarification had spiraled out of control and ended up with a shouting match which had culminated in you bursting into tears.

It wasn’t a good look for him to behave like this.

Even so, Iwa couldn’t stop thinking about how the subject of your argument had replied to his grumbled apology with the admission that he probably deserved the hit for all he’d done. Somehow, the persistent remorse in his voice made Iwa consider hitting him a second time for good measure.

That wouldn’t be the right move either. There wasn’t really a right move, was there? All Iwaizumi could do was hope that everything would blow over.

You loved him after all; he was sure of it.

---

you knew, didn’t you?

knew what?

You grit your teeth at the quickly returned text message, then set your phone down at your desk letting out a hushed but aggravated sigh, before picking it up again and typing furiously.

you texted me, ‘how’s everything going?’ right before all that shit happened.

that could mean literally anything??? What???

You didn’t know how much longer your friend was going to feign innocence, but it looked like not very long because once your eyes flitted back to the unfinished project proposal you had been working on, your phone quickly buzzed again.

By the time you had told her what happened this morning on your morning commute to work, she had grown a little too quiet, interjecting very little as you spoke and not asking any clarifying questions. You had assumed that she had just been being extra considerate, but now that it was early afternoon and there was a lull in your concentration, it occurred to you again just how clearly she must have anticipated the awkward situation.

YOU said you didn’t follow sports anymore + it’s been 3 years. HOW was I supposed to know you were going to overreact?

Overreact?

There was a small pause in which you saw her speech bubble pop up and then down, and then up again.

Not overreacting I guess, but I’m just confused… Don’t you and Iwa talk? How did it become a huge deal?

You decided you didn’t really have an answer to that. All you could do was return a noncommittal idk, letting the conversation die out and returning back to the task at hand.

---

“Mommy, why does he look like that?”

Ushijima glanced for a split second at the small child pointing openly at him, giving a small, understanding nod to the mortified mother trying to quiet her son’s whispers before continuing on his way back to his hotel.

His face didn’t exactly throb anymore, but the bruise he had been gifted with was very noticeable even if he had to be thankful he didn’t have a black eye. Iwa had hit him surprisingly hard, which was good. At the very least, he could count on him to protect you.

Getting hit in the face by your athletic trainer wasn’t ideal but he and Iwaizumi were both professionals. They could put it past them.

Even if they didn’t have a deep friendship, there was a sort of camaraderie since they’d met in California years ago. That relationship didn’t have to sour, he told himself.

He just needed to give you two a wide berth.

Even if he didn’t want to, he had to. It was the right, mature thing to do.

Even if he didn’t miss on the court, he’d missed a crucial set in life.

He had no right to demand a second chance.

---

You hadn’t traveled home alone in a while, you realized, as you set pace towards your apartment after a long shift. The subway was cramped as usual, but the closeness of the quarters felt more noticeable and uncomfortable now that Iwa’s hand wasn’t holding yours and keeping you close to him. He’d messaged you about an hour before you were about to leave work to give you a heads up that he would be returning late, and for a moment, you wondered if it were really true or if he was still mad at you.

But you knew Iwa well enough to be confident that he didn’t hold grudges, and if he were still uncomfortable he would tell you - he would never actively avoid you.

Then again, you hadn’t had a conflict like this before.

I don’t love him, I only love you, you’d said to him almost screaming, defensive because Iwa’s voice had sounded hurt when you failed to come up with the words to explain why you were so shaken still.

You’d meant that with your whole heart. So why exactly did you react so poorly?

Maybe it was the final death rattle of unresolved feelings, rearing their ugly head before being banished to whatever realm past hurts went once they were healed.

When you finally made it to your apartment, you stood for a moment at the entryway after flipping the light switch, taking a couple of seconds to blink away the fact that things didn’t look quite right.

For a moment, you couldn’t remember exactly when you had replaced your TV - was that before or after Ushijima? Had that couch always been in that position?

Fatigue even made you wonder where your houseplants had gone, until you remembered you had all but given them all away, telling yourself that those last vestiges of your relationship would have to vanish before you could truly count yourself moved on.

Now that the plants were gone, were you truly over it?

You let out a sigh and set your keys down before shooting a message to Iwa to let him know that you had made it home. That proposal wouldn’t write itself, and you could tackle it anew once you’d treated yourself with a warm bath and a modest glass of wine.

---

Seated in his soon-to-be minimally used office, Iwaizumi leafed through the short stack of papers before him, including prior athletic history and a formal written statement from the team physician. Satisfied, he gathered the documents and gently pushed them across the desk towards the silent, patiently waiting athlete sitting across from him.

“It looks like you’re cleared for practice tomorrow,” he said, offering a measured smile to Ushijima.

“Not that I expected any issues,” Iwa continued, compelled to keep speaking from the lack of response from the man before him. While he didn’t exactly sense hostile energy from Ushijima, it seemed like he was even more difficult to read than usual.

Then again, Iwa was unsure if he was projecting; he acknowledged that prior to this very moment in time, he had been more standoffish than usual, having avoided unnecessary interaction with Ushijima during the day’s orientation activities.

He took a surreptitious glance at the wall clock above his head. There were only two more members to clear after Ushijima and then he’d be done for the day and could go back home to you, maybe picking up sushi on the way home as a peace offering.

Ushijima didn’t exactly look like he was getting ready to leave, but Iwa hadn’t explicitly dismissed him.

The two sat in an awkward silence and Iwa wondered if he should apologize again to settle the stagnant air between them, not knowing that the man before him was considering the exact same thing.

What happens now? seemed to be the question du jour.

“How’s your father?” Iwa asked abruptly, shifting in his chair and leaning forward on elbows propped onto the desk, maybe a little too forward, in attempts to keep his mind off the fact that the volleyball player before him had also played with his love’s heart.

“He’s been well. Thank you for asking.”

Another pause ensued and Iwa was running out of ways to tell him politely to get out of his office for his next client, but for once Ushijima was the one to break the silence.

“I want us to have a good working relationship despite everything.”

The statement hung in the air for a second before settling and Iwa could feel irritation start to bubble in the pit of his stomach once again, but instead he forced a pleasant smile.

“Of course.”

---

With feet tucked beneath you, your laptop perched on the glass coffee table and a half-drunk glass of white wine (refilled once) atop the end table next to the couch, the sad truth was that you had only written about five lines in the past 45 minutes.

Instead, against all the advice you’d ever been given in your life, you had sleuthed your way into your ex’s Instagram and Facebook accounts, gleaning as much information as you could about what had happened after you were two, after you’d blocked him cold turkey on every social media application and vowed never to look back.

As expected, the pictures and life updates he posted were few and far between, but there were still some to learn from, especially when you looked through those snapshots taken by others in his life. You were initially surprised to see old pictures of you together still up if you went back far enough, but clicked past them quickly because the fact that you looked so happy was more irritating than sad at this point of time.��

You took another sip of your wine, feeling a soft warmth in your cheeks and a light pleasant haze fill your head while you kept perusing. Some pictures you recognized from his prior team here, Schweiden Adlers, and then there were other promotional images from a new team, Orzel Warsawa... He had even traveled to Poland without your knowledge, you mused.

You took special note of women he looked all too close to for friendship as you browsed, noting a gorgeous, tall blonde in several pictures he appeared to have dated for a brief stint of a couple of months.

1 short relationship in three years. It was a shame, you thought. They could have had the prettiest kids.

And there, you finally realized your internal monologue was crazy. Why were you doing this again?

You threw back the final bit of wine and switched back to your Word document. Maybe writing while a little tipsy wasn’t the best of ideas but any words on the page were better than none.

…

It didn’t take long for you to doze off and your boyfriend to find you sprawled on your belly on the sofa, your glass empty and precariously placed at the edge of the sofa, and your laptop placed just inches above your head.

Iwa’s smile was immediate as he admired your silly position while setting down dinner, quickly walking over to gather you up for bed.

You murmured slightly as he scooped you into his arms, your face instinctively nuzzling his chest. He couldn’t help but think of how cute you were, kissing your forehead softly before tucking you under the covers. You had been so exhausted lately from work, so he’d let you get some early shuteye rather than disturb your peace.

Leaving the bedroom to eat dinner alone on the couch, he noted your laptop in suboptimal location, moving it to the table before sitting down to avoid a future accident.

It flashed on with the slight movement, revealing a lengthy document with heavy blocks of text, which he saved just in case because autosave failure would bring you to tears. He then clicked out, only to see the results of your cyberstalking session.

His heart may have skipped a beat or two but he closed your laptop instead, leaning back into his chair to finish eating dinner.

The uneasiness that filled his stomach instead had to be related to the raw fish he’d brought home.

There was simply no other explanation, couldn’t be.

#iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwa x reader #ushijima x reader #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #iwaizumi #iwaizumi hajime #ushijima #haikyuu x reader #ushijima wakatoshi #series: be my last #mae.writing

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peaceoutofthepieces · 3 years

Text

chapter 34 (part II)

Fake Making-It

Social Media AU

part I

again, this isn’t proofread, because I literally wrote it all today, so sorry for any mistakes!

~^~

Lucas feels a little lost. He’s been looking around for what feels like hours, and he can’t find Sander. He hasn’t seen Robbe, either, or their friends Moyo and Aaron.

He isn’t sure if he’s looking for Jens.

He finds himself in the dimly lit bathrooms, and he sighs, lifting his beer to his lips and taking a gulp. He moves to the sinks and glances at himself in the mirror, brushing a hand through his curls. It’s a pointless attempt, trying to coerce them back into place. He gives up fairly quickly and takes another drink. His heart has sped up to the slightly uncomfortable rhythm of intoxicated.

For a moment he just stands there, bottle hanging by his side, and takes a few slow breaths. It doesn’t really do anything to steady his heartbeat, but it helps clear his head a little. This is when he finally takes notice of the humming.

He furrows his brows and spins around, eyeing the closed stall in the corner. Listening more intently, he realises the humming is a quiet singing, and he creeps closer to the stall and stares at the door. From here he can make out a few words, but he doesn’t have to to recognise the voice.

“Jens?”

The singing stops.

Lucas waits, and after a moment, he hears the slide of the lock and the door swings open. It reveals Jens curled up in the cramped space, sitting on the closed toilet with his back to one wall and his feet pressed to the other. He has his own beer cradled in his lap, with his other hand still holding the door open, and he’s staring at Lucas.

Lucas purses his lips to stop them from turning up in a smile. “What are you doing?”

Jens is blushing slightly. He shrugs. “There’s more people now. They were staring at me.”

“So you’re hiding, by singing?”

“I didn’t think there was anyone in here,” he grumbles.

Lucas huffs a laugh, smile coming out in full. “Obviously.” He leans against the door of the stall as Jens rolls his eyes, and tilts his head consideringly. “Why didn’t you come get one of us?”

“Didn’t wanna bother you. Couldn’t find Robbe.”

Lucas hums. “I can’t find them either.”

“No Sander?”

“Nope, up and disappeared.”

Jens sniffs. “On Valentine’s Day?”

“It’s after midnight now, so…”

“Still. Shouldn’t have abandoned you.”

Lucas takes a long breath, quiet enough that Jens doesn’t notice, the musician having resorted to staring at the wall again. He doesn’t want to talk about this. He doesn’t want to think about it. Not when Jens is right here. Now when they’re supposed to be giving him a good night. He swallows down his protests and reassurances and instead says, “It’ll be really weird if someone finds you in here.”

“Yeah, but now you’re here.”

“I think that probably makes it weirder,” Lucas points out, smiling again. Jens doesn’t respond, and he sighs, knocking his fist on the stall door before turning on his heel. “Come on.”

He hears Jens scrambling after him with a small sound of protest. “What? I don’t wanna go back out there.”

“So we won’t. Well, we’ll just pass through.”

“Where are we going, then?”

Lucas looks around at him and raises his brows, pushing through the door back out to the bar. “Wherever you want.”

Slowly, Jens smiles.

They weave their way through the crowd, Jens sticking close behind him, so close that Lucas can feel his heat. He’s almost sure Jens actually has a hand curled in the back of his shirt, can feel the knuckles brushing against his spine. He ignores it and leads them to the room they’d left their coats, and Jens releases him to fish out his phone. He messages Robbe, to ask where the hell he is and to tell him they’re leaving. Before he has even hit send, there’s someone calling his name.

Lucas shoots a quick glance in that vague direction and doesn’t see any of their friends. He takes Jens by the wrist and draws him towards the front door, speeding up when more calls come and Jens begins urging him on. Lucas keeps a firm hold on him and gets them to the door. They’re almost running now, and they don’t stop as they burst through the door and start down the street. Beyond that, they’re laughing. Giggling like girls, downright giddy. Lucas is glad they had abandoned their beers in the bar, because by now he’s sure they’d have spilled them all over the street and themselves.

It’s only when they’ve made it onto a new street that they latch onto each other and stop, trying to catch their breath. Instead they catch each other’s eyes and break into laughter again.

Jens lets out an exaggerated ‘woo’ of relief, still clutching at Lucas’s collar. “Nice save,” he approves.

“Oh yeah,” Lucas snorts. He’s still holding onto both of Jens’s arms. “Very well thought out on my end.”

“My knight in shining armour,” Jens mocks, completing it with a small bow. He almost trips as he does so, and it sends them into another fit of giggles as he flounders for Lucas’s hand. Lucas waits until he’s steady, heart hammering, and then quickly lets go.

They take another moment to catch their breaths and look at where they’ve ended up, and then Lucas raises his brows at Jens.

Jens looks back at him and swallows. “There’s a swingset and stuff by the skatepark. It should be dead this late.”

Lucas tucks his hands into the pockets of his coats and nods, finding his lips drawing up in a smile again. “Lead the way.”

They’re quiet as they make their way through the dark streets, still sticking close but no longer touching. Jens scuffs his feet every few steps, and Lucas wonders if he wishes he was skating. It seems, even now, like his preferred method of transport. He picks up the pace, and Lucas does his best to keep up with the other’s longer legs.

They make it to a small park, set up with a kids climbing frame and slide and, as promised, a swingset. Jens makes a beeline directly for it and sits on one of them, tucking his arms around the chains and digging his feet into the ground to start pushing himself back and forth.

For a moment, Lucas simply watches, smiling. He had wondered if Jens was actually taking a day off, giving himself time to chill, but he hadn’t seemed at all relaxed in the bar. Now, however, he does, swinging gently back and forth with his eyes closed and a small smile on his lips, uncaring of Lucas watching him. Then he opens his eyes and meets Lucas’s, and beckons him over with a flick of his hand.

Lucas goes. It takes a moment to get settled comfortably in the swing, and he wishes he’d just worn his denim jacket instead of the long black coat he kept for more formal occasions. He’d watched Jens’s eyes sweep over him at the start of the night, however, and that had reassured him of his choice.

He wraps his hands around the chains and kicks himself into a swinging motion. “This is pretty much exactly like the one Isa used to love at home.”

“Isa?” Jens questions.

“One of my friends from school,” Lucas explains, smiling wider. “We still talk. For some reason she used to think a swingset was a great place for serious conversation.”

Jens huffs, pushing himself to match the speed and height of Lucas’s swings. “Okay. Serious conversation time, then.”

“Oh shit. Walked into that one.”

Jens huffs again, shooting him a grin. “When did you get into designing? Or how?”

“Oh.” This is a much safer topic than Lucas had expected. “I don’t know. I always kind of liked art, but even that, I kept it mostly private, just doodling and stuff where no one would see. I kind of dulled everything about myself down like that. My fashion sense was just as good as yours, which…”

“Hey,” Jens protests, though he’s fighting a smile.

Lucas grins, shrugging. “Then, I don’t know, it didn’t feel like me. So one day I just started fucking around with some of my clothes. I bought this like, multi-pack of kids fabric paint and just went for it. It was a fucking mess.”

Jens laughs, loud and surprised. “But it made you think, hey, I just wanna do this for the rest of my life?”

“God, no,” Lucas snorts, and Jens laughs louder. “But it still felt...good. I made the mess look purposeful and turned it into this paint-splatter, tie-dye, rainbow thing and I wore it the next day and Isa’s friend, Engel, kept asking where I got it and then begged me to make her something when I explained and, I don’t know. Since then I just kind of started, making stuff for my friends, and it spiraled from there.”

“And now here you are,” Jens muses.

“With the biggest celebrity in Antwerp.”

It’s teasing more than it is genuine, and Jens scoffs and twists his swing around to kick at Lucas, resulting in a rough tangle of legs. Jens yelps and grabs onto the chains with his hands when he’s almost tugged from the seat. Lucas tosses his head in a laugh and almost tips backwards. They’re both probably a little bit tipsy. Not drunk, definitely not, but both had clearly been on their way. Jens possibly more so than him.

“How are you?” Lucas thinks to ask. “After everything today. Was the stressing necessary?”

Jens starts swinging again and thinks before shaking his head. “No, probably not. I mean it when I say it’s not why I do it, you know, the whole publicity thing. I didn’t decide I wanted to be a celebrity, I just love making music and I thought how cool it would be if I managed to do it for a living. But then when people actually like it...it feels good, you know? It feels like I’m doing something but also like, I don’t know, I’m understood. Like people like me for what I have to say.”

“Or it could be because you’re hot.”

This startles another laugh out of Jens. “Okay, objectify me some more, why don’t you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Dumbass.” Jens grins.

“Hey, we’re having a serious conversation,” Lucas protests, kicking out at him this time, unable to help grinning back. Jens mimes zipping his lips and Lucas nods approvingly. “When did you realise this is what you wanted to do?”

Jens doesn’t hesitate. “Always. Music is the only thing I ever felt really passionate about, I guess. For the same reason as you. It’s just my version of art that makes me feel like myself.”

Lucas drags his feet against the grass underneath him until he stops swinging. Jens has already stilled, and he turns his head to look at Lucas. “You always do that,” Lucas says. “Say things like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you understand. You say it so confidently. Like you know me.”

“Don’t I?” Jens asks, brow furrowed and still smiling slightly. Before Lucas can answer, he says, “If I don’t, I want to.”

Lucas swallows. His question comes out as a whisper. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” Jens admits.

Lucas sways slightly, looking down at the ground even as he twists his body towards Jens, listening. Jens’s feet creep towards his own as he twists around, too.

“I just want to. I don’t know, I feel like you understand, too. I just like you. I want to know you and I want you to know me.”

It shocks Lucas into looking at him, and it also shocks him into silence.

Jens’s cheeks turn rosy, and Lucas guesses it isn’t from the cold. Jens laughs nervously and slides his feet, accidentally knocking into Lucas’s. “Sorry, that was probably weird. I’m just—I’m not used to getting to know people like you, Lucas, and it just, it feels good. I don’t think there even is anyone else like you.”

Lucas leans forward and kisses him.

It’s soft. Tentative. A drawn-out press of lips, frozen in a drawn-out second in time, all in the single breath caught in Lucas’s throat. Then Jens presses back, raises his hand to cup Lucas’s head, and time jerks back into motion.

Lucas instantly reaches up to grab his face, pulling him in, and Jens’s free hand comes to grip his wrist and hold him in place. Lucas’s heart batters at his ribs, grateful.

He’s not sixteen anymore. He’s had his fair share of kisses. It shouldn’t—usually doesn’t—make him nervous. But this, Jens, is something he doesn’t think he ever could have prepared himself for. Jens is careful and he isn’t. He’s experienced, knows what he’s doing, and yet he takes it easy, waits for Lucas to respond to every move before making another. His kiss is gentle and his grip is tight, lips warm and fingers cold. Lucas is less focused on the tongue in his mouth and more aware of the riot in his stomach, the beat of his pulse in his ears. Kissing Jens is nothing and everything like he expected, as surprising and beautiful as the man himself. Lucas can’t remember why he hasn’t done this before. He doesn’t know why he hasn’t been doing this, kissing Jens, forever. Or at least, since he first saw him.

Then Jens is shoving him away and Lucas almost topples off his swing, breath rushing out of him as his heart plummets.

Jens wipes his mouth and harshly says, “What the fuck?”

Lucas gapes. He tries to speak and only makes a wounded, croaky noise. He clears his throat and licks his lips before managing to ask, “What?”

“What the hell are you doing?”

Jens looks furious. Lucas doesn’t understand. “I—did you not want to? But you...you kissed me back.”

Jens laughs, and even that sounds angry. “So it’s my fault. No. Fuck that. Fuck you. Fuck.”

“Jens,” Lucas pleads.

“No, fuck, look. I don’t know, what’s going on with you and Sander but I—no. I won’t do this. Jesus, Lucas, why would you make me do that?”

Oh. Oh fuck. That’s why he’s never done this before.

“Oh, no, Jens, no. You’ve—it’s not what you think, I swear—“

“Whatever you have going on, figure it out, Lucas. But I can’t—I’m not that person. I’m not being that person. After I told you—fuck, I’m not a consolation prize.” Jens stands up abruptly, and Lucas follows, but Jens holds a hand out before he can step any closer. “Don’t,” he says sharply.

They stare at each other in a silent standoff, Lucas feeling his world crumble as he watches the same thing happen to Jens’s resolve. Jens’s hand falls back to his side, and he looks entirely sober now as he gazes at Lucas with glistening eyes.

“I thought we were actually friends,” Jens says, voice trembly. Lucas shakes his head, pleading. “But after everything I said, you’re just like everyone else.”

“Jens, please, just listen to me,” Lucas begs.

He steps closer and Jens steps back. “Why should I?” he demands. “What are you going to say? I don’t want your explanations or excuses, Lucas. I thought you were honest.”

Lucas feels like he’s openly wounded. Bleeding. Surely Jens can see that. Surely he knows that he’s wrong. But Lucas—Lucas can’t tell him. He’d promised. He’d promised his best friend.

“Well?” Jens pushes.

Lucas shakes his head helplessly, and Jens’s expression falls the rest of the way. “Just—can you let me take you home? You shouldn’t be out alone like this.”

Jens laughs, but it’s just a breath. Incredulous. He takes another few steps back, shaking his head. “Don’t. Just—just don’t.” Then he’s turning on his heel and walking away.

Lucas wants to go after him. He should. He knows he should. But he can’t. There’s no point.

There’s nothing he can say.

~^~

tag list: @allthewayornowayy @wedarkacademia @lockerfivethreefive @yellowballoon @gucciboner @nora-keinwitz @moonskam @painfully-oblivious @zoenneforever @akucecilia @hischbabe @evaksobbe @alittleemo @boring-side-effect @franboos @debussyatmidnight

next chapter

#wtfock #skam nl #van der stoffels #vds #sobbe #robbe x sander #fake making-it #it’s super late oops #this is the one scene I’ve had in my head since the beginning #and...sorry

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bugsandchatons · 3 years

Text

when you weren’t mine to lose

Summary: Change is a scary thing, especially when it feels like nothing has stayed the same.

It's been a year since Marinette became the Guardian of the Miracle Box - a year of struggling beneath a burden she never asked for, a weight that has her leaning on her partner more and more as the hours fly by, of letting him come to her, too, when he needs a soft place to land. A year of falling for the boy who takes on the world by her side with a smile made of sunlight, and fighting the growing urge to tell him what he means to her.

After all, they'll have time enough for that when Paris is safe.

But when the unthinkable happens, Marinette learns the tragedy of loving someone quietly, and the lines she'll cross to save him.

Thank you to @emsylcatac for looking over the first chapter for me!! 💙

[[on AO3]]

***

[one: when I was living for the hope of it all]

The passage of time can be a funny thing.

As Ladybug touched down onto the roof of the apartment that once belonged to one Wang Fu, she thought of how, for every one thing that withstood the hours, another would inevitably change.

There were the facts of Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s life that even passing years couldn’t seem to touch: akumas, for one, rampant and undeterred in the onslaught to claim what Hawkmoth wanted but could never be allowed to have; just as there was the presence of Chat Noir only one step behind, landing in a crouch at her side with a smile made of sunbeams. The rooftops they haunted to keep Paris safe remained more or less unchanged, as did the weight that never left Ladybug’s tired shoulders, and the deepening cracks in a heart that loved too much and too many. There were designs in need of sewing and stacks of homework to get through and secrets to keep, and only so many hours in the day.

But when Ladybug looked back on the year that had passed, it felt like everything had changed. That too much had.

Over the summer, Marinette had turned sixteen. She had a red-spotted box buried in her room that carried more responsibility than she knew what to do with. She was split down the middle and slowly coming apart at the seams.

Ladybug takes a deep breath in through her nose, holding it a moment before letting it go. She’d fix it. She always did.

Behind her, Chat Noir huffs. His clawed fingers are tangled hopelessly in the string of her yoyo, and the look on his face is one of such intense concentration that she almost laughs. Instead, she looks away, nose scrunching.

If there’s one change that’s been slowly driving her to distraction, it’s this: when had Chat Noir gotten so tall? And when had she begun to notice?

“That’s not meant to be a toy, Chat,” she reminds him, though the reprimand is nowhere near stern.

Undeterred, Chat comes to join her at the edge of the roof, his smile bright. “Look, bug. It’s the Eiffel Tower.”

She looks, and the corner of her mouth twitches into a reluctant grin. He has, indeed, twisted the string into something resembling the tower between his hands.

“Good job, kitty. Now give it back before you knot it.”

He stretches, the long line of his spine a graceful curve, before depositing the yoyo back into her waiting palm. He scans the horizon, one hand at his brow to block the setting sun. “Did you see the Ladyblog last night? I didn’t know Alya jumped in that close to get that shot.”

Ladybug sighs. She was the one who’d swung in to snatch her friend out of harm’s way. “She’s going to get hurt one of these days.”

“I think she might be immortal,” Chat whispers, as though he’s uncovered a secret. Ladybug snorts, and he grins at the sound before continuing, “she’s something, anyway.”

The way he says it is fond and familiar, not so unlike how Marinette would sound, were she the one talking about Alya. She glances at him, quick and considering, before deciding it best to let that train of thought go. It steps a bit too close into dangerous territory.

“She is something. I guess after nearly being dunked into the Seine in a mummy’s coffin, nothing can really scare her,” Ladybug muses. “I envy her a bit for that.”

She hadn’t meant to let that last thought slip.

Chat turns to face her. “You envy Alya nearly being drowned in the Seine?”

A laugh tumbles out of her. She lets her feet swing back and forth and watches them instead of him. “No, silly. The ‘nothing can scare her’ part.”

There’s a pause where all she can hear is the sounds of the city below and his even breaths. He doesn’t make light of it like maybe he would have, once. It’s only another sure mark of how things have changed: they’ve both seen too much to keep up any pretense of being fearless.

“What’s scaring you, LB?”

When she chances a look up at him, the fading light has lent a halo to his golden hair. His smile has softened into something open, endlessly patient. He’d take her word or accept her silence.

It had never really mattered to her that Chat Noir was beautiful, before. Lately, though, his quicksilver grins had her turning away before he could see the heat coloring her cheeks. The raw, unfiltered sincerity in his gaze set her heart pounding. He was always there, at Ladybug’s side or on Marinette’s terrace, his laugh a song in her ears, his touch a ghost on her skin.

His friendship meant everything to her. Maybe one day she’d be able to tell him.

He catches her looking and his expression turns serious, green eyes intent on hers. Ladybug’s quick inhale gets caught somewhere on the way to her lungs, and she remembers he’d asked her a question.

“Nothing really, kitty.” Too much. Everything. “Don’t worry about it.”

There’s something sharp in his eyes as he nods. He knows she’s lying, just as well as he knows he can’t press, not really. His hand goes to the back of his neck and his gaze darts away. “If you’re sure.”

She tries on a smile. “I am.”

He stays quiet for a moment, nothing between them but the breeze before he speaks again, his voice sheepish. “So I’ve been meaning to ask you something, but I...I don’t want to make you mad.”

Ladybug bumps her shoulder against his. “You can ask me anything. Well,” she hastily amends, “almost anything.”

Chat’s smile doesn’t make it to his eyes. He fidgets in place next to her, picking at a crack in the cement. “Okay, hear me out. I’ve been thinking, with Master Fu gone, no one knows us. It’s been a year and we’re nowhere closer to figuring out who Hawkmoth is. I know sharing our identities has always been dangerous, but…” his brow furrows behind his mask. “Isn’t it a little dangerous for no one at all to know?”

Ladybug drops her gaze to the streets below, lips pressed into a taut line. She’d be lying to him if she said the same question hadn’t plagued her for months. She lost hours at night, lying awake and wondering what if.

Should the worst happen to them, not a single soul would know what had become of Marinette Dupain-Cheng. The boy behind Chat Noir’s mask could disappear, and she wouldn’t even know where to look. No one would.

“I’ve thought about it, too,” she admits, her voice low. Chat’s ears perk, and she holds a hand up as if to halt his enthusiasm in its tracks. “I have, but...it’s a lot. I’m not saying no,” she assures him, “Just...not today.”

Chat picks up her hand and Ladybug jumps, just a little. She watches, silent, as Chat brings her knuckles up to his lips, a faint, careful memory of a kiss, before releasing her fingers.

It’s been months since his casual overtures of affection had all but stopped. She wants to snatch his hand back as it withdraws and hold on, for just a moment more.

“Whenever you’re ready, my lady,” he says. “And if you decide you don’t want me to know your name, I would still be willing to tell you mine.”

Their eyes catch and hold in the dark. His offer is a tempting one. He’d give everything he had to her, she knows, without expecting anything in return.

It’s precisely when something is important, that it's important to say it, no matter what.

It hits her then, in a punch to the chest that steals her breath, just how much she’d like to lean in, close the chasm between them, and kiss him. But if there’s one more thing time hasn’t touched, it’s the same fear that snaps at her heels whenever she tries to take a step.

Instead, Ladybug jumps to her feet, yoyo in hand. “I-I’ll think on it, Chaton. There’s pros and cons either way, and it’s a big decision to make, and I—”

He stands up more slowly as she stammers, his smile soft and just a little sad. Her voice dies in her throat. “I know, bug. Just remember you don’t have to do it all alone. I’m here for you, you know?”

She did know. It was the one, unassailable truth of her life—Chat was by her side, ready to lighten her burden whenever he could, whenever she’d let him.

Ladybug steps forward, catching the slight widening of his eyes as she rises on her toes to slide her arms around his neck. She tucks her nose into the curve of his collarbone, where he smells like sunshine and leather and something like home.

She feels his breath hitch in his chest before he bands his arms around her waist and pulls her in closer still. His heart pounds against hers, a harmony she knows better than most.

Chat turns his cheek into her hair, his breath warm as it ghosts over her ear. “What’s this for?” he murmurs, but she can hear the smile in his words.

For everything I can’t say, Ladybug thinks, and squeezes him just a little tighter. For burrowing his way under her skin, for melting into the marrow of her bones, flooding her veins and drowning her heart, until he grew into something vital she’s not sure she could live without.

She should tell him she loves him, that she always had, but the words felt heavier than they might have once.

Tomorrow. Ladybug takes a deep breath before releasing him and stepping back to solid ground. There was always tomorrow.

When she glances up, she catches a flash of something in his eyes, confused or curious or both. It was getting dangerous, how well he could read her.

“Goodnight, Chat Noir,” she says, the words soft.

He watches her, measuring, before letting the moment pass by unremarked. Her stomach flips, a dizzying blend of relief and disappointment. “Goodnight, my lady,” he murmurs. “See you tomorrow.”

Ladybug stays and watches him go, a black blur vaulting away until the dark claims him completely. “I have time,” she whispers to the wind and turns for home.

After all, there would always be tomorrow.

She sets her phone and the Ladyblog aside and rises to her knees, opens the terrace hatch, and lets the night inside. Chat Noir drops in and lands in a crouch on her mattress, stark black against the pink of her bedding. The smile he offers her is a convincing one, well-practiced and charming, but she knows him better.

***

Hours later, when a tell-tale tapping on her window draws her attention to glowing green eyes in the dark, Marinette wonders if the world is desperately trying to tell her something.

“Did I wake you?”

‘No, minou,” Marinette assures him, shifting back into her nest of pillows. “It is getting late, though.”

It’s a statement and an invitation in one. They’ve developed a sort of shorthand since the first time he stumbled onto her balcony, broken and so lonely she ached from only the echoes of it. She can say so much in so few words, and he can hear the meaning that hides in between her breaths.

He hesitates, uncertain and almost shy in a way that never fails to find her smile and bring it to the light. She pats the bed beside her and lifts the blanket. His own smile turns a little less brittle and he crawls over to settle in at her side, warm despite the chill he brought in with him.

Chat burrows under the covers before dropping his chin onto her shoulder. His wild hair is downy soft against her cheek. “What are we watching?”

She sifts her fingers through the hair at the back of his head and he melts into her touch like a starving stray. Like always, it cracks her heart.

She’s learned her partner hurts, sometimes. She doesn’t know why, but she wonders, as she wonders how she never really saw it before. He has so many fragile fault lines running beneath boundless bravado and spirited humor, and though he tries not to show it to Ladybug, whatever it was the led him to Marinette’s terrace keeps him visiting more and more, restless and wounded, something unspoken clawing beneath his skin.

Marinette knows she probably shouldn’t have let him in, logistically speaking, and she certainly shouldn’t let him stay. She has her secrets to keep and he has his, and their little slumber parties have just become another. It’s asking for trouble, she knows.

But he’s her best friend. If there’s a tempest that chases him away from his home and out into the night, if it’s all she can do, she’ll be his port in the storm.

“Ladybug and Chat Noir take on Mr. Pigeon, round...what? Fifty-four?” Marinette murmurs. She feels a groan rumble out of his chest, transforming into a quiet laugh.

“Come on. All of Paris has to be sick of that fight by now.”

In the glow of her screen, Marinette smiles. “Oh, definitely. But I could never deprive Alya of her well-deserved page views.”

Chat shifts around to look at her, his sharp grin softening into something warm that sets loose a swarm in her belly. “You’re a good friend, Marinette.”

She bites back a sigh. A better friend might tell him the truth: that she’s not entirely who he thinks she is, that she knows him better than she ought to. That she knows he hides what hurts.

Then again, she keeps her scars to herself, too.

Marinette flicks the bell at his throat. The light tinkling of it cuts through the quiet. “Yeah, yeah. You only say that because I take you in and give you pastries.”

“No,” he objects immediately, his expression serious. “Well, maybe a little, but it’s not the only reason.”

She sinks deeper into her pillows, smiling all the while. Her hip lines up to Chat’s, soft cotton against battered leather. They lay side by side - thigh to thigh, knee to knee. It’s no different than sleepovers with Alya, except that it absolutely is. She doesn’t have to ask if he’s staying, and somewhere along the way, he stopped asking if he should go.

“Bedtime, minou,” she mumbles.

Chat leans down into his pillow. He faces her with bright eyes searching hers for something that, one day, Marinette is scared he’ll find.

“Goodnight, Marinette.”

Goodnight, my lady.

Marinette shuts her eyes. Tomorrow, she swears. Tomorrow.

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug fics #ladynoir #marichat #ml fic #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #fic:when you weren't mine to lose #aw heck i did the thing #its been a hot minute since ive posted fic and omg the nerves #i forgot them #ml lovesquare

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perriewinklenerdie · 4 years

Text

Roomie dinner (Ethan Ramsey x MC)

Open Heart, Ethan Ramsey x MC

A/N: Hi guys! How are you? I hope you’re all doing fine (this already sounds like a generic English task of ‘write to your friend in England’ so we are already in an *awesome* place, right? :D). I’ve been busy this last couple of days, my internship has just started and I’ve been learning a lot :D it’s in those moments that my brain decides to throw ideas at me, and this fic is not exception to the rule.

Summary: One week after the incident at the hospital, Claire’s friends discuss what exactly is going on between her and Ethan.

Tag list: @paleweasels, @kittykatchoices, @valiantlychaoticbarbarian, @radlovedreamer , @usuallyamazinglyaverage, @awhmilkywey @palestazure, @cordoniaqueensworld, @universallypizzataco, @princess-geek, @faithhasnowords, @mightyfangirlofthefandoms, @drakewalkerfantasy, @timmagicktoad, @laceandlula, @greywitchyshots, @llamasgrl, @gingerjane15, @marywrites-things , @ethanplaysfavorites , @mfackenthal , @betelgeusebee , @simsvetements, @buzz-bee-buzz, @owleyes374, @cora-nova, @aworldoffandoms, @l822, @cream-ray, @ughhhxjazzy, @silverlitskies, @justendlesssummerfeels, @togetherwearerapture, @desmaranj, @edgiestwinter, @friedherringclodthing, @waytooattuned, @choicesgremlin , @lapisreviewsstuff, @the-soot-sprite, @writerapprentice, @chasingrobbie, @choicesobsessedd, @x-kyne-x, @thisperfectmemory, @drakewalker04, @rookie-ramsey, @jlynn12273, @thepinknymph @dr-brianna-casey-valentine, @a-i-n-a-a-s-h @justanotherrookie @mvalentine @starrystarrytrouble @akshara16 @maurine07

Enjoy! <3

-----------

Jackie fell into her seat by the table, stretching out a bit. She’s spent the whole day running around the hospital, doing her best to avoid nosy interns that decided that it was their right to know everything that happened in there. Throughout the day, she would have to fight with herself to not berate them the way she’d like to, a tiny voice that sounded suspiciously like Claire ringing in her ear.

Don’t be rude

The blonde doctor has spent the last three days slowly getting back to her routine of being a doctor, after her recovery was over. During that time, Jackie hasn’t seen her very often, both with her work and with Claire staying at the hospital for the night. Dr. Hirata insisted on keeping her there for that additional time, just to be sure that all the residual effects would subside, and the threat was gone for good. No one could fault that logic, so no one, not even Claire, the most stubborn one of them all, argued about it.

This night, Sienna insisted on them all having what she’s insisted on calling ‘roomie dinner’, inviting Rafael and Bryce to tag along. They lost so much over the span of last week, and for a moment, it felt like they could lose so much more. At the end of the day, no one was invincible. Thankfully, though, they didn’t have to find out what the world would look like without Claire and Raf, because the latter was already sitting by Jackie’s side, and the former was said to arrive in the next ten minutes.

All her friends were talking among themselves when she asked the question that has been on her mind since the moment she saw the interview on TV.

“So, when was somebody going to tell me that Ramsey and Claire have a thing going on?”

The table fell silent in an instant. Elijah raised an eyebrow, asking her to elaborate silently, Sienna’s eyes widened in what she could describe as alarm, Raf nodded in understanding and Bryce grinned, leaning towards her and putting his hand on her shoulder.

“Believe me, if I knew, I would have told you. Ramsey is my gym bro, but he doesn’t talk much. Well, much about his private affairs, anyway.” He managed to lean away right before she could smack his hand with hers, laughing at her serious expression.

“I’m not sure there’s anything going on.” Sienna worded her answer slowly, thinking through every part of it so she wouldn’t slip up. To tell the truth, she didn’t know the details. All she knew was that both Claire and Ethan had feelings for each other, but she was unaware of any development in the situation.

“You’re lying.” Jackie leaned towards her. “Your lower lip twitches when you lie. But okay, I’ll get it out of you eventually. Raf? Have you noticed anything?”

He took a moment to dig through the heavy fog that surrounded the events of the day they got poisoned, trying to remember anything about Ethan’s behavior towards Claire for that day. Slowly but surely, he managed to fish out a couple of moments. How utterly terrified he was when he saw her in the room. How gentle his touch seemed to be every time he examined her or simply held her hand.

“He was… soft? For the lack of better word?” he answered hesitantly. “It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen him do, and I’ve known him for some time now. It was the first time I’ve seen him panic.”

“I knew there was something there.” she mused, catching Sienna’s gaze. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. As though you haven’t seen his behavior for the past week. He barely left her side. I’m pretty sure he used up his vacation days just so he could sit by her bed all day and night.”

“Maybe he’s just worried. Or maybe my hunch is right.” Bryce chimed in, rushing to explain when all his friends turned to look at him. “You should have seen his face when we were all working out with Claire back in the day and she mentioned that she wanted to look good naked. He was so taken by surprise that he tripped.

“If I remember correctly, we all stumbled.” Raf noted, not buying the idea.

“That’s true, but you and I didn’t get a look of longing in our eyes and our necks didn’t get red from blushing.” Jackie laughed triumphally, patting him on the back. “I’m telling you, Ramsey has it bad for her.”

“I, for one, believe it.” Aurora shrugged, drumming her fingers against the rim of the glass. “They were kinda close even back when we were interns. Something was off after that, but now they seem to be back at it.”

“He said it himself, he’s not single. Claire almost suffocated while trying not to laugh, and you could almost see the effort he put into not looking at her.” taking a sip of water, she leaned back against her chair as she continued. “Not only that, but the past few days have made it evident that something is brewing. Not only is he worried, like us, being her friends, or like June and Baz, being her coworkers. He’s affectionate. He has that look in his eyes whenever I see them together. He doesn’t even bother hiding their joined hands.”

As they were all discussing, Sienna tried to think of something to say. She didn’t want to reveal what she knew, as she felt that it wasn’t her place to do so. Claire would tell them herself if and when she wanted to. Elijah looked at her, nodding towards the other three people by the table. She shrugged, turning her head towards the entrance of the restaurant.

“Happy couple is here. We might get some answers.” Bryce grinned, pointing everyone’s attention to two people that just walked in. Claire waved at them shyly, her smile bright, and took a step towards them before she was stopped by a hand pulling her back. She gracefully waltzed into Ethan’s waiting arms, her face lighting up even more, mirroring his entirely. They talked quietly about something, his fingers skimming the rim of the lapel of the jacket she had thrown over her shoulder. Only then did Sienna notice that it was in fact Ethan’s coat she was wearing, not her own, hence why it was so big on her.

He leaned down to whisper something, his lips brushing against her cheek before squeezing her hand and letting her go. She walked towards her friends as Ethan turned to leave when Bryce called out. “Hey, Ramsey! Don’t go! We’re about to order booze and eat ridiculous amounts of food.”

Claire bit down a smirk, looking over her shoulder at him, nuzzling her chin against the soft material of his coat teasingly. His eyes darkened, feeling a challenge in the way she looked at him. Nodding so gently that no one could really tell his head even moved, he made his way over to the table, pulling the chair out for Claire before taking a seat next to her. He could feel stares of people sitting around him, to which his only reaction was a roll of his eyes along with a heavy sigh.

“I’m going to need something strong…” he cursed under his breath, causing Claire to giggle, her hand flying towards her face to conceal it. She couldn’t, however, fool Ethan, who’s hand has already slipped into hers, their fingers tangling.

As the evening progressed, the conversation moved fluently from subject to subject. They all studiously avoided mentioning the horrific situation they found themselves in a few days ago. Bryce talked them through the procedure of Kyra’s surgery, ending just before their food arrived. No one asked about Sora, for which Rafael was quite grateful, instead talking about all the things he wanted to do next.

Claire laughed at Bryce when he tried to steal some fries from Jackie’s plate, and she caught him in the act. She mouthed ‘watch and learn’, then waited until Ethan turned away and successfully stole a piece of meat, straight from his fork. Aurora, who for most of the evening remained silent, slowly clapped at her, earning her the attention of the attending. That, in turn, caused him to investigate and come up to the correct conclusion.

“Are you okay, Claire? You’re looking a bit flushed.” He leaned closer when she shook her head, denying that there was anything wrong. “You look guilty. Is it because, perhaps, you stole food right off my fork?”

“Busted!” Bryce exclaimed, mocking her when she smiled, cutting a piece of her steak and passing it to Ethan.

“At least I got caught after the fact, not in the middle of it. Your laughter gave you away.” she pointed out, crossing her arms over her chest. “You never announce your attack. Amateur move, Lahela.”

Ethan looked incredulously at the woman sitting next to him. Guarding himself and his heart from her for most of the time they knew each other made him unaware of just how much he was missing. Now, sitting there, among her friends, seeing how comfortable she was around him, even though no one knew what was going on between them, made him hope for what could be his to have every day. Lightness in his step, easiness of his smile and the woman he wanted for so long, finally in his arms. When she looked back at him and their eyes met, he felt his every rational thought flying out the window.

Sienna pulled their attention towards her when she cleared her throat.

“I’d like to say something.”

When everyone fell silent, she breathed shakily, gathering her thoughts. “I love you all so much. Well…” she hesitated, looking at Ethan, who’s eyebrow shot up in surprise, before laughing. “How about respect for now?” they nodded in agreement, after which he let her continue. “I don’t know how I would survive it all without you all. I’m never going to take you for granted because nothing is forever.”

She made the point to look at Claire and Ethan, very obviously trying to impress upon them the message she was trying to push through. “Life’s too short to question yourself. It’s too short to not say what you feel. It’s too short to not love people.” Her voice cracked at the end, catching Claire’s hand when she offered it to her. “Life’s too short to wait.”

They raised their glasses, reminiscing about all that they’ve lost and all that they’ve gained. After a long moment, Ethan smiled, gripping Claire’s hand tightly as he looked at her. His words were a mere whisper, directed right at her.

“I’m not wasting any more time.”

#choices fanfiction #ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #open heart #open heart fanfiction #fic #fanfiction #dr. ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #mc x ethan ramsey #mc x ethan

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kazcosmo · 3 years

Text

not a double date

oikawa tooru x reader

❥- mutual pining though the both of you don’t know, idiots to lovers (still idiots though), pure fluff

❥- word count; 2,028 words

!not proofread!

(g/n means ‘girl’s name’ because i have literally zero idea what i was gonna do there)

“It’s not a double date,” you tell him, fluffing the pillow behind you to make your seating much more comfortable on the couch inside your best friend’s dorm, “we’re just third and fourth wheeling.” You flash him a grin, “And while we do that we might get to fuck around and mess with him and his date a little.” You add, a mischievous glimmer in your eyes.

The brunette can’t help but huff out a laugh, leaning against his own set of pillows as he remembered the last time Iwaizumi had trusted the both of you enough to let you two go with him to meet with the girl he’s been going on dates for a while.

Come to think of it, it wasn’t actually that Iwa had trusted you both not to act like idiots, Iwa just knew that the whining from the you and his best friend would never stop until he’s allowed you both to go with him and his girl. Ex-girl, actually.

“Yeah, because that went so well last time.” Oikawa tells you in a singsong voice that would’ve sounded like saccharine if there wasn’t sarcasm dripping off it. You smack his arm, satisfied when he winces.

“Hey! It did!” You protest, pouting at him slightly. “Without us, Iwa would have never found out how incompatible they were, it was kind of obvious, but you know he’s way too polite to pay attention to how bad it was gonna go from there.” You said, beginning to feel a little sulky and grabbing the bowl of popcorn from him and stuffing a few into your mouth. Your reaction only makes him grin wider.

“Sure it was,” he muses, trying to fight the smile forming on his lips as you glared at him you’re your (stolen) bowl of popcorn. “She thought so too, didn’t she? Poor girl just gaped at you when you started questioning her like she committed a crime or something.” Oikawa knew you were telling the truth, of course. You had helped. He was there when everything went downhill. He might’ve helped a little bit, though his little prodding weren’t nearly as obvious or as embarrassing as yours. Heat creeps onto your cheeks and you send a pillow straight to his face.

He’s laughing now, the sound light and airy, maybe attractive if you weren’t so pissed off by his teasing. “God, shut up. And hey! You helped me.” you nearly whine, shutting your eyes and burying your face behind the blankets covering you both as if it would shield you from the onslaught of memories at just how bad (and embarrassing, on your part) it had gotten last time.

You knew that subtlety wasn’t your best suit, and you definitely weren’t subtle when you started throwing questions at the Iwa’s last date. But it helped prevent your friend from landing into a relationship that would have ended badly anyway, you just saved him the trouble of experiencing that.

He smiles at the sight of you hunched over the bowl of popcorn, muttering incoherently, face half-hidden by the blankets. He tugs your arm and you greet his beaming face with a scowl. Still, you scoot closer towards him, careful not to spill any of the popcorn and letting him hold you in a way that’s far too close for two people who are definitely not dating.

You both don’t seem to realize that this proximity towards each other tiptoed over the boundaries of being best friends, after all, you’ve subconsciously went over that line way too many times before.

“Maybe this time I’ll be the one to ask questions, hm?” He asks, the teasing edge still there in the way he spoke.

You scrunched your face in distaste but still agree anyways, “Yeah, yeah, whatever, just don’t make a fool of yourself.”

“Is this you telling me not to follow your footsteps? Trust me, pretty baby, I won’t.” He says it with mock sincerity that has you setting the bowl on the coffee table in front of you two and turning towards him to attack him with a pillow.

Soon enough, you both were whacking pillows against each other. Whatever was playing on the TV was quickly forgotten, just a faint sound fading into the background as your shrieks and laughter came. Just two best friends about to go on a not-date the day after this, having a pillow fight.

the not-date;

The four of you find yourselves in an arcade, you and Tooru buzzing with excitement, completely forgetting the existence of Iwaizumi and his date, the former watching you both with and exasperated look and the latter smiling at the childish antics that you two have been displaying ever since you guys met at the cafe.

Pleasantries jad turned into comfortable conversations over a cup of coffee. You nearly forget the fact that you were there to check if Iwa’s new girl has no intentions of hurting him, luckily, Oikawa didn’t. And every careful question was answered with every bit of honesty you two looked for. And soon enough, the brunette was spilling childhood stories about him, you and Iwa-chan. Giving more detail to Iwaizumi, of course.

Now you were in an arcade, per Tooru’s suggestion.

Your gaze lands at one particular prize; an alien plushy that has you locking eyes with Oikawa, communicating without words. And then you both were off, buying tokens to use, playing games to get the highest amount of tickets to see who could get the cute little alien first. Iwa sighs upon seeing the both of you take off, g/n’s hand tugging at the sleeves of his hoodie and pulling him somewhere to play a couple of games.

A while has passed since that, and here you were, glaring at the brunette, willing him to flinch a little so he’d miss his shot. He’s been going at the basketball game for a few minutes and what ticked you off was that he never missed. Your gaze travels down to where the machine was dispensing a ridiculous amount of tickets. The beginnings of a frown started forming on your lips.

You cross your arms over your chest, still glaring. He sighs, throwing his final winning shot, and this time you really frown a when more tickets starts getting dispensed from the machine. “That’s cheating.” You huff. He only chuckles in response.

“Sore loser.” He sticks his tongue out at you as he kneels to collect everything.

“I want the plushy.” You told him.

“Better luck next time then, y/n-chan.” He tuts and you resist the urge to kick him.

“Tooru,” He stills when you call him, head turning towards you slowly, hands cupping the tickets as he was knelt down. “I want the plushy.” You repeat, pouting slightly.

He looks at you, blinking once to break his stare, before he turns away, sighing again, “Alright, I’ll be kind. I can’t have you being all sad during the ride back home.” As you beam and thank him, getting on your knees as well just to give him a brief hug from behind, his heartbeat speeds up and he silently prays for you not to notice the red tinge on his ears that gave away how affected he was by you.

But you notice, you always do. But you stayed quiet, never giving him trouble for it. After all, who were you to talk? Saying he doesn’t have an effect on you would be lying anyway.

The day ends with you clutching a green plushy to your chest and Tooru’s hand slung on your shoulders as you, him, Iwaizumi and g/n walk outside and towards Iwa’s car, already having agreed to send them off and his date before going home as well.

“I had so much fun today with all of you guys!” she grinned and you can’t help but smile back. She was different, you knew it, and you knew you didn’t have to tell Iwaizumi that. With the way he looks at her, you know that he knows she’s really special too.

“Haji talks about you guys a lot, and now that I was able to witness it, I can really tell why you guys are such great friends.”

Tooru’s lips form into a pout. You don’t miss the look of mischief in his brown orbs, and you prepare yourself to smack his head for whatever nonsense he was gonna say, “She’s so nice Iwa-chan! You should try being more like her!” He mutters an ‘ow’ under his breath as your palm comes in contact with the back of his head.

“That really hurt y/n-chan!” He whines and you roll your eyes. You hear Iwa say something along the lines of ‘Well deserved, shittykawa.’ that has a pouty Tooru arguing with him. You take the time for your hand to reach up to where you hit him, hands softly tracing soothing circles on his head, fingers tangled in brown locks. G/n notices this and comments about it,

“You guys look so cute together!”

You nearly choke as you hear those words, eyes blown wide as you stare at Iwa’s date. Tooru rubs soothing circles on your back as you try to process her words. He doesn’t miss a beat, flashing a smile to g/n, “We do, don’t we, pretty?” The nickname brings a weird fluttering to your stomach and causes heat to spread on your cheeks, both feelings you were used to whenever the unusually sweet endearment comes up although you’ve never bothered to know why.

You shake off the odd feeling that has you giddy, and you decide to play along, “I guess we do.” You grin sheepishly. When Tooru’s hand reaches for yours, you make no effort to pull away, instead intertwining your fingers with his.

“It’s been really fun guys, I wanna do this again sometime.” She says, bidding you goodbye and seating herself on the front passenger’s seat. Iwa shuts the door behind g/n and you let go of Tooru’s hand, not noticing the frown on his face as you did so.

Iwaizumi moves towards the door leading to the driver’s seat. He had his hand ready to open the car door when he pauses, “This is your cue to stop being idiots and start dating, it’s really unbearable with all the pining you seem to have no clue you’re doing.” he sighs, opens he door and shuts it again as soon as he was inside.

Iwaizumi had driven off by the time you stop gaping and have finally regained your ability to speak, “I- What?” You ask, dazed by Iwa’s words.

Dating your best friend? The Oikawa Tooru who you grew up with? The same brunette who’s been with you through thick and thin, teasing you and whining along the way. The very guy who’s house you practically considered home. The guy who you shared your problems with and shared his too. Date that guy?

You’ve never really thought of it before, and now that you have, it had your head spinning.

Because it was also that boy who had made you smile no matter what. It was him that caused butterflies in your stomach and heat rushing to your face.

You remember all the times you’ve whined about him to Iwaizumi, complaining about how annoying Oikawa was and how you can’t do anything else but put up with him. Iwa had laughed then, for a reason you didn’t know, and he’d told you, “You know, shittykawa tells me the same thing and I always ask him the same question. Why are you so willing to put up with each other then?”

You weren’t able to answer Iwa’s question.

Maybe you can now.

Your head whips towards Oikawa who just smiles a sickeningly genuine smile that seemed so sweet, an arrow aimed straight to your heart, “Well, you heard him, pretty.” He holds your hand again this time, looking into your eyes as you stared in his brown orbs, ever as soft and sweet as the smile he’s has now.

“So, when can I take you on a real date? I prefer one where we’re no longer third or fourth wheeling, by the way.”

#haikyuu x reader #oikawa tooru #oikawa x reader #oikawa fluff #haikyuu oikawa

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geordiewrites · 3 years

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Exile | George Weasley

Summary: Y/N catches sight of her ex-boyfriend, George Weasley, at his older brother’s wedding after exactly one year apart. Based on Exile by Taylor Swift and Bon Iver :).

A/N: This isn’t directly linked to the song, but its certainly inspired by it as it’s about two ex-lovers seeing each other again at Bill and Fleur’s wedding and how they feel when they see each other again and shit like that. It’s very angsty, since I’m unable to write anything else hehe, and I do enjoy a good angsty story! Hope you all had a great Hanukah and Christmas, or any other events you celebrate too in December and fading into the new year. Also my requests are now open, go wild xox.

Warnings: angst and a hell of a lot of it, swearing, drinking. Let me know if I’ve missed any!

Y/N’s hands gripped a pristine glass of mulberry red wine so hard it seemed as though it would smash. Her Y/H/C shone in the dim candlelight of the marquee she was awkwardly standing in the corner of, fervently wishing she had politely declined the invitation to Bill Weasley and Fleur Delacour’s wedding that she had received a few months prior. It seemed like a good idea at the time, just to be in the same room as all the people she had let down twelve months before and simply survive the palpable tension. But now she was there, Y/N couldn’t think of anything worse.

She could see where George was, dancing with some blonde girl from Hogwarts that Y/N didn’t care enough to remember the name of. Just seeing his arm slung lazily around the girl’s waist was enough to make sticky bile rise up in her throat.

Exactly one year had passed since Y/N had abruptly ended her whirlwind engagement with George Weasley, the younger brother of Bill, who’s wedding it was. Granted the ceremony was beautiful, with a huge marquee tent in a meadow of autumn flowers on a poignant, warm afternoon, but Y/N couldn’t feel anything but uncomfortable and out of place around her ex-boyfriend’s dotting family. It had been a messy breakup, with Y/N running away to France in fear of the brewing war and leaving George behind with it.

She had lived in Paris for eleven months, stewing over the pain of losing George by her own sword. But she couldn’t go back. Being both muggleborn and associated with a pureblood, even if he was a Weasley, was dangerous to say the least. So many years were spent with Y/N constantly getting put down for her purity, even in the supposed sanctuary of Hogwarts. She had never said anything to George. He wouldn’t have understood anyway. And so, she agreed to marry him. Agreed to wear the diamond ring he could barely afford, and agreed to a life she didn’t want. One she had never wanted.

It didn’t occur to her that she was too scared to go through with it until her clandestine bag was packed for France, and the words ‘I can’t marry you’ tumbled from her lips.

Draining the rest of the dark wine until her glass was completely empty as a distraction, Y/N barely noticed a tall, redheaded man move to stand next to her with a crooked smile close to George’s own.

“So, how have you been?” The man said, making Y/N snap to attention in surprise before having to force herself not to smile. She wanted to, but Fred Weasley wasn’t somebody she entirely expected to try and talk to her after what went down between herself and his twin brother.

“Fine, you?” Y/N replied hotly after a moment of hesitation, pouring another large glass of wine. Her voice was clipped as if she didn’t want to be talking to him, and her eyes were careful not to meet his.

“Better than ever. It’s nice to see you, Y/N.” Fred mused with a brutal honesty that made her want to spit out her drink. “Truly, I’ve missed you.”

“Not usually something a guy says to his twin brother’s ex.” Y/N chuckled in return. “Especially me, for that matter. Out of curiosity, did he ever tell you what actually happened?” She continued worriedly. Breaking up with George was the hardest thing she had ever done, the hardest thing she would ever have to do, and it was the messiest, most gut-wrenching breakup either of them would face. The details of it... she just dually hoped Fred didn’t know them. Really she hoped nobody but herself and George did.

“Of course he did.” Fred said, but he’s lying. Y/N knows he’s lying from the way he scratched his nose: it’s his tell, but she goes along with it anyway.

“Oh really?”

“Obviously, why wouldn’t he?”

“Well...” Y/N trailed off, making Fred both curious and suspicious.

“Alright I lied. He hasn’t said a word, just told us you two split up and the engagement was off. What didn’t he tell me about, Y/N?”

“Why are you doing this? We’ve set a date, Y/N, October fifteenth next year. Please, just don’t leave me.” George begged, years streaming down his face as his hands clutched Y/N’s shoulders, as if he was desperately clinging to something that was already gone. “We can work through this, we can.”

Shaking off his hands, Y/N moved away from him with a deep cold spreading through her icy veins. “I don’t want to. I don’t want to marry you, I don’t want to be here anymore.”

“What are you saying?” George asked simply. It was almost rhetorical in the complicated tangle of feelings that Y/N couldn’t decipher herself could never be expressed in speech.

“I’m saying I’m leaving. Leaving you, leaving this goddamn country where people want to fucking kill me for something I can’t control.” Y/N cried, but there are no tears from her. Her eyes are dry, as is her throat and her skin feels parched, drained of all moisture and blood and richness. “I’m going to France.”

“France? Y/N, just calm down. You can’t go to France.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Because I love you. And you can’t leave me, Y/N, please.” George continued, not meaning to be possessive but it just came out that way. Y/N used to like it, but now it just feels like a gilded cage. Have the marriage but don’t be free. Have the husband but don’t be safe. Have the life while others are slaughtered, and you might be next. She was done with it all.

“Funnily enough that isn’t your decision. I’m going to France, I’m going away from this war, from Dumbledore and the Order constantly expecting me to just be okay with everything, when I’m not.” Y/N ranted, waiting a few seconds to see if he would continue. When he didn’t, she carried on yelling, wanting him to know why she was leaving for good. “I’m not okay that they want me to just fight aimlessly all the goddamn time. I’m not okay that you think I’m some goddess when I’m so fucking terrified. I’m not okay that nobody sees that people are about to die, and I’m the most likely out of all of us to do exactly that-“

“Don’t say that. We will get through this war.” George replied, but Y/N was already at the door with her suitcase handle clutched in her colourless hand.

“No, we won’t. I’m sorry, but I’m so done. I can’t take it and I’m leaving-“

“You’re running away.” George said in a tone that made Y/N clutch at the roots of her hair.

“Of course I am. Don’t be pathetic, George, of course I’m running away from my inevitable death.”

“You won’t-“

“No, I won’t. I’m not going to die aged 20 because I’m not going to let them have the opportunity.” There was a beat before Y/N finally spoke the last words George would hear from her for the next year. “Goodbye George, all the best.”

All the best, George thought bitterly as she slammed the door, ready to rush to the airport. All the fucking best.

Fred watched as Y/N flinched, her shoulders tensing for a brief second before she airily smiled, an action even he could see was very clearly forced. Noticing she wasn’t going to answer his question, Fred asked yet another. “Where have you been for the last twelve months?”

“Paris.” Y/N chuckled darkly, feeling her heart clench as George kissed the blonde woman on the forehead. Her soft smile faded and an involuntarily frown settled on her delicate features. “In France.”

“I know where bloody Paris is, just wasn’t expecting that. Why Paris exactly?” Fred pressed, and Y/N had consumed just the perfect amount of mulled wine to be in the talkative, tipsy stage of inebriated. Perhaps getting piss drunk hadn’t been the best plan.

“There’s not a war in Paris.” She answered honestly, feeling the urge to laugh as Fred’s face flickered between shock and disappointment, almost identically to how George’s had one year previous.

“You ran away.”

“Yep.” She said, idly popping the ‘p’ and smudging her crimson lipstick slightly.

“But you’re back.”

“Also yes. I decided not to be a coward for any longer.” Y/N giggled tipsily, placing a chaste hand on his arm to steady herself, but to the untrained eye it appeared she was flirting with him. While Fred knew this wasn’t the case, another ginger across the room didn’t know as such, and felt a pang of all too familiar pain as his eyes landed on his ex-fiancé. “Alright Freddie, I feel a bit hot. I’m just gonna head outside for a minute or two.”

Fred barely had time to nod before Y/N swanned out of the room, her deep red dress clinging to her sensuous curves as she walked. She certainly stood out against a crowd of bland, Weasley-like fabrics from their family, and combined with her Y/H/C, Y/N was very easy to spot in the wedding. George watched as she left the tent to go stand just outside the entrance, strands of her hair fluttering around sharp cheekbones just visible past the marquee. With a quick apology to his blonde girlfriend, George rushed out after her.

Seeing Y/N again after exactly one year was similar to getting hit by a bus. It was exhilarating and melancholy and a whole other myriad of emotions that George was too mentally immature to comprehend. He didn’t even realise he was standing outside, just beside her before he was there. She looked almost exactly the same, except for the smudged red berry lipstick across her cheek. Y/N noticed he was there and stared adamantly at the ground, not knowing exactly why he was there or what he wanted.

“You’re here.” George said, his tone making it a statement far more than a question. Y/N nodded silently, not finding the courage to look at him for fear she would just spontaneously start sobbing. She hadn’t during their breakup, or even after during the mourning period, but right now she felt tears threatening to spill. “Why are you here exactly?”

“It’s a wedding.” She said, again more of a menial, random statement than an answer to his question.

“Yes, I realised that.” George snapped irritably. “The shop is doing brilliantly considering everything going on. And I have a girlfriend. She’s called Angelina, a Quidditch player-“

Unable to take it anymore, an elastic string pulled taunt in Y/N’s heart tore clean in two. “Why the fuck are you telling me this?”

“Wanted you to know.” George said after a significant beat.

“To hurt me.” Y/N muttered venomously, her eyes squeezing shut for a brief second. “Well congrats.”

“Didn’t know you had enough feelings to be hurt.” George cruelly replied. He knew it was beyond harsh, that it was pathetic considering how long it had been, but seeing Y/N looking quite to radiant had brought up a number of old feelings from their breakup right back.

“You know I came here to try and be in the room with these people again. You, your family. Turns out, I can’t.” Y/N said, tears beginning to fall from her eyes, lips tightened into a thin line. “It’s impossible to be near you.”

“It’s good to see you.” George mumbled, so quietly she wasn’t even sure that he had said it out loud. “I mean it.”

“That’s a change of tone.” She laughed, and even that simple sound was enough to make George smile, however much he wanted to be mad at her. “I thought you would hate me.”

“I do.” He smirked, making her laugh again in a way only he could. In a way both of them had dearly missed. “I really do, but I also missed you. Missed your laugh, your smile, your stupid shoes. I never understood why you needed more than one pair of shoes.”

“For the sake of fashion.” She said.

“You haven’t changed a bit.” He whispered, a saccharine mist clouding his hazel eyes as she brought herself to look at him for the first time, and not at the floor. He was older, not in looks but there was a tinge more wisdom held in solemn eyes. Even though he was smiling, he just looked sad. “You’re still beautiful to me. Even though I hate you.”

“I hate you too.” Y/N said, but her tone is soft and almost loving in it’s insinuation. Her heart swelled as she realised he had called her beautiful. “But you can’t call me beautiful when you have a gorgeous girlfriend waiting for you inside.”

“I do, and she’s wonderful.” George said. But there it was again, that sadness that only Y/N could possibly ever notice. Even then, nobody knew him as well as she did. Not even his new girlfriend. “But she’s not you.”

“Nobody ever will be.” Y/N laughed arrogantly, but it was utterly truthful at the same time. Nobody would ever be who Y/N was to George during their relationship, but even she wasn’t that person anymore. She was still Y/N, but a different version. The one he had fallen in love with was gone, and in her place was Angelina.

“Why’d you leave Paris?” George asked.

“I didn’t want to be scared anymore.”

“You were always braver than you gave yourself credit for, Y/N.” George complimented, making her face flush with a rosy glow. Her eyes were hazy with alcohol and a want for something she had forfeited so stupidly. Her lips were in a slight pout, and she gave him a look he had only seen a few rare times before. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I want you to kiss me. Will you? For old times sake?” Y/N asked, her face just a few brave centimetres from his. George wouldn’t have to do much to close the gap between them, and the urge to feel her lips against his for a final time was too overwhelming, like chugging red wine. Forbidden, something he wasn’t supposed to ever do but it was so duplicitously tempting and devilishly irresistible.

George was kissing her before he knew what was happening, adrenaline coursing through his veins. A warmth spread throughout Y/N’s entire body, fuelled by passion and sadness. His hands found her waist, sending involuntary tingles up her spine and back down again to her coccyx, the fabric of her dress riding up slightly so when he moved her hand lower, it just grazed her thigh. The kiss was treacherous, but as addictive as any drug that George had ever heard of. He couldn’t imagine anything both worse and better.

But it wasn’t a kiss of cheating in intention or action really, it was a kiss of goodbye. A kiss of hello to an old soulmate as he departed their chapter in his life, and finally let go of Y/N. A kiss of want and of love eventually disappearing forever. A kiss of teenage infatuation, of snogging in abandoned classrooms and first times in the Room Of Requirement, young and in love. A kiss of unspoken words and emotions, of ‘I want you but I hate you’ and ‘I love you but I left you’. A kiss of finally portraying unspeakable emotions that neither could understand. Perhaps they never would.

When their lips parted, George walked off without speaking. He just quickly made sure her lipstick wasn’t anywhere on his skin and walked seamlessly back into the party, sweeping Angelina off her feet as he once did with Y/N. As he now finally didn’t wish he was doing with Y/N. That chapter was closed, that storybook finally completely written and the ink had run dry. Angelina was who he wanted now, who he had now and who he loved now.

Y/N was a memory of George’s first love, while George was the memory of the biggest mistake Y/N would ever make. He was a reminder of who she lost, but also of who she could find again with someone else. Someone she was ready to marry, and ready to get through the war with. She hadn’t found them yet, but someday she would. She was sure of it.

At least for now, George wasn’t a part of her thoughts. He wasn’t a part of her dreamless sleeps or of her worst nightmares. He simply existed, and that was the best she could’ve asked for by even attending the wedding in the first place. George was a part of her life that was over now.

And Y/N was so ready for the next chapter, however messy and painful it could be. She was finally ready.

#george weasley #george weasley imagine #harry potter imagines #harry potter fic #fred and george #Weasley twin fics #george weasley angst #harry potter angst #golden trio era #harry potter smut #Harry Potter #nancy writes

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aenxiome · 3 years

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Chapter 4: Who do you call when the ghostbuster is on vacation?

When I awake, I find myself tangled up in the bedsheets, half lying on top of Jazz and the other half plastered against the wall. Somehow we ended up looking like a pretzel. When the alarm started to blare, we startled and accidentally crashed into each other. Some part of her hit me in the mouth while my head slammed into her own.

" Oww, Jazz, cant you keep your head to yourself," I whine accusingly while trying to rub away the pain. " ah, that's going to leave a mark," Wincing as I look at her, holding the side of her head rubbing her temple. We carefully separate ourselves from each other, taking in mind our new splitting twin headaches and my own lasting injury from the day before.

I look over at Sam and Tucker, who are also waking up. It seems Sam found a comfortable spot on the floor using a bunch of blankets and a few of my hoodies along with a pillow from who knows where. On the other hand, Tucker fell asleep in my desk chair with his head on his arms lying across the desk. Jazz reaches over and turns off the alarm. She sits up, still half asleep,p and makes her way out of the room. I continue to lay on the bed as Sam and Tucker finish waking up, with Sam going as far as to put away the bedding and hoodies.

"Hey," Tucker says when he sees that I'm awake, " Are you feeling okay? You're not going to pass out again, are you?" Sam turns around at his questioning and exclaimed, "Danny! Your awake!" I smile sheepishly at them, " I'm okay, a little sore, but I'm fine." I attempt to sit up, but a wince accompanies every move. When Sam notices, she comes to sit on the side of the bed and helps me. Once I'm finally up, she engulfs me in a gigantic hug. When she pulls away from the embrace, she puts her hands on her hips and starts yelling, " Do you know how much you scared us!" Finally, she shakes my shoulder with tears brimming in her eyes, " Don't you ever do something like that again!"

" I won't, and I didn't know that would happen." Tucker comes over and joins the conversation. His expression is serious, " Dude, when you fell, it was like we were back in the lab. I thought…" he brakes, choking up, " I don't know what I thought but seeing you like that again." blowing out a shaky breath he finishes, " I thought we lost you this time."

Sam moves out of the way as I reach over and clasp my hand on his shoulder and look him in the eye, " Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere." Then, trying to lose the tension, Sam asks, " Hey, do we still have clothes here or," I cut her off, "Oh, yeah, look in the bottom drawer," I say referencing the dresser, "you both should have clothes left in there." They both go to grab clothes and rush off to go get dressed.

I hate lying to them, but I can't guarantee anything. That feeling, just knowing what to do without having to think about it. Just feels so right. It was almost as if, at that moment, I was complete. While, yeah, doing it in my human form was my bad, though. I didn't expect such a big drawback but ill be ready for that next time. Maybe in my ghost form, it won't be so bad, though? I'll have to test this, but where…. " The bathroom is free," Sam shouts as she goes by the door freeing me of my musing. Tucker leaves the room to get ready, and I attempt to get up.

Every mussel protests as I force my fist into the top of the mattress and gingerly force myself to stand. I fight my tight muscles and straighten myself trying to keep my balance. I force myself to walk around the room and get ready for the day. With every step I take and arm movement, I make pain shoots through me. Up through my legs and into my waist into my joints and up inside my chest, my core, I feel pain. When moving my arms, they feel like a ton of bricks, making them feel heavy. I wince as I change my clothes and then put on a neutral face and make my way to the kitchen.

When I get there, the three of them are around the kitchen table eating cereal, but no Mom or Dad to be seen. Jazz sees me first, immediately getting up and forcing me into a chair, which I am so grateful for despite my neutral deposition. " What are you doing down here?" She hisses, " You should still be in bed." I grab a box of cereal and shove my hand in while replying, "as I told them," gesturing to my friends, " I'm fine." Grabbing me a bowl, she says, " You could barely walk stand hours ago. Let alone walk on your own. I'm not buying it." I avoid looking at her while providing my defense, " Spead healing remember. Im better."

" If your sure, man, but wouldn't you rather stay home? Sam had to help you sit up earlier." Tucker says. Jazz points at me righteously, " See, you need your rest! Go back to bed." She demands. I shake my head in refusal, " I can't afford to miss any more school. I'll be fine, I swear." We all continue arguing about my attendance when eventually Jazz gives up but forces an ultimatum, "fine, you can go, but no ghost fighting! Not until your 100%." I groan in response, " Then what are we going to do if a ghost attacks?" I question.

"We can handle it." Said Sam determined. "But what if-" I start to interject but can cut off by Sam, " We help you all the time. Doing it by ourselves won't be hard, you'll see. After all, three is better than one." I relent and let go of my argument. It doesn't take long for us to finish eating and head to Jazzes car.

The struggle starts as soon as we get out the door. The box ghost has managed to get out again. Before anyone can stop me, I fire off a carefully placed ectoblast and force him down. A second later, I pull out my thermos, and he was immediately sucked up and defeated. Maybe it was a cheap attack, but with the way things are currently beggars, can't be choosers.

"Danny!" Jazz shouts accusingly. " What?" At the angry looks, I sigh and continue, "It was only the Boxxy." Tucker tilts his head in question while sam voices their confusion, "Boxxy?" I nod my head agreeing with the name, "Yeah, Boxxy." Tucker looks as if he has swallowed a lemon, "you're giving the ghost nicknames now?" Great something else for us to argue over, "So? Why does it matter? They give me nicknames, So I can give them ones." They still don't look happy, but we are running out of time. "Can we talk about this later? Were going to be late." Tucker takes a look at his PDA and shows it to the others. The conversation is done.

For now.

They may not like what I did, but in my opinion, it is well worth it. One less ghost for them to worry about.

We all pilled in and traveled in silence to the school, barely making it in time. Before we get out, Jazz stops us to give a lecture, "Danny, no fighting today. Not with the ghosts, not with Dash, not with anyone. Understood?"

"Yeah, Yeah," I reply, sulking, "I know."

Then she turns to Sam and Tucker, " Now you two, keep Danny out of trouble. If anything gets out of hand, let me know, and I will take care of it." They answer simultaneously, " We've got it." Then, she turns back to me once again, " if the pain gets too bad, let me know, and I'll take you home."

" I'll be fine," I reassure her.

"If you say so," she says, not in the mood for an argument.

We enter just as the warning bell rings, making me feel a bit bad. While anymore I'm habitually late for just about everything, that doesn't mean that they are. We rush to homeroom and make it just in time to reach our new assigned seats and get ready for class.

The day is just beginning.

How hard could one Friday be?

A lot harder than expected.

As soon as the class finished, I headed out for my next class when I felt something. I was pulled by the back of my shirt into another hallway, separating me from Sam and Tucker. I get pushed up against the wall making an echoey thump in the hallway. I look around the hall, empty, then look up at my kidnapper. Lo and behold, it's just Dash again. When is this guy going to give me a break? I mean, this is ridiculous. Doesn't he have a life? This whole hallway meet-up is starting to become a cliche at this point. So instead of paying attention to Dashs' pathetic reasonings for his grab and go, I drown him out and internally ask the really important questions like:

Does this count as Kidnapping? While yes, I have been taken without my consent, I haven't left the building. So maybe this would be a forced separation? Abduction? Couldn't this be considered as a criminal ac-.

My thoughts get cut off as his fist lands in my stomach. I blanch from the sucker punch feeling my cereal trying to make its way back up. I manage to swallow it back down just as another punch makes contact. I try to keep my composer, but my body just can't take it. A small dribble of vomit makes its way out of my mouth and onto Dashs' arm. " Ew!" He exclaims, "Did you just spit up on me! Uggh, what's wrong with you, Fenton." With a look of disgust on his face, almost as he can't believe I got sick on him, he turns around and goes back into the main hall while I book it to the nearest trash can.

I manage to spit out what I had come up without losing any more of my breakfast. I lean up against the wall trying to pull myself back together. The punches, while weak, still hurt. The force made my core pulsate as if trying to come forward to protect me. When it pulsated, I could feel how strained it is. Even with its call for me, my core is weak, throbbing for reprieve.

The minute bell starts to ring as I force myself down the hallway, gritting my teeth, trying to stop the pain. It takes longer than usual for me to get there, oh how I wish, scratch that (you never know when you-know-who is listening *cough* Desiree *cough*), would love to be able to float right now. Thankfully I didn't get in any more trouble than a simple tardy on my record when I showed up. Being known for bathroom issues can come with its perks.

Classes so far today have been my saving grace. Especially since we have health instead of P.E this week, if I had to move around much more, it would have become the end of me. Not that the hallways aren't trying to get to me first.

To make it even better, So far, the only ghostly activity has been a couple of blobs. Hopefully, by the end of the day, I will somewhat be back to normal.

Once we are let out for lunch, I slowly make my way to the cafeteria. Once I get there, I spot Sam and Tucker near the back of the room already with their food. Sam, of course, has some kind of green thing. I can't tell what it is, but I know it's the opposite of Tuckers. I can identify his food, a leftover pork chop, and other assorted non-veggies make up his lunchbox.

After the Lunch Lady incident at the beginning of the year, they started to favor meals from at home rather than the schools. Sam for the issue with her not being able to eat what they serve as it is not to her taste, and Tucker for his issue with " stinky ectoplasm messing with beautiful meat." Apparently ecto- contaminated meat is where he draws the line with his obsession.

Me on the other hand, I am more than willing to risk it. A meal that Jazz and I didn't cook with less than a 70% chance of coming to life, sign me up. On the off chance that I do bring something from home, it is always factory-sealed junk food. I don't want to be known as the guy who brought murder hotdogs to lunch.

"Danny!" I hear coming from their spot, calling me over to them. I sit down across from them, letting out a relieved sigh. "There you are," Sam says, relieved, " we were getting ready to come to look for you. We thought Dash cramped you into a locker again." Thankfully not, I can't help but think. Those things are cramped. When I got to class after Dashs' interference, they weren't pleased about what had gone down. Tucker looked almost murderous when he found out what kept me.

" Aren't you going to get any food, dude?" Tucker asks between mouthfuls of food. "Nah," I reply and gesture to the line, " there is no way ill be able to get anything before lunch is over." The lines go down the walls of the cafeteria until right before the door. " I'm not hungry anyway," I say, lying through my teeth. " Are you sure?" Sam asks, quirking her eyebrow at me. " Yeah, I'm sure. If I change my mind, I'll get something." Satisfied, we turn our attention to small talk.

After a while, our conversation heads back to current events. " So, what do you plan to do about the ice thing?" Sam asks. I tilt my head a little in confusion, " What ice thing?" I get two looks of exasperation back before Sam slowly says, " You know the thing from the lot." Oh, that ice thing, " I thought that was all taken care of? It's not there anymore, so what is there to worry about?"

"Yeah, it's gone, but where did it come from? It's not like there are a lot of ghosts that can make ice." Tucker points out. A feeling of understanding rushes through me as I part my lips, " Ohh, did I forget to tell you?" Both of them look at me dumbfounded as I wait for an answer. I slump down farther in my seat as I reveal, " The ice is mine." Eyes wide, Sam questions, " You made a spike of Ice?" I nod my head then she continues angry with my omission, " why didn't you tell us!? We thought there was a new ghost on the loose!"

"I thought you guys knew," I say, throwing my hands up in defense. "I'll admit I've never done something like that before, but I thought you would have realized it came from me. As Tuk said, there aren't many ghosts who can make ice." Tucker comes to their defense, "It's not like we have ever seen you do that before." I sigh in understand then try to create the end of the discussion, " I plan to go to the Farfrozen to see Frostbite anyway. After what happened yesterday, I need to know what's going on with me."

"What do you-" Tucker gets cut off by a scream. The whole room goes dead silent. Then, another scream comes right after echoing through the room. After a second, just about everyone is jumping out of their seats in a panic. Sam and Tucker rush to their bags and start pulling out ecto-weapons. " Sit here," Sam orders, " let us take care of it."

"Yeah, Yeah," I blow them off, "well, at least the line is gone. I'm going to grab a bag of chips or something." Another scream echoes out, and they start running towards the door. "Be careful!" I yell out at their backs, but they are already out the door. I get up and go through an empty line and buy some pre-packaged foods and then make my way back towards my seat.

I take a few minutes to eat what I want then put the rest in my bag. I look towards a clock that's in the room and see that almost ten minutes have gone by. Against their orders, I pick up my things and go towards the chaos. Once I make it to them, I see something that I would never have expected. In the middle of the hallway are Sam, Tucker, and Jazz, tangled up with two Ecto-Octopi.

One of them has Tucker hanging upside down, holding him by his ankle. While another has Sam squashed beneath its tentacles and shaking her like a rag doll. Jazz, on the other hand, is the only one who is armed. She Is hiding behind a trashcan with a lipstick blaster.

I stare at the chaos in front of me and can't help but to say, " what in the zone is going on!?" My yell startles everyone. Even the Octopi.

"Danny!" They all holler simultaneously, the people, not the Octopi. " Getaway, we've got this!" Sam yells back. " This what you call handled?!" I say, hands out, gesturing to the scene in front of me.

I walk over to Jazz and take the lipstick blaster away and start over towards the ghosts. Using the lipstick blaster, I hit the Octopus holding Sam and the eye. The pain startled them, and they quickly released its tentacle from around her. Sam hurried away and rushed over towards me. " Give the blaster to me, let us handle it" I ignore her and push us away from the octopus just as a tentacle comes slamming down onto the tile floor.

" Get back, let me handle it!" I say in a rush, " You too Jazz," looking back towards her. I make my way forward with the blaster and go to the octopus keeping Tucker. I carefully point the blaster at its tentacle with a steady hand and fastly slash downward with it cutting it off. The tentacle and Tucker drop towards the ground. The heat from the blaster cauterizes the wound leaving only the ectoplasm from the cut limb to bleed out.

Tucker rushes over to safety as I use the blasters to hit them in the eye once again. While being temporarily blinded, they flail their limbs around, trying to hit everything around them. I, on the other hand, quickly reach into my bag and look for a Fenton Thermos. As soon as I find one, I quickly pull off the cap and suck the octopi up and seal them in.

Once everything is in the clear, I slump down to the floor, huffing for breath. Letting the adrenaline wear off, I stay sitting on the floor while everyone else comes to me. "What were you thinking!" Jazz exclaimed while slamming into me with a hug, " Are you hurt? You should have stayed away. Your powers are out. Don't you realize how dangerous this was?" Giving her an accusing look, I can't help but point out, " I am better off than you. A lipstick blaster? What happened to the weapons you guys took with you?" I ask turning to, my friends. Tucker, mumbling with a blush plastered on his face, admits, " They ate them."

I stare at them, starting to lose some color. Then, stumbling with my words, I stutter out, "Ate them? They ate the weapons, oh my, that's not good." Jazz and I both look at each other with a look of doom. "What, what is it?" Sam asks, now worried due to our reactions. " Those weapons weren't normal Fenton weapons." Jazz confesses. " What do you mean?" Tucker asks, confused, " Your parents made them, right?"

Jazz looks over to me for approval which I don't give before she answers, " Those weapons were advanced models. They aren't supposed to be available to the public." I interject, " Since the weapons are made of metal and not an organic ectoplasmic substance, the octopi won't be able to digest it. So meaning eventually they are going to spit the weapons back up." Looking at them and seeing that they are listening, I continue worried, " there is no way to tell when they are going to drop them, and whoever picks them up could hurt someone."

Before we get a chance to talk, any more noises start making their way through the hall. Sam, Tucker, and I go back towards the cafeteria, but before we get too far, Jazz calls out to me, "Danny," I stop to look at her, " I think its best if you go home." Then, giving her a betrayed look for her suggestion, she elaborates, "you don't look too good. Your really pale, and your barely moving."

"I don't know what you're talking about." I reply stubbornly. Sighing, she walks over to me and takes my bag, " Come on, I'll drive you home." Before I can get out a protest, she reminds me, " You need to go to the Farfrozen right? What better time to go than when Mom and Dad are going to be on a ghost hunt." With that, I stopped protesting and let her lead me to the car.

#danny phantom #danny fenton #jazz fenton #sam manson #tucker foley #dash baxter #octopi #ghost octopus #box ghost #fanfiction #fanfic #phantom #phanfiction

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thessalian · 2 years

Note

Just remembered that I said I'd pick another from this, so: giggly kiss for Remi and Alisaie?

We did have one of these, but we can have another one. Little giggly kiss for Remi and Alisaie. As a treat.

Remi and Alisaie's wedding night went a little different than either of them probably thought it was going to go. With one of the new happily-marrieds having two new fairly large appendages to deal with, the honeymoon canoodling took some figuring out, and a few fun turns that Remi probably hadn't anticipated. Even afterwards, both of them sweaty and pleasantly tired from their exertions, a bit of awkward presented itself as Alisaie attempted to flop onto her back, which had one new wing stretch out to nearly knock the lamp off the bedside table in their fancy hotel room. Remi ended up lying on top of the other - pleasant enough, and allowed Remi to feel the different textures of various of the feathers, but... "Is this like when someone's lying on your arm all night?"

Alisaie huffed out a bit of a chuckle. "Probably. You being little spoon is probably going to be more comfortable for both of us long-term. Still," she added with a proud, slightly wicked grin, "feathers add something."

"I noticed," Remi told her. The sense-memory of feathers stroking sensitive places - tickling in exciting new ways - had Remi trying to stifle giggles ... and not doing a very good job of it.

"And at least," Alisaie went on, now more musing as she thought over the evening from a mechanical point of view, "I don't have to worry about these things getting wet anymore."

"Alisaie!"

As Remi giggled harder and went her usual blushing shade of bright red, Alisaie thought over what she said might get her that kind of giggly chiding. Then she realised, and laughed herself. "I meant we saw they were waterproof from the bath, Ree! Fun in the tub large enough to bathe a moose, y'know?"

"Oh yeah..." Remi's giggles faded a little, becoming something throatier as she remembered that hour or so.

"I mean, sure, the other thing too, but..." Alisaie paused as she noticed Remi trying to reach past the wing under her head at that remark. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to get a pillow to hit you in the face with."

Alisaie burst out laughing and tried to roll over to face Remi. Given her wing was effectively pinned under the weight of one compact yet muscular not-just-a-paladin, this didn't quite work as intended. However, as Alisaie was quite strong herself, with a wing strength to match, further attempts at unpinning herself ended up with both of them on the floor in a tangle of limbs, feathers, Alisaie's excessively long hair and a chorus of giggles.

Remi could have reached up for a pillow off the bed to resume her attempt at pillow fight, but she decided that lips were far better applied to Alisaie's face at that moment. Giggling while kissing added a similar something to feathers, as they'd both proven before, and given it was their wedding night, Remi intended to take full advantage of 'added somethings'.

Kissing led to other things, and they giggled on and off all the while. The rug-burn that resulted from that was more than worth it, especially given that both of them had a healing touch.

#Fic #Alisaie #PROMPTS FOR THE PROMPT GOD #WORDS FOR THE WORD THRONE

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kairos-polaris · 3 years

Text

Eris (demon's daughter) Chapter 3

A bunch of different perspectives. New questions and some answers.

Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

Tagglist: @liquid-luck-00 @moonlightstar64

Be aware of your own mind. Your consciousness can and will play tricks, so be careful.

Human mind is fluid. Our memories aren't set in stone but in sand. The lines and finer details blur every time we try to remember something important.

Human mind is the most curious thing. The organised chaos of it still fascinates philosophers and scientists. What is our mind if not a cabinet filled with carefully placed memories? We don't know how our mind decides what we should remember or forget, but we know that strong emotions play an important part in that decision.

Humans tend to forget bad things. They don't disappear completely, but stay in the background. This is the reason nostalgia exists and our past may seem better than present.

It didn't happen to Marinette, right? She was sure of it and her nightmares just proved her right. But she forgot the most important rule: don't take everything at the face value.

***

"You did good, my child," Marinette was still tired after avenging her death (killing them was forbidden, but injuring - not) and didn't comprehend praise in her father's words. "I can answer any question. But only one."

Marinette tilted her head in confusion. "I don't mean to be disrespectful, but why? I don't think I did anything to deserve this." Ra's lips lifts up in something akin to a smile. Her words meant his plan was working.

"You showed great strength when fighting. I've heard it took them half an hour to take you down. You are my daughter and you can't forget this," Ra's stopped to let his words sink in. "What is your question?"

"Who was my mother?" The predictability of her question almost makes him laugh out loud. He had expected something better from her. Like, "why don't my assailants have the injuries I've inflicted on them?".

"She was an assassin known as Madame Cheng. A formidable opponent and a strong spirit. She died after giving birth to you. It was a hard pregnancy," Ra's can see a flash of guilt in the girl's eyes.

"Thank you for this information, father. I will treasure it forever."

The girl slowly leaves the room and Ra's congratulates himself on completing the first part of his plan successfully.

***

Pale moonlight illuminated a bedroom. The room is completely silent save for soft sounds of breathing. Only two people are there, a man and a woman.

The woman lays on a pristine silk, white cloth barely covering her naked body. Hickies and bruises bloom everywhere like colourful flowers. Her midnight black hair barely reaching her shoulders is splattered across a pillow. Her skin seems to be glowing because of the whiteness of the bed linen. Beads of sweat on her toned arms and legs are highlighted by the moonlight.

The man is sitting near her, leaning on a headboard. His skin is several tones darker than the woman's. He also much older than her. There's white hair in his carefully groomed beard. He's physically fit and strong. He's sitting there completely lost in thoughts. New ideas, new strategies, new plans. The demon's head never rests, after all. He thinks how defenceless the woman next to him is and it makes his blood boil.

His musings are interrupted by a small feather like touch on his hip. The man doesn't look at the woman, just lets down his hand and tangles it in her hair. It doesn't satisfy her so she seductively slowly raises on her hands to meet the man's eyes. Her smile is small and teasing and it makes the man huff in annoyance.

"Was everything to your liking, oh Great One?" her voice is filled with mirth and there's a strange gleam in her eyes that the man can't identify.

After several minutes of silent stares the man sighs and decides to humour his lover. He moves his hands to her side gripping hard enough to leave bruises. But the woman doesn't seem to mind. Her small sighs hint that she even enjoys that.

"It certainly was, Madame Cheng," his voice drops slightly at the end of the sentence and it makes the woman giggle like a schoolgirl. Seeing her like that made it hard to remember she was one of the most skilled assassins in the world. Only her stature and white webs of scars reminded him of her lifestyle.

"Why wouldn't you use my name, beloved? We've been married for a year and you still use my alias," Madame Cheng is a formidable woman and she doesn't pout. No, sir, you're just seeing things.

"It's a name you've chosen and made for yourself. Your name was given to you by your parents," he stops mid sentence to change their position. Now he was on the top. "And you killed everyone who knew it to ensure nobody will ever know it. Only people you trust can use it."

"Marriage is supposed to be a sign of trust. I met you almost twelve years ago. I trust you not to kill me every night we spend together. I know you can kill me without any weapon and I know you always have a dagger with you. I… I like my name and would like you to use it. Please."

There's a dangerous gleam in the man's eyes and she needs several moments to stop shivering. That's what she gets for forgetting who her lover is but it was so easy. "I will use your name after you give birth to a boy."

His words leave a bad aftertaste in her mouth and even the man's hard kisses can't erase it. "It won't last. His gentleness won't last." Marrying the Demon's head may be her fall but she will mourn herself later. Now, she's losing herself in lust and please. She tries to not think that some parts of her won't return.

***

Talia remembers Madame Cheng clearly. She always admired the woman who became a mother figure to her.

Madame Cheng was more intelligent than most people gave her credit for and she knew Ra's al Ghul better than she let on. Talia compared her to an actress because she acted so different in front of her husband. Only in the privacy of Talia's room did she let down her walls. It made Talia feel special.

Madame Cheng was smart and she knew what kind of man Ra's al Ghul was and what he wanted from her, so she acted accordingly. She could read his mood perfectly. She gave him what he wanted because her survival and well being depended on it.

That's why Madame Cheng was preparing for the worst after she found out that she had given birth to a girl.

"But you can have more children!" Talia tried to argue. The woman laughed bitterly and shook her head. Her laugh slowly morphed into tears.

Talia didn't know what to make of her reaction. Sure, father wasn't satisfied when he heard that Madame Cheng had given birth to a girl, but he loved her. He would give her another chance, right?

"Childbirth was hard for me. I didn't get help fast enough and there were...some consequences. I can't have children anymore," she patiently explained.

"What are you preparing for?" Talia asked, feeling tears in her eyes. "He won't kill you! He loves you."

Madame Cheng sighed and took a breath to calm down. She got down on her knees and looked straight into Talia's eyes.

"Your father, my husband doesn't love me and...never did. It took me some time to understand that, ya amar. I was too naïve and blinded with his affectionate words. I thought I was special," Madame Cheng chuckled at that thought.

"Was it a marriage of convenience to him then?" Talia didn't know how to feel about this. On one hand, she knew that their union was beneficial to the League. Their child would be strong and healthy, a perfect heir. Everything would be perfect. It would be if Madame Cheng gave birth to a boy. And that was what made everything so confusing. Talia loved and adored Madame Cheng and she didn't know what she would when the woman died.

"Yes," the answer is barely a whisper but still so loud in the complete silence of the room.

"So you are just giving up?" Anger was swirling in her veins and Talia couldn't, didn't know how to get rid of it. "We can fake your death, create a false identity. There must be a way!"

Madame Cheng just shook her head and embraced the girl as tight as she could without hurting her. "Ra's will do everything to find me. He won't be satisfied until he sees my corpse," Madame Cheng noticed Talia's questioning look and continued: "He knows we're close and he doesn't want a stray element influencing his heir."

"What can I do for you?" Talia whispered brokenly.

"Talia, look at me. Talia, please, look at me," when the teen didn't move to meet her eyes Madame Cheng softly turned her head. "I know you're sad and angry but turning away from me isn't a solution. You won't get any closure if you continue avoiding confronting your feelings. They will always stay with you like invisible baggage."

"Would he really kill you because you can't give him an heir?" Talia knew she was grasping at straws but she couldn't stop.

"He refused to call me by my name until I gave birth to a boy. I should have known how little I mean to him. And I won't be useful for a very long time. And the League doesn't condone and," she explained. "Can you promise me something?"

"Everything!"

"There's no need for that, ya amar. Promise to me you will be safe. Promise to me you will protect Marinette and yourself. Promise to be a better person and mother than your father or me. Promise me you will leave one day. Promise me you will be happy. And that's all I want."

"I promise, I promise, Madame Cheng," and in that vulnerable moment for both of them Talia never felt more confident in something. It was time to make an escape plan.

Almost a year after that conversation Madame Cheng was sent to Bialiya. The mission should have been easy to a professional like Madame Cheng. And it would be if the woman were healthier.

It didn't matter how much Talia begged her father to resurrect Madame Cheng. He didn't even bother to find her body for a proper burial!

Talia wanted nothing more than to cry in her bedroom for days straight. And why wouldn't she? The only person who had genuinely cared for her was dead. Unfortunately, mourning Madame Cheng so openly wasn't on option. First of all, she would show her weakness. And secondly, she had a sixteen months old Marinette. The baby couldn't even cry to mourn her own mother. She simply didn't understand what had happened to her.

That day Talia promised to herself dhe would teach Marinette everything Madame Cheng had taught her. She would never come close Madame Cheng but the baby deserved some love. Even if only from her older sister.

***

Emilie Agreste was a strong and independent woman. She didn't need her husband to approve her choices. If she wanted to spend time with Amira, she would do exactly that, Gabriel!

"She was sent to kill me, Emilie. She's an assassin. Butterfly is the only reason I am alive. You can't let your guard down. She will use your kind heart for her own gain," Gabriel explained his point of view.

"She. Is. A. Child! A child that doesn't know anything better. It wasn't her choice. I'm sure her parents did that for her," Emilie's heart bled every time she thought about the amount of trainings the girl had to go through. "And you can't stop me. I will go to her right now!"

Emilie turned away, her dress flaring dramatically after her. She grabbed the door handle, but the doors didn't open. Emilie could feel how she was and could hear Gabriel's exasperated sigh. "Oh great, because pushing doors you have to push to open is very dramatic," Emilie softly murmured to herself.

After capturing Amira they left her in an old bedroom. Gabriel made sure she couldn't open windows without alerting them and activating security before leaving her alone.

Emilie thought that the room was beautiful but wasn't sure Amira had the same opinion on it.

When she arrived Amira was laying on the bed, completely free from bounds. The girl looked bored but Emilie could see how tense she was.

"How are you, Amira? I came here to help you," now the girl was suspicious. Her tenseness was more obvious and Emilie silently berated herself for such poor choice of words.

"I know it wasn't your choice to become an assassin. I want to give you a little bit of love, Amira."

When the silence became too much to bear Emilie decided to continue talking. Even if it meant talking to herself. She told Amira stories about her family and how much she loved them. How Gabriel could be so annoying! And how talented Adrien was.

Amira slowly leaned away and laid on the bed. "Are you tired?" asked her Emilie but the girl just nodded. "I will let you have some rest."

The girl just silently hugged her. Emilie counted it as a victory. She slowly left the room activating security once again.

"Did you check your pockets?" Gabriel's voice made her jump from surprise. Emilie nodded in denial and silently checked her pockets. Nothing was missing, except...for her phone. "Judging from your face that girl has stolen your phone."

Emilie felt so heartbroken she couldn't answer. It must have shown on her face because Gabriel softened. "I will go and take back your phone, love. After that I'll make you a cup of tea."

Emilie didn't notice anything. She didn't notice when her husband returned with her phone. She couldn't recall how they had ended up in their kitchen. Emilie couldn't remember how she had got a cup of tea.

"I don't blame her," she whispered so softly that Gabriel wasn't sure he had heard hee right. "I don't blame her for trying to escape. She doesn't know us. Why would she want to stay here?"

Gabriel just resignedly sighed. His wife was being too kind to that brat. He decided to not comment but his silence made Emilie more confident.

"Yes, I won't give up on her. I will do everything to deserve her trust," Gabriel could see fire in his wife's eyes. The very one he fell for years ago. Only now it wasn't directed at him but the brat that tried to kill him. It made him older and wearier.

"I know you will get through her shell," Gabriel didn't believe in that. He knew the girl would attack Emilie if she hadn't seen his butterfly. He knew she knew what he had wanted to say.

***

Talia knew she was a bad older sister. A good sister wouldn't sit idly and drink tea while her little sibling was suffering! And Talia couldn't even do anything to help her (she checked three times before giving up).

"Why would you do that? Why?" Talia asked herself. "Was I not…"

But then she clearly heard Madame Cheng's voice in her head: "We both want her to be happy. You have to be honest with yourself. Are you angry because she left or are you hurt because she didn't take you with her?"

No matter how much she tried Talia couldn't answer that question. If she did, it would open a can of worms. She would have to answer more questions. Who did she love more? Her father or her sister? What did she value more?

But it didn't matter right now. Talia will be there for Marinette. She will protect her baby sister.

***

Sometimes Emilie Agreste was a mystery even to her own son. Nobody explained to him why she had spent so much time in one of the bedrooms. Adrien didn't know why she was so sad after she had stopped visiting that room.

Every answer he got was too vague. "I'm mourning missed opportunities, my heart."

Adrien tried to not think that it was about a girl he had seen once in family's gardens. Her appearance blurred in his mind with time but he could remember midnight black hair and sky blue eyes. Adrien could admit she was pretty but he hated the fact that his parents refused to tell him anything about her.

After Adrien understood that his questioning wouldn't give him any answers he decided to move on. It was quite easy. His mother disappeared not so long after his decision to stop pestering them about the girl in the garden. His father closed himself in his office and Adrien had to make an appointment to see him.

Adrien didn't understand why meeting Eris had brought back memories about the garden girl.

"Why are you calling yourself Eris?" Adrien blurted out. In his defense it wasn't every day that he met superheroes.

"Eris is a greek goddess of discord. I wield the Miraculous of Destruction. I thought it was a fitting name," Eris sighed and tiredly rubbed her forehead. "One day I will make an official statement regarding my alias. Everyone asking why like they are banned from Google. Annoying."

"I'm sorry, Miss. I didn't know what to say," Adrien was really sorry. He knew how annoying it was to repeat things. He wanted to ask her about being a hero. He would ask "how does it feel to fly in the sky" and "how does it feel to be free". But Adrien is a perfect boy and perfect boys don't ask such questions. His words about freedom could be used against Gabriel.

#maribat #future dickinette #angst #i love hurting characters #referenced character death #eris (the demon's daughter)

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