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angelmavmurdock · 3 years

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The Boy Next Door

WARNINGS: SMUT, ORAL (fem+mal), DIRTY TALK, PRAISE, CHOKING, THIGH RIDING, MENTIONS OF DRUGS.

inexperienced!reader x stoner!tom

(inspired by Ginny and Georgia)

The new house was a lot bigger than our last house. But of course that's due to my mother marrying a man 30 years older than her who owns some workout company. She's a gold digger is what I'm trying to say. Ever since I can remember, whatever guy she was dating dictated where we would live, where my brother and I would go to school, what I'd wear, how I'd act and even what friends I had. Or, lack there of. Always being the 'new girl' was beginning to get exhausting so I never really had friends. If I gained any friends then I knew that we'd get close then I'd move and we'd stay in touch for about a month before they move on and forget about me.

y/n. Always the new girl.

"y/n would you help us, please?" Mum asked in an annoyed tone, brushing past me with a box in her hands.

I rolled my eyes and sighed, walking to the car and beginning to lift stuff out and into the house. It was a huge driveway - unnecessarily large - and everyone on the street was the same. Everyone in the town was the same. It was a rich, suburban area. No place I hadn't seen before but we definitely didn't belong. My Mum just shapeshifted into whoever she thought Greg would want. Greg being my 'step-dad'. He's 63. My Mum is 33. How is that even allowed.

We unloaded everything from the cars and waited on the trucks arriving with everything else. Cameron and I scuffed our shoes as we strolled through the huge house, taking in everything and familiarising ourselves with our new home.

"I'm so glad I'm not at school anymore because being in a class with snobby assholes like these people would be shit." Cameron said, crossing his arms as he gestured to the family across the road.

I walked over to him and watched too. A family of 5 - two girls, one boy, Mum and a Dad - were dressed rather nicely in dresses and suits. They came out of their house and waltzed to their Tesla nonchalantly with their noses in the air. The eldest girl looked around my age. She would probably be in some of my classes.

"I'm not looking forward to Monday." I groaned.

We stood in comfortable silence, watching the Tesla inquisitively as it drove off with the family inside.

"Trucks arrived!" Mum called from the front door.

We both shared our sibling look with one another then walked back out with reluctance. Mum was standing in the middle of the driveway with her hands on her hips, watching as Greg approached the van and signed some forms off. Cameron and I walked down and stood either side of her. She grinned and wrapped her arms around us, rubbing both our backs simultaneously.

"I've got a good feeling about this, guys." She took a deep breath.

"At least someone does." I remarked.

She ignored the comment and we watched Greg do practically nothing. I mean he was basically an ancient artefact.

"I've heard your new school is wonderful. The pass grade levels are insanely good and there's a lot of people there to befriend." Mum spoke positively.

"My last 6 schools also had a lot of people to befriend but of course, I always lose them because we move so bloody much." I clenched my jaw.

"Well...this time it's different."

I scoffed, "You always say that."

"I swear this time!"

"And that!"

"y/n I don't know what you want me to do. Greg is a great guy who is supporting us fully! I mean, look at this place! Surely you can't be mad we're living here." Mum shook her head, removing her arm from my waist.

"I'd rather live in a box with just you two than live in a huge house with some random guy in a town I hate." I argued then stormed away dramatically up the driveway.

I got into the house and slammed the door, grabbing the banister and stomping up the flight of stairs. There was one flight then a landing then another flight. This house was too bloody big.

I finally found what was meant to be my new room and slammed that door shut. Just for good measure. I huffed and sighed as I leaned my back against the white, wooden door.

The room was stark white and empty, only a bay window to give some character. I might hate Greg and my mother and this whole situation but I loved this bay window. I snaked in between the boxes and suitcases and sat on the wooden ledge. I kicked my shoes off before sitting my feet up and watching outside. My room faced the front of the house so I could see the movers offloading furniture and boxes off while Greg stood helplessly.

I groaned and leaned my head back, closing my eyes, just wanting to crawl into a shell and hide.

A slam of a car door forced my eyelids open and I jumped slightly.

"Where do you think you're going?!"

I heard a woman's voice from outside. I looked outside curiously, scanning the street with my eyes to find where the noise was coming from. It finally caught my eye and I had to sit up and switch sides of the window to look properly.

A red-headed woman and a curly headed boy were standing in the driveway.

Our next door neighbours apparently.

The boy was around my age, maybe a little older. He stumbled a little as he walked up the drive, his mother - I think - watching from behind her car door.

"I'm going to bed!" He shouted back.

"Not now you're not, you have to talk to me, Thomas!" She shouted, slamming her own car door.

Thomas.

He hung his head on his shoulders, "I need to sleep, mum."

"Well I just had to bail you out of jail for marijuana possession and use so you better talk to me."

Oof, I thought. He was a stoner. A criminal basically. But he was attractive from what you could see. Dark brown curly hair, tall enough, a sharp jawline, a good body from where I was sitting and a good style too - a hoodie with a denim jacket and jeans. But he was my neighbour. And a stoner.

"Mum can we just talk later?" He pleaded, running a hand through his hair.

"Tom we will talk about this right now." She said sternly.

He rolled his eyes and shook his head, turning his back to her and walking away. I watched him with a slight smile. He really was attractive.

"Thomas Holland you get back here right now!" His mother shouted.

"When I'm not on drugs, I'll talk." He stated.

His mother stuttered then just grunted in annoyance, allowing him to go inside.

I kept my eyes on him, my smile still on my face as he started to walk into his house. He suddenly turned his head with a confused expression then looked up. Straight at me through my window.

I froze in shock, eyes widening, mouth parting. He slowly smirked and nodded his head at me before going inside.

I sunk off the window ledge in humiliation, snaking to the floor and mumbling how stupid I was and how embarrassing that was.

"y/n! Come meet your neighbour!" Mum shouted up.

My ears perked up then I leaped up to look out the bay window. The boy next door's mum was standing outside, chatting to my mum.

I hardly learned anything talking to his mum. Her name was Nikki Holland, she had a husband named Dominic who was a comedian and a writer. She was a photographer. Along with Tom - the oldest - she had three other sons: twins named Harry and Sam and then Paddy who was a good bit younger. I can't remember the exact age. My mum had nosily asked her about Tom and that was the only part I listened to.

"He's 18,"

"Dropped out of school last year,"

"Says he wants to be an actor,"

"Oh today? He got in trouble from the police about...you know what, that isn't important."

"You look so young to be a mother to a teenager. How old are you?"

"And you're 18, too?" "Still in school?" "What do you want to do?" "Ah, smart girl."

The conversation was brief and slightly awkward. She was clearly stressed about Tom and his situation so I slid out of the engagement pretty fast and escaped up to my room.

During the entirety of the weird conversation, the movers had put my bed, mattress and desk into my room. It felt a lot more homier.

It was the next night and I had finished dinner and immediately gone upstairs. I was not participating in any sort of 'family time'. I sat down on my bed and scrolled through my phone aimlessly.

A thump outside drew my attention away and I looked to my right at the regular window which faced our neighbours house.

I sat up and squinted to see out into the dark. It was Tom. He was halfway out his window.

I didn't even realise our windows faced each other. And here he was, one leg out the window and his other following on. He had thrown a backpack down which caused the dull thump on the grass - which I only assume contains weed - and now he was escaping his house.

I got out of bed and walked to the glass, peeking out to see what he was doing.

He climbed impressively down the wall and jumped the last few metres, landing in a Spider-Man like pose. Admirable, I thought as he picked up his back pack and slid a skateboard out from a bush. He brushed it off then slotted it under his armpit.

He was sporting a black t-shirt with a dog-tag necklace and some distressed deep blue jeans with a denim jacket over top and a baseball cap placed on backwards that sat on top of his curly head of hair.

He looked around in case he was going to get caught then looked up. Directly at me. Again.

This time I didn't shy away. I just made a gesture and mouthed 'what the fuck?' then he laughed to himself and looked back up at me.

'Don't be so nosy, neighbour', he mouthed.

I squinted and shook my head in disapproval. He just smirked boyishly then walked to his driveway where he flipped his skateboard and skated off into the night.

I gulped and sat back on my bed, feeling my heart rate slow back down.

But curiosity filled my brain.

Where was he going?

Just as Sunday night came around, I had finished decorating my room. My pictures and paintings hung on the wall, along with some mirrors to fill the blank space of the white walls. My bed was cosy and was filled with throw blankets, fluffy sheets and way too many pillows. My desk was organised and my laptop sat atop the white surface, making it look a lot more professional than I had anticipated.

I had turned my bay window into a reading nook. A few blankets lay on the ledge and a couple pillows too, along with my current read.

I had seen Tom sneak out a few nights ago but I tried to stay away from the regular window, only ever sitting on the bay one because I couldn't see Toms room from there.

However, it didn't shield me from him completely.

I would see him outside in their front garden playing games with his brothers and sometimes I'd watch them from just over the top of my book. The way he played with their dog was cute. I had gathered her name was Tessa and I knew she was a staffy because we used to have one. He'd throw balls or sticks for her and sometimes she'd clamber on top of him with excitement. He'd dodge her licks but still clap her because she was excited after all.

Every once in a while he'd catch me looking down at him or I'd catch him looking up at me. Whenever it happened, it seemed as if everyone and everything disappeared. Like it was just us. Tunnel view. But then one of us would look away or stick the middle finger up or mouth 'fuck off'. Our unusual and silent rivalry was the closest thing to a friend I'd had in years.

But now, Mum, Greg and Cameron were going out to a nice dinner to celebrate the first week of living here. I thought it was an incredibly stupid idea so I decided to stay home alone and eat pizza.

They all left and Cameron immediately texted me.

Cammando: I hate you for leaving me

y/n: your fault not mine :)

I didn't really know what to do. I walked around the house and asked Alexa to play some songs but I couldn't be bothered dancing. I wasn't really in a dancing mood.

I just gave up and went back upstairs into my room. My windows were still open so before I got changed I went to close them and put down the blinds. I closed the bay window and then I went to the next one.

I looked straight ahead into Toms room and my jaw dropped.

He was hopping and hyping himself up in front of a punch bag...shirtless with gloves on. I watched as he punched the bag skilfully, moving his feet as if it was a choreographed routine. His damp curly hair hung onto his forehead and I could see glimpses of airpods in his ears. His back muscles tightened and flexed as he threw punches.

He moved around the bag and now I could see the front of him. He had a very visible six pack. I definitely didn't expect that from the stoner boy next door. If I thought he was attractive before...now I don't even know what I would call him.

Otherworldly, perhaps?

He suddenly looked up and I gasped, turning and slamming my back against the wall next to the window, wincing at the pain. Hopefully he didn't see me...

It was creepy to be staring at him. I shouldn't have done it.

I peeked back and he was back to beating the poor punch bag.

God, he was so hot.

I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks and ears, burning with lust. I gulped and looked away, closing the blind to stop myself from looking anymore.

I got changed into shorts and a burgundy Cambridge University jumper that used to belong to my Dad. He gave it to me the first time he properly left for a while and I still have it even though I see him more often.

I hopped downstairs and played some music while I sorted the pizza and chips out to eat.

I sat and ate while listening to music. Once I was finished, I cleaned everything up then went back upstairs into my room, shutting the door behind me and jumping onto my bed.

I scrolled through tiktok aimlessly, just filling the time before it was an acceptable hour to go to bed as a teenager.

I switched apps to Instagram when I lay on my side, my back facing my windows. I scrolled through for a while but a certain picture caught my eye.

I had to blink a few times to really look.

It was my so called 'best friend' who I hadn't talked to since I moved twice after befriending her and my ex-boyfriend. My ex. My only boyfriend I've ever had. My first kiss, my first date...my first time. My only time. We only had sex twice. Three if you count foreplay but I faked it. Actually I faked it all of the times. He was never good at it and I had no idea how to go about telling him because to be honest, I had no idea what to do either.

But my ex-best friend and my ex-boyfriend? She didn't even tell me. She didn't even think to ask me.

They were dressed nicely and holding each other's waists. It looked a little awkward but most of those pictures are because they are being taken by parents.

I looked through the comments.

OMG! Hot couple alert! You two are the cutest just marry already yall are too happy it's been the best year of my life baby

"WHAT?!" I exclaimed, sitting up sharply.

They had been together for a YEAR.

"Ugh!" I groaned and threw my phone across my room, hearing it basically break against the wooden floor.

"Rough night?" A voice spoke from my window.

I screamed, jumping with fear and successfully landing my ass on the floor.

I panicked and grabbed the first thing I could use as a weapon. A glass of water. It would have to do.

I quickly flung the water at the intruder, "WHAT THE FUCK, GET OUT!" I screamed, my eyes closed tightly in fear.

I heard the water splash over them but they still came in. I just threw the glass at them. It thumped against them dully and then crashed onto the floor.

"Ouch."

I slowly opened one eye and looked up at the figure who had just entered my room.

It was Tom.

He was in a grey t-shirt and black basketball shorts with a baseball cap placed on backwards, a backpack thrown over his shoulder.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING CLIMBING INTO MY ROOM?!" I shouted, standing up.

He was taller than me by a few inches but we were basically at eye level.

"I was clearly looking for some company but you then threw water over me and then a literal glass." He spoke calmly, wiping a hand over his wet face.

"How the hell are you being so calm about this?! You just intruded into my home!" I exclaimed.

"Well, darling, I have a thing called weed. It's great for calming you down. You clearly need some." He slung his bag around and went to open it.

"W-what? No, I'm not smoking weed!"

He sighed and slung his bag back, "Well, why are you being so uptight about this I just wanted to say hello." He smiled boyishly.

I licked my teeth in annoyance. He was so fucking attractive but he was so fucking annoying and I didn't even know him.

"You need to get out. I didn't invite you in here so you are not welcome." I stated, crossing my arms.

"Okay, yes. But also- my mother nearly just caught me sneaking out so it's a cover if she comes round here."

"Why would she come here?" I asked.

"Because she's a mad woman who hates me having a life apparently."

"You're an 18 year old who sneaks out of the house to smoke weed. I wouldn't call that a life." I remarked.

He smirked, "You know what, I like you."

He sat his bag down then started to walk slowly around my room, inspecting my pictures and decorations intricately.

I stuttered, not knowing how to react to this whole situation.

"I'm sorry, what the hell are you doing?" I asked, brows furrowed.

"You're quite an interesting person, I must say."

I sighed and shook my head at the ceiling.

"Ah, this makes sense." He picked up one of my camera's.

I scoffed, "What's that supposed to mean?"

He sat it down and picked up the next one, shrugging with a smug smirk.

"You like looking at things."

I gulped, red rushing to my cheeks.

"Clearly very beautiful things." He said, referring to my pictures on the walls.

"I'm just honoured I'm one of them."

I rolled my eyes and scoffed, "You wish you were."

"Oh but I am, aren't I?" He challenged, sitting my camera down.

I licked my back teeth and watched with heavy breath as he paced towards me slowly.

"I've never taken a picture of you before." I said matter-of-factly.

"You might not have but you definitely love a good stare, don't you?" He asked, his left eyebrow quirked cockily.

I noticed the unusualness of it and then looked into his dark, dilated eyes.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." I said quietly.

He laughed lowly, "So you weren't staring at me earlier when I was working out?"

I stuttered as we came face to face.

"You're stubborn but I feel like I know you," He placed his fingers under my chin, tracing up my jaw and to my ear where he tucked some of my hair behind.

"Because I've been looking at you, too." He whispered.

I practically melted and a whimper left my mouth, eyes rolling back.

He chuckled, "Already needy for me I see."

I looked up at him as his thumb swiped over my lips.

This whole situation was insane. I didn't even know how we got here. I didn't know how to feel, either. I had never been turned on like this before.

He slowly pushed his thumb into my mouth and I moaned around it, tasting his skin.

"Good girl." He praised, taking his thumb out and replacing it with his tongue.

I moaned again, feeling his lips on mine. His hands gripped my waist and I tangled my fingers into his hair.

He tasted of weed but I didn't mind it at all. He pushed me backwards until I hit the wall next to my bed. He gripped my hips tightly and I kept my hands in his hair. He must have gone for a shower since his workout because he smelled fresh and clean and his hair was damp.

I couldn't believe I was doing this. I was kissing a stranger. Who climbed into my room.

"Wait-" He pulled away briefly.

"Is your family home?" He asked.

"No, they're out all night." I answered breathlessly.

He smirked, "Good."

He suddenly lifted me up and I squealed, automatically wrapping my legs around his taut torso.

His tongue slipped between my lips again and I welcomed it. He lay me down on my bed and started to kiss down to my jaw and my neck.

I gasped and tugged his hair when he started kissing a certain spot on my skin. He got the message that I liked it and started licking and sucking on it. I arched my back slightly, moaning as he worked his tongue and lips on my skin.

He left the spot on my neck but kissed over my skin as he started to lift my jumper up. Panic and nerves suddenly settled in and I grabbed his hands, stopping his movements.

"You alright?" He asked breathlessly.

I swallowed, "I uh...I've never-"

His eyes widened, "You're a virgin?"

"No, no. I've had sex it just...it just wasn't that great." I bit my lip nervously.

He encased my lips in his and I relaxed to his touch.

"Do you want to?" He asked against my lips.

"Yes, fuck yes." I practically moaned into his mouth.

"I just need you to guide me through it." I said in between kisses.

He pulled away, "I can do that." He smiled.

He started to lift my jumper off and this time I let him. I sat up and he removed it, throwing it off the bed. He admired the pink bralette I was wearing and immediately pressed his lips and tongue to the valley of my breasts. He nipped and sucked on my skin and I moaned as he palmed one of my boobs while leaving marks on the other.

He came back up and kissed me again but flipped us over so I was now on top. He sat up and shuffled back against my headboard and pulled me onto his lap.

He brushed my hair off my shoulders and cupped my chin, taking me in.

"D'you wanna try riding my thigh?" He asked lowly.

I gulped, "S-sure."

He smirked and I straddled his left thigh, holding his shoulders.

"Just rock your hips back and forwa-"

"Fuck," I moaned, the rubbing of the different materials causing my core to clench.

"Does that feel good?" He asked, his breath fanning over my face.

His hands rested on my hips and he helped my movements.

"Feels so good." I moaned.

"Yeah? You like riding my thigh?" He prompted, his hands making me speed up.

I fisted the material of his shirt in my hands as my mouth fell agape with pleasure.

"Riding my thigh like such a good girl." He praised.

"Fuck!" I hung my head back, his words going straight to my core.

He chuckled cockily, "D'you like when I call you that? Huh?"

I nodded, too flustered with these new senses of pleasure to speak.

His hand travelled up into my hair and tugged on it by my roots. A louder moan than I would have liked escaped my lips.

"I asked you a question, answer me." He said sternly.

"Fuck! Yes, I love it when you call me that." I answered pathetically.

"Good girl." He praised, letting go of my hair and rocking my hips on him.

I felt an immense amount of pleasure build up and it felt as if something was going to snap in me.

"Oh shit, I- fuck!" I furrowed my brows in concentration and confusion.

"R'you gonna cum, darling?" He asked, almost shocked.

"I don't- fuck - know!" I moaned, feeling the knot inside my stomach about to snap.

But before that could even happen I was being flipped back onto my back and Tom was ripping off my shorts and panties, diving in between my legs with lust.

His hands held my thighs and brought me closer to him. His lips attached to my clit and sucked, giving me a whole new feeling.

"Oh, fuck! Yes! Yes!" I moaned shamelessly, tugging his hair and fisting the bedsheets.

"Go on, darling. Cum in my mouth for me. Taste so good. Please, love."

The mixture between his words and his nicknames for me and the fact his mouth was working wonders on my core completely sent me over the edge: an experience I had never had before.

"Holy shit! Tom! Yes!" I subconsciously tightened my thighs around his head and my hands practically pushed him completely onto me.

He continued riding me through my high until I unclenched my thigh and he pulled away slowly.

I lay breathless and in a state of shock and euphoria at the same time.

"You okay?" He asked soothingly, rubbing his hand over my bare thigh as he came up to kiss me.

"Yeah I've...I've never-"

"You've never came before?" Tom asked, baffled by me.

"Nope..."

He kept his eyes on me but slipped a hand down to my core again. I bucked my hips against his hand with a gasp as he moved his fingers in circles over my core.

"You've never even touched yourself?" He asked lowly.

I bit my lip and shook my head.

"You're so wet for me, darling, fuck." He cursed.

He suddenly dipped a finger into my core and I moaned. He curled it up and I gripped his arm tightly.

"What d'you want?" He asked.

"I want you, Tom, please." I bit my lip.

He smiled and sat back, his hand coming away from my clit, leaving me feeling empty. He shed his shirt and I finally got to look at his chiselled torso up close. He then slid his shorts and boxers off and my jaw dropped at the sight of him.

He was semi-hard but he was already bigger than my ex. A lot bigger.

He pumped his member in his hand, "You sure about this?"

I stuttered, completely distracted by his actions than his words.

"What? You like the look of it? Hmm? Wanna suck me off?" He asked, his hand cupping my chin and sliding his thumb into my mouth again.

I moaned at his words and nodded.

"You want to suck me off, darling? You sure?" He asked, removing his thumb.

"Yes, fuck Tom, I wanna suck you off." I moaned.

"Good girl." He praised.

We switched positions so he was sitting against the headboard and now I was in between his legs.

"I don't know how to..." I said shakily.

"You're okay," He gathered my hair up in his hands.

"Do whatever feels natural and I'll tell you if it's good, yeah?"

I nodded and gulped, moving my mouth closer to his member. I pumped him in my hand a few times and I could almost feel him harden right there. I had done this part before, at least.

I lowered my mouth onto him, swirling my tongue around his lip. He hissed slightly and gripped my hair tighter. I slowly let my mouth down on him and came back up.

"That's it, good girl." He praised.

I moaned and continued bobbing my head slowly on him, finding a rhythm. I held his thigh for support as I got faster, easing into it.

"Fuck, darling, feels so good." He groaned.

The taste of him in my mouth was amazing, pre cum already escaping onto my tongue.

I slackened my jaw and took as much of him as I could then pumped the rest in my hand.

"Holy shit! Fuck!" He held my head there and thrusted up.

His member hit the back of my throat but I didn't mind it at all. He made sure I was okay then did it again. And again. And again. Until he was continuously throat fucking me. I enjoyed it, surprisingly. The obscene sounds my mouth was making was not only making Tom more aroused, but also me.

I felt some drool drip down from my mouth onto my chin and even onto his lower stomach but I didn't care.

"Fuck, love those pretty little sounds coming from your throat, baby." He groaned.

I moaned, my eyes rolling to the back of my head.

"Such a good girl."

But then he pulled me off of him. I looked at him in confusion but he flipped me onto my back sooner than I could say anything.

"Need to be in you before I cum, princess." He said, kissing me deeply, his tongue exploring my mouth.

"Ready?" He asked.

I felt his tip brush up and down my folds. I gripped his arms and nodded, closing my eyes to concentrate.

"Hey, look at me." He said.

I looked up into his gorgeous chocolate eyes.

"Breathe in," He instructed.

I did as he said.

"And out."

As I breathed out, he pushed into me slowly.

I moaned and arched my back at the feeling of him inside of me. His technique worked.

"You okay?" He asked caringly.

I nodded, biting my lip.

"You can move."

He started thrusting slowly in and out of me, my arousal making it a lot easier for him to move.

"So fuckin' tight, darling." He cursed.

I wrapped my thighs around his waist and he bottomed me out.

"Yes!" I moaned, my back arching so our chests were touching.

"Does that feel good?" He asked.

I hummed, "Faster, please."

He smirked, "As you wish."

His thrusts got gradually faster and my mouth hung open in a silent moan. He brushed past my g-spot with every movement and I scraped his back with my finger nails.

"So fucking good," I gasped.

He sped his thrusts completely and his head fell into the crook of my neck, leaving sloppy kisses on my skin.

"So big! Yes!" I moaned pornographically as he perfectly met my g-spot.

He reached a hand down and started rubbing my clit in skilful circles. I screamed out in overwhelming pleasure as I felt the now familiar feeling come back in my stomach.

"So good for me, darling. Been such a good girl. You gonna cum?" Tom whispered his praises into my ear.

"So close! Oh my god!" I curled my toes and dug my fingernails into his back.

"Come on darling. Feel so good around my cock. Feel so fucking good. You're a fucking angel, y/n. Fuck." He moaned.

I rolled my eyes back at his words. God his words.

"I'm gonna cum!" I squealed, eyes squeezing shut.

"Look at me when you cum, love."

I could hardly hear his voice anymore as I felt my second high approaching.

"I said-"

I gasped as I felt his hand around my throat, pressing the sides of my neck, activating some unknown pleasure button.

"Look at me when you cum all over my fucking cock." He grunted, his dark, dilated eyes staring into mine.

I kept my eyes on him as my high began to wash over me. His thrusts kept the same pace but his fingers moved faster, spurring my orgasm along.

"Yes! Fuck, feels so- yes!" I moaned.

I was extremely loud, I'm surprised the police hadn't come knocking asking about it.

My high seemed to be everlasting. Tom began to pull out but I kept my legs wrapped around him.

"Want you to cum in me, Tom. Please." I begged.

"You sure?" He asked, holding his orgasm back.

"Yes! Please! Need your cum in me." I moaned seductively against his lips.

"Fuck- so good for me- yes!"

I felt as he stilled in me, and as his cum painted my walls. His face contorted in levels of pleasure as he finished and I was finally coming down from my own high.

He pulled out after a second and collapsed next to me.

We both lay together, not saying a word, just listening to each other's breathing calm.

After a minute or two, he turned to face me.

"That- was so fucking good." He laughed.

"It was." I smiled back.

He reached a hand over to my face and brushed my hair behind my ear. I softened into his touch and hummed.

But that bliss was broken quickly.

"Hello?! We're home!"

I gasped, shooting up on my bed.

"Is that your mum?!" Tom whisper shouted.

"Yes! You need to go like now!" I whispered back.

He scurried off the bed and into his boxers and clothes, shakily putting on his shirt and attempting to put his shoes on quickly but leaving them untied.

I grabbed his backpack and handed it to him.

"Thank you," He smiled, taking it from me and heading for the window again.

He swung a leg out but then hesitated.

"Oh and uh-"

He held his hand out.

"I'm Tom, by the way." He grinned.

I smiled, shaking his hand.

"I'm y/n. Nice to meet you, neighbour."

"Nice to meet you, too." He winked, before climbing out the window, down the wall and back into his own house.

Nice to meet you indeed.

A/N: this is written for my amazing friend Caitlin and it's her birthday today! and she gave me all the details for this piece so i hope you guys enjoyed!

#tom holland #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland one shot #tom holland au #tom holland smuts #Smut #tom holland smut #stoner au #innocent au #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland fluff #fluff #ginny and marcus #oneshot

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coeurdastronaute · 3 years

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Nerd 14

Previously on Nerd

There weren’t many things considered as decorations in the house on the corner of Inglewood Street. The old stone house, with its black shutters and manicured lawn hid behind a stately oak and the polished Porsche in the driveway, glowed as a beacon in the neighborhood, of perfection and wealthy modesty. Inside, it was less populated than one might expect, never fully lived-in, at least not to the casual observer.

Clarke moved her way down the stairs as she balanced the bag on her shoulder, fully prepared for work and then studying with her girlfriend on a fairly boring Saturday night. For the first time in a long time, she looked at the sparse frames of pictures of her family.

Unsure of what made her pause, she furrowed, pushing her eyebrows tightly together and leaning into the image of her mother and father on a random date when they were together in college. They were carefree and at some bar trivia night. Abby hugged Jake’s bicep and nearly hid in his shoulder as he leaned forward, other arm lifted to interject an answer. He was smiling wide despite his eagerness, the flash ricocheting off part of his large glasses. His hair was floppy and fully, swept to the side and neatly arranged, while Abby was brimming with life. Clarke loved the candid picture because sometimes she looked at it, and these were two people who had entire lives and experiences and she forgot that. They probably got butterflies like she did when Lexa smiled at her. They probably spent hours excitedly waiting to see the other.

In that picture, her mother wasn’t the person she was now, though both seemed insanely far away from Clarke. This college-aged person was alive, vibrant, in-love, awake, eager, and not cheating on her husband. The body language alone showed how much she adored him.

In that picture, her father was the funny, charming man she remembered, not the angry, frustrated man who was skin and bones, who couldn’t eat, who couldn’t swallow, who had difficulties moving most days and remembering his own daughter others. He was alive as well. He was the man everyone wanted to sit beside for some reason, for som inexplicable reason he had this… he had a spark that drew those to him like a moth to a flame, except he was that flame, and he shared his light eagerly with those around him.

Clarke relaxed her face after a few moments of looking and seeing and trying to find some kind of detail in that picture that would indicate that the couple in it would know what their life would like like two decades later. There wasn’t a single indication, and that terrified her.

“Did you finish you math?” her mother’s voice called from the hallway, hearing her daughter shift and move to look at the next picture without seeing her first.

“Yes.”

The next image was a very tiny Clarke on her father’s shoulders and her mother hugging his waist as they all stood beneath a redwood tree. They had hiking gear, shorts, sunglasses, hats and sunscreen. They were all smiling. They were a family.

“Did you email me that draft of your personal essay for applications?”

Clarke gave up perusing, no longer feeling the yearn for that family unit that was far away. She rolled her eyes and stomped her way down the steps to find her mother sorting through envelopes and mail.

“No.”

“Why not?” Abby didn’t look up as she flipped.

“Because I’m a junior, and I have five months before applications are due.”

“That’s no excuse not to be prepared. Maybe if you didn’t spend so much time chasing after some gir--”

“Who am I chasing after?” Clarke scoffed, crossing her arms and peering at her mother. “Do you mean helping Lexa on her submission for film school? Do you mean tennis practice? Do you mean working part time? Do you mean having a social life?”

“Considerate that you can help someone else get into college.”

“It’s going to take her months to edit, which I can’t-- I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

That did it. Clarke knew it would. Clarke new an overt expression of her own independence would trigger her mother. She knew arguing and not appearing to care about college would give her the satisfaction of a righteous fight. She wanted it. It’d been brewing for about a week and a half, ever since Clarke said she was going prom dress shopping without her. Ever since Clark forgot to tell her about spending the night camping with Lexa and the film crew while the powered through the project. Ever since Clarke didn't’ come home for dinner last Tuesday and then raved about Mrs. Woods’ garlic chicken. Tiny things Clarke did with spite because she didn’t know what else to do, because she couldn’t do anything else.

Abby’s nostrils flared and Clarke jutted her hip, shrugging to herself as she dug for her phone, ready to go to work and escape the house and the persistent smell of medical equipment and cleaner that haunted her until she was about two blocks from the house.

“I’ll be home around midnight.”

“Like hell you will. You’ll be home right after your shift.”

“No,” Clarke paused as she turned to leave. “I’m going over Lexa’s to study. We’re watching a Cary Grant movie.”

“You’re under the misconception that you get to make your own schedule and plans without asking permission. But that is not the case, Clarke.”

“I’ve been doing fine.”

“You’ve barely been home. Your father is--”

“Right there, in that room, asleep. I know this because I spent the morning with him. We made pancakes and played a game of cribbage. We talked about school and Lexa and I showed him pictures of the past week of my life. And I helped him with his meds because he’s having a bit of a flare. I told him I’d see him in the morning for omelettes because we’ve been watching cooking shows together and he wants to try the french style. I know exactly what is going on with my father.”

She hadn’t meant to, but her voice began to raise as she spoke. Clarke felt her fist shake. She felt her muscles tighten and her jaw clench. She was okay with being considered lazy and unmotivated, but to be accused of negligence was uncalled for, especially from someone like her mother.

“Don’t you raise your voice! You are greatly mistaken as to the nature of our relationship. I am your mother, and I am sick of your attitude, and your priorities not being your father and your family or your education.”

“Lexa has nothing to do with any of that. Are you just mad I’m dating a girl? Or that I don’t care what you think anymore?”

Slightly taken aback by her daughter, by her words, by her actions, by her entire demeanor over the past few months and frankly just sick of dealing with being the bad guy.

“I don’t even know who you are anymore,” Abby shook her head.

“I could say the same thing.”

The two stared at each other before Clarke shook her head and adjusted her bag. She toyed with her keys in her pockets before checking her phone again.

“I’m going to be late for work. I’ll be back tonight.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Abby insisted again. “You’re grounded indefinitely.”

“Except I’m not,” Clarke sighed and shook her head. “I’m not because I don’t care anymore. I genuinely don’t.”

“You’re going to. Give me your keys and your phone.”

“No.”

“I’m not joking, Clarke. You’re going to need to readjust your priorities and attitude.”

“I think you should take your own advice,” Clarke insisted as she reached the front door. “Or are you too busy fucking Kane to realize that there is no more family here?”

With a satisfying slam, she yanked the door shut. The anger that was stationed in her shoulders dissipated with the noise and movement. Clarke stood there in the quiet of her perfect neighborhood, the flapping of the flag lazily moving in the spring breeze was all she heard at first. Then the birds came. Then a lawnmower started in the distance.

Clarke felt lighter than she’d felt in a long time. She also felt emptier than any other time in her life. It was officially the end, and now she had to deal with that because the anger and the hurt and the betrayal was all she’d had in her for what felt like months. It hadn’t made anything better, and it certainly ruined everything, but Clarke took some solace in the fact that now she could try to fill herself up with something else.

XXXXXXXXXX

The party at Bellamy Blake’s house was in full swing by the time Lexa made her way up the winding driveway and into the belly of the beast. She wasn’t sure how she ended up there exactly, except that her girlfriend texted and said to show up. That seemed to be enough of a reason, though Lexa wasn’t particularly prepared. They’d had plans. Quiet plans. Private plans. Movie plans.

And now Lexa was going to her girlfriend’s ex’s party.

She shoved her hands in her pockets as she moved through the crowd, clearly not getting the memo that jeans were not entirely good enough attire, and in fact she seemed to be extremely overdressed. Her eyes bugged slightly as she watched a girl from her physics class walk by in a very tiny, very teeny lime green bikini. Lexa became suddenly aware of the appeal of such things, as if she hadn’t noticed them before, but then MIchelle who sat diagonally in front of her third period looked like that and she gulped.

The music thumped loudly. The beats were rattling the walls and shaking the windows while the screams and giggles of her classmates sought to shatter glass. It wasn’t like the other parties she’d been to with Clarke. It wasn’t even like thrones Anya dragged her to when she visited. This was a night of debauchery and she hadn’t had time to prepare.

And as much as she saw everyone else wearing bikinis, she hadn’t thought about Clarke wearing one. She’d seen Clarke’s boobs before. That was nice. But there was something to her girlfriend in a bikini that was… good. Very good, even.

Lexa pushed her glasses up slightly on her nose and stared.

“What are you doing here?” Gus asked, approaching quietly. She didn’t move or say anything else, just stared from across the pool, the steam billowing upward to ward the sky while everyone seemed to glow blue and green and red, the lights alternating around them, the flames of the fire pits dancing to keep everyone warm. The warm glow of the lights inside were lost on the white-blue shade to the water.

“Lexa, focus,” he snapped his fingers in front of her face. “What are you doing here? Your sister would kill me if she knew you were at a Blake party.”

“How is it different than any other party?”

“It just is.”

“Because of the pool? I’ve been to pool parties.”

It hadn’t been since seventh grade and didn’t look like an episode of a CW show, but still, she’d been to a pool party with many of the same cast of characters that were currently on display. It was before puberty, but still.

“We need to get you home.”

“Clarke invited me.”

“It doesn’t matter. This isn’t your scene.”

“I can be in any scene. I’ve watched every John Hughes movie.”

“This is more of an episode of Euphoria than an 80s teen flick,” Gus sighed and took another swig from his cup. “And I fully believe you would fit in fine with Molly Ringwald.”

“That’s very kind of you to say,” Lexa nodded. “I’ll be fine.”

She took her eyes off of her girlfriend long enough to assure her friend that she was perfectly fine now. She was dating the head cheerleader. She’d been to parties and seen--

“Gus-- is that cocaine?”

“Okay, yeah, we have to get you out of here,” he shook his head and tossed his empty cup into a flowerbed.

“Is it really?” she asked, craning her neck as he pushed her forward. “I’ve never see that in real life before. People actually do that thing with the credit cards and dollar bills? Astounding. Where does one get cocaine?”

“You don’t need to know that.”

“I’m not going to do it. I’m just curious.”

They only made it a few steps before the ran into a sopping body. A tall, muscular, tan, perfectly chiseled and dripping body. It was the body of an actual god. It was the body of the perfect specimen, with biceps and the long swimmer cuts that pointed firmly toward his… his-ness.

“Gus, long time, man. How you been?” Bellamy Blake grinned before slipping his cup in his teeth as he hugged the other football player.

“Not too bad. Heard you’re heading to Oregon in the fall?”

“Yeah, partial scholarship. We’ll see what happens,” he shrugged. “Staying close?”

“Yeah, St. Johns, about three hours away.”

“Full ride?”

“Yeah. I got offered half to OSU, but would rather not have to pay anything.”

“No, that’s smart.”

The whole time they spoke, Lexa watched Clarke’s ex intently. She frowned to herself and wondered how her girlfriend broke up with him. He was effortlessly cool. He was huge. He looked like he knew how to go down on a girl, and Lexa was still apprehensive. She wished she could fast forward in life until she was really good at sex.

She watched him grin and sip from his red cup, meeting her eyes curiously as Gus explained something about his college recruitment process.

“I don’t think we’ve ever met before. I’m Bellamy.”

He held out his hand. And though she didn’t want to do it, she sighed and shook his hand.

“Sorry, I should have introduced you. This is Lexa.”

“Lexa… Lexa…” He mulled.

“Anya Woods’ sister.”

“Wow, you’re Anya’s little sister?”

“Yeah.”

“How is she? I forgot she had a little sister. I remember her little brother died-- oh shit.”

“Yeah.”

“We were just heading out,” Gus interrupted.

“I was actually just going to go talk to Clarke.”

“Why would you--”

Before anything else could be said, before anything else could transpire between the two of them, before Gus had to interrupt again, Clarke appeared, launching herself into her girlfriend’s arms, wrapping her own around her neck, her body still slightly damp from the pool she must have just climbed out of during the awkward introduction.

“You’re here. I’m so happy,” Clarke hummed against Lexa’s warm neck. She buried herself there, suffocating herself happily, slightly tipsy.

“I told you I’d stop by.”

Clarke kissed her girlfriend’s neck. She leaned most of her body against her there and giggled, oblivious to the eyes, too drunk to care about anything else happening.

“I am have the worst day. Maybe the worst week. Maybe the worst year ever. No, wait. Definitely the worst year, and today I finally told my mom everything and then left. So Yeah. It’s been terrible. I got drunk.”

“Not the healthiest coping mechanism.”

“Not a bit,” Clarke grinned, agreeing eagerly and with a wide grin. She leaned forward and kissed her girlfriend despite her words.

“You can be healthy tomorrow,” Lexa offered. “You okay?”

“As okay as can be.”

There was some throat clearing that happened behind them, and Lexa felt a burning in her ears and chest at the display, unaccustomed to it all.

“So this is your new girlfriend?” Bellamy asked, looking at the pair.

“Lex, I suppose you’ve met my ex,” Clarke gestured.

“Kind of.”

“Is this party a little much?”

“If I remember correctly, this was exactly the kind of thing you liked. We went to many a party in our tenure,” Bellamy shrugged, lazily leaning against a counter. “Things changed since I left, I guess.”

“I enjoyed not thinking,” Clarke offered. “You were great for that.”

Gus and Lexa looked between the two and then at each other. She was almost certain she didn’t know what was happening, but that certainly, something was, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about it.

“You moved on quick, huh?”

“Hey, step back,” Gus interrupted as Bellamy took a single step. “This is Anya’s sister.”

“Woods?” he furrowed. “You’re dating Anya Woods’ kid sister?”

“Yup,” Clarke nodded.

“I heard she was--”

“Standing right here,” Gus finished.

Lexa felt Clarke’s hand move into her own and she smiled despite the fact that she was picking up a drunk girl at her college guy ex’s party. There was a lot in that sentence she wasn’t happy about, now that she thought about it.

“You ready to get out of here?” Lexa asked innocently, ignoring the rest.

“I think we still have a few more shots lined up, Clarke,” Bellamy smiled and Lexa understood the need to punch.

Noticeably torn, she looked at her girlfriend and back at her ex before realizing that she was actually drunk, and that wasn’t good. Lexa smiled softly and rubbed her girlfriend’s back. She kind of imagined how it must have felt to implode and take her mother down with her. Lexa remembered the feeling of telling her father she was gay and sad. Clarke’s implosion didn’t seem as successful as her own, and Lexa was more than happy to try to help in whatever way she could.

“Can I stay at your place tonight?”

“Yeah,” Lexa nodded quickly. “I’ll text my mom to let her know.”

“You’re seriously leaving?” The college football player and terrible ex scoffed. “The night is still young. It’s barely after eleven.”

“Thanks for getting me drunk, but I should probably go do something better.”

“Thanks for showing me around,” Lexa offered nodding her head slightly toward the host before he could argue. “Have a good night. I’ll see you on Monday, Gus.”

“Get home safe,” the linebacker warned.

Slightly dumbfounded, Bellamy Blake stood there, hands on his hips as he watched his ex weave through the crowd of people and disappear. As much s everything stayed the same, he couldn’t shake the sinking feeling of change, and how averse he was to it.

XXXXXXXXXX

“Here, you can, uh,” Lexa quickly moved through her bedroom, leaving her girlfriend standing by the bed. “I have some old sweats if you want.”

Already, Clarke began taking off her pants, and Lexa quickly looked in the drawers of her dresser. She felt the tips of her ears burn slightly as she looked over her shoulder, her girlfriend slumping into the bed, pants lost to the floor.

“I knew I shouldn’t have gone to that party. I knew it,” Clarke sighed, rubbing her face with both hands to ride herself of the spinning. “But I didn’t care. I just wanted to… you know…”

“You had it out with your mom. You just anted to go far away. I get it.”

“Don’t be nice to me. I knew better than to go, especially to anything involving Bellamy Blake.”

“Why?”

“He doesn’t care about any of it. Just has drinks. I should have called you or like done something else.”

“You’re allowed to want to take a night off from a giant secret after a huge fight. And you don’t need my permission,” Lexa reminded her girlfriend, offering an old shirt.

“It was stupid.”

“Do you feel better?”

Gingerly, Lexa tugged at Clarke’s shirt, pulling it over her head until she flopped back down on the bed, her hair fanning out against the pillow. Agitated at herself, at her clothe, at the unfathomable uncontrollability to the entirety of her life, Clarke growled to herself as she tugged off her bra, tossing it to the side and gracelessly pulling on the shirt Lexa offered.

“I don’t feel better at all.”

It was certainly a pout, and Lexa did her best to ignore it. Instead, she slicked off the light beside the bed, and slid between the sheets next to Clarke. Lexa laid there until Clarke turned to face her, until she placed her hand on her neck and cheek.

“I’m sorry you had to pick me up.”

“It’s okay,” Lexa whispered.

“It’s not. I’m not like this… I don’t mean to be… I mean--”

“It’s okay.”

Clarke leaned forward, shifting beneath the blankets until their knees were touching. She moved to only push the hair from Lexa’s forehead and she paused before kissing her lips. She tasted the warmth of the tequila there and she didn’t care. Lexa signed.

“Please don’t give up on me anytime soon,” Clarke murmured. Stunned from the kiss, Lexa blinked in the dark and shifted closer.

“I wouldn’t ever.”

“I know you wouldn’t. I just had to say it out loud.”

“Okay.”

Lexa was certain she was going to get another kiss, but instead, Clarke dug her forehead under her girlfriend’s chin and pressed their bodies together, hugging her tightly and disappearing, being overwhelmed, anchoring herself to a steady force. Lexa rubbed Clarke’s back for a few moments until she fell asleep, and then she allowed herself the option of sleep.

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magalidragon · 3 years

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lucky charm | a Jonerys drabble

YAY ITALY! 🇮🇹 Congrats @youwerenevermine ! Here’s a little silly for you in celebration and because you made that comment that Emilia was the lucky charm for Italy because she’s there now. 🤣 Wrote this in an hour so it’s silly and dumb but oh well!

“Dany! Dany where are you!?”

Missandei, her best friend, was on the phone with her, heard the shouting, and chuckled, “He alright?”

“Oh he’s fine, it’s almost time for the Winterfell game.”

“Huh?”

“Football.” Dany tugged the blue football jersey over her shoulders, picking up the phone and placing it back to her ear, now that she’d put on her uniform. She sighed, leaving her office even though there was still work to be done. She had a ton of stuff she’d brought home from work, thinking stupidly she’d be able to tackle it, but she’d also forgotten that this weekend was a big one for the Winterfell Wolves.

She was grateful they didn’t have to go out to the pub, since it was an away game. When it was away games, they got to stay home. When it was home games, they had had to go to the Lone Wolf pub and she would need to stand there for however long the game lasted, whether it went into a shootout or drew or whatever. She was from Essos; they didn’t have football as big as it was here in Westeros.

And she’d met and fallen in love with a man who seemed to be completely normal on the outset.

Then she’d met him when the Wolves played.

He turned into a beast.

She also happened to be there the day that they won the first game in over 100 years to the Casterly Lions. They were well on their way to being engaged, had spoken about moving in together, marriage, the whole lot of it, and if she hadn’t already had those conversations with him, she would have thought him proposing mid-fuck later that evening—one of the best ones they’d ever had honestly, she should tell the Wolves to win more often—was only because he was so happy that his beloved team had won for first time in 100 years.

And a few months later when she ended up at the dentist with a chipped tooth from tripping over her fucking cat Drogon, the Wolves had lost the worst game they’d ever lost in centuries.

Jon was positive it was because she wasn’t there with her.

It didn’t matter there were times they lost when she was there. He found an excuse. She was in the bathroom, he didn’t have the right beer, they were at the wrong person’s house, maybe her hair was in the wrong type of style as it was the day, they beat Casterly, whatever.

She loved it about him. It was just a little quirk that made her look at him with a knowing smile, a slight shake of the head, and she’d kiss him and murmur she loved him, and she’d allow him to put her in a Wolves jersey and sit her on the couch or the correct pub chair or whatever.

The television was already on in the living room when she entered and Ghost had his jersey on, sitting on his massive pillow bed with a new bone. “Who are we playing tonight?” she asked, pretty sure he’d told her, but she couldn’t remember.

“Highgarden.” He pulled her in his lap, passing her a beer. She took a sip and made a face; it was a Northern brand she really didn’t like but tolerated because she’d taken a sip against the Dornish Snakes and the Wolves came back from a nil-four goal deficit. He kissed her temple. “How is Misssandei?”

“Wondering why I cut her off to come down and watch this game with you.”

He grinned, his dark curls tugged from his face, in his ancient, threadbare, with holes on the edges jersey that she was sure he’d had since childhood. He tugged her towards him for another quick kiss. “Because it’s the game.”

“Which game is this exactly?”

“Regular game, but the Westeros Cup is coming up.”

“That the big one that’s every four years?”

He looked horrified at her. “No! That’s the WestEssos Cup where we play Essosi teams and we go by provinces, not individual teams. The Westeros Cup is where each province plays each other to determine who is the superior football player in all of Westeros and it is clearly the North and that starts in two weeks.”

“I’m so sorry darling.” She kissed his temple, chuckling. “Ah, so that means the Crownlands will be playing.”

An instantly suspicious look fell over his face, his gray eyes narrowing. “Aye.”

She smiled sweetly. “Well I’m from the Crownlands.”

“Hmm…you’re from Essos.”

“I was born on Dragonstone. Does that not make me Westerosi?”

“It does.” He looked confused now, brow wrinkling, unsure whether he was going to accidentally offend her with what he probably was getting into. “Um…but you live in the North. With me. A Northerner.”

She giggled; she was just fucking with him and hugged her arm around his neck, stealing a quick sip of beer and passing it to him again. “Just fucking with you. Let’s watch this game, huh?”

“My lucky charm.”

“If you’re a good boy I’ll show you the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow when the game’s over.”

He turned pale pink. “I was drunk when I said that.”

“Yes, I remember, your pot of gold is good too.” She was never going to let him live that down. Especially since he told everyone that she was his lucky charm. She was why the Wolves won, not that he’d put all his faith in just her alone. He did support the talent of the team, their coach, and everyone who made it go.

But mostly he believed she was the reason they won.

And she loved that about him. Her superstitious little wolf.

“And the North plays in this cup coming up, huh?”

“Yes, we’re going to win.”

“Hmm.”

“Because I have you.” He pressed a hard kiss to her lips, just as someone on the television scored. He whooped, almost throwing her clear off him to cheer, as the Wolves had scored within a minute of the game starting. She sighed, falling into the couch cushions and made eyes with Ghost, who gave her a well we do love him face.

That we do, she thought, getting up to get herself a proper drink at the next commercial break.

Several weeks later, Dany made all of Jon’s dreams come true.

Not only did she secure him tickets to the final of the Westeros Cup via her brother’s connections—it paid sometimes to have a brother who was in politics—where the North were playing against the West, but just before the Wolves won in a shootout, she passed him a small bag with something she purchased before they arrived.

Jon, slightly distracted as the Northern player lined up for the kick, glanced in the bag. “Oh, another shirt? That’s nice, but…not now.” Her quiet wolf sucked in his breath as the player kicked and he clutched her tight.

And he scored.

The stadium went insane, every Northerner fan throwing up their blue and white scarves, t-shirts, hats, and waving the Northern gray and white flag, screaming hysterically.

Jon was almost in tears, holding onto her tight and screaming in his excitement. She grinned and jumped and down with him, lifted clear off the ground, his arms hoisting her up, so she was downright climbing him like a tree. “We did it! You did it! My lucky charm! My Dany! We won! We won!”

Dany smiled, thinking of the bag with the infant t-shirt she’d purchased, that he had barely registered. She’d tell him later; she didn’t think she was the lucky charm this time, but something else.

“Sure Jon,” she teased, kissing him hard, mumbling. “You’re my lucky charm too.”

#jonerys #jonerys drabbles #yay italy!#for erika!#because she said one thing and now I have a drabble for it lollll #my fics #my moodboards

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soulmate-game · 3 years

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Part 2: The same prompt, but Siblings this time

Tim paused the video on his computer, the red figure on it in mid-leap off of a building. Be rewound the video, played it, paused again at the same time stamp.

No, his eyes were not deceiving him. The video was not doctored.

So what the hell was going on?

“Hey Timmie, find anything on that Paris situation Bruce asked you to look into?” Dick’s voice made Tim startle, nearly spilling his coffee all over the keyboard and possibly deleting his hard-earned research. Rescuing his lifeblood from certain doom, he hugged his mug to his chest and glared at his older brother for a second. Dick was not in the least bothered, used to this sort of reaction from the younger detective. Dick just grinned, leaning on the back of Tim’s chair and looking up at the images on the large computer screen above them. He whistled lowly, impressed. “You’ve made a lot of progress, nice! Anything you wanna share with me before the debrief tonight?”

Tim clenched and unclenched his jaw, weighing his options. Dick waited patiently, knowing that sometimes Tim needed a minute to sort through his rapid-forming thoughts. Finally Tim sighed, setting down his mug grimly.

“Actually, yes,” he admitted. Tim’s tense tone immediately made Dick stiffen, straightening up. His eyebrows pulled down, and he returned his gaze to the computer.

“Okay, that’s your serious voice. What is it?”

“I… need your confirmation with something,” Tim turned around and looked straight at Dick. And he hesitated again, because certain… past interactions with his eldest brother once again flashed through his head. The entire Bruce-is-alive and being threatened with Arkham interaction, to be specific. But Tim needed to know the truth, it was his fatal flaw he supposed. He couldn’t back away in fear of how Dick might react.

“Ohhhhkay?” Dick just grew more and more concerned the longer that Tim took to actually speak.

“So, just to recap. There are only four people in history who have been able to do a quadruple somersault, right?” Tim asked, knowing full well the answer. Dick, predictably, shifted and grew even more on alert at the inquiry. He knew that couldn’t mean anything good. His jaw clenched, and his hands formed tight fists. But Dick also remembered the Bruce incident with Tim all that time ago, and he didn’t want to repeat his mistakes. So he forced himself to take a deep breath, and shake himself away from jumping to conclusions.

“Yeah,” Dick nodded. “Me, my parents, and my sister,” he confirmed rigidly. Tim nodded, and then rewound the video on the screen again, nodding to show that Dick should focus on it.

“Okay. But watch this,” Tim suggested, starting the video again. Dick watched as the red and black-spotted heroine of Paris, Ladybug, zipped through the air and around buildings with her yo-yo. He watched as she let go, at a height that even a normal person could manage, and executed four perfect somersaults in mid-air before landing nimbly on the ground. Tim paused the video again, his eyes never leaving Dick’s tense face.

“It isn’t doctored,” Tim said, filling the silence and preemptively answering the questions he knew he would get. “I checked. Magic is involved, but Constantine and Zatanna both confirmed it would have no hold over basic physical abilities like flexibility or… gymnastics. Only specifically combat styles used by past Ladybugs can be transferred magically to the next Ladybug, not this.”

“Tim,” Dick’s voice was terrifyingly blank. “What are you suggesting?”

“Nothing yet,” Tim was quick to hold up his hands in surrender. “I’m still doing research. It’s possible, though extremely unlikely, that she managed to teach herself how to do that. You tell me, Dick, how likely is it?”

Dick swallowed, not wanting to say it but knowing he had to look at the facts. “... At her age? Next to impossible,” he admitted. “She could learn it, theoretically, as young as seven or eight, but only if someone who knew what they were doing taught her since she was about three.”

Tim nodded again. He knew those numbers, he knew where they came from.

“Then— and this is only a theory right now— we have what I think is the more plausible scenario,” Tim swallowed. This was the hard part. “Your sister was kidnapped after your parent’s death, but the body that was found wasn’t actually her’s. It wasn’t in a state to be physically identified, so—“

“I know what state it was in, Tim!” Dick snapped, forcing himself to take a few steps back and just breath. Even now, the image of a tiny body burned beyond recognition was burned into the inside of his eyelids, there to taunt him whenever he blinked or slept and let his mind wander in just the wrong direction. She would be… what, Jason’s age, now? She was seven… only seven, when their parents died and she ran off into the Gotham streets in despair. When she was kidnapped, as is what happens in Gotham.

When Dick was presented with a body he could not say WASN’T her’s a week later.

“The DNA…” Dick tried. “They said…”

“I know,” Tim’s voice was carefully soft. “But the records on your family’s DNA were all kept by the circus back then. The Talons had access to those files. It’s very possible they were tampered with. Switched. It wouldn’t be hard for them to burn your sister’s actual medical files and replace them with forged copies that had someone else’s DNA on them. The data of the girl who actually died.”

Dick closed his eyes, shaking his head. He didn’t want to hope, it would hurt too much if Tim was wrong.

Tim had been right about more unlikely things than this, a voice in the back of his head whispered. And yeah, that was true. But Dick was still too scared to hope.

“Finish your research, Tim,” Dick’s voice was strained with suppressed emotion. He couldn’t even look at the younger vigilante as he left the Cave. “Find out who Ladybug’s civilian persona is, and then we’ll talk.”

Tim could only sigh in relief when Dick was gone. That could have gone much worse.

—*—*—*—*—*

A week later, the entire family was gathered. This was the full debrief on the Paris case, rather than the progress update that they had had to do before. Research took longer than Tim had expected, he had years of data to go through after all. But he had come away with exactly what he had been looking for.

After running through the overall situation and where the fight against HawkMoth was at in the present day, Tim licked his lips and took a deep breath. This was it, the Who-Is-Ladybug part.

“I was able to get security footage of her detransformation, just one lucky shot from ten years ago, when this whole thing began,” he prefaced. “She was thirteen years old, and untrained as far as heroism goes, so it stands to reason she didn’t know yet how to be properly careful about transforming. This is that security picture,” he carefully put the enlarged picture up on the Batcomputer, as well as sliding a physical copy onto the table for everyone to pass around.

Dick didn’t even try to grab it, his eyes glued to the computer, expression unreadable. The picture was a little grainy, but most of the girl’s face could be made out. Pigtails, dark black hair that shimmered blue in direct light, blue eyes.

But it was the next picture that Tim pulled up that pushed everything over the edge.

“These are the official pictures of her that I was able to get from Paris records. This first picture is of her at the same age at the security footage, thirteen. The second picture is her now, age twenty-three,” Tim said, before the side-by-side came up on the screen. Tim’s eyes slid over to Dick, who was frozen in his seat, just staring at the images silently. He wasn’t even breathing.

“Dick?” Bruce asked, immediately noticing the behavior. His eyebrows furrowed. “Are you alright?”

Dick’s next breath came in with a shudder, and he clenched his eyes shut in a futile attempt to stop the tears that came out. He choked out a broken chuckle, shaking his head and giving out a lopsided, watery grin.

“Heh. Another point for Timmy being right,” Dick jokes weakly, rubbing at his eyes.

“What do you mean? Tim?” Bruce turned to the younger of the two insistently. “What’s going on? Who is she?”

“Currently, according to Parisian records, she is Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” Tim told them. “More specifically, her full name is Marinette Gray Dupain-Cheng. Which I believe is what she chose to change her name to after she was kidnapped sixteen years ago from right outside Haley’s Circus, and illegally transported to France,” Tim clicked another button to bring up a third picture in the side-by-side. It was of someone who was clearly a younger Marinette, but in the very familiar costume of the Flying Graysons, standing right next to a twelve-year old version of Dick. “Because her birth name is Marie Natalia Grayson. Dick’s younger sister, who until now was presumed dead. But I was able to confirm that the medical records back then for Marie were forged, and the information on them could not actually belong to her. The body that was presented as Marie’s… was a red herring to hide that Marie was no longer in America at all.”

Dick’s sob-laugh drew everyone’s attention back to the first Robin, who was now silently, openly, crying. Nobody really knew how to deal with that, and the room descended into awkward silence as Dick tried to regain his composure a little.

“Marinette… Gray,” he whispered, chuckling again and shaking his head as he wiped at his cheeks. “That idiot… her ability with subtlety hasn’t gotten any better, that’s for sure,” he was smiling now, still staring at the pictures of Marinette on the screen. Of his beautiful little sister, all grown up and not buried six feet under like he had thought for far too long.

Because this was different from Hope. This was certainty. The face, the far too on-the-nose name, the somersaults, Dick had even noticed it in the way she swung on her yo-yo. The body memory from years of Trapeze, those little quirks he recognized as belonging to his sister that he hadn’t wanted to acknowledge. But now, all together, he could admit to himself that it was her. It was really her.

Could it be a clone? Maybe. Maybe. But that was why Dick snuck out to France the very next day, informing absolutely nobody.

Because he had a test that only the real Marie would be able to pass.

—*—*—*—*—*

"How did you- No, nevermind, I don't want to know, plausible deniability and all that,” the deep, unfamiliar male voice made Marinette squeak in shock, nearly dropping the phone in her hands. She leaned so far to her right that she almost fell over, but her nearly perfect balance (that only failed her when she was nervous or self conscious) kept her upright.

Her eyes darted down to her phone screen, where an app that Max had helped her create was opened. It utilized at least five hundred little fly-shaped drones that Markov managed and kept track of to scan the city for corrupted butterflies and recognize the level of stress or other negative emotions that civilians were experiencing. It cut down severely on patrol time that the crew had to do, making it easier for them to balance their hero and civilian lives and also allowed for them to arrive at the scene of Akuma attacks twice as fast as before— along with helping with the original purpose of catching evidence to use against Hawkmoth, of course.

Marinette straightened her back, smiling sheepishly and closing out the app. She had just been making a routine check, it had only been open for a minute. How had he managed to sneak up on her in that time? Only chat could do that anymore.

That is, until Marinette turned around the rest of the way and got a good look at the man. Her eyes widened— what was Nightwing, a vigilante from Gotham, doing there?

“I don’t see what plausible deniability has to do with anything,” she replied in easy, unaccented English. She might not speak it often, but she did stay in practice. Even now a lot of her fashion notes and thoughts were in either English or Romani. “It’s just a game app that my friend created,” the practiced lie flew easily past her lips, and she was able to even smile confidently and begin to happily ramble about Max’s (public) achievements like she would in any normal situation. “It is still in the test phase of course, but it uses virtual reality and mapping technology to create a treasure hunt sort of adventure game that people can do as they walk around. Like Pokémon go, but with real-time footage of the city— with people not included besides the game characters of course— and it rewards caution as well as keeping active,” she explained their cover story for the app happily. But Nightwing only smiled easily at her with his arms crossed, clearly not believing a single word.

“Ah— but that probably isn’t interesting,” Marinette purposely stuttered, turning her face into one of (surprisingly genuine) confusion as she looked at the vigilante. “What are you here for anyway, Monsieur? This doesn’t seem like—“

“I have a riddle that a friend of mine told me to ask you,” he interrupted, instantly putting Marinette on guard. She took a step back, eyebrows pulling down at the odd request. But still, she chuckled nervously and shrugged. She had to maintain appearances after all.

“Uh, sure..? Riddles are fun, in the right circumstances I guess.”

Nightwing beamed happily, nearly blinding the poor girl. “Awesome!” His next words came out in fluent Romani though: “If a Hummingbird ever gets lost, what kind of animal will track it down?”

Marinette’s mouth went dry, her shoulders dropping. Her mouth opened and closed, the shock of the question leaving her unable to even pretend she didn’t understand exactly what was said. Nightwing’s gaze grew more intense, yet his smile got impossibly soft.

Marinette swallowed thickly, and she took a deep breath before responding in Romani: “You shouldn’t— only one person—“

“That doesn’t answer the riddle, ma’am.”

Marinette’s confusion turned into a harsh glare. “He would never tell someone else to ask me that. What are you trying to play at, Nightwing?” She hissed harshly, still in her native language.

“Listen, Marinette,” Nightwing held up both hands to try to calm her down. It did the opposite, making her take another step back. “Batman and the rest of our team has been looking into the Hawkmoth security—“ Marinette cursed, clearly seeing where this was going. “— We believe he found out who Ladybug is. But, we also found signs that your real name is—“

“Shut up!” She yelled in English, fists clenched tightly. Luckily she had gone into an alleyway to check her phone, or else they would be attracting attention by then. Her eyes sparked with anger. “You don’t get to use that name. And if you’re so smart,” Marinette tucked her phone into her purse and scaled the wall next to her nimbly, perching on the roof as Nightwing cursed and began to follow her. “Then try to predict my moves, birdy.”

It only took a few minutes and crossed rooftops for Marinette to call on her transformation and pick up speed. She knew by then that Nightwing, and probably the other Bats too, already found her out. Not ideal, but manageable. Now she wanted to show him why he shouldn’t come into her territory and dig into her past and think he could get away with it.

Somewhere during the chase, more Bats appeared one by one. Judging by what Ladybug was able to overhear, they had come as soon as they realized where Nightwing had snuck off to.

That made Marinette pause from where she hid behind a sloped roof, in the middle of a call to her own teammates. Nightwing hadn’t come on his team’s orders?

Why the hell had he come, then?

She shook thought thoughts away, focusing on her plan. Paris was her city, and she would make sure the Bats learned their lesson when it came to sticking their nose in Parisian business.

“Bug?” The soft, concerned call came from her yo-yo and pulled her from her contemplating. Max, in full Pegasus attire, was frowning at her in worry on the small screen. She just shook her head at him.

“I’m fine, Peg. Just don’t like how this feels like Gotham ruining my life again,” she remarked sourly. “But I’m fine. Start plan We’re Not Kids.”

Max nodded, but rolled his eyes and muttered something that sounded like; “even though we made this plan when we actually were kids…”

A portal opened in the air a few seconds later, releasing Honeybee in all her gold and black glory. The winged hero zipped through the air, immediately putting team Miraculous at an advantage since team Bat didn’t want to actually harm them.

It took a glorious five seconds for Honeybee to paralyze them all before Tortoise dropped out from another portal and surrounded the temporarily paralyzed vigilantes in a dome shield that kept them in just as easily as it kept everything else out.

One by one, Marinette’s teammates dropped out of more portals until Pegasus himself joined them. Ladybug took that as her que to come out, leaping over her hiding place to land in front of her friends, who had formed a half-circle in front of the trapped dome.

“Vixen,” she called to the fox-themed hero, whose ears twitched before she straightened to attention. “Create an illusion to hide us. The last thing we need are any pictures or anyone asking questions.”

“Got it!” Vixen agreed easily, raising her flute to her lips. A short melody later, and their surroundings warped. To those inside the illusion, it seemed as if the world merely ended off of the rooftop they were on, into only blankness. Outside, that very rooftop appeared empty.

It was then that Chat Noir stepped up to take Ladybug’s side, his acidic green eyes scanning over the Gotham vigilantes trapped inside Tortoise’s protective barrier.

“You can release the paralysis, Honeybee,” his order was noticeably softer than Ladybug’s clear commands. It was obvious that he was the deputy in this situation, the flexibility to Ladybug’s iron leadership. That was when the red clad hero crossed her arm, resuming control of the situation wordlessly. The Gotham heroes briefly glowed gold as Honeybee let their paralysis begin to gradually wear off.

“Paris is my city,” Ladybug’s voice was at a normal volume, but came out with such auditory steel that it was clear she expected to be listened to, or she’d know why. “If I needed or wanted your help, I would have asked for it. Now, if you had come here normally to offer aid, then we might be having a different discussion right now,” her eyes narrowed further. “But you dug into my past. You violated my privacy. And Nightwing, you crossed a line,” she would have continued if the blue and black clad hero didn’t use his sudden ability to move to rip off his mask.

Marinette’s voice died in her throat, and for a while she thought she might be hallucinating. Those eyes, that face— she knew them. She knew them, because she saw them whenever she dared close her eyes. Because the dreams she had, the dreams that made her never want to drag herself out of bed because she wanted to believe those dreams were real so badly, always contained those eyes. And that face, though it had been much younger in her memories.

She stumbled, and only Chat’s presence at her side kept her from toppling right over.

“Bugaboo?” He asked frantically, distraught. She just shook her head dazedly, pushing herself back to her feet and away from her partner.

“I’m fine, Chat. Just…,” she assured her partner, but her eyes never left Nightwing. She licked her lips nervously, before continuing; “... Bluebird,” she whispered, making Nightwing’s eyes widen. Her brother’s eyes. “That’s the answer to the riddle, right?”

Slowly, a wide smile split his face before he began to laugh happily, despite Robin slapping Nightwing’s mask back on his face with a furious grumble.

“Ladybug?” Tortoise asked, stepping up to her other side cautiously. Seeing as they were all adults now, none of them had to worry about time or power limits anymore. “Are you..?”

“Release the shield,” she ordered instead of answering, her eyes clearly damp behind her mask. “I need to strangle my idiotic older brother for scaring the hell out of me.”

That made the rest of her team make their various exclamations of shock, but Chat and Tortoise stayed silent. Chat just put a hand on Ladybug’s shoulder in support, while Tortoise zipped his wide gaze back to Nightwing before sighing and releasing his ability.

“Only you, Bug,” the green clad hero groused playfully. “Only you.”

If Marinette Dupain-Cheng suddenly introduced her long-lost brother to her closest friends and family that same night, nobody voiced the coincidence out loud.

—*—*—*—*—*

Part 1: Romance

Part 3: Bio!Parent

#maribat #ml x dc #mlb x dc #dickinette #platonic dickinette #3-from-1 challenge

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svnflowervol666 · 4 years

Text

Game Night (Harry Styles x fem!Reader)

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: use of alcohol, obnoxious fluff, mentions of smut

Author’s Note: Just some tooth-rotting dad!Harry drunkenly loving on his wife and his bubby in front of his friends for you all! This was based on an ask I received after bringing back this video of Harry. I hope you all enjoy and that everyone is doing well and doing their best to stay positive as of late. Take care and tpwk!

Game nights at Harry’s had been a longstanding tradition for a while now. At least once a month, with everyone’s schedules permitting, the gang would gather over for drinks and some form of a party game. They’d all get obnoxiously drunk, shouting at the top of their lungs and no doubt annoying the piss out of Harry’s neighbors. It was a time they all considered near and dear to their hearts, even if it was getting rowdy over a game of charades and glasses of whiskey.

Harry actually met Y/N at one of these sacred game nights. Sarah had dragged her along, claiming that she needed to get out of the house more and that she felt like her friend Harry might be someone she could hit it off with. She was right; she always is. From the second Harry first saw her in his kitchen, nervously leaning against the cabinets with her arms crossed over her chest while Sarah poured her a drink from the assortment of liquor he had laid out on the counter, he knew that she was going to be someone special in his life. The way he caught her stealing glances at him from across the table while they played a shit game of poker was not lost on him either. Her nose scrunched up when she snickered at him each time he drew a card that didn’t help his hand one bit, the way she tensed up when he put his hand on her back to get up from the table to refill his glass, the way she heat noticeably climbed up her neck and onto her cheeks when he called her love before she went home for the night. She wanted to get to know him, he knew that. And he wanted to know her too. And so they did.

It’s been nearly nine years since her first game night, and so much has changed since then. Game night doesn’t take place in Harry’s bachelor pad in London, it takes place in the home he owns with Y/N, the love of his life and after months of pleading on his part, his wife of five years. He wanted to marry her after knowing her for nearly a year and even though she knew that they were end game for each other, she still made him wait it out for a few more years before finally giving him a, “yes.” It’s not just the two of them in the house, either. They’ve got a four-year-old son, whom Harry and anyone that’s met him claims he is the sweetest little bub that he’s ever laid eyes on. His heart is as pure as the sky is blue, and his smile can light up even the darkest of places and people. Harry wouldn’t even hesitate to tell anyone that regardless of how many arenas he’s sold out or how many plaques he has in his music room that represents how influential his music has become, his child will always be the thing he is the proudest of.

While everyone’s lives have changed over the years, most getting married, some having children, some having moved away and some new faces added to the mix, game night is still a tradition to Harry and his close-knit group of friends. Sure, they can’t get too plastered because there are small children in the upstairs playroom that need to be driven home safely and their knees and back aren’t what they used to be so they can’t rough house or else they’ll end up with aching muscles in the morning, but the quality time that they spend together is still just as important. Harry’s finally gotten to a point where he can just slow down and breathe and be the man that his friends and family need him to be, so he still invites everyone over from time to time to keep in touch and reinforce the relationships he has with his loved ones.

No one had noticed when Harry’s son had slipped away from his friends in his playroom and snuck downstairs for another cookie that Gemma had brought over. They were his favorite, which is why she baked them for tonight’s occasion and exactly why he loved his Aunt Gemma so much. He wasn’t being as sneaky as he’d thought, however, because Harry had heard the foil that covered the platter rustling behind him and craned his neck to decipher which one of the handful of kids that had come over tonight were helping themselves to another sweet. He had a pretty good idea exactly who it was, but he just needed confirmation.

“Bubby, is that you?” Harry called over his shoulder over the chatter of his family and friends playing an intense game of Uno.

Like clockwork, his little boy emerged from behind the counter with an already half-eaten cookie nestled in his pudgy hands. He looked like he was going to burst into tears for getting caught by his father. He knew that Harry didn’t like it when he ate too many sweets before bed, therefore he’d assumed his papa was going to scold him.

“‘s alright, bubby. ‘m not upset with ye’,” Harry softened his voice immediately upon seeing the expression on his son’s face, “Come over here and sit wi’ me. And bring me another one of those while you’re at it.”

The corners of the toddler’s mouth turned up when he realized that he wasn’t in trouble, and he quickly darted back behind the counter to grab an extra cookie for his dad before making his way into the dining room where the real party was.

Harry wasn’t drunk. He couldn’t do that anymore without waking up with a raging hangover that took nearly all day to recover from, but he was definitely buzzed. The alcohol warmed his belly in the best way, turning him into the Harry that was incredibly touchy and clingy towards whoever was around him. Y/N was across the table gossiping with Sarah, her arm draped over her perfectly round belly. They were due for another baby in just a few month’s time, so she was nursing on a mug of decaf tea rather than the chilled bottles of beer that everyone else had been sipping on. He couldn’t help but admire the way she quite literally glowed in the dimmed, amber-colored lights that decorated their dining room. She hadn’t been feeling her best lately, unexplainably due to the nature of being so far along in a pregnancy, but Harry swore she had never looked more beautiful.

He was pulled from his daze of staring at Y/N when he felt a tug at his pant leg, a signal from his son that he wanted to be picked up and placed in Harry’s lap. Harry happily obliged, scooping up the toddler in one hand whilst holding his deck of Uno cards in the other. His son snuggled up to Harry’s chest, seeking comfort in the feverish heat that radiated from Harry due to having one too many beers than he should have.

“What’s goin’ on upstairs?” Harry asked the boy, “You lot staying out of trouble?”

Harry realized it was his turn, so he threw down the first card he saw without looking at the deck and kept his attention on his son.

“They wanted to watch The Little Mermaid, but I’ve already seen it,” his son spoke lowly in Harry’s ear so that only he could hear.

It wasn’t perfect English by any means because his bub was only four, but Harry knew exactly what he was saying.

This made Harry chuckle. Of course, he’d seen it before. He’s seen it probably a hundred times and so has Harry by force. Harry couldn’t even count the number of times he’d had the songs from the film lodged in his brain and unable to get them out no matter how hard he tried.

“Do ye’ want to stay down here then?” Harry asked as he placed his free hand on his son’s belly, “Help me beat Mitch and mummy?”

The dimples in the boy’s cheeks reared their head at the mention of giving Mitch and his mum a hard time, so he eagerly nodded and situated himself so that he could pay attention to the card game happening in front of him rather than looking up at his dad’s face.

“I heard my name!” Y/N called from across the large, wooden table they were gathered around, “You two talking bad about me?”

“Of course not, lovie!” Harry responded, “Just talkin’ about how pretty you are. Isn’t that right, bubs?”

“Yeah,” their son was able to squeeze out in between giggles.

Everyone at the table mockingly gagged at their interaction and Y/N squinted her eyes at her boys in disbelief, raising her deck of cards over her mouth before going back to playing the game. She let out a particularly hard cackle after using her wild card and screwing Jeff over.

“So, bubby,” Harry began to explain the way the game worked to his little boy, “when it’s our turn, we’ve got to put down a card that’s either the same number or the same color as the one on the table. Can ye’ help me pick em out?”

The boy nodded in understanding and looked around the room at everyone else playing their cards. When it got to be Harry’s turn, the card at the top of the deck was a red five. He fanned his deck of cards out so that his son could see them clearly.

“Alright, it’s our turn. Remember, we practiced our colors and numbers this morning. Do ye’ see any red cards or cards with the number five on them?” Harry enunciated slowly so that his bub could understand him clearly.

“Yeah! I see three red ones and one five! What’s that black one, though?” the four-year-old exclaimed a bit too loudly.

The entire table erupted into laughter at Harry’s son exposing practically his entire hand. Y/N kept her lips pulled tight between her teeth, trying her hardest not to let a smile poke through.

“That’s right, bubby,” Harry said through gritted teeth, “But ye’ not supposed to tell everyone the cards you’ve got. Alright? ‘S a secret.”

“Okay, daddy!” his son promised, still completely oblivious that he’d more or less ruined Harry’s chances of winning.

A few turns later, when the opportunity presented itself for Harry to wreak havoc in the game, he gave his bubby the option.

“Should we skip Mitch or should we reverse back to mummy?” Harry whispered into the small boy’s ear, darting his eyes between Mitch and Y/N.

Harry could see the cogs in his son’s brain turning; he was really contemplating who to punish. The boy looked over to his mother, who was already eyeing the two of them in suspicion.

“Harry,” she commanded him calmly with her free hand still resting on her bump, “Whatever it is that you’re thinking of doing, don’t do it. I swear if you do it, you’re taking care of yourself for the rest of the week.”

The party broke into hysterics again, and Harry feigned shock and covered the sides of their son’s face with his hands.

“We’ve got little ears in the room, Y/N!” he said dramatically.

She merely rolled her eyes in response. Gemma pretended to gag at her brother and sister-in-law but was still chuckling nonetheless.

“Seems like we better skip Mitch then, mate. Can’t have mummy that upset w’ me,” Harry told his son through broken laughter as he made the choice himself and leaned over to lay down his skip card.

They carried on playing this way, with Harry and Y/N’s son at the table, occasionally saying things that typical four-year-olds say that weren’t funny to him but made everyone else laugh. He was just happy to be there with his parents and his Uncle Mitch and Aunt Gemma and Sarah, even if they weren’t paying much attention to him besides Harry. Harry wanted to make sure he was included and didn’t feel like he was being neglected for drinks and card games, so he’d prompt him to choose his cards for him when he was able to do so.

When it was getting down to the nitty-gritty, everyone down to about three cards or so, that was when everyone got rowdy. Harry’s bub began to vibrate with energy, just as excited as everyone else to possibly win and hold the conquer over everyone’s head until the next time they gathered for game night. He was sitting at the edge of Harry’s lap at this point, just waiting for when it would circle back around to them so that they could lay another card down.

“Alright, bubs. This is it,” Harry prepped his son for the home stretch, “If we get t’ lay this next card down, you have to yell, ‘Uno!’ to let everyone know that you’ve only got one card left. Can ye’ do that f’ me?”

“Yeah, daddy! I can!”

“Let’s see how this goes then.”

It had been going good so far. Harry was smart enough to save his wild card for the end, that way he was certain to win no matter what card was on the top of the deck. The last card he needed to get rid of was a green one, which was conveniently the color that everyone was playing. It had bub bouncing with anticipation because Harry had been whispering to him over and over again that they were going to win if Gemma kept the deck on the color that they needed.

And she did. Harry’s baby laid his entire body over the giant table to happily slap down their next to last card down in the discard pile. He almost knocked over Mitch’s beer in the process, but Harry was quick to snatch it and hand it off the Mitch before any disaster could occur.

“What do you say, bubby?” Y/N asked the boy with an excited expression on her face.

He seemed to stall, not knowing what his mother was talking about. The boy scrunched his eyebrows together, sincerely trying to recall what he was supposed to say when he only had one card left. Harry had to whisper the word into his ear once more to jog his memory. Harry swore that he could see his eyes visibly light up when he remembered what his dad had told him earlier.

“Uno!” he shouted proudly, making everyone in the room cheer in unison.

This next round was crucial. All they had to do was hope and pray that Gemma, who was sat beside them, didn’t have any tricks up her sleeve that would land Harry and his bub having to draw more cards for forfeit their impending win. Harry could see very clearly because his sister had never been good at hiding her deck that she had a Draw Two in the right color resting neatly in between her fingers amongst her other remaining cards. She could destroy their chances of winning, she really could; or, she could let her brother and nephew have their victory and call it a night. But Harry didn’t say anything, leaving it all up to Gem as to whether or not the game would continue.

Gemma seemed to be contemplating heavily on her next move. Did she give her brother bragging rights in exchange for seeing the overly joyous look on her sweet nephew’s face when they won? Or did she force the gang to continue playing for who knows how long. They’d once played the same game for nearly two hours, but as much fun as that was at the time, she took in the social cues around her and realized that it was probably best to just let them win. Y/N and Sarah had been yawning for the past ten minutes, and Jeff looked like he was one more beer away from having to crash at Harry and Y/N’s place. As much as she despised her pesky younger brother and would have loved to see him grovel over being so close to winning but falling short, she granted him the wish she knew he was holding onto and didn’t play her Draw Two, instead laying down a random card that she had left in her stack.

Harry winked at Gemma when she settled back into her seat after not giving Harry the axe, then turned to look down at his son.

“Bubby, ye’ know what that means right?” Harry bounced him on his lap, waiting for him to realize what just happened.

His son’s eyes grew wider and wider, and so did his dimples.

“Lay down ye’ card,” Harry said softly, the same dimples shining back at him.

The boy slid his black wild card forwards into the discard pile, signifying their victory.

The group erupted into a fit of “dammit”s and “bloody hell”s, but it was all overpowered by Harry jolting from his seat with his son squeezed tightly in his arms.

“Yeahhhh! We wooooooon!” Harry repeated over and over at the top of his lungs, sending his son into the most contagious giggle fit anyone had ever seen.

Harry ran a lap around the table, still holding his and Y/N’s boy by his waist and shaking him all around. He attacked his son with kisses all over his face, smothering him to the point that the boy pushed Harry away from his body and escaped his old man’s grip. Everyone couldn’t help but smile at the two of them and think about how happy Harry truly was. No one decided to bring it up, but it certainly occurred to them either right then or in the car on the way home that Harry had been thriving since having a child, and there’s no doubt in anyone’s mind that he could possibly regret settling down and more or less retiring from touring and the spotlight.

Everyone soon said their goodbyes, slowly trickling out one by one with either a child asleep on their shoulder or an empty food container in their arms. They promised to meet up again in a few weeks, though they all knew it would likely be a bit longer because no one’s schedules were ever clear enough to permit everyone to come back on the same night. There wasn’t any malice, however; they were always able to pick up right where they left off even if it was six months before they saw each other again.

“That was nice,” Harry mumbled into his pillow to Y/N after tucking in a tired out four-year-old into bed when both the sugar high from all of the sweets and the high from winning game night cleared his system.

“It was,” Y/N sighed as she rubbed moisturizing cream into the tight skin on her stomach.

Harry watched her work the product in with her fingers, entranced by the way her body had changed so much in just these past few months. He’d already seen it before when she was carrying their son, but it never failed to amaze Harry each and every time he thought about how their children were growing inside of Y/N.

“Gimme tha’,” Harry sat up and held his hand out for the tube of lotion when he saw her struggling to reach the bottoms of her legs due to her protruding belly.

She passed it off to him without a second thought, slowly but surely swinging her legs over to Harry’s side of the bed so he could help her apply the product to the remainder of her body.

“Ye’ remember when ye’ first came to game night?” he asked softly as his hands kneaded circles into the bottoms of her feet.

“Mhmm,” Y/N responded, sighing heavily at the way Harry was rubbing her and relieving some of the built-up pressure in her heels.

“Nearly creamed my panties when you asked for my number.”

A chuckle came from deep within Harry’s chest and he shook his head at her answer.

“Did ye’ think we’d end up here back then? Like, married with babies n’ stuff?”

“Not at all,” Y/N scoffed, “I thought you were ready to drop me off on the side of the road after I cried on our third date.”

“I’d never!” Harry shouted a bit too loud for how late it was.

He peeked over his shoulder at their closed bedroom door, hoping he wasn’t loud enough to stir their son from his sleep.

“It was cute,” Harry spoke quieter, “Ye’ look pretty when ye’ cry.”

“So you only like me because I’m pretty?” Y/N put her hand over her heart in fake-shock.

Harry rolled his eyes and pressed his knuckle a bit too hard into Y/N’s arches in retaliation, making her jerk her foot out of his grip.

“Oh, totally. That’s why I’ve put up with ye’ for nearly ten bloody years.”

“I’m just giving you shit, Harold,” she reassured him and pet the spot beside her on the bed, signaling to Harry that she wanted him to cuddle with her.

He happily crawled in next to Y/N, pressing his front against her back and cupping his hand around her swollen stomach. His bones relaxed into the mattress and his eyes grew heavy after he settled down into the sheets. Right when he pressed a kiss to Y/N’s bare shoulder, he felt a prodding at his palm that was resting on the swell of her tummy, a kick from their unborn child.

“I love you,” Harry smiled into her skin, “So much.”

“I love you too, Harry,” Y/N was sleepily grinning just as wide.

Right when she felt her eyes start to weld shut, right when she began to slip from consciousness and drift away to the sound of Harry’s gentle breathing close to her ear, Harry spoke up again.

“Remember earlier during Uno when I skipped Mitch instead of reversing back to you?”

“Yeah?” Y/N groaned, confused and slightly irritated as to why he’d decided to bring it up now.

“Ye’ told me I’d have to take care of myself if I did,” he began sponging soft but strategic open-mouthed kisses to the sensitive spots on her neck, “But I didn’t.”

His hand drifted from her belly down to her bare thighs, where he began stroking the skin in an attempt to rile her up. She felt the beginnings of a bulge nudging her bum. Leave it to Harry to get worked up at nearly two in the morning at their progressingly old age.

She sighed, lacing Harry’s fingers that were tracing patterns on her thighs into her own and moving them back up to the top of her belly where they would certainly stay out of trouble.

“Go to sleep, you nob head,” Y/N called over her shoulder before finally falling asleep.

Maybe Harry had won game night, but Y/N had certainly had the last laugh.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles x pregnant!reader #dad!harry #dad!harry x reader #dad!harry x pregnant!reader

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insomnicpickle · 3 years

Text

(This is a cursed writing-)

—————

“Guys….I think (Y/n)‘s the only person to make Captain Levi lose his cool.” Eren said as he sat with his friends in the mess hall. The others looked up at him.” What do you mean by that?” Connie asked.” Well….”

~flashback~

“Damnit!” Eren cursed as he held his hand. Eren was trying to control his transformation powers but so far, no luck. He held his arm and panted a bit. He heard footsteps and looked at them.” Sorry captain.” He said. Levi stared.” You okay?” He asked.” Yeah. I will be.” He said as he looked down at his hand and clenched his fist.” I’ll keep trying.” He said.” Good. Now get up.” Levi said before walking off. Eren sighed.’ I need motivation.’ He thought.

S M A C K

His eyes widened and he held the back of his head.” Ow! What the-?!” He turned and saw his old friend.” (Y/n)? What was that for?!” He asked whining as he held his head.” 9 out of 10 doctors recommend that you stop being a little bitch.” She said. Levi, who was at a picnic table drinking his tea, chocked on his tea and coughed slightly. Eren stared at his captain with wide eyes before snapping to (Y/n).’ Did she just-?’ He thought.’ There’s no way…’ he thought. He then got up and continued with training.

“We’ll cut the limbs off here and here.” Captain said as he went over the plan, pointing the chalk at the weirded blobs of limbs that he drew.’ Is that blob suppose to me as a titan?’ He thought.” As a matter in fact, they’ll probably just grow back lizard style. Creepy little bastard.” Levi said.” Sir, during this, who’ll be in charge?” Eren asked.” Well since I’ll be with you, me. But in the case of us separating, I’ll have to say (Y/n), since she knows how to keep your ass in check.” He said. (Y/n) smirked and nudged Eren.” You know, technically I can make you do anything I order.” She said shrugging.” No you can’t!” Eren said pouting at his friend.” UH aCtUaLlY yEAh I cAN.” (Y/n) mocked. Eren’s eyes twitched and he turned to his captain to set her straight, only to see the sight of Levi facing the board, his shoulders slightly shaking.’ What….?’

“Man this place is in shambles.” Eld said as he looked at the castle.” It’s been abandoned for years.” Gunther said.” In which we have a problem, don’t we?” The two turned and saw captain Levi.” Best grab a broom and get to work.” He said. Behind him, (Y/n) popped out and looked at the castle. She then grinned.” Call me Dumbledore.” The three looked at her confused.” Cause we’re about to clean bitches.” She said.

The window opened up and (Y/n) poked her head out with a scarf on her head and around her nose and mouth.” Oh yeah~! You’re a dirty little window sill aren’t you?” She muttered while Levi swept around. Eren walked in and saw (Y/n) mumble to herself. He also noticed the barley noticeable shaking of Levi’s shoulders again.” I finished the upstairs sir-“ he said. (Y/n) jumped and turned around.” What!” She said, surprised.” Don’t sneak up on me like that!” She said. Eren fought back a smile.’ Sorry (y/n)!’ He thought.

“Wait, we can’t do experiments on me everyday!” Eren said. Hange pouted, a sad look in her eyes.” Why not?” She asked.” Because that’s not right! I mean, what am I, a slave?” He asked. Levi looked back at Hange, who looked at him. Levi then turned back to Eren. (Y/n), who had a blank look on her face, looked at Eren and said.” Yeah.” She said blankly.” Pfft-!” Hange and Levi said. Levi quickly turned his back to them, his shoulder shaking slightly while Hange bursted out laughing. Eren’s eyes twitched.’ Who’s side are you on (Y/n)?!’

“Captain I-!” Eren said turning behind him to see the team, only to freeze as the squad had their swords toward Eren. Eren dropped a spoon and went to pick it up only to turn his arm into a titan arm.” Eren! Why did you transform without permission?!” Oluo yelled.” Answer us!” Petra said.” No…I-I didn’t..-!” He said. He was just as confused and scared as everyone else was.” Captain step away!” Petra said.” All of you need to calm down.” Levi said, his hand in front of him.” That’s an order.” He said.” Wait!” The squad looked next to captain Levi and saw (Y/n) with a serious expression.’ Oh no…’ Eren thought, having a bad feeling.” We’re gonna need barbecue sauce.” She said. The squad stared at her before bursting out laughing.’ What the hell (Y/n)?!’ He thought.” Eren!” He snapped out his thoughts and looked at (Y/n).” It’s ok man. Just relax.” She said.’ Just….relax.’ He thought.” Wah!” He said as his arm slipped right out and fell to the ground with a thud.

“Guys guys!” Hange said as she ran into the mess hall, almost tripping as she did so. She stopped and panted a bit.” Watch it, four eyes.” Levi said setting his cup down. Eren looked up at her.” What’s up?” (Y/n) asked.” I have discovered the secret to Eren’s Titans powers!” Hange said. She then took a spoon out and set it down.” Drugs!” She said joking.” What, is that you crack spoon?” (Y/n) asked. Levi slightly chocked on his tea.” Don’t be silly, it’s far too shallow!” Hange said going along with the joke before explaining how his powers actually worked.

~flashback end~

“No way!” Connie said laughing as he slammed his fist up and down on the table.” You can’t be serious!” Jean said holding his stomach as he cries.” I’m not joking guys!” Eren said whining, clearly upset that no one believes him.” Damn, that’s too good to be true!” Sasha said, wiping her tears away.” Hey guys, speaking of (Y/n), where is she?” Christa asked as she looked around. Everyone stopped and looked around.” Hey yeah she’s right.” Armin said.

“She’s not here.”

-Meanwhile-

“What have I told you about making me laugh in front of others?” Levi asked as he flicked (Y/n)‘s forehead. She whined and rubbed the spot.” I didn’t do anything wrong!” She said pouting.” Besides, you have a cute laugh, Captain~” She said with a smirk.” Oh shut it brat.” He said leaning down and kissing her gently.” Now if you continue this, they’ll know we’re together. And we can’t have that or we’ll get in trouble. Understood?” He said gently flicking her nose. She yelped and held her nose.” Yes Levi.” She whined.” Good girl~ now get your ass up. We’re gonna get something to drink.” He said.” Vodka?!” She asked excitedly.” You know we don’t have any.” He said.” Yeah we do.” She said.” What? Where?” He asked confused.” Remember that tea I made you the other day?” She asked.” Yeah?” He asked.” Wait, are you saying it was vodka?!” He asked.” No! Of course not.” She said pouting. He sighed in relief.” Thank god.” She then smirked.” It was mostly watered down vodka.”

“(Y/n)!”

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fandom-thingies · 3 years

Text

My Complicated Feelings Toward JK Rowling

I think everyone who’s read Harry Potter and likes to talk has written something like this by now. It makes sense, right? She wrote possibly the most influential book series to come out in the last century. For me and many others, those books are an unforgettable part of our childhoods, and it hurts for the person who took us on such a journey of magic and wonder to be so unmagical herself.

So, here’s my take.

I think the thing I hate most about JK Rowling is how close she came to greatness.

There’s a reason her books became so popular, after all. For all her faults, (and there are many) she’s an amazing writer.

Every one of her characters feel like they could walk off of the page at any time and into your life.

Dudley Dursley with his absorption of how his parents treat Harry and how his friends treat him, with his slow growth throughout the books into a person beyond who he was raised to be.

Molly Weasley with her overbearing mother henning, sometimes harmful but oh so clearly coming from a place of love, and her complete willingness to adopt any child that stands still long enough for her to do so. (Except Fleur)

Narcissa Malfoy with her belief in the horrible things she’s doing, without that stopping her from being entirely willing to do anything for her child.

Sirius Black with his tendency to unintentionally echo the sentiments he was raised with, and the tragedy of him losing his chance to ever truly grow as a person after being thrown in Azkaban for twelve years and then dying so soon after, and his complete, unconditional love for Harry.

I could write essays on any of them, and my point is that while JK’s treatment of certain issues and characters makes me want to hate Harry Potter, her characterization itself is both consistent and magnificently human.

Her world, too, is beautiful.

I first read Harry Potter before I turned eleven, and I was one of many across the nation who awaited my letter with eager anticipation.

Can you blame me? The world she created filled so many children with wonder, made so many of us want so badly for magic to be real, to be ours-

It was beautiful, and I hate her for what she could have been.

She had this fully realized system of prejudice that canonically created genocidal maniacs and put them in power every two generations or so, and she had this very realistic way of writing horribly flawed people that pronounces them as people without exonerating them for the awful things she’d have them do, and I can’t help feeling like “the horrors of war”, as well as she wrote it, wasn’t the story her world deserved.

But that’s a big idea to tackle, and I think it will be tackled best if I start small. I’ve spoken now of the beauty of her world, of her characters. Now I’ll speak of what marrs it.

Like I said, I want to start small.

So, let’s talk about the house elves.

TL;DR? Hermione was right. They’re indoctrinated from birth into believing the only thing they’re good for is housework, as well as being raised to abhor any elf who chooses to do otherwise. It’s a neat little self perpetuating system that bears absolutely no similarity in ideology to the mythology JK built it off of, and as such loses the aspect of choice that’s so significant to brownies.

Add to that the socially acceptable abuse, and you’ve got something that looks far more similar to slavery than it does little fairies who come to clean your home and get mad if pay them because they’re doing it as a favor.

And that’s why it’s so concerning, when JK brushes Hermione’s campaigning off in canon so casually.

It’s honestly hard to say when I started to be leery of JK Rowling, except that it was several years before the TERF scandal occurred. I think this was probably one of the earlier areas, though.

The first time I remember wondering if Harry Potter’s greatnesses were in spite of her intentions, rather than because of them, though, wasn’t the house elves.

It was, rather, a different contentious issue in the fandom, and one I��ve always fallen quite firmly to one side of, as someone who’s been bullied myself.

The first time I remember being suspicious of JK’s beliefs was when I realized she didn’t write Snape with the intent for him to be a villain.

Snape is not a person anyone in the fandom seems to be able to agree on. Some see him as a flat, cartoony villain, while some see him as a tortured soul who only did all those terrible things because he was hurting inside, don’t you see?

Personally, I drew the line at him being a child’s boggart, as well as the time he attempted to kill Neville’s toad, Trevor, because seriously; what the fuck.

It had always been my belief that while him being obsessed with loving Lily motivated him to work on the side of good, it was more like Narcissa’s willingness to betray her cause for her son than anything else, being a sympathetic trait without absolving his cruelty.

Then I realized that a bunch of people (likely including JK) view Narcissa similarly to how they view Snape, seeing both as people who do bad but are good, rather than people who do good but are bad, and I honestly don’t know what to say to y’all.

You know having good traits doesn’t make a person good, right? Being capable of affection doesn’t absolve people of cruelty or make it your responsibility to forgive them and try to get them to change, it just tells them that they can do bad things without being punished for it.

Do you guys need an abuse hotline?

Anyway, that’s when I stopped liking JK, since I’ve been bullied myself and seeing her treat such a horrible bully as a good person kinda soured me on her. I’m not mad at her for letting her bullies grow and change- I love Draco’s and Dudley’s character arcs. I’m just mad at her because unlike those two, Snape is an adult and she kinda wrote it like forgiving him was an expectation of Harry, rather than a personal choice (and not an easy one either! Forgiving bullies is hard and it’s not always healthy!)

I’m getting off topic, but I genuinely believe that discussing this kind of thing is important, so I’m leaving that in.

Getting back to what this is actually about, I’m the kind of person who sees potential in things, often before I see the work itself, (it’s why I write fanfiction) and Harry Potter has so much potential it hurts, because so much of it is just wasted.

I said, earlier, that “the horrors of war” wasn’t the story best suited to this world, and I stand by that.

The first reason I believe that is because I don’t think that the black and white morality this kind of narrative often creates was well suited to JK’s writing style. JK has a tendency to put her characters in boxes of “good” or “bad” and as someone who doesn’t really believe in inherent goodness or evil, this will always feel unrealistic to me.

Because in the end, it’s JK’s minor villains, the ones not directly involved with Voldemort’s war, that really shine.

My favorite villains in the series were Umbridge, the Dursleys, Draco Malfoy, and Cornelius Fudge, because they were the villains who felt real, who felt like flawed people making flawed decisions because we’re all fundamentally products of our environment-

These are the villains who stuck with me, who I still want to take and shake because they were the kind of cruelty we’ve all faced.

Voldemort, as the main villain of the story, would have been more powerful if he’d been an amplified version of these people. In fact, the story would have been better in general if Fudge or Dumbledore had been the villain, because the problem with Voldemort is that unlike the good villains in this story, who feel real because we’ve all met people like them, Voldemort is and will always be larger than life.

A genocidal maniac is a villain few of us have faced societally, and one none of us have faced directly.

Also, rather than being a worse version of Umbridge or Fudge, Voldemort is more akin to a worse version of Snape. He’s a tortured soul who does bad things because bad things were done to him, rather than being cruel through his choices, his own agency.

That’s the first reason why “the horrors of war” wasn’t the best choice of a narrative for this world.

The second is that I don’t think JK sees anything wrong with her muggle hating characters.

She clearly thinks killing muggles is wrong, of course. She’s not that bad.

But, well, the muggle characters in Harry Potter are consistently kind of awful.

First there’s the Dursleys, selfish, entitled, egotistical, and cruel to anyone different from them. Then there’s Snape’s muggle father, who was horribly abusive, as well as cruel to anything different from him.

Then there’s the muggle prime minister, who despite being an important figure, is left completely out of the loop for anything concerning wizards, pretty much only used when the ministry needs the muggle news to say or do a certain thing, like when Sirius Black was declared a criminal.

There’s also the family at the quidditch world cup, of whom who only meet the patriarch, a somewhat stupid man who remarks uncomprehendingly on the oddness of wizards trying to assimilate into muggle society, a man who is canonically obliviated ten times a day.

And that’s it, that’s all the muggle characters I can remember. Aside from the Dursleys, none of them are given more than a page or so of screentime, and none of them do anything significant.

No, wait, I did actually forget two.

Hermione’s parents, who are obliviated and sent to Australia when the war starts, because the only thing they could ever do in a war is be victims.

Muggles in Harry Potter are consistently stupid, ineffectual, and cruel to anyone different from them.

Out of the entire massive cast of Harry Potter, there are few enough muggles that I can list them all off the top of my head without googling and the only muggle in the story ever given the all important chance to be kind is Dudley Dursley, who is taken out of the story the moment he stops being an awful person.

I’m sure you see the problem.

The issue with Harry Potter is that JK acts like the problem is solved when muggles are no longer being actively persecuted, when in reality that’s only the beginning of solving the prejudice that plagues her world.

Voldemort is frequently called “wizard Hitler” and I think that’s more accurate than people realize, because as with Hitler, people easily see the problem with Voldemort committing genocide, and they’re fine with working to stop that, but the moment they’re asked to examine their own biases, their own small cruelties and exclusions, the ten thousand cuts they’ve inflicted with their own hands…

The moment people are asked to examine themselves, to look close at the mirror and point to what allowed someone like Voldemort to gain a following in the first place, they turn away and go back to turning a blind eye to the fact that if you don’t address the societal issues that made him gain a following in the first place, there’ll just be another when it’s been a few years and people have forgotten.

In the end, Grindlewald is wizard Hitler. Voldemort and the death eaters are wizard neo nazis.

I’m not Jewish, though, so I’ll let them be the ones to expand further upon this, as many have.

My point here is that JK’s story would have been more powerful if it had been about addressing the issues that underpin the death eaters, rather than killing their leader and acting as if that’ll solve anything.

JK Rowling is antisemetic, racist, and a TERF, among other things, and while I’m glad it shows in her work as little as it does, it does show, and I’m not going to cover that in this because a thousand other people have covered it better than I ever could.

Suffice to say, I’m nonbinary, and I’m glad I was disillusioned with her before I knew she was prejudiced directly against me, because loving her before she said the things she said and did the things she did would have hurt.

The fact that her world shows so clearly the consequences of her beliefs, even in the context of a prejudice that doesn’t exist in our own world…

I guess she’s always been too good a writer for her own good, in the end.

#harry potter #jk rowling #harry potter meta #harry potter criticism #tl;dr i hate harry potter because it came SO CLOSE to greatness and then JK just SQUANDERED it and i'll die angry

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daretosnoop · 3 years

Text

Chapter 2: The Investigation Begins

Chapter 1

This chapter is more descriptive heavy. I changed the layout of the upstairs area to include a bathroom and another bedroom.

At first, all Nancy felt was dizziness. It was strange. It wasn’t the first time she’d been knocked out by someone. But it was the first time it was done by a masked skull figure, and they didn’t exactly knock her out so much as throw, something, towards her face. Whatever it was, it was potent. She still felt woozy and would have gone back to sleep if it weren’t for the thunder and a woman’s voice.

“Here, drink this”.

The sudden smell of something bitter filled Nancy’s nose.

“Don’t give her anything strange, then I really will have to take her to the hospital,” came another, lower, voice.

“Oh hush now. Just get back to your work,” the woman snapped back. She turned towards Nancy and urged the drink.

“It will make the dizziness go away, dear”.

Ignoring all warnings of caution, Nancy reached for the drink and drank. It was bitter, not that she expected it to be anything else, but it worked. She quickly found herself coming back to terms with her surroundings.

“There’s a dear,” the woman said. “I’m Renee. Mind I ask what you were doing unconscious in the Bolet manor?”

“Someone attacked me”.

“Someone, attacked you?” Renee repeated, not understanding.

“Someone dressed as a skeleton attacked me. I’m Nancy Drew. I’m looking for Henry Bolet”.

“Girl, you sure you didn’t hit your head too hard? Should we take you to the emergency?”

“No,” the lower voice broke in. “No emergency rooms! I’ve already got enough to deal with, and this power outage doesn’t help matters!”.

Renee sighed and shook her head. She turned towards Nancy.

“If you need me, I’ll be out in my garden”.

Saying so, she got up and left out through some double doors.

“I’ll call them and put them on hold and see how they like it!” the low voice grumbled after Renee left the room.

Slowly, Nancy got up and looked around. The room was dimly lit. Candles were everywhere, decorating bookshelf after bookshelf. One bookshelf was oddly decorated by teeth, with each book depicting a tooth on its spine. Another had a stuffed lizard on it. Trophies decorated the other side of the room, and in the left hand corner a desk sat with a young man on a swivel chair.

“Uh,” Nancy called weakly, then cleared her throat. “Excuse me. Are you Henry Bolet?”

The swivel chair turned and she came face-to-face with an oddity of a man. He dressed sharply and was very fit, but he leaned into the red chair and slouched a bit. His crisp looks were contrasted with features that Nancy recognized as a goth look. Not quite one or the other, she thought.

“I am”.

“Uh, well. I guess I’m the woman who fell unconscious at your house. Sorry about that. Bad way to introduce yourself, though, I guess it could be worse.”

Henry looked at her perplexed. “How so?” he asked.

“Well, for starters, I could be all up in your face demanding why you kidnapped my friend”.

“Okay,” Henry drawled.

“Long story. I’m Nancy Drew. We have a mutual friend, Ned Nickerson?” She held out a hand towards him. “Pleased to meet you”.

Henry shook her hand firmly.

“Ah Ned,” he started but then dropped the sentence. He knew who Ned was, barely. They shared accounting courses. Ned Nickerson blended into the class and Henry would have never thought to approach him. But somehow Ned noticed him and stuck around to give a friendly wave and smile.

“He’s, persistent,” Henry concluded.

“Well, that’s Ned for you,” Nancy said, giving Henry a bright smile.

Ned was the only one to notice Henry being even more gloomy and withdrawn as usual. Perhaps he overheard the phone calls Henry had with Bruno Bolet’s doctor and solicitor. Henry didn’t know, but Ned asked him how he was coping with his uncle’s loss. When Henry said he was going to New Orleans, Ned insisted on having someone check in on him.

“I’m guessing he sent you here to check on me. I kind of come off as needy, but I’m fine, really. So you can just go on home and tell Ned I’m fine. Go out and enjoy New Orleans”.

Henry didn’t really understand why Ned would send some friend over. They barely knew each other, so this Nancy person would find things even more awkward. It was best to just get this over with. The sooner she left, the better it would be. The whispers were chattering amongst themselves. They weren’t loud, and they seemed at ease. It was a new sensation.

Skull… find… mask… skull… her…

“I can’t just leave! I don’t know how you’re doing. Plus,” Nancy started to shift her weight from one foot to another. “You see. I’m the type of person, well,” she sighed. “Look, I just can’t let go of what I saw”.

“What did you see?”

“The door was open so I stepped inside. When I entered the living room, there was a man dressed in all black with a skeleton mask. He threw something at me and I got knocked out”.

She’s really lost it.

“I have not lost it!” Nancy snapped, reading his face.

“Are you sure you didn’t just make it up?”

“I know what I saw, and I’m determined to figure it out”.

Well, at least she’s not bothering him about his feelings.

“Can I at least look around for some clues. I promise not to break anything”.

Henry sighed.

“Alright. But I better warn you. Uncle Bruno was eccentric and into all sorts of exotic pets and things. So be careful. Just because he’s dead, doesn’t mean they are”.

Way to sound ominous Bolet. He didn’t mean to scare her, but also didn’t want to deal with a bigger headache than the one his uncle left for him.

But Nancy just smiled, thanked him, and left the room.

Nancy really didn’t understand why Ned asked her to go and visit some classmate of his. He even acknowledged that he barely knew this Henry Bolet, but she’d be damned if she let the Nickerson charm fail now on account of her. Everyone became enthralled by a Nickerson. So she came down to the French quarters of New Orleans with a friend, Bess Marvin, for a week of good sights and good food, only to have it pour down rain for two days. Trapped in their hotel room, she and Bess called their friends, Ned and Bess’s cousin, George Fayn. It was there that Ned requested her to check in on Henry, and seeing as the rain had no intention of stopping, Nancy went alone.

She was expecting it to be a simple check-in, nothing longer than an hour or two. When she knocked on the door, on one answered. She learned from the concierge that most folks kept their doors open in New Orleans. It wasn’t just on account of friendly neighbours It was also to allow ghosts to exit the house after accidentally entering it. Apparently, ghosts became cranky if they get trapped in a house. Twisting the knob, she entered the manor and went to the foyer. Towards her right was a room and she walked towards it. A person stood in a black tailcoat and boots with his back to her. She called out to them and as they turned, a shiver ran along her shoulders. The person had no face. Or rather, their face was obscured with a skull mask. Before she could ask who they were, what they were doing here, why even were they wearing a mask, the electricity went out. Rats, she thought. Trapped in an empty house with a skeleton person, well done Nancy. A flicker went off and a flash of lightning lighted the room. Within that brief time, the skeleton person managed to tramp up to her, close enough for her to see the eyes underneath the mask. They threw some powder in her face and between her stinging eyes and choked coughs, Nancy lost consciousness.

Had she not been an experienced detective, Nancy knew she probably would have become one today. She went back to the living room and started to investigate. The skeleton figure was inspecting the model cemetery when she entered, so she headed towards it. It was really beautiful and Nancy could see why it would have won an award. This Bruno person clearly appreciated cemeteries from the intricate figures of each burial ground. She read the names. Sleeping Meadows, Terra Siesta, Crowing Crypts, Sorrow Park, Withering Roots Memorial, Forty Winks Mausoleum, all clearly meant for a final resting place. Each burial ground was uniquely decorated and had crypts that indicated how a person was buried. She followed each paths around the cemetery, anticipating any indication of what the skeleton figure was looking at. There was a swamp with an alligator in it, surely a creative addition. There was also a large mausoleum separate from the other burial grounds. It seemed randomly placed and as Nancy peered closed, she saw that there were four engravings on it.

There were buttons that allowed her to change the engravings. Clearly this was some sort of locked box, but she didn’t know the combination that would open it. But she was confident that this was what the skeleton figure was looking at. Stepping away from the model, she looked around the room. There was a collection of portraits on the left wall. These must be the Bolets. They were quite unique in how their appearances overlapped. Guess, this must be where Henry gets his looks and style from. Each portrait revealed the personality of the subject. Oddly enough, they each held some object in their hand. One frame was empty and below it, Nancy saw a piece of paper. She picked it up. On it was an etching of a crow. It matched the engravings on the solitary mausoleum. Surrounding the crow was a detailed border. But Nancy remembered that only one of the engravings had this border. So, there must be three other pictures I need to find.

Nancy looked closely at the bird drawing. It looked like someone stenciled it from some surface. I wonder if this belonged to the Skeleton figure. The paper was slightly damp. So, that must mean the skeleton figure, must have stenciled this outside somewhere. I’ll have to take a look around outside.

Pocketing the paper in her trench coat she moved towards the fireplace. It was cold, but there were indications that it had been previously used. It’s too hot to be using a fireplace right now. She picked through the coals and found scraps of some paper. Most of it was too small and burnt off to be of any use, but she did find one piece with a name on it. Zeke. It looked to be the name of some business, but what?

Nancy stood up and went back to the study room. Henry was still typing away at his computer.

“Henry? I have some questions for you”.

The man swiveled around and raised an eyebrow.

Start small Nancy, you don’t want to scare him. He already thinks you’re seeing things.

“How well did you know your uncle?”

Henry shrugged. “Barely knew him at all”.

“Didn’t he raise you?”

“I guess. If you could call sending me to boarding school, summer school, military school as raising a child. He may have looked after me, but he never cared to spend any time with me”.

“Oh”. Great going Drew. She tried again. “Well, what about your parents?”

“They died in a car crash when I was eight. Then I got dumped onto my uncle. End of his bachelorhood I guess”.

Okay, that didn’t go so well either. She might as well rip the whole Band-Aid off.

“I think this skeleton figure was looking for something in this house. Is there some big object or hidden money or something that people might want to get their hands on?”

Henry looked at her, puzzled.

“Uh, maybe? There’s a lot of junk in this house, as you can see. Some of it might actually be worth something.”

“Well, I think they were after whatever is locked up in the mausoleum box in the cemetery model. It has a lock on it and this,” she took out the crow stencil. “This must have been left by the skeleton figure. If we can unlock the mausoleum, we can get whatever’s inside before the skeleton figure comes back. Do you know where the solitary mausoleum is located?”.

“Look,” Henry began and Nancy internally groaned. She knew that word and tone all too well. Distrust and disinterest. It was rare to ever find another person who had the same interest and excitement in uncovering mysteries. Most people didn’t care about the little odd threads that didn’t add up, only to cry when everything become unwound. It was times like these where she sometimes wished she had her friends and fellow detectives, Frank and Joe Hardy, to back her up. People were more willing to listen to a group than an individual.

“Why are you so concerned about this skeleton figure?” Henry asked.

“Why are you so calm?” Nancy countered. “Someone broke into your house and you’re calm about it? I clearly interrupted them which means they might come back, which means you’re in danger”.

“I got a lot of work to complete”.

Who doesn’t. Nancy sighed, “You don’t need to help me, just tell me a bit about the garden space. Is there a mausoleum that’s separate from other burial grounds?

Henry hesitated. There was such a mausoleum and he knew it very well. Too well.

“What do you need from that mausoleum? The door is completely locked. No one had been inside in years”.

“I don’t think I need to go inside. I just need to look at the building itself. There are engravings that could match the key for the model one”.

Henry nursed his head. “Alright. Once you enter the cemetery and go past the bent tree, the mausoleum should be to your left. Just keep heading that way. Hard to miss”.

Nancy beamed. “Great, thanks so much. She turned to go out towards the door, then turned back.

“Yes?” Henry drawled.

“Do you happen to have any paper?”

“Sorry. Ask Renee”.

Nancy nodded then headed out the door.

Henry watched her leave then turned back to his computer where an excel sheet filled with numerical data awaited him. God, I hope I don’t regret this.

Outside the Louisiana heat infused into Nancy’s skin. She was not accustomed to the humidity and could already feel her back start to warm up and stick to her dress shirt. She turned to her left and saw a small alcove draped over by green vines. Tucked inside was Renee who was busy potting young plants.

“Hello,” Nancy called out.

Renee looked up sharply and Nancy wasn’t sure whether it was the heat or Renee’s grey eyes that initiated the sweat droplets down her back.

“Hello, dear. Welcome to my little lantern-lit corner of the world. Come in here where it’s dry”.

“What are you growing?” Nancy asked.

“Whatever I need dear”.

“Nothing like freshly grown herbs to add to your food, right?”

Renee looked hard at Nancy and her voice dropped.

“I don’t use these herbs for cooking, darling”.

Then what do you use them for? Nancy wanted to ask Renee this, but the older woman switched topics.

“Have you had a chance to talk to Henry yet?”

“Yes, I have. From your conversation earlier, am I correct in assuming you two are not on the best of terms?”

“My you’re forward aren’t you!” Renee laughed. “Henry is a very morose, very negative young man. Very cunning too”.

“How so?”

“I am almost certain he’s selling his uncle’s property on the sly. When he’s not supposed to, that is”.

“Doesn’t it all belong to Henry now?” Nancy asked.

“Absolutely not!” Renee exclaimed. “According to Dr. Bolet’s will, Henry is to receive thirty percent of the estate. Dr. Bolet’s physician, Gilbert Buford, is to get thirty percent. Our Lady of Route 57 Dentistry and Cosmetology gets thirty percent, and I am to receive ten percent”.

“Is the cemetery part of the estate?”

“Yes and no. It’s not legally part of the estate, but it technically belongs to the Bolet family. It all belongs to Henry now, along with his thirty percent”.

“Who is Gilbert Buford?”

“That’s Dr. Bolet’s heart doctor and best friend. Those two go long back. Thick as thieves”.

Nancy reflected on what Renee provided her with.

“Does Henry seem upset by only getting thirty percent?”

Renee drew her head up and stood tall. “Young lady,” she started. “The Bolet family is intrinsically connected to New Orleans. Henry is not only gaining assets, but also a name, title, and land. Thirty percent of the Dr. Bolet’s fortune is quite a tidy sum, never mind the Bolet family fortune and cemetery”.

“Oh”.

Renee looked towards her plants and slowly resumed her potting.

“I suppose I gave you the impression that Henry is greedy. While I cannot attest to it, Henry is nonetheless not someone you can trust. You best watch yourself around him”.

Renee potted some soil then paused.

“One more thing dear. That skeleton man, I’ve—I’ve seen him too. Now don’t ask me more questions, I don’t want to think about it. But just know, there is something in this house that’s just not right”.

Nancy nodded then switched the topic.

“Do you happen to have some paper?”

“Get the urge to draw something?”

“Yep!”

“Well, now. I know I have some paper in my room, but I won’t be able to go get it till after I’m done potting my plants”.

“I can help you pot the plants”

Renee laughed. “Impatient one you are! No. No. No need. Just take this key and go on up yourself. And while you’re at it. I’m feeling a bit hungry. In my cupboard there’s a stash of Koko Cringles. Be a dear and bring one down for me, and help yourself to one too”.

Nancy took the key and headed back inside. Henry didn’t acknowledge her entrance, so she continued out of the study and up the staircase. It was wonky and creaked a bit. There were four doors. One door was on a lower level and the other three were sequentially placed along the top most level.

She didn’t tell me which door was hers.

Nancy placed the key in the first door, but the handle had no lock. Curious, she pushed open the door and saw an empty room that was bare of anything save a drawer and bed. There was some clutter around the bed and she assumed it was Henry’s. Why would he sleep here though? It was so, lifeless. The rest of the house had character, but this room just looked sad. Nancy quickly shut the door and move up a floor.

The next door had a vase decoration near it, though Nancy didn’t recognize the plant resting within. This door had a lock and she tried the key. The door unlocked. She stepped inside.

The room looked like a doll house. A creepy one at that. There was an elegant but simple bed with green bedsheets. The bedside cupboard. A vanity table was littered with all sorts of bottles and herbs, and a chest sat in one corner, opposite the bed. Nancy first went to the table.

A bottle with the label ‘hiccup powder’ sat at the forefront. Surely not, she thought as she picked up the bottle and opened it. But to her surprise the burst of powder caused a series of hiccups to come bursting out of her. She quickly put the bottle back, then began to rummage through the other bottles. There was nothing labelled sleeping powder or knock-out powder, though some of the bottles were unlabeled. She didn’t think it was wise to open them though. There was no paper on the table, so she went towards the cupboards.

Opening the top drawer, Nancy found the paper. She then opened the bottom drawer and found a stash of chocolate. Jackpot baby! She took one for Renee, and then ate one. The warmth of the melting chocolate felt good in the creepy room and Nancy couldn’t help but take one bar for the road. No telling when she would need to keep her fortitude up in this house. She got up and turned towards the door when something on the wall caught her eyes.

The wallpaper itself was old, faded and ripped in places, but clear as day in the centre were seven symbols surrounding a major rip. They contrasted a glaring red against the pale yellow wallpaper. Blood red. Nancy stepped towards the symbols and tentatively placed a finger on one sign. The colour was dry and odorless. Probably not blood. But she had no idea what those symbols meant.

Walking around the room, Nancy noticed a rocking chair and went towards it. Lightning flashed and as thunder rumbled, Nancy caught a glimpse of a doll. Not just any doll, but one she specifically saw with an old case of hers. A doll that belonged to a woman that died more than 200 years ago. Nancy had no idea how Renee could have gotten her hands on that doll seeing as the company closed a long time ago. She turned to her right and saw the chest.

Squatting down, she saw four abstract figures on each corner and a large blank circle at the centre. Surrounding the large circle were a multitude of buttons. Curious, she pressed one, and a line appeared on the centre circle. She pressed another and another line appeared. The centre image was now beginning to look like one of the corner figures. She pressed two more buttons but both failed to finish the image and the circle blanked out.

Nancy looked back towards the wall symbols, then at the chest. Random symbol equals random symbol? She tried again to replicate one of the corner abstract figures. This time it worked and the figure turned blank. Curious lock, she thought as she solved the other three figures. Once all the figures turned blank she heard a click and the chest lifted a little.

Opening the chest, she saw all sorts of odds and ends and a book on hoodoo symbols. She opened the book up and skimmed through the pages. On one page she noticed that the symbols on the wall matched the one’s in the book. Beside each symbol a name was written. Bah? Boo? Dee? Mo? They didn’t spell anything, nor make any sense. Still, it was best to record it down. Nancy took out a notebook and pen from her trench coat and jotted down each symbol along with their associated name. She then packed everything up and headed out of the room and back towards the garden.

#nancy drew #CRY #Legend of the Crystal Skull

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blankdblank · 3 years

Text

Ash Pt 7

“Oh,” escaped your lips in a near collision with Celebrimbor’s chest that had you flash him a quick grin and say, “Sorry, lost to my thoughts.”

“Not a trouble at all, Your Highness.” However his eyes sank to the new chain around your neck that had his lips part to the obvious antler pendant that was a twin to his old friend’s he wore around his own neck. “Might I ask, Your Highness, where did you get that necklace?”

“Um, well, I don’t really remember. Just always sort of had it that I can recall. Apparently according to the chest it opens it means Thranduil is, well, that I’m, his One?” you asked through an awkward flash of a grin on how to word it right. “At least that is the term he used in explaining it to me. Everyone has one, a One? I don’t fully understand how to say it properly, among other things.”

Sloppily his smile had been spreading to your fumbled try to be calm and accepting about this new development in this monumental find for the once so hopeless King now set for a brilliantly bright and cozy future with such a kind considerate One to scare off his sorrows and miseries. “You have expressed it plainly and without fault. I congratulate you on this discovery. Truly now that this is discovered it may aid in planting roots here amongst our kin had you any doubts on comfort here.”

You nodded at a loss for what else to do and then asked in a glance at his fishtail braid draped partly across his chest in a slump from his shoulder thanks to the large bow on his back. “Would I be allowed to braid my hair back tonight? Last night everyone seemed to have theirs loose, and mine can be a bit hard to keep managed it seems while dancing, and drinking.”

“Wear your hair how you wish, Queen Jaqiearae, however you find comfort and ease. Shall you wish for one of our best amongst Ladies Maids who might assist you with a style of our culture to try something new?”

“That, doesn’t sound like a bad idea. Wouldn’t want to walk in with a bad braid to pair with the gowns and crown Thranduil and the Seamstresses designed for me.”

Promptly he nodded and stated, “I will send word at once and they should be at your dwelling promptly,” and in the click of the end of his bow to his quiver he was off and you turned to see him round the corner.

Softly saying, “Thank you,”

And true to his word the Master Smith was off to inquire about a hairdresser for you of the best they had to offer while on his larger plan to spread the news as rapidly and as far as he possibly could before the celebration would kick off adding another layer of elation to the occasion. By the time you had exited your quick bath in a plushy robe around your towel the pair of Elleths had arrived and with a joint cautious curtsy asked permission to get started and together they guided you to a stool and once you’d removed your hair from its wrap to keep it dry during the bath they got to weaving it into a regal style that would suit your look and not trouble the swan crown that again you would be wearing.

“What is this I hear of your informing the kitchen staff of the opening of King Thranduil’s trunk of Ones he was gifted?” Glorfindel asked with chest puffed out in a means to try and diffuse this situation he had no inkling on how the Smith had discovered this without listening through the apartment doors to their conversation with the King.

Celebrimbor’s wide smile returned in taking notice of his friend’s clear internal knowledge of this fact, “Queen Jaqiearae herself shared the news with myself on her way to prepare and I am returned from passing on her request for aid with her hair for tonight.”

Glorfindel raised a brow, “She wished to look special?”

“There was an inquiry on if a braid would be socially acceptable for this occasion. I am not aware of what style she might have been intending to try however I suggested our stylists might aid in help for a style from our culture.”

Glorfindel, “And you took it upon yourself to share the news?”

“Yes,” the Smith responded plainly. “Why? Upset that I spoiled your own plans?”

Glorfindel sighed and said, “I have to ready for tonight.”

Celebrimbor simply smiled wider and followed him asking, “And just what do you have planned for tonight?”

“I cannot share my plan.”

“Ooh, now I am doubly interested.”

“Contain your interest these are sensitive matters and if the Queen has informed you herself then I shall allow this to pass.”

“Mhmm, I will follow up on this.”

“If I am successful I will have some news sharing of my own.”

Pink, again backless with straps zig zagging across the back of the strapless gown that from the hip down was heavily ruffled that to an extent spurred an urge to twirl and send the wild ruffles about your legs hugged you to perfection leaving you without far of a single shift or slip. To go with the additional strand of alternating glowing round lasgalen stones and yellow sapphires to fill the gap between the lone strand and the chain with your key necklace that somehow felt wrong to remove before morning the swan crown you were given sat securely on top of the lovely braid the duo had helped to wrangle your stubborn curls into. Now past your hips that star speckled ebony curls hung in the braid that was wound up with lengths of ribbon and jeweled clips and pins topped with shimmering feathers.

Again entrance to the grand entrance hall where the stream of the celebration would begin left you frozen on the other side of it. Deeply a breath flooded into your lungs and gave you the strength to press onwards and take those steps to enter. Again the announcement of the title came and with it more smiles and stares than before that you didn’t expect and in glances to the new addition to your neckline the reasoning became clear. It seemed the news was out and to the assigned seat beside the light red robe clad King you moved through the crowd to claim it when it was moved back for that purpose. Compliments were traded once both King and Queen had taken their seats and Lord Celeborn headed the speech for tonight, after which a timid sip of wine was taken.

But dancing again though found a second glass downed and smiles out again with King who slipped for yet another dance between pre chosen dance partners for both. The light of the stars however in a pass between dance floors focus was lost until a voice drew you back to the present. Lord Glorfindel who smiled as he asked, “Would you care for another drink, Queen Jaqiearae?”

When your eyes met his a simple shake of your head was his first response, “No, thank you I am attempting to limit myself until I am more accustomed to wine.”

“There is more to offer besides wine, should you wish it.”

“Thank you all the same.”

“I take it your last night must have been weighty to cast such limits on the second. How might I ease your concerns, please do share what has troubled you, truly there is not much that could have occurred the night prior one of us in our youth has not faced in becoming accustomed to our vast supply of wines.”

Clearly he could spot the hint of reluctance and mask of a smile that had him more certain than ever your words were a farce. “I seem to have lost a break from the dance floor to a goodnight escort from the King.”

“Most often those blanks that even I have encountered will fill in, do not feel such weighty rules are required. No judgments will be made your friends are here to watch over you and ensure safe return to your rooms each night.”

“That is very kind of you, however, I cannot risk repaying all your kindnesses by ending up a fool in front of my new friends.”

“You will never be a fool and never have been or ever will be. What do you remember?”

“If anyone was to remember the gap King Thranduil might, and he has made it clear he doesn’t.” That had the Lord smirk in the turn of your head to the arrival of the Elf who had requested your next dance who you nodded your head to and then said to Lord Glorfindel, “For now, if you’ll excuse me, time to bound.”

While you were off to the dance floor on his heels he turned to find Thranduil in his own dance. Right up behind the King in timed back steps between the couples he strode light on his feet while he leaned in to lowly state in Doriathian that only he would know after a check of who was around him to know which dialect to use for optimum secrecy. “The impression of ignorance you gave was too convincing.”

Over his shoulder Thranduil glanced at the Lord asking, “Would that not be the intention of feigning ignorance in the first place?” Continuing to dance while the Lord moved along to avoid an overlap of paths between couples before the lift that followed with a chance for him to come back to the King’s back right after.

“Not when the Queen in question was in wait for word that the King in question recalled said events to act upon them again and is now rationing wine to avoid a second instance where she may yet be rejected a second time.”

“Re-,” wide eyed in a frustrated huff the King glared at his friend then turned with forced softer expression to his partner in the lift.

“Toss a hint,” Glorfindel added then slipped away to leave the King in a whirl of a dance both physically and mentally.

Dances and a few more glasses of wine led to another escort to your apartment door. “Hint,” the word echoed in the King’s head all through the night and into the morning from his breakfast to the stroll in search of the Queen in question. Upon being found in transit from a stroll to view the lingering colors in the sky over the dew cast pastures by the stables his hand like silk eased itself around the bared wrist closes to him. In a pivot your head turned and the tension in that wrist relaxed to the known sudden captor with a deeply king gaze to the request of, “I am required for a few tasks, however, would an hour past noonday be acceptable a meeting time for our meeting to approach our clock again?”

The look would have been enough in the hint of a tilt to his head in a means of a try to plead silent on top of the request, like a giant fox cub who was trying to use its adorable face to its own advantage. And up you gazed at the King who had given a bat of his lashes around those eyes that you now realized where you had just seen the color after having since that first meeting had been in search of, sunlit dewdrops. The moment of speechlessness almost had him drop the hold directly. Yet the prickle of a blush that crawled across your cheeks held his hand in place to hear, “Yes. That would be a fine meeting time.”

Promptly he nodded and the firm hold his hand had taken went slack. From the wrist his palm and finger shifted through a glide of fingertips along your palm they traveled under to the pat of his free hand on top of the back of your captured hand. Terribly formal this was not a casual farewell gesture and if there could be any means of mistaking the meaning of the act as anything that could pass between someone who intended to just be a friend onto the back of the knuckles upon their lift he leaned forward to press a gentle kiss. Again the palm on top placed to coat the back of the captured hand that in his retraction step was released to a feel the same as water run off of skin, suddenly gone but the warmth of its contact still lingering. “I shall not hinder your amusement, and await our time together.”

Long as possible those eyes were locked on yours still on him through and after the responding nod until to his body’s full turn away they left you to turn stoic again with just a means to soften once they fell upon you again. ‘Success’ had been murmured inside his head to the unmistakable gesture of a hint. Kiss for a kiss to hint a clue familiarity of contact was welcome. Yet alone nothing but crickets sounded in the ears of the stunned Queen whose released hand sunk to curl and be coated by its twin in front of your belly.

“Your Highness?” The voice itself would have made you jump as you had nearly onto the steps to your right you had just entered from that called the hand of the sudden arrived Lord Celeborn that held you from a surely painful tumble down to the wet earth of the pasture you had been captured leaving. “Forgive my startling you,” he added to the resettle of feet underneath both shoulders in shocked means to find stability again. “Are you distressed? There was a puzzling expression on your face.”

“No,” you said in a sharp shake of your head for a terrible try to feign calm for the Lord peering down at you with his halfway slumbering middle child draped across his shoulders and head on their way to an early ride on their pony his other hand kept upright and from a fall to the sway of feet down his chest. “Just, distracted in thought. Excuse me, I won’t keep you.” His head gave a subtle nod to yours in a move to have the child again flinch upright like it hadn’t nodded off again to see your path down the hall opposite where the King had gone in his released anchor of a hand’s drop to his side again.

“Come now, my guiding wind, to the stables.” He hummed to the child in a mental note to discover the dilemma later by means of questioning his friends for the latest whispers about the King and Queen to form a fuller question until the former could be questioned in detail.

Public breakfast followed by a fitting for more gowns that were completed and just in time for the assigned meeting for the next session on the clock you were outside the elk etched doors to the King’s apartment. Hastily with a flick of your tongue across your lower lip your hand rose to curl up and give the left door a pair of knocks. The door did open after what seemed to be a clear sign that no one was home. However it merely opened a crack and curiously your head tilted only to see an Elleth with a bucket of supplies for the fires she had been tending that nearly swung into you in its slide around the door who gave you a quick nod of her head and stepped aside stating, “My apologies, Your Highness, I did not expect anyone on the other side of the door.”

“I, did knock, maybe not loud enough?”

“These doors are of enchanted wood, normally we crack doors open to knock when required. Or if you were to feel uncomfortable opening the door there are the drawstrings to announce yourself.” She said with a glance up that brought the loop on a woven chain that went through a small opening in the stained glass mural above the doors attached to the bell mounted on the inside of the doorframe identical to yours that you somehow hadn’t realized how to use the feature for other people’s apartments.

“Oh, thank you for telling me. Should have noticed that…” To her ease through the opening beside you on your step in uncertain of what else to say you turned to take hold of the door that from the corner of her eye she caught the timid ease of the door shut again. Uncertainty as to if you were alone here or not was broken by the sound of a glass being filled and a deep sigh that had you creep further into the apartment past the empty rooms to the doorway of the same sitting room that sat open revealing the King who in a nudge of his glass he had just set down the fingers of his other hand tapped the back of his chair. From the clear tries to distract himself Thranduil’s head turned with wide eyes and brows lifted to the timid knock you gave to the open door.

“Ah, I poured us some juice, are you thirsty? I presume your fitting ran late.”

“Thank you, for the juice. No, I did knock, I didn’t know about the bell and the muffling wood enchantment.” You accented with a point to the front door.

“I apologize, I must have forgotten include that note in the tour.”

You shook your head and said, “I’ve seen the bell at my door, it just never clicked in my head somehow.”

Just a moment he looked you over taking in the latest outfit he’d yet to see then his body flinched to ease your chair out that you crossed the room to settle into. “Fortunately you were only left waiting a few minutes and we have ample time to work before the lunch my latest undercook is preparing for us to fuel the rest of our time until the clock decides we are meant to stop again.” Your eyes were already on him when he settled into his own chair beside yours and looked to you to suggest, “Afterwards I was curious if you wished to go for a ride through one of our more scenic pathways to show you a bit more than just the palace.”

“Ride, ride how?”

“My Elk Tuo agreed to carry the both of us, if you are not open to that we may always take a ride later when you are willing.”

“As long as it won’t be fast, last animal I rode on was a sheep when I was little and that was entirely accidental.”

That had him grin to himself imagining that fumble and ways to have landed you wide eyed latched onto the back of a sheep for a slew of adorable imaginings of a tiny awkward and mishap prone you until the day of the bartering that inevitably landed you here. “I assure you Tuo will not push your comfort level and has given rides to Estel even and several young fauntlings, or Hobbit youth, while we stay in Lothlorien quite often, there is no doubts on my part for his gentle nature for timid riders on their first try.”

To a nod you said, “Sure, I’ve seen a few maps here and it seems a bit like the Palace is where everything is centered and there is just trees left to the animals around it at least to my view.”

“Precisely the reason to begin a few tours of the forest to acquaint you with the full workings of this kingdom to make you feel more at home. We will even cross one of our guard points that tomorrow if you wish we could arrange a treetop tour of that post watch platform if you wished.”

“Platform, you have guards in the trees? What if they fall?”

Grinning at you he said, “Centuries of training and several safety measures. Each branch is no less than ten yards across. And our trees give warning before they stretch or rearrange their branches to any within their hold.”

After a pause and confusingly blank face his brow rose then dropped to your saying, “Maybe, that would probably be the last thing I do to get used to being here.”

Softly he chuckled to himself and nodded, “Understood, and will not trouble any of our other tours there is ample to show you yet. We have barely scratched the surface, why even our far northern villages would be open to a tour, they have quite lovely ground level markets and guest areas amongst their tree top dwellings reserved for just their approved citizens, though of course should you master your tentative reluctance to climb our miles of staircases you would be granted a tour of their finest hidden gathering areas.”

“Because you would be bringing me?” You asked.

And he shook his head, “Not at all. Our forest has been whispering about its new Queen, quite favorably and they would welcome anyone who is seen favorably in unanimity of our trees who house and protect us and our loved ones.”

“Oh,” that had you nod again and in the sink of your eyes to his bent arm half rested on the table and the arm of his chair his head tilted in concern for what he might have said to upset you.

“Jaqiearae, what have I said?”

Again your eyes rose and after an open and close of your mouth you drew in a courage bolstering breath and asked, “When Estel got here, you had on armor.” To that he gave a nod and you asked, “What exactly would you need protection from?”

“Ah,” that had his hand move to shift and lay over the back of yours on the arm of your chair and he shared a bit on the warping of captured creatures into Goblins, Orcs and even Trolls that paired up with Wargs on occasion and to calm what he felt to be a justified raised pulse he added, “Rarely do we face attacks. Merely the pathways from Rivendell through the mountains have been uncertain as of late thanks to the shift of control of certain territories that Men have lost and been in a means to regain that require extra security for transport of travelers and goods.”

“And you’re, a good fighter? Certain people the King has to be the best, others the King is not put in danger, by my reading.”

“I am amongst our best warriors. Those who have fought in the Kinslayings do outrank me in skill by the spare centuries of war waging, but for those who fought beside me in the Wars of Wrath we are vastly higher in skill than those who were not alive in that age. I would not carelessly wage war or endanger myself or our people, ever. Rarely I join on guard but merely to remain present amongst any issues those on patrol might face.” His eyes scanned over your face in the nod and forced grin you gave him. “I promise you risking another loss in your life or that of my son’s will never be a welcome notion. I will avoid it at all costs. Have you learned any means of defense as a child?”

“Um, my cousin taught me how to use a slingshot and tried to show me how to be his sparring partner.”

“You learned how to spar?” he asked with brows risen.

“No, I held the sheet filled bag he punched and kicked, he taught me how to duck and weave to amp up the difficulty for him. So, fairly useless outside of magic.”

“You will never be useless. Duck and weave is quite an admirable foundation to begin with. Should you wish to revisit and expand upon those lessons we would be beyond welcome to assistance for those lessons. If anything to simply make you feel more at ease with a means to defend yourself if necessary.”

“Maybe after the feast. Hate to spoil the gown designs by showing off the bruises I no doubt will be receiving.”

“No one will bruise you, not one.”

“I jumped over a log tripped and hit my head on a root, no one has to bruise me at all I am quite adept at it on my own. Tuo can confirm.”

After a hinted playful gaze and huff he said, “Whenever you are prepared we shall arrange lessons for you.”

From the selection what seemed to be the base of the clock you continued to work the pieces in that stack together while from the head of the Elk Thranduil worked his way down. Around the legs of the clock rocks, interwoven roots and leaves came together, all in separate clumps that fixed together to overlap. “There is a second head…” Thranduil mumbled and lured your focus from your own pile to see the second head between his fingers.

“Well then there’s either two elk or there’s two headed Elk on the clock,” you teased and he chuckled and looked down to shift his fingers through the pieces to find the next one he needed. To the snap of another leaf to the root section you had just completed you asked blindly, “So, is there any other steps after the clock that we have to cheat death on?”

Aloofly you had asked and through a smirk he replied in an amused hum, “None such as the trunk. Each pair face their own tasks in realization as to their path ahead, however the trunk is the lone requirement by the Valar for Ones to complete together. I do believe we are making admirable bounds in completing each stack at this pace.” His eyes again shifted to scan over your puzzling expression. “Was it a hope of yours to have another task?”

“Just interesting, one person from the pair gets the chest.”

The underplayed hint of jealousy had him smirk and then hum, “Feel free to invent a challenge of your own for us to complete or a task you wish for me to undertake on my own to make up the slight to your side of the bond.”

“Careful, you may regret that offer not knowing what I might come up with.”

“I highly doubt I could ever regret a notion born of your imagination.” He said with a lingering smile laced gaze that you held still absolutely confused as to what this bond between you now meant and if that was why he had kissed your hand earlier or if he had remembered the night when you had kissed him and now felt with the bond he was forced to. Gently however the move of his free hand over yours lying on the table snapped that train of thought to a halt, “Choose whatever your heart wills and I will do my best to not disappoint.”

A cleared throat from the doorway however had your heads turn and his hand to retract for a sting until the motion was used to answer the cook’s announcement that the meal was ready. Up he stood and moved to help you out of your chair with hand offered again once yours were free to guide you to the table that had a hearty lunch to fuel the rest of your day until the feast would begin.

Pt 8

@devilishminx328, @fandomsstolemylife00, @lilith15000

#Thranduil x OC #The Hobbit #Night 2 #Give A Hint #Day 3 #Clock Session

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hunflowers · 4 years

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Femme Fatale

Word Count: 7.3k

Requested? Nope, but you always can here :)

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A/N: I hope you enjoy my rendition of mafia!Harry bc I lowkey do not. Enjoy the smut and maybe leave some feedback when you’re done! *nose boops*

part 2 :)

The rivalry went back decades.

Growing up, they had no choice but to hate each other. It was practically in their blood because that’s how their ancestors were towards one another.

Besides, they tried the whole friendship thing when they were children, and it didn’t even work out then. Simply at first because their families forbade it. But they soon realized how annoying the other was as the years went on. And how badly they wish they could just strangle one another because that would be easier than ever becoming friendly.

It all started with their great-grandfathers, as most old rivalry stories do. They once worked in unison, in harmony as coworkers, cofounders, and friends. Once poor, they rose to the top as a team. But, when money started to become more prevalent, so did the truth of their relationship. They both wanted seniority, to run the business as a King rather than as a team. So, when heads were clashing and neither of them could bring themselves to kill the other, they did the only thing left, and split the business.

And from that point on, peace no longer existed.

Not only did the two men hate each other, but all of their workers started to hate the opposing side. No one thought there could be two leading imports in the city, because the city just wasn’t big enough for both egos. But even though chaos ensued ever since the split, people could say peace was also created. Because everyone was afraid to start a war they couldn’t finish. So, even though there were the casual breakouts and fights, nothing too major ever happened to the point where the city would practically cave in.

Except for now that is. Because Harry and Y/N hated each other that much. Everyone was afraid the other would snap soon and that could only lead to destruction.

Of course, the pair like to think they have it under control, but in reality, one wrong word spoken and the other is as good as dead.

People wondered who the Hell left them in charge because they were some of the most hot headed people to have ever walked this planet. But, in reality they really weren’t left a choice but to run the companies.

Harry’s father was never too into the whole business. Yeah, he got the job done but it wasn’t his first choice career wise. And seeing as he was an only child, he was left no choice but to stay in charge until Harry was ready. And the second he saw that Harry was mature enough for this responsibility, he immediately passed the throne down to him, thankful to have that weight off his shoulders.

As for Y/N, her father wanted her to have nothing to do with the business because it wasn’t a woman’s responsibility. He was thinking of handing the leadership down to his nephew, because he had always looked up to Y/N’s dad and had dreamed of being in charge one day. Of course, she found the whole ordeal ridiculous because the job was meant for her, and no one else.

Y/N was the eldest of her siblings, neither of them being boys. So, when the time would come the company had no choice but to fall in her hands. And even though the time came a lot quicker than she anticipated, she was beyond ready to take on the responsibility. Just a few days past her twenty-first birthday, Y/N’s father had died of a heart attack that was completely unwarranted. He took excellent care of his health, so to say it was a surprise was an understatement. But, even though the company sprung up on her, she prepared most of her life to be in charge and she wasn’t going to let her father down.

Despite Harry’s many attempts to prove her wrong and that she’d be a failure at running things, she would actually prove him wrong time and time again because products exported smoothly and income imported even smoother. And what she makes in a week is generally what he makes every month.

So, she’s doing pretty good she thinks.

But they did try to be friends once. When they were eleven, they shared a few of the same friends so their paths always crossed. So they decided they wouldn't be hostile towards one another because that was the rest of their family, not them. Fast forward to the age of twelve, and Harry and Y/N nearly get in a fist fight due to Harry hurting Y/N’s best friend, and Y/N doing the same to his.

Clearly, history would repeat itself and thus the two joined their families in hating the other.

That led them to where they are now, thirteen years later, and still a lot of hatred in the air.

Albeit, there was the rare occurrence of sexual tension in the air too but they choose not to dwell on that.

It was a one night thing. They were both completely plastered, and they hardly even remember it happening. Of course they tell different stories of that night, and it actually drew them farther apart, but again, they choose to not think about it at all.

It was only a one time thing.

But today. . . today really solidified their ongoing rivalry. Y/N was awoken this morning by the loud shrill of her ringtone blasting in her dark bedroom. She was tempted to not answer it because everyone knew not to call her so early in the morning, but then again, everyone knew not to call her so early in the morning so it must only be an emergency.

And it was the news on the other line that broke her heart and had Y/N flying out of her bed faster than light travelled. Earlier that morning, her youngest sister, Serena, was found in the bathroom of the local club, knocked unconscious whilst her clothes were nearly ripped to shreds. She had been drugged, raped, and stripped of her dignity and Y/N felt responsible. This ache in her chest was prominent because she felt it was her fault for some reason.

After their father’s passing, Serena had gone off the rails for a little while. She took it especially hard because even though all three of his daughters were his babies, Serena being the youngest was his special baby, and she found it very difficult to cope with the loss. So, when Serena did a little too much of experimenting with drugs or drinking, Y/N knew taking care of her baby sister was her main priority.

Hearing the news that her sister had been violated, Y/N couldn’t help but take it to heart. She hardly cared about the outfit she was wearing or what state her hair was in when she arrived at the hospital, all she wanted was to get to her sister.

When she entered her room, she was greeted by her mother and her other sister, Francesca, or Franny for short, already by her bed.

“How is she?” Y/N spoke quickly, taking in the look of her sister sleeping on the hospital bed.

Franny stood up so frantic Y/N could sit down and catch her breath after she practically ran through the hospital halls to find the room.

“She hasn’t woken up yet, but the doctor says she’s in stable condition,” her mother spoke, a shaky breath leaving her lips as she squeezes her daughter's hand.

Y/N bit her bottom lip to stop the urge to burst into tears, keeping her stone cold face in tact. “I swear, I am going to kill whoever did this. I’ll kill them myself, with my own two bare hands.”

“Y/N, please, not now,” Mom hissed. She hated that her daughter had gotten so involved in the business, and she most certainly hated that Y/N got her father’s temper. Her daughter hurting people is the last thing she wants to think about, especially while her other daughter is currently on a hospital bed.

“What, you don’t want whoever did this to pay?”

“Of course I do! By going to prison, not by my daughter’s two hands,” she glared at her eldest.

Y/N huffed, sifting back in her chair and trying to tie back her knotty hair in some sort of bun to get it out of her face before she screams. “Well, my way is a whole lot easier, and I can then guarantee whoever did gets justice served. Who knows what the legal system will do. Give ‘em three months maybe.”

“How about both of you shut your mouths, she’s waking up,” Franny spoke up, gaining the two’s attention immediately. Y/N sat forward, grabbing Serena’s right hand in her own.

The blinding light from the lamp above her head made Serena squint her eyes shut at the vivid brightness, her face distorting into in an uncomfortable grimace before she was able to open her eyes without the light hurting. She looked around at her family, confusion striking her features as she realized where she was.

“Wha– what happened?” She spoke hoarsely, her voice scratchy from probably being excessively dry.

When it was explained what had happened to her, she immediately broke down into tears, which then caused Y/N to let out her own tears. Again, that ping of guilt hitting her right in the heart.

“I know the police are going to ask you questions once they see you’re awake, but do you have any idea who did this to you? Anyone being suspicious towards you last night?” Y/N asked, keeping her voice in a hushed tone to try not to startle her sister in this fragile state.

Maybe it wasn’t the best timing for this but police would be here soon and this was Y/N’s job to find the person who did this, who hurt her family, her blood.

Serena swallowed, closing her eyes to try and remember anything from the night before. She started to shake her head because most of the night was a blur in her head but then she did remember one specific detail that was probably the most important.

Her eyes snapped open as she looked at Y/N, the realization of how important the detail is dawning on her. “He had a uh– tattoo on his arm. It was the. . . Styles emblem.”

Y/N practically shot out of her seat, fuming at just the name of Styles. She hardly left with a goodbye before she was storming out of the building and into her car. Of course it was someone from his side that had the audacity to do something like this. To step onto her side of the city, to do this to her sister.

If you know Y/N, you know her family, so whoever it was knew exactly what they were getting themselves into, and that just made Y/N even angrier. Her hands were practically itching to grab ahold of this guys neck and twist it like a rope.

She zipped her way in and out of traffic, trying to make it to her destination without any fatalities but still getting there as fast as possible. And when she did get there she hardly remembered to put the car in park and to shut it off before she was running inside and to the elevator.

She got a lot of nasty looks from everyone that saw her figure running across the lobby, and she knew why but she didn’t give the time of day to care. Because the boss herself was stepping onto the wrong territory.

When she made it to the right floor, and to the right door, she pounded her fist rapidly on the wood, urging anyone inside to open the fucking door.

And when the door finally did swing open, she was face to face with the one face she was hoping to not see anytime soon but yet at this time she couldn’t avoid him any longer.

“You better have a good reason to be knocking on my door this fucking early in the morning,” Harry spat down at the girl in front of him.

Y/N looked over his shoulder to see two people, a random guy and a girl on the couch in his office, both nearly naked. Then she looked at Harry and saw that his own clothes were disheveled as he probably haphazardly tossed them on his body to open the door.

“Really, in your office?” Y/N droned, pushing past him and into the large space and giving the two a nasty look to state get out.

“I don’t really need your fucking comments so how about you just leave?”

“No, they have to though,” she gestured to the two who were looking around the room quite uncomfortably, not exactly sure what to do with themselves in this moment.

“You don’t boss me around.”

Y/N sighed at his frustrating attitude, trying to keep her cool in front of bystanders, but it was pretty difficult when she was dealing with the most difficult man on the planet. “Harry. . .” she began, looking at him with these pleading eyes that meant something was wrong. Y/N hated looking weak, especially in front of him, but if it got him to cooperate for once, then so be it.

“It’s important business, that they have no part in.”

He looked at Y/N with a hard look, really not wanting to let his fun night come to a close all because she said so. But, he could tell from the way her eyes were the slightest shade of red and how she was still dressed in her pajamas in front of him that whatever this was must have some sort of emergent reasoning.

He looked to Dave and Michelle, the pair who were still so confused about what was happening, a sorrowful look on his face. A look Y/N never thought she would see. They got the idea, quickly scrambling for their clothes before leaving his office. Harry closed the door behind them, licking at his bottom lip before biting it and turning back around to Y/N with that stone cold face she’s grown used to.

“Well, you better get to explaining what the fuck this is all about before I lose my mind.”

Y/N took a shallow breath, running her hand through her very messy hair and speaking up, “Someone on your side hurt my sister, and I need you to find out who.”

“Hurt your sister?” He looked at her with a bored face, going to his big chair behind his desk and plopping down on it, propping his feet onto his desk and leaning back with his arms resting behind his head.

“She was drugged and raped and she says she saw your emblem on him, so, chop chop boss man and find out who the fuck was out last night.”

Shock laced his features at the r word but he soon went back to his bored look, and scoffing at the idea that one of his men would do something so vile. Serena was known to exaggerate and to lie about things ever since she first got her hands on drugs and Harry had no choice but to disbelieve the claims.

“I highly doubt it was one of my guys. Your sister has a tendency to. . . lie. Plus, if she was drugged there’s a low chance she’ll remember something as specific as my emblem but, I assume, nothing else,” he pointed out, raising his eyebrows at Y/N as if to say I win*.

Steam could practically be seen escaping Y/N’s ears as her face set into an angry frown and becoming increasingly red by the moment. Why did she think he would be considerate once? It was her mistake to think he had any ounce of a heart in his body, but even though she knew he would be difficult to work with, she was still beyond pissed at his response.

She stomped forward to the front of the desk, standing opposite him as she leaned forward and grabbed his white button-down shirt in her fist and yanking him forward so his body was in an awkward position and so his face was inches from her own. His smirk settled deeper on his face as his eyes trailed up and down her own face and her figure that was leaning over the desk. Because she never gave herself the time to change out of her pajamas, her silk camisole top revealed a lot of what was underneath to Harry; especially the lack of a bra.

Y/N could practically see the hormones flowing around in his head as he looked like he couldn’t give two shits about the way she was practically ripping his shirt off his body. She brought her other hand up and hooked it under his jaw, tilting his head up so he had no choice but to only look at her eyes.

“I figured I would ask nicely before I kill the prick myself. But there is no playing nice with you, is there Styles?” Y/N seethed, gritting out her words, pushing his body back harshly into his chair.

He laughed, genuinely laughed at the prospect of her being. . . nice. He ran his fingers through his hair, getting up from his position in his chair and walking around to meet her at the front of her desk. His slim fingers took the strap of her camisole, gently rolling it in his fingers before bringing it up and snapping it back down on her skin. “Not when you’re dressed like this, love.” Y/N pushed his hand off her body, standing up straighter in her spot and giving him the nastiest glare she could muster.

“Fine, but don’t be alarmed when you get the news someone died,” she stated, walking back over to the direction of his office door.

“You won’t be killing anyone, Y/N. And if you do, you leave me no choice but to kill one of yours,” he called out as she began to walk down the hall.

She stopped in her tracks, turning around to face him, to see that he was leaning against the doorway of the room, arms crossed in front of his chest. Y/N laughed at his proposition, looking down at her feet, stepping back in his direction with the tiniest foot forward.

“I think whoever raping my sister and then me killing them justifies this whole, eye for an eye thing, don’t ya think?” She hummed, giving him her final deadpan glare before, again, walking away from him and beginning her business for the day.

❊ ❊

A few days went by.

Y/N was closer to finding the guy, but it seems finding someone with a specific emblem tattooed on them proves to be quite difficult when a lot of guys have that same emblem tattooed on them in the exact same spot.

Cameras in the club did little to nothing to help her in the case, seeing as the place is dark, and that it’s sort of illegal to have surveillance in the bathroom. But her team was working hard and the more she didn’t have the guy in her hands, the more angry she became, and the more determined she was to freaking find him.

“All I’m saying is if you drop to your knees, he’ll be more willing to help you,” Y/N’s best friend Flo shrugged, taking a sip from her water as she leaned back in the chair.

“And I don’t need his help, he’s proven to be useless countless times.”

“Then why ask in the first place? Remind me again, because I’m a little lost.”

Y/N turned her head away from her laptop screen, looking at Flo with a bored look, sighing as she closed her laptop to give her friend her undivided attention. “Is there something you wanna talk about?”

“Yeah, like how I think this whole ‘Oh, I hate Harry,’ thing is bullshit. Why go to him if you know he won’t help?” Flo questioned, leaning forward with her arms resting on the mahogany desk.

“Maybe he grew some human decency since the last time I saw him?”

Flo squinted her eyes at her best friend, not exactly accepting that as an answer. It was for one pretty vague, and Flo knew her friend a bit better than that. There was something she wasn’t telling her, and she’d be damned if she left this room not knowing.

“Hm,” Flo hummed, sitting back against the leather chair, then taking another dramatic sip of her water. Y/N gave her a look of distaste as if to ask, is there a problem?

“And, when was the last time you saw him?”

Two weeks ago.

For that. . . thing they don’t talk about.

From what Flo knows, last time Y/N saw Harry was to discuss business settlements six months prior. So, if there’s no business that needs to be handled, there would be no reason for Y/N to see Harry, right? That’s a secret Y/N so desperately wants to keep. She’s ashamed of the night. Beyond words she’s ashamed and it’s only because she gave into temptation.

For a long time, she had Flo telling her that she should let go of this family feud because how could Y/N miss out on an opportunity to be with someone as handsome as Harry? As powerful as Harry? If they were together, there would be absolutely nothing stopping them, because not only were they good at what they do, but so many people respected them that the city would have no choice but to accept that they’re a couple.

But, that went against decades upon decades of family rivalry. The two would be damned if they were the reason this, basically family tradition, came to an end.

So, Y/N had no choice but to lie to her best friend, to avoid life as she knows it spiralling out of control.

She pondered in fake wonder for a moment before answering, “I think a little over six months ago.”

Flo nodded her head in understandment, taking in Y/N’s words but not exactly believing them. There’s a reason Y/N and Flo are best friends, and it’s because the two are very much alike. They’re sarcastic, they’re funny, they’re smart, they take their job seriously, and so many more reasons beyond that. But one defining reason is that they both understand the other so well. They can see right through each other. So for Y/N to think Flo doesn’t know she’s lying, is quite offensive to Flo.

Y/N tried to not break eye contact when she was talking, but she did, and that was the main giveaway that she was lying, even if she only looked away for a brief second. Flo had her down pat, much to Y/N’s demise.

And Flo wasn’t going to sit here and not call her out on it.

“Okay, and now I want the truth.”

Y/N’s eyebrows shot up, and she pursed her lips whilst shaking her head, “I don’t know what-”

“The. Truth. Y/N.”

“That was-”

“Now.”

Y/N huffed, looking down to her hands that she now placed in her lap. Under her friend’s hard gaze, Y/N’s face began to heat up with the embarrassment running through her veins. There really shouldn’t be any reason to be embarrassed about this, but she is. She hates that it happened, but more importantly she hates how she caved to him.

Glancing back up for a moment, Y/N bit her lip softly, feeling exceptionally small as her friend continued to wait for an answer. Taking a deep breath, Y/N sat up straighter in her chair, finally speaking the truth, “Two weeks ago.”

And now it was Flo’s turn to raise her eyebrows, jaw dropping practically down to the floor.

Then Y/N got to explaining.

❊ ❊

It was a Thursday night. Not even the weekend. Y/N had found herself in Central City, which is basically what everyone within the two groups calls the place on the border that separates the sides. She was just outside of Central City, dealing with a few of her loyal dealers all day, and in Central City is one of her favorite bars, so after a long day of working, she wanted to treat herself to a few casual drinks. Plus, she has a small crush on one of the bartenders there, so she figured that night she just may get lucky.

Little did she know, Harry had been just outside of Central City all day too, dealing with a group of rogues who thought they could steal from him and get away with it. They didn’t. So, after an exhausting day of interrogation and torture, Harry needed a drink. And what better place than his favorite bar in Central City?

She was there first, chatting up with Ben the bartender. She was laughing, drinking, listening to the horrible singer up at karaoke; just having an amazing time. Everyone knew who she was but they were all too drunk to worry about anything so they went on about their nights as if the Queen of half their city wasn’t in their presence.

But then everyone went silent, and the only thing that could be heard was Y/N’s laugh as Ben says something ridiculously funny. When she noticed everyone had gone quiet, she looked around the room to look for why no one was talking. It was quite eerie that one second everyone was having the time of their life to now everyone looking like they’d rather be anywhere else.

Then her eyes met his, and she nearly dropped the glass in her hand.

But she wasn’t going to leave just because he showed up. It was her favorite bar. And he felt exactly the same way because it was his favorite bar.

About fifteen seconds of awkward silence and intense staring went down before the two got fed up with all of the eyes focused on them.

“What’re you all looking at?” They snapped in unison. Quickly everyone went back to what they were doing, trying not to worry about a fight breaking out or a screaming match going down. And their worry soon started to dissolve as all the women began to fantasize about Harry and all the men wish they were worthy of being with Y/N.

Unfortunately for the two, the only seat left available in the place was the one on the right of Y/N at the bar. And when Harry sauntered over, going to sit down on the stool, Y/N was quick to stop him claiming she was saving the seat. He looked at her blankly, knowing fully well no one was going to sit there. He swatted her hand away, sitting down on the wood with a plush seat, quickly ordering himself a drink.

They tried not to converse throughout the night no matter how badly they wanted to snap at one another. But the more they thought about yelling, the more they drank, and the more they drank, the more willing they were to talk to each other.

That’s how their night progressed. By the end of it, they somehow came across the topic of sex. And how neither of them had gotten any in what felt like forever. In reality it actually hadn’t been long at all for either of them, but they tended to be dramatic, plus they were teetering on the tipsy-drunk mindset.

“Worst part is, he left his socks on! Fucking socks! It’s one thing to last thirty seconds, but to leave your socks on? Nearly killed the guy,” Y/N grimaced, recalling the event from last week.

Harry was having a hard time keeping in his laughs and judgements, but Y/N was okay with it because that was the whole point of telling the story in the first place. “Okay, you win this time, that is worse.”

“This time? I always win, Styles.” Y/N was practically gloating as she finished off the rest of her martini. He rolled his eyes at her words, shaking his head in response.

And no one could really predict the future events unfolding. It was quite out of the ordinary, and Y/N hardly knew what she was doing until after she had done it.

This thought dawned her hazy mind, and then she was placing her hand on his shoulder and looking at him with this lust and admiration she never thought she had inside of her. The moment he felt her hand on his shoulder, he looked at her quickly and nearly crumbled at the way she was looking at him.

If no one were in this bar with them, he wouldn’t hesitate to take her right then and there, but alas people were all around them. So, he had to keep it in his pants for just a little longer.

He leaned closer to her, taking in the scent of her heavenly perfume as she breathed in his ravishing cologne. They were so close, their lips barely grazed over each other’s, the tips of their noses brushing together softly as if it never really happened.

“What’s on your mind?” He wondered, his right hand coming down on her thigh, awfully close to her now aching center.

They were positive people were most likely watching them like hawks and that news of this just might spread around very fast by tomorrow morning. But, they just didn’t care. Y/N placed her hand on top of his, slowly dragging it even further up her thigh, so his fingertips just reached her dampening underwear.

His lips parted at the feeling, his eyes widening in awe as he stretched his fingers to again barely touch her where she really wanted him. She almost moaned at the feeling but kept the noises inside, not wanting to bring anymore attention towards them.

He laced her hand that was on his shoulder in his hair, softly tugging at the curls at the nape of his neck. She brought her wet lips up to his ear, whispering, “To see what it’s like for you. . . to win.”

He looked at her with an open-mouthed smirk, tongue poking the inside of his cheek before he hastily stood up and placed a few bills down on the bar to pay for their drinks. Y/N grabbed her purse, making her way to the door, Harry following behind her.

When they finally arrived to his place, stepping in the threshold of the foyer, all barriers fell down and all morals left their minds. Their lips were locked in a feverish kiss as he had her pinned up against the cool wooden surface of his door. Her legs were hiked up to wrap around his hips, high heels abandoned on the floor as she pressed the heels of her foot onto his ass, pushing his front harder on her core, creating some sort of friction between them.

He broke apart their lips, tangling his fingers in her hair as he tugged her head to one side to open up the view of her neck that he wanted so desperately to mark up. The second he bit down on her skin and licked the area, and peppered kisses up and down her throat, Y/N let out a moan she couldn’t suppress anymore. And then Harry smirked against her skin.

“It’s so ironic,” he started, grinding his hips harder into her as he brought his head up to look her in the eyes. “Out there, you’ve got people at your feet, looking up to you like an actual queen, not afraid to kill me at any given moment. But in here. . . I’ve got you writhing beneath my touch, just itching to be touched down here.”

And then he cupped her cunt, fingers petting her damp thong, having her mewl at the small but impactful contact. She wished he would just shut up and just fuck her already, but she could tell he was having fun with this; her being so complacent and not fighting him and instead agreeing that she was in fact desperate for him to touch her.

He pushed her skirt up her hips, getting better access to her pretty pussy, pushing aside her thong, gathering up her slickness onto his fingers. He brought his fingers up to his face, admiring the shine before wrapping his lips around them. If Y/N was standing, her knees surely would’ve gave out from under her at the sight. And she couldn’t help but get ever wetter as he sucked the digits, pulling them out with a pop.

“Sweet. . . like honey,” he grinned before reattaching their lips quickly. He brought his hands down onto her ass, gripping tightly before removing them from the door. Although they didn’t get very far and ended up on the comfy living room couch. There was no way they could handle stairs in their state, so the couch was good enough.

Really classy.

As soon as her back touched the soft surface, Harry was ripping her skirt and panty down her legs, and harshly tugged open her shirt that a few bottoms came right out of the seams. And if Y/N wasn’t drunk on alcohol and lust, she’d be beyond pissed.

But she really wasn’t one to talk, because she also ripped open his shirt, albeit not as rough but she’s pretty sure she ripped off one of his buttons too. Within a matter of seconds, the two were completely naked and beyond excited for what was to come. Literally.

Harry littered kisses up and down her body, mouth lingering longer on her aroused nipples, whilst he sank one then two fingers into her dripping hole. Y/N let out a breathy moan, lifting her lips up off the couch to push his fingers deeper inside of her.

“You’re so tight, Darling, and it’s just my fingers.”

He locked their lips in another passionate kiss as he pumped his fingers faster into her heat, gaining a few more moans out of that precious little mouth of hers. He hovered his lips over hers, speaking his next works huskily and softly that sent shivers down her spine, and made her pussy throb.

“Imagine me burying my cock into you. You squeezing me as I thrust into you, over and over again. Your warm walls holding onto me as I pound into you, absolutely wrecking you. Can you imagine it?”

Before she could say a single word, his thumb began working fast circles on her clit just as he continuously started to hit that special spot inside of her that had her seeing stars. The string of moans she let out could really put a pornstar to shame, and he didn’t even have his dick in her yet.

Was it embarrassing for her to be this much of a mess just from a simple fingering? Yes. But, just like the rest of the night, she lost the will to care.

“H-. . . Harry, please,” she whined as he switched the pace of his fingers to a slower rate, trying to prolong her orgasm for as long as he could.

He simply shook his head, denying her any satisfaction. Because as much as she was in charge out there, he was in charge here and he wouldn’t let her get what she wants so quickly.

Instead, he wanted to rile her up even more. With his free hand he brought it up to her breast, groping it roughly and then pinching her nipple between his thumb and first finger. And then he got an idea as he looked at the hickey that was starting to form on the side of her neck. He slowly trailed his fingers further up her chest, her collarbones, and eventually landing on the soft skin of her throat. He gently wrapped his hand around her throat to see what kind of reaction he could get out of her, and much to his surprise, her small hand wrapped around his wrist to, instead of pushing his hand away, push harder on her throat.

And if he wasn’t turned on then, he for fucking sure is now.

She loved the way his big hand was wrapped around her throat easily as if it had the smallest circumference. She loved the way it made it just the tiniest bit more difficult to breathe while he continued to ram her pussy with his fingers. And he loved just how much she loved it. “You naughty fucking girl. You like my hand around your neck don’t you? Does it turn you on?”

Y/N didn’t want to say anything, because as much as she was this confident woman, this moment was far too embarrassing, even for her. But, frustrated with no response, Harry pressed down more, using a deeper voice to elicit a response out of her.

“Answer me, Princess. I won’t continue if you don’t use your words,” he tsked, again slowing down his rhythm. Y/N groaned as his fingers practically came to a halt, bucking her hips up to continue the euphoric feeling inside of her.

“Plea–”

“Not until I get an answer.”

Y/N huffed, opening her eyes to look into his boring down on her. She bit her lip softly before nodding her head gently to respond to his previous questions.

“Uh-uh, I want words, Y/N. You love to talk, so c’mon, tell me.”

Groaning again, Y/N turned her head to the side to break eye contact. All she wanted was an orgasm, and she knew that within the next minute she was bound to burst and she hated that he was stopping her from reaching it. She took a breath and mustered up the courage to finally agree with his words, that yes it turned her on immensely.

“Y-yes. . . it turns me on,” she whispered. With that he smirked and removed his hand from her heat, making Y/N whimper at the loss of contact. But he couldn’t take it anymore, his erection becoming too unbearable that he had to ease his pain sooner rather than later.

Reaching down to his wallet to pull the condom out that he had stuffed in there a few nights ago, because he couldn’t be bothered to go upstairs to get his stash, he hastily ripped open the foil, careful not to rip the condom itself, and quickly rolled it onto his throbbing length.

He first pushed the tip in, giving her a few moments to adjust to his girth. Y/N completely lost it as he pushed further and further inside of her, back arching off the plush cushion as she cursed at the feeling of him stretching her. She widened the space of her legs, absolutely losing her mind as Harry’s face buried into her neck, the vibrations of his moans and groans shaking her body.

When he finally stopped, Y/N was quick to look down to see his cock was gone and deep inside of her body. She never felt so full in her life and she didn’t know how she was going to take him moving. The stretch came with a subtle burn that brought tears to her eyes. All good, of course.

“Harry, please move,” she begged, scraping her nails down toned back.

“Are you sure?”

“Fucking move.”

Then he slowly inched his length out before snapping his hips back against hers.

It was crazy that they were doing this.

Never in a million years did they think they would be having sex, each other’s names flowing out of their mouths so easily as their moans filled the air. The thought was always taboo for them but just this once they accepted their fates, and God, did it feel good.

It felt so good.

❊ ❊

When Y/N was finished explaining what had happened that one night two weeks ago – of course without the intense details – Flo sat with a smirk adorning her features.

Her eyes glowed, knowing she was right. She just knew this sort of thing was bound to happen. Next step, they were going to admit their undying love for each other and Flo couldn’t wait to get that news.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Y/N scolded.

“I’m not looking at you like anything,” she shrugged. “. . So when’s the wedding?”

“Florence James!”

“Hey, I’m just dealing with the cards I’ve been dealt,” she raised her hands in defense.

“Can we just forget about him and get back to more important matters, like who assaulted my sister?”

Before Flo could respond, a knock sounded on the door to Y/N’s office. Yelling a quick come in, Y/N was quick to flip off her friend before whoever walked into the room.

Looking over her shoulder, Flo let out a laugh before getting up from her chair and then returning the hand gesture to Y/N. “Speak of the Devil,” she called as she left the room, closing the door behind her.

Harry stepped into Y/N’s office, that annoying smirk ever so permanent on his features.

“Speaking about me, Princess?”

“You have two seconds to explain why you’re here before I stab you in the throat.”

“Relax,” he dragged out, taking off his coat and draping it over the back of the chair Flo was just sitting on before sitting himself down on it. “I come with good news.”

Y/N raised her eyebrows, interested in what he could be talking about. She didn’t bother asking what good news, instead just waited for him to continue with whatever it was he had to say.

“You don’t have to worry about Jack anymore – Uh, the guy who. . . y’know, with Serena.”

To say Y/N was taken aback would be an understatement. She was so shocked that she had him repeat himself and explain what the fuck that was supposed to even mean.

“Look, I know I was harsh the other day. But when you left I got to thinking and. . . I know I would do anything I could if somebody hurt someone in my family. So, I got to asking around, turns out it was this guy Jack I had just fired and now you don’t have to worry about him,” he elaborated, clasping his hands together on his lap.

Y/N’s mind was in a whirlwind at this information, trying to process everything he just told her. It wasn’t a lot to take in but, it’s because he willingly helped her that had her in such a confused state. He had never done anything like this before and she was sure he wouldn’t do anything like it ever again.

But then she smiled. Genuinely smiled. Because he helped her. There’s no way she was going to let this one go. However, before she could gloat, she asked one very important question, “Is he alive?”

Harry gave her a knowing look, as if to say she should know him better than that.

Then she smiled again, even bigger than before. Because he killed someone for her and that – in their world – was the biggest sign of affection someone could give, because it meant that that someone meant something special.

“Fuck off with that smile,” he grumbled.

Y/N then stood up from her chair and walked over to him, standing in front of his seated figure, bringing her hand up to caress his jaw. “However could I repay you, Mr. Styles?”

It was then his turn to smile at her as he placed his hands on the back of her thighs and brought her to sit down on his lap.

“I can think of a few ways.”

And they were kissing like they never had before. This time they were so sober, it felt too real.

But they didn’t mind too much, because this moment felt like the start of something new.

#idk how to feel about the ending butttttt oh well :)#harry styles writing #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles smut #harry styles au #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles #one direction fanfiction

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subarublue · 3 years

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Sparda Family Bonding Time Series - Part 1

Series Description: It’s family bonding time! Sparda family style! A series of short stories revolving around platonic familial relationships between the members of the DMC crew. Warning: Lots of fluff and bonding ahead.

One Shot

Title: Kindred Spirits

Fandom: Devil May Cry

Timeline: Post DMC5

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 4153

Read on Ao3

Summary: Losing a brother is hard, even if you don’t always get along. Which is why Dante is ever grateful for this second chance with his...because he knows someone who’ll never get another chance with hers.

Notes: Mostly just some platonic comfort and family fluff between Dante and Kyrie with a splash of Vergil, Nero, and Nico.

It was inevitable, really.

They’d been back from the underworld for almost a month now, but they were still adjusting back to normal life. They’d been down there for so long, after all; constantly fighting for their lives and sparring each other in between. It wasn’t easy getting back into the normal swing of things. Well, normal for Dante, anyway. Vergil’s definition of normal was a whole other story.

So it really wasn’t surprising that a fight (a real one and not a sparring match) had finally broken out between them. Honestly, Dante was surprised it had taken this long to happen. Then again, he had been trying not to start one, not that he could say much for Vergil’s effort, if there had even been any. He didn’t quite know for sure. Talking wasn’t exactly Vergil’s strong suit; of course Dante wasn’t much better in that regard, either.

He wasn’t even sure what had started it. It probably didn’t matter; whatever it was had likely been trivial. This had been brewing ever since they got back (probably before so, even) and one wrong thing was bound to set them off, eventually.

Because things always ended up like this between him and Vergil. Yeah, sure they were capable of getting along for long periods of time, but somehow, no matter how good things were going, it always ended up in a fight eventually. That was just how it had always been, ever since they were kids. It was just unfortunate that this time it happened at Nero’s place.

Luckily, it was late so the boys were all in bed, sound asleep. At least, Dante hoped they were. They were making quite a ruckus outside and this was not something kids needed to see. Nico and Nero were watching on the sidelines and the latter was trying his best to not resort to yelling at his father and uncle, which would make even more noise. Dante was certain it wouldn’t be long before his nephew dove into put a stop to their brawl.

Except that Nero never got the chance.

Vergil had just given Dante his usual spiel of “Die!” which Dante was sure was only said in anger and he didn’t actually mean it (probably) when a distinctly feminine voice pierced the air with a ferocity he had never before heard from the young woman.

“THAT’S ENOUGH!”

It was like time had stopped for everyone, including Vergil and Dante who both froze in mid-strike. Everyone turned to look at the petite woman standing on the steps of the porch. Dante wasn’t sure when they had gained another audience, but he now knew that in addition to Nero and Nico, Kyrie was bearing witness to the traditional Sparda way of ‘discussing your problems.’

Apparently though, she was far less than content with the way their family handled their issues. Her hands were fisted in her skirt with a white-knuckled grip and the look on her face was one of absolute fury; an expression Dante had never thought the innocent girl was capable of. When he saw her angry tears beginning to fall, he felt panic well up inside him, though he tamped it down as best he could. He was never good at dealing with crying women. Not that he would have to worry about that. Nero would take care of her.

“If you two want to kill each other, then go do it somewhere else! I’m not going to stand around here and watch you two make the biggest mistake you’ll ever regret. This is our home and I WON’T STAND FOR THIS!”

No one dared to say a word. By now Dante and even Vergil had lowered their swords and while the latter appeared mostly stoic as always, there was the barest hint of shame in his expression. Dante’s expression was more akin to a scolded child. Even Nero and Nico were taken aback, though Nico recovered more quickly. She snickered a bit, but seemed to realize that was a big mistake and tried to stifle it, though the glare Kyrie shot her told everyone she hadn’t been successful.

“Um, Kyrie?” Nero addressed her tentatively in an effort to distract her. This was new territory even for him. They’d had disagreements before of course, but nothing that had ever brought out this kind of anger in her.

She leveled her heated look at Nero, and he stiffened in response until she looked back at the battered duo on their lawn. He didn’t get another word in.

“I won’t repeat myself. Either put those away and get cleaned up or leave! I’ll not have two grown men who are supposed to be brothers trying to kill each other at my house.” Her voice had calmed now, but only because it was devoid of emotion; as if she didn’t have the energy to feel any more. Without another word, she turned on her heel and strode back into the house, slamming the porch door behind her causing everyone except Vergil to flinch at the sudden noise.

The silence that followed in her departure was tense. Nero slowly turned to glare at his father and uncle with a look that rivaled his girlfriend’s from just moments ago.

“You two finished, then?” he said through gritted teeth. Dante could tell Nero was trying to rein in his temper.

“Yes.” Everyone was surprised when Vergil spoke first, but Dante was more so by his answer. He’d been certain Vergil was going to drag him off to finish their fight elsewhere. Instead, his brother sheathed Yamato without any complaint. That was definitely a change.

Huh. Guess he really is trying… But his thought didn’t get far before being interrupted.

“Dante?” Nero’s voice still held that angry tone, obviously waiting for a confirmation from his uncle, as well. Dante almost felt like a little kid again, being reprimanded for not paying attention.

“Yeah. No complaints from me.” He dismissed his sword as well to hopefully further appease his nephew.

“Soooo, uh, that was new. Didn’t know she had in it her, ya know?” Nico spoke up then, her curiosity getting the better of her.

Nero turned his glare on her, but it only lasted a second before worry settled on his face and he turned to looked at the door his girlfriend had left through.

“No, it’s not like her at all. I mean, she always gets a little emotional around this time of year, but she’s never gone off on anyone like that before...” Nero trailed off, obviously confused as to exactly what had Kyrie so upset all of a sudden.

“What significance does this time of year hold for her?” Surprisingly, it was Vergil who spoke up out of curiosity this time.

Nero looked stunned at first that his father had even bothered asking, but the look on his face quickly turned into a sorrowful grimace. Whatever the significance was, it affected Nero too, Dante noted.

That’s when he remembered.

Of course. This was the same time of year that the Savior incident occurred. They’d both been kidnapped by that old codger and used for his own, personal world-domination plan. Kyrie had been the bait and Nero had fallen right into his trap. It had been a horrible situation for the both of them. He was lucky he’d been able to rescue them...or well, Nero anyway; his nephew did all the damsel in distress saving. Either way, it stood to reason that the whole event left lasting scars.

“Her brother, Credo...he died around this time.” Nero looked pained as he spoke; Credo had been a brother to him, too. “I had to watch him die, but Kyrie? She never even got to see him one last time or say goodbye.”

At the mention of Credo, Dante’s eyes widened in realization and he suddenly felt very stupid for not putting two and two together immediately. Of course she was upset with them. Kyrie would have probably given anything to have her own brother back and here he and Vergil were, trying to make pincushions out of each other with their second chance.

He remembered Credo’s death clearly in his mind: questioning the dying man for information. Information that he gave freely in hopes that it would put an end to Sanctus’s plans. The man using his last bit of strength to stand, to ask Dante for one final request: to save Nero and his little sister.

God, I never even told either of them about his last moments. Nero probably didn’t even know he was still alive after the Savior took him. I should have...

Movement from Nero drew his attention away from his own thoughts. It was clear, despite what he’d just told Vergil, that Nero was still in the dark about exactly why their fight had upset Kyrie so much, but he was already moving to go after her. Dante panicked before he could stop himself.

“Wait, kid!”

He almost cringed as Nero turned to regard him with an angry look. What had possessed him to stop his nephew? Nero knew his girlfriend better than anyone so the kid was the logical choice to go and comfort her. Hell, he could probably do it better than Dante and Vergil combined, though relatively speaking, the two of them combined was almost never a good thing. Not to mention they both were complete shit at comforting others.

“What? You got a problem? You’re half the reason she’s upset so unless you’re gonna go fix this, just shut your damn mouth.” It was clear Nero was still angry with them, and Dante didn’t blame him. He didn’t like his father and uncle fighting if his stopping their fight right before their little underworld vacation was anything to go by.

But now, Nero was turning back to go after Kyrie, not even bothering to wait for an answer.

I should just let him go. They’ve been together long enough, surely she’ll tell him what’s bothering her and he can comfort her way better than-

Nero was opening the back door now and Dante couldn’t stop the words that left his mouth.

“Let me talk to her.” He regretted them the second he said it.

Stupid. This was a stupid idea. He was no good with crying women. Why was he doing this? Why was he putting himself in a situation where he was probably just going to make matters worse?

Oh, who was he kidding? He knew very well why he was doing this:

Guilt.

Not only did he feel somewhat responsible for what happened to the both of them and Credo, he’d never even told them about the man’s dying wish for Dante to save them. And here he was, fighting with his own brother right in their backyard.

Nero couldn’t cover his shocked expression, not that Dante expected any different of a reaction. In fact, even Nico and Vergil had surprised looks on their faces. When no one made a move to say anything, too stunned into silence, Dante figured he’d have to explain.

“Look, I think I understand what’s really bothering her, so...just let me talk to her. If I make it worse, you can step in and fix it.”

“If you make it worse, I’ll do more than just bitch-slap you this time.” Nero crossed his arms and leveled Dante with a glare to show he meant business.

“Deal.” He nodded to Nero as he passed him to head through the door. He really hoped he didn’t screw this up; for Kyrie’s sake...and his own.

It didn’t take him long to find her; she hadn’t gone far. She was sitting on a swinging bench on the front porch as he stepped out the door. When he heard her quiet weeping, he felt the panic rise up in him again.

Why? Why’d he volunteer for this again? He wasn’t any good at this whole comfort thing. Where was he even supposed to start?

Sorry’s usually a good place. He sighed. Yeah, right. What the hell was he supposed to say sorry for?

Sorry my brother and I not-quite killed each other and bled all over your lawn? Sorry your brother’s dead and mine’s not? Sorry it looks like we’re wasting the second chance we have when you deserve it a hell of a lot more?

God, he was terrible at this…and he hadn’t even said anything, yet.

He heard her try to stifle a sob, apparently now aware that she had company. He swallowed hard. He was not prepared for this at all.

Guess it’s time to do what I do best: wing it.

He took a seat at the opposite end from her. He watched her stiffen when his weight shifted the swing of the bench, slightly. Still unsure on how to start, he looked straight ahead, only glancing over at her every now and then as she tried to quiet her tears. He was half-hoping she’d say something first, though it soon became evident that would not be the case. He was just stalling because he was afraid; more so of upsetting her further than of Nero’s wrath.

He caught her out of the corner of his eye, chancing a glance in his direction to see who was currently sitting with her. He heard her choke back another sob, though whether it was from realizing it was him or some other reason, he didn’t know. It still solidified his thoughts that this was bad idea, but he was already here and Nero was expecting him to fix this. Besides, she deserved to know about her brother’s last moments. It was the least he could do. If he made things worse, he’d just have to let Nero beat the crap out of him. Maybe that would make her feel better, though he doubted it. This was Kyrie, after all. She’d never wish harm on anyone.

He cleared his throat finally, trying to gather up some courage. He knew he couldn’t stall forever.

“I’m no good at shit like this, so you’ll have to bear with me a bit.” Probably not the best start, so he paused to give her a chance to tell him to leave in case she didn’t want to talk to him. When she finally spoke, she didn’t tell him to leave, but she didn’t bother to turn and face him, either.

“It’s very rude to have fights at other people’s houses, you know?” There was a tinge of anger to her voice still. “Especially when you should be happy to have each other back.”

There it was. There was no mistaking the disdain in her voice. She really did think they were taking advantage of this second chance they had. So he’d been right, after all. Now, what to do about it?

Well, set her straight, of course....hopefully.

“I know it doesn’t look like we’re thankful to have each other back, but that’s not the case. Well, for me anyway. I can’t really speak for Vergil, but...he seems to be trying, I guess.”

“Is that how you show it? By trying to kill each other?” He could still hear her sniffle now and then, but her anger was overriding her crying for the moment. He sighed again.

“I ain’t gonna get into why we do things the way we do. We’d be here all night. What I can tell you is no matter how serious it looked, we weren’t gonna kill each other. Maybe a long time ago that might’ve been the case, but not anymore. Things are different now.”

“Because of Nero.” The anger was gone from her voice now, but it was replaced with an emotion he didn’t really think he could deal with well: sorrow.

“Yeah.” The silence following his admission was terribly uncomfortable. She was back to crying quietly again and he decided he should go with what his first instinct had been: apologize. Though he had far more to apologize for than just the brawl in her backyard.

“I’m sorry for what happened back then.”

“Just don’t fight here. I know Nero hates it.”

So do you. He didn’t say it out loud, though. Instead, he opted to correct her assumption. “I wasn’t apologizing for that, though I am sorry for that, too.”

He saw her in his peripheral vision; she slowly turned to face him. He was really glad he wasn’t looking directly at her. He could tell her face was tear-stained and it would have probably shot down any confidence he had to say what he needed to next.

“What are you apologizing for, then?” Her voice was strained from all the crying, but the confusion was still evident.

“For what happened to your brother.”

Her gasp was so quiet he would have missed it if he didn’t have exceptional hearing and he glanced at her briefly. Her eyes were wide and her hands covered her mouth in shock, obviously not having expected his answer. He swallowed thickly.

No backing out now, he thought. “I guess you could say I know what it feels like to lose a brother, too. I thought Vergil was dead for a long time. Even before that, I lost him to his own desire for power. We never really got along very well, but…it still hurt.”

“What happened that made you think he was dead”? Her shock had died down as she’d listened to him, now voicing an obvious question he should have anticipated.

A pained look crossed his face at the memory. She just didn’t know what can of worms she was trying to open. That was something he might tell them someday (or maybe Vergil would, if he really remembered it), but for now it was better left unsaid. They were getting off topic, anyway. Fortunately, she’d seen the look on his face at her question and understood it was a subject he didn’t want to get into.

“Sorry. I should have known better than to ask that thoughtlessly. It still hurts to talk about how Credo died, too.”

They were getting back to the reason he originally came out here in the first place and he was never one to pass up an opportunity, so he took it.

“You probably didn’t know it, but I was there…when he died, you know?”

“Yes, I know. Nero told me. He said you were there to catch him when he fell,” she said it like it should have been obvious and he knew she didn’t understand what he meant.

“No. Nero only told you what he knew.” She looked at him as he spoke and he turned slightly to face her more directly. Surely if he could face demons on a daily basis, he could face this. “He was still alive after Nero was taken by the Savior.” There was a long stretch of silence as she realized what this meant.

“But…Nero said he was probably dead when he fell from the Savior. He said that Sanctus…with Yamato…” She faltered, unable to talk about how her brother had died at the hands of someone he had respected and served. She was crying again now, and it took all his resolve not to look away again.

“Well, he wasn’t.” He met her eyes. He could barely catch the small glimmer of hope in them through her tears. She hadn’t had a body to bury and he suddenly realized that all she’d ever really wanted was a bit of closure, since she’d been practically comatose through the whole thing.

“I talked to him, before…you know.” He refrained from mentioning the man’s death again to try and avoid more of her tears. He turned away again, finding he couldn’t handle the look on her face. “He told me what the old man’s plans were. I guess that was his way of trying to right any wrongs he’d done in his last moments.”

“He was always very noble and selfless. He really thought what they were doing was for the better of the world.” She seemed to have gotten her crying under control somewhat as she reminisced about her brother, but her tone was still heavy with sadness. “And he was never one to be afraid of accepting responsibility for his own actions. I’m glad in his last moments that he wasn’t alone…and he was thinking of redemption.”

“Those weren’t his last thoughts, though.” He braved another glance at her before looking away again to stare at nothing in particular.

“W-what do you mean?” She seemed confused, as if she couldn’t think of anything else that might have mattered to Credo in his last moments.

“What do you think it means? He was pretty stubborn. Even as he sat there bleeding out, he forced himself to his feet so he could meet me face to face and ask me to honor his one last request-” Dante turned back to look at her fully this time “-to save you and Nero.”

Her eyes widened ever so slightly before the waterworks started up again and he felt more panic welling up in him. Great. He made her cry more. God, this is exactly what he was afraid of.

“At the end…h-he was thinking of us?”

She was staring at her hands in her lap as more silent tears fell from her eyes. She wasn’t really talking to anyone in particular; just thinking out loud, but he countered her question, anyway.

“Did you really expect any different?” Her tearful gaze met his and he willed himself not to look away. “You said it yourself: he was pretty noble and selfless. Seems very much like him to be worried about the two people he cared about most rather than his own fate.”

He’d hoped that would be of some comfort to her and stop her crying, but he jerked when she suddenly let out a rather loud sob and lunged forward, gripping the lapels of his coat as she practically fell into his chest and started weeping. He swallowed nervously, half-expecting Nero to come out the front door ready to knock him around a bit, but no one disturbed them and he settled for awkwardly patting her on the back as she cried her heart out.

They sat like that for a while; long enough that awkwardness dissipated for him somewhat. He eventually opted to rest one arm around her back in a gentle half-embrace, which seemed to do far more at comforting her than anything else. Eventually, she stopped crying and he hoped that was good enough.

“Dante?”

He looked down at her as she pulled away from him and the panic came back full force when he noticed there were still tears running down her cheeks. There was something different about it this time, though. This wasn’t the sorrowful weeping from moments ago. Instead, the silent tears were a stark contrast to the gentle smile on her face.

“Uh, yeah?”

“Thank you.” She said before attempting to dry her eyes with the sleeve of her dress.

He let out a short huff of relief. It seemed he wouldn’t get the crap beat out of him for the second time tonight. At least he could say that Vergil hadn’t faired too well, either. More so, he was just happy he could give her that little bit of closure that was long overdue.

“I’m sorry I never said anything before. Nero told me once he was the only family you had left and I guess I just didn’t know how to bring it up. I’m not real great at dealing with cryin’ women,” he admitted. That prompted a quiet laugh from her as he stood up from the bench and offered her a hand up, which she accepted graciously.

“I can understand that.” She gave him a knowing smile. “He was wrong, though.”

“Huh?” Now it was his turn to be confused.

“Nero. He was wrong. Credo wasn’t my only family left.” The smile on her face held a bit of a teasing look to it. His confusion bled into his expression as she took one of his hands in both of hers. “I have a new one now, in all of you.”

Tears started forming in her eyes again at the admission, while his widened in surprise this time. Her expression was anything but sad though, and Dante now recognized these tears for what they were: tears of happiness. He couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips as he pulled her into a gentle hug.

“It’s a bit late and maybe Nero hasn’t made it official quite yet, but...welcome to the family, Kyrie.”

“Thank you, Dante.”

When he pulled away, her smile was brighter than ever, despite the tears, and he thought that…maybe not all crying was so bad.

Part 1 of this series • Part 2 →

#devil may cry fanfiction #dmc #dmc dante #dmc kyrie #my writing #devil may cry #suby scrawls

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mka1098 · 4 years

Text

She Wears the Crown of the School and Key of My Heart - A Percabeth Percy Jackson One-shot Fanfiction Story

Want to have the story read out loud for you ?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZnJmrjvaXpo&list=PL_yqxljCzSpIEMPBUYLmUcUnPmSOtc2aN&index=5

Annabeth Chase. She was the queen of the school no doubt. And she just happened to be Percy Jackson's childhood crush from grade 2. She moved here, sophomore year, and in one year, she had everyone wrapped around her finger. Luke, the popular boy that was set for Yale, Drew the old It girl who lost her status and can't move a muscle again the new queen, Piper, her first friend at the school and now her maiden in waiting. Everyone was hooked on her. First the new girl, now the most popular girl in school. She most certainly had Percy Jackson under her spell. Even as a young 7-year-old, Percy was bewitched. And now, ten years later. He still was.

"Dude stop staring at her," Grover told his best friend who was watching the queen spin around and around on the dance floor with her king. Her jr prom king.

"She's so beautiful," Percy said dreamily.

"Yeah, you say so all the time." Grover rolled his eyes. "I'm going to go talk to my girlfriend over there." The ginger announced and left his smitten friend to just stare. Percy admired her dress, it was simple yet elegant, even amongst this mosh pit of students.

"It's probably bad to still be in love with the same girl that you've not been dating for 10 years," Percy muttered to himself and moved to the drinks table to snatch a soda. He found the basket of soda's and grabbed the coke.

Only for another hand to be placed on top of his. And said hand had a french manicure. And remarkably familiar infinity bracelet.

"Sorry, did you want it?" A fruity voice spoke to him. Percy's eyes went wide and he turned to look at the blonde who had spoken. She had heels on but still, she was a ways shorter than him. Percy stood at 6'3, Annabeth at most was 5'11 with heels. His mouth didn't move and nor did his brain. He was captivated by the beauty in front of him. Her princess curls were twisted up in an updo, with hair framing her face perfectly. Her grey eyes were still strikingly gorgeous, even in the low lighting. Her lips were painted a pink color, like an innocent little princess but the cat eyeliner said that she cut like a queen.

"Uh, do you still want it?" She said awkwardly. Percy slowly shook his head. She nodded and was about to walk away when without thinking, Percy grabbed her arm.

"Wait." He said. She looked at him confused.

"Yes?" She asked. "We know each other!" He said. Annabeth opened her mouth and then closed it before saying a word.

"...yes." She looked at him suspiciously but Percy broke out into a grin.

"You know who I am!?"

"You just said we knew each other."

"yeah, but like do you know my name?"

“Uh, yes Percy I do. Do, uh, you know mine?"

"Yeah!"

This was a very weird and awkward conversation. But Percy's lovesick brain didn't compute that. At least it wouldn't for a while longer. If you have him maybe 3 more days, it'd catch up and he'd freak out over it.

"Uh, is there anything else you wanted to tell me?" Annabeth smiled politely but it was clear she didn't know what was happening with this conversation.

"We were in second grade together." Percy gushed out. Annebeth's lips pressed into a tight line.

"Well, yeah we're in the same grade." She said slowly. Percy shook his head. "No, we were in the same class." Annabeth's eyebrows crinkled together before her face lit up and she snapped her fingers and clapped once.

"Oh! Percy! I remember now! You gave me this bracelet." She held up the arm Percy was still ahold of.

"Oh sorry." He let go sheepishly. Annabeth just laughed. \"You're fine." She was all eased up now. "I forgot about 2nd grade, well everything but this here." The blonde twisted her wrist around.

"Congrats on the crown." Percy pointed to the plastic crown in her hair. Annabeth reached up and touched it. "Oh, yeah thanks." She smiled at him.

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!" A voice yelled and Annabeth and Percy both turned to face the sound, which was coming towards them. "I knew you were cheating on me!" Luke roared. Annebth's mouth dropped.

"I- what! I am not." She yelled back. The place went quiet, even the music stopped.

"You were holding his hand!" Luke yelled back. Annabeth growled. "He was holding my wrist because he recognized the bracelet." She defended herself.

Percy wanted to die. Was he causing the perfect couple to fight? Yes, yes he was. Great going Jackson.

"How?!"

"He gave it to me!"

"Oh so now you're accepting gifts from your side dude?"

"Oh my god, WE WERE SEVEN WHEN HE GAVE IT TO ME!"

"And you kept it?!"

"Yes! A gift from a friend."

"I know you're cheating on me."

"I AM NOT!"

Luke snarled at Percy. Percy only looked at him, they were close in height so it was a battle of not looking away. "I'm not anything like that to her," Percy stated. Luke rolled his eyes. "Yeah sure like I believe that. If you're going to be like that, I will too." He growled.

The Blonde boy's eyes caught onto the nearest girl that wasn't Annabeth and pulled her to him and started furiously making out with the girl. Said girl screamed and pulled away, kicking him in a sensitive spot. Annabeth had no choice but to watch the scene of her boyfriend accusing her of infidelity and then doing it himself. The other girl started screaming at him and slapped him in the face. "And for the record. Annie was loyal to you. You are a pig." The other girl stormed away and no one in the either place spoke.

"It's over," Annabeth said softly. "I never cheated on you nor thought of it. But if you don't believe me and think it's okay to do it back and kiss a girl without her consent, and still think I'll stay with you, you are crazy." The Blonde queen of the school spun on her heel and walked out the door. 3 seconds passed and Percy ran out after her, hearing the shouts at Luke and lots of soda spilling onto the floor. Odds were the people were protecting the queen, punishing Luke. Percy looked around the area and found the girl walking somewhere.

"Annabeth." He called, making her turn around. She looked at him sadly. Percy frowned, Annabeth should never be sad it didn't suit her.

"He didn't believe me." Her voice was barely audible, it was clear she was holding back tears. Percy wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug. "He didn't believe me." She said again, he felt water hit his shoulder. Her tears were quiet, just quiet and painful. After a minute the water stopped. She weakly clung to his arms.

"Do you want to away from here?" He asked gently. She nodded and Percy led her to his car and opened the door for her to get in.

His mom was working late so she wasn't home to question why he was bringing home a crying girl. Annabeth took of her heels and sat down at the couch. Percy went to the kitchen and grabbed 2 ice cream cones. Coming back to the main room, he handed her one and she took it gratefully.

"Thank you." She said softly.

"Are your parents expecting you at 12?" Percy asked her. She shook her head.

"No, I was supposed to stay at Luke's," Annabeth said quietly. Percy nodded, wishing he hadn't said that. After a minute of silence, Annabeth laughed humorlessly. "I never thought I'd be that girl crying in her prom dress." A hand reached up and touched the crown. "Or, I guess the crying prom queen." She laughed hollowly.

Despite what was going on, Percy couldn't help but admire her dress. It was a light blue color, his favorite color. Mermaid style, it hugged her body and flared out at the bottom. It was off the shoulder and was clearly something a princess would wear.

"I didn't cheat on him. Not with you. Not with anyone else." Annabeth said softly. Percy nodded his head.

"You would never. He was a fool to not listen." He said. Annabeth laughed humorlessly and looked up and then back at him.

"I should have known that would happen. He's always been crazy jealous and asks me about all my male friends." She took a bite of ice cream. "I brought it upon myself didn't I." Her voice was weak, small, fragile. Things Annabeth was not.

Percy shook his head in disagreement. "No, you just cared for him enough to look past the flaws." Annabeth smiled at him.

"Thank you. For just getting me out of there. Sorry, I'm invading and running your night." The blonde said shyly. She was not doing such things. "It's okay, I wasn't doing much." He told her. Percy looked at the TV and then back at her.

"Wanna watch a movie?" He asked. She nodded her head. "Sure."

They put on a funny movie, but soon realized that it was much more fun to do commentary on it. Then they realized it was even more fun to just talk and ignore the movie. Percy told her about his life in high school and things he could remember from grade 2. Annabeth laughed at his stories and told him about her adventures with friends.

"Really? That was you and Leo?" She laughed. Percy nodded his head. "That was so funny!" Percy was so happy to make her laugh after a night like this had occurred. "Thanks for cheering me up and helping," Annabeth said when her laughter died down. She had a smile this time on her pretty face. Percy tried to act nonchalantly but it probably wasn't working. "This makes us friends now... I think... are we?" She looked so hopefully, like a little owl with those big eyes.

"Of course!" Percy said with a grin. Even without the cute eyes he would have said the same thing. They were friends now.

And for the next 3 months, they became closer and closer. He helped her with the breakup, the school had done right by their queen and Luke was no more a beloved king amongst villagers. He was now the lowest of the lows, like dirt or a mouse everyone drove away. The feeling Percy had had since age 7, only grew and grew till he was sure he was completely in love with this girl. It came down to the end of the year party, set at the beach and the entire 11th grade had come out and was planning to have a blast together. Percy was planning to tell Annabeth how he felt, after some 10 or 11 years.

"Wise girl! My mom made cookies, come help me!" Percy called Annabeth while standing by his car.

"On my way." She said from the other line. Annabeth did come up to Percy's very blue car.

"I'll grab these two boxes... and then run away." She laughed before printing away with said boxes.

"HEY!" Percy yelled after her, locking his car and following her across the beach.

"Hey Reyna, here the cookies." He smiled at their class president and he and Annabeth stacked the boxes.

"Hey wise girl. Wanna go for a beach walk?"

That's how they ended up in a secluded part of the beach, not private, just less public. It had lots of palm trees around it and the water was clear as can be, no people or sea creatures to be found. Annabeth had excitedly taken off her coverup and got into the water. Percy tried not to faint from seeing her in a swimsuit. He didn't like her just for her body, but she was a very attractive person.

"Too slow?" She called out to him. Percy dramatically put his hand to his head and stumbled back. He was a swimmer for goodness sake and a pretty good one. Taking off his shirt he dived into the water after her and grabbed her by the waist, pulling her down to the sand. He let go soon enough so she could get on her feet but her pouty face was too adorable for Percy to say anything too.

In all honestly, Percy's felt his face warm up, even in cool water by touching her. He ran a hand through his black hair and prayed that she didn't notice the redness splashed on his cheeks. Annabeth's sly face on was on and before he knew it, she ran at him and knocked him on his back, her landing and laughing on top of him. Oh, there's the red. Percy's face was so hot you could probably grill on them.

"Annabeth." Percy started seriously. The blonde stopped her giggling and corked her head, a sign she was listening. "I have to tell you something." Percy took a deep breath and sat up, Annabeth did so too, sitting next to him on the sand.

"I li-"

He was cut off by Annabeth's lips on his. The words fizzled out when his brained realized it. Annabeth tasted like lemon drops and vanilla cake. Percy had kissed girls before but this one with Annebth, it was gentle and sweet. It was perfect. Just like her.

After a few seconds, she pulled apart, but not straying too far. "You may be a seaweed brain and oblivious as ever but it doesn't I am. I've been waiting months for you to finally tell me." She laughed and it sounded like music to Percy's ears.

"Dang, so I could have kissed you months ago?" He joked. The blonde rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, you could have. Like since prom." Annabeth told him. Percy looked at her unconvinced.

"Oh don't give me that look. I kept your bracelet for 10 years. I liked you then and I like you now." She tapped his nose. Percy sputtered. Wait, 10 years ago?

"Yes," Annabeth said as if she could read his mind, but she was probably just reading his facial expression.

"I'm kind of glad I waited though. This is the perfect place to kiss you." Percy said after a minute of trying to compute. Annabeth laughed and leaned her head on his shoulder.

It was a romance over ten years in the making. Finally set off on a night where Annabeth Chase, Queen of the school, and Percy Jackson, a mere villager came together. She had the crown of the school, the prom queen's crown atop her head. But a special monumental, the gift he had given her years ago, the key to his heart and gift to his love, a bracelet on her wrist. And now his heart was in her hands. Whether she decided to squeeze it into dust or protect it at all cost didn't matter.

Percy Jackson had given his everything to the queen.

And.

Annabeth Chase gave her everything to the new king.

#percabeth #percy jackson fanfiction #fanfiction #story #annabeth chase #percy jackson #annabeth chase x percy jackson #percabeth fanfiction

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malecsecretsanta · 3 years

Text

Merry Christmas, skylar102!

For @skylar102. I was overjoyed to see your likes included crack fic - which is exactly what I bring you this Christmas. You may recognise the concept and some of the scenes chosen for this fic. What can I say? You’re a very inspiring person!I hope I did the idea justice and that you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! <3 Much love,Your Secret Santa <3

Read On AO3

*****

Alec Lightwood: The Musical

Rolling drums accompanied him as he ran down the corridor, the sounds of woodwind and strings building as he drew closer to the doorway where he’d heard the commotion. The music drew him in and honed his focus, preparing him for the fight ahead. He strode through the doorway to find an unknown Warlock fending off a Circle member.

The Warlock was tall, almost as tall as Alec. Slender, with figure hugging clothing that hinted at the strong physique beneath. His hair was styled tall and striking, his outfit designed to draw attention. Clearly it was working, as Alec sucked in a shuddering breath. He couldn’t quite explain what he was feeling, but now wasn’t the time to let emotions cloud his judgement.

At that moment, the music broke, a scratching interlude cutting through the air and causing him to wince slightly before giving way to a new song. Alec narrowed his eyes, focussing his stare up at the corner of the room as if he could glare the speakers into submission. As if there were actual speakers there. He sighed and tried to block out the beeping and clapping, focussing instead on the Circle member in front of him.

He scoffed slightly, the arrogant Shadowhunter forgetting all his training in favour of taunting a warlock and not even noticing Alec was there. His limp grip on his seraph blade designed to look intimidating rather than actually being deadly as he waved it mockingly in front of his foe. Holding back an eye roll, Alec raised his bow, taking careful aim and loosing an arrow straight at the man’s heart.

Or he would have had the insipid voice echoing in the room not started moaning in a frankly inappropriate way, distracting him.

You got me trippin', stumblin', flippin', fumblin'

Clumsy 'cause I'm fallin' in love (in love)

This wasn’t a song he knew. Usually, in moments like this, whatever higher power decided to curse him with a personal playlist at least chose swelling instrumentals, epic and strong in their crescendos, that helped him focus on the fight - like the song that had been rudely interrupted by… Well, this. Today, apparently someone wanted to taunt him with the kind of music Izzy liked to dance around her room to.

He snapped back to attention as the Circle member yelled in pain, Alec’s arrow piercing his thigh instead. It wasn’t a lethal shot but at least it was enough to drop him to his knees, clutching the wound in agony and cutting off his frankly tedious monologue.

The warlock conjured a ball of electric blue energy, circling his hands to shape it before pushing it forwards into the rogue Shadowhunter, his shoulders flexing elegantly under the patterned material of his jacket. The circle member collapsed backwards, completely incapacitated or possibly even dead.

“Well done.” Alec almost immediately chastised himself internally for the dumb statement. As if a powerful warlock couldn’t take down a wounded Shadowhunter with ease.

Can't breathe, when you touch my sleeve

Butterflies so crazy, ummm, ummm

Whoa now? Think I'm goin' down

Friends don't know what's with me, mmm, mmm

“More like medium rare,” the Warlock responded, turning to face Alec. “I’m Magnus, I don’t think we've been formally introduced?”

The way Magnus’ body swayed as he made his way over to Alec could only be described as a saunter. Every part of his body moving in sync, like each step forward was part of a carefully choreographed, sensual dance. His warm brown eyes scanning Alec up and down, making Alec’s blood feel like lava coursing through his veins.

“Alec,” he stuttered out, cursing his own ineloquence. “Uh, we, should, uh, really, uh, probably, get, uh, you know.” He knew his face would be plastered with a dopey smile. He tried to focus on the mission, remembering all his Shadowhunter training and not let himself be distracted by how handsome Magnus was.

“We should join the party,” Magnus replied kindly, taking sympathy on Alec’s inarticulate stumbling.

You got me slippin', tumblin', sinkin', fumblin'

Clumsy 'cause I'm fallin' in love (in love)

Songs:

Moscow Symphony Orchestra - The Charge of the Light Brigade

Fergie - Clumsy

Alec fought to steady his breathing, schooling his features into as close to a smile as he could manage. This was supposed to be a happy occasion after all, he was marrying a good match. A woman of strong standing with the Clave, a woman who would help him restore his family’s name and lead the New York Institute to greatness.

The delicate instrumental that flowed around him was more sombre than your average wedding choice, but the music that had followed him for as long as he could remember was always in tune to his feelings as well as the wider situation. No one could ever explain where the sounds came from, no one else could hear them but he had his own radio station that followed him everywhere he went.

To his side, Brother Zachariah finished the traditional introduction. ‘No turning back now,’ he thought grimly, dragging in a deep breath. Lydia gripped her stele, reaching out to touch the tip to the ceremonial adamas block with a small smile tracing her lips. A smile that actually managed to reach her eyes. Alec supposed this was less of a compromise for her at least - she wasn’t hiding herself for the sake of a marriage. Objectively, he could see that she was beautiful. The dress hugged her lithe figure perfectly, her hair elegantly braided into an intricate style. But his observation was purely theoretical, based on appearances only with no deeper meaning behind them. It was like observing an exhibition in an art gallery or appreciating the orchestral chords currently filling his ears. He could recognise the grace and the skill, he could appreciate how other people would form a deep emotional connection, but for him it went no deeper than that.

Taking his hand, Lydia brought the glowing tip of the stele to his wrist to trace the wedded union rune when Alec’s head jerked up. At that moment the door slammed open in the distance, causing everyone else to look up in unison. A fraction of a second later, Magnus Bane appeared in the archway, halting in the middle of the aisle that Alec’s bride had not long since walked down.

Simultaneously, the instrumental had come to a stuttering halt only to be replaced by jarring guitar riffs and sirens.

And I'm glad I crashed the wedding

It's better than regretting

I could have been a loser kid

Who ran away and hid

But it's the best thing that I ever did

If Alec jumped in response, it was at least masked by the distraction Magnus Bane had caused.

Magnus held his head high, focussing his gaze on Alec. Alec felt his heart pound in his chest. In his periphery, he heard his mother speak out but her words were lost to the beat of the song filling the room for only his ears. His siblings were having a hushed conversation behind him, but all Alec could focus on was the warlock standing before him. Dressed impeccably as always, his hair swept high with just a hint of magenta glinting in the tips, his eyes lined with his customary makeup. This. This was what Alec was meant to feel when he looked at Lydia. The steady beat of his pulse, sure and certain. The thrum of electricity that vibrated across every inch of his skin. The way his breath caught in his throat. The sheer force of attraction.

His mom was stalking up the aisle towards the warlock, the set of her shoulders displaying just how angry the intrusion had made her. Magnus merely raised his hand, halting her in her lecture and moving further towards Alec. The display of determination and power frayed at the last of Alec’s resolve. Both Jace and Lydia were reaching out to him with words of support and encouragement. Lydia’s smile was wide but no longer touching her eyes as she tried to capture his attention.

“Alec, hey, Alec,” she leaned towards him, trying to angle herself into his eye line causing him to finally look away from Magnus.

“I- I can’t breathe.” He admitted. The bowtie knotted at his throat suddenly felt suffocating to him.

“I know, it’s ok,” she reassured, her voice soft but certain even over the crashing pop-punk that still assaulted his senses.

'Cause true love lasts forever

And now we're back together

As if he never met her

So looking back

I'm glad I crashed the wedding

“I can’t do this,” he admitted. “I thought we were doing the right thing but this isn’t it.” His words came out rushed, his breath constricting in his throat. He tried to keep his panic at bay but he felt trapped, surrounded by his family, his colleagues and clave delegates a like. There were too many people here expecting too much of him but he couldn’t go through with this.

“You don’t have to explain,” Lydia pursed her lips together.

“Lydia I’m sorry.”

“Hey, you deserve to be happy.” She reached out to cup his cheek, reassuring him with a soft smile. “OK? I’ll be fine.”

He could feel guilty about this later, find a way to make it up to her. Even though he knew deep down that he wasn’t just freeing himself from a future that wouldn’t make him happy, he was also freeing her.

He turned and scanned the room before his eyes settled on the one person that truly mattered in this situation, the one person who made whatever battles he was about to face feel manageable. It might be ridiculous, he might barely know Magnus but still, something told him this was a risk worth taking. He stepped down from the altar, putting a physical distance between himself and the ceremony he’d almost gone through with.

Magnus made no move, no indication of his intentions. Alec gulped, realising this was his move to make. He’d pushed the Warlock away so many times, ignoring their obvious chemistry. Now he had to be the one to make the next move.

Resolved, he pushed forward, long strides carrying him swiftly up the aisle. He saw his mom making her way towards him but he brushed past her, focussed only on the man in front of him.

He grabbed Magnus by the lapels of his jacket, pulling him in close and pressed their lips together. Ignoring everyone around him he focussed on this moment, their first kiss. The first of many he hoped. He felt the tension leave his body as Magnus’ lips moved against his. Around him the lyrics continued to echo, cementing in his mind that he’d made the right choice.

'Cause true love lasts forever (true love lasts forever)

Songs:

Chopin - Piano Sonata No. 2 in B Flat Minor

Busted - Crashed the Wedding

III

Alec knew that Max wasn’t the only person he loved who he could lose that day but the relief that his baby brother was alive, talking and already focussed on catching the bad guy was overwhelming. The moment was accentuated by a hum of soft piano music, hopeful notes filled with joy and family and love - a delicate yet mellow melody.

As Magnus made his excuses and turned to leave, the notes of the piano seemed to follow him, an air of yearning filling the room, a cloud threatening to overshadow Alec’s momentary relief. Izzy made eye contact with him, her pointed stare spurring Alec into action. With a sigh, he gave Max one last reassuring pat on the shoulder and followed Magnus from the room.

Magnus was still in the corridor, shoulders slumped and back to Alec. As had happened so often since meeting Magnus, the piano instrumental that had been moving through the day with him stuttered to a stop, almost as if someone had slammed down on the keys. Alec fought back the surprise, knowing that his relationship with Magnus needed to be the priority now. Knowing that he needed to reinforce to Magnus just how much he loved him, how serious he was about their relationship and building a better future for the entire Shadow World.

Magnus knew about his ‘condition’. He’d had no choice but to explain after a particularly ill timed joke from whatever decided his private torture for him. What should have been an intimate and emotional step in their relationship had been interrupted by Alec’s scowl as a crooning voice sang out “let’s get it on,” distracting him from his mission to divest Magnus of his clothes. It had coincided with the reveal of Magnus’ Warlock mark which had obviously not helped the tension in the room at all. Once Alec had explained rather awkwardly, Magnus had been understanding, if a little confused and they had managed to get things back on track. Magnus had even summoned a record player into the bedroom so they could share their first time together, in every way.

But even despite Magnus understanding, Alec was determined to focus on this conversation, determined to right the wrongs. They’d stumbled over communication and he wasn’t going to allow that to continue. He clasped his hands tightly behind his back, standing tall in parade rest trying to focus only on the man in front of him.

Please, tell me everything

That you think that I should know

“Thank you, so much, for being here,” Alec stumbled out. It wasn’t what he had meant to say. But it was still sincere. He still was grateful that despite all the drama surrounding their lives, Magnus was still kind enough to be here, to try to help in whatever way he could.

Magnus’s response was equally sincere, even if it felt like a brush off as he couldn’t meet Alec’s eyes as he wished Max well. As Magnus turned to leave, Alec realised this was his only chance to try to recover whatever they had.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out. Blunt and to the point, but again, his tone (he hoped) conveyed the sincerity he felt in every bone in his body. Magnus paused but didn’t turn. Fists clenching by his side, Alec continued “I should have told you about the soul sword.”

It's just for show, isn't it?

It's my fault that it fell apart

The catchy guitar riffs really weren’t helping him concentrate. And the lyrics, the lyrics needled at his every insecurity. By the Angel, if he ever worked out who was responsible for this ‘gift’ as the Silent Brothers put it, he would personally run them through with a seraph blade. Even Raziel himself would feel Alec’s wrath if that’s what it took. He needed the music to shut the hell up. He needed Magnus to turn around and tell him it was OK. He just needed this to be OK. Maybe if he admitted to his mistake, maybe they would have a shot at working it out.

Magnus turned to him though with such hatred in his eyes. He had finally made eye contact at least. Something which felt like it should have been an achievement but there was not even a hint of the love they had shared in those eyes.

Alec reached out, desperate and voice low, “You and me, we always seem to find our way back to each other.” He reached out and gripped at Magnus’ wrist as if hoping that he could push every single ounce of love he felt for Magnus, every bit of his apology, through that single point of contact.

“Magnus, I love you.”

Well, maybe you need this

And I didn't mean to lead you on

The nasally, pre-pubescent voice continued to grate at him even as he desperately declared his love for the man in front of him. Magnus’ expression softened. It was only a slight shift but it brought Alec a brief glint of hope that maybe this could be OK. Magnus reached up and rested his hand on Alec’s cheek, normally a sign of affection. Alec leaned into the touch as Magnus responded in kind, “I love you too.”

You were everything I wanted

But I just can't finish what I've started

There's no room left here on my back

It was damaged long ago

“But…” Magnus continued, grimacing slightly and sucking in a deep breath, “as a leader, there are difficult decisions I must make to ensure the survival of my people.”

Alec shuffled from foot to foot, searching Magnus’ eyes for any sign that he had completely misheard this. Surely the incessant guitar riffs had addled his brain, this couldn’t be happening? Could it?

Though you swear that you are true

I'd still pick my friends over you

“The only thing holding me back from doing that…” Magnus continued, looking down at the floor, “is you.”

“No.” Alec begged, fighting his stoic Shadowhunter nature. This couldn’t be happening. They could make this right. They could make this work. “We can figure this out.” He had complete conviction in that at least.

“You once asked me what I was afraid of,” tears had formed in the corners of Magnus’ eyes as he looked up at Alec. “It’s this.”

Magnus turned sharply and walked towards the elevator leaving Alec alone once more, the lyrics still echoing mockingly through the corridor, for Alec at least.

Though you swear that you are true

I'd still pick my friends over you

Songs:

Jordan Rudess - The Answer Lies Within

Marvin Gaye - Let’s Get It On

New Found Glory - My Friends Over You

Alec paced the ops center, grateful for Izzy and Magnus’ presence even if he still felt entirely helpless. It didn’t help that the demons that had been previously swarming the city had vanished without a trace giving him nothing in New York to distract him.

Sending Jace to Lake Lyn with only Clary for back up had been a truly terrible idea. The distance made the emotions and understanding he could normally get through the parabatai bond fuzzy at best. He knew Jace was feeling unusually stressed, that much at least was evident.

This was slightly concerning for Alec. His parabatai was normally reasonably cool under pressure, thriving on the adrenaline that usually translated to excitement pulsing through the bond. When they went on missions together, Jace’s high energy would counteract Alec’s over-cautious nature, the two of them cancelling out each other’s extreme emotions to neutralise into a collected state of deadly precision.

Whatever was happening at Lake Lyn, clearly it was enough to even rattle Jace. He pushed through the bond further, trying to glean anything more concrete than the tension that currently nudged gently at him. In the background, ominous string music drifted through the room, juddering and foreboding. It was distant enough that it didn’t distract Alec from staring at the comms screen in front of him but it was just alarming enough to have him hovering on the edge of breaking down.

As time progressed his anxiety only grew. He’d ‘opened’ the parabatai bond further than he ever had before, allowing as much reassurance to flow through, but also allowing himself to tug at his parabatai for anything Jace could offer, be it a call for help or reassuring emotions. The more he opened it, the more intense the strings got, increasing in both tempo and volume, like an approaching army ready for battle.

He gripped tight on the edge of the table, the comms room long since empty of anyone but his sister and his ex-boyfriend. He’d snapped at enough of the Shadowhunters on duty that everyone realised it was better to give him a wide berth this evening. There was still no sign of demonic activity in the city and worse, no word from Jace and Clary.

Mmm, what'd you say?

His knees buckled as the voice rang out from nowhere, pain coursing through his body. A white-hot, searing heat emanating from his heart and being pumped through his veins. His parabatai rune pulsed under his flesh, the light graze of his cotton t-shirt feeling like the drag of sandpaper against the sensitive flesh. He pulled his shirt up, watching as the black rune faded to an angry red, then a barely there pink.

Mmm, that you only meant well?

An ethereal voice, distorted and haunting filled the room chilling him to the bone as image after image of his life with Jace flashed in front of his eyes.

The first day they’d met, Alec firing an arrow that just barely missed teenage Jace. The wide eyed stare the blonde boy had given him across the training room was as piercing now as it was when he had first been on the receiving end of it.

Well, of course you did

His arms barely held him up as he scrunched his face up trying to escape both the pain ravaging his body and the onslaught of memories.

Blue flames circled round them, as they gripped each other’s arms, reciting the ceremonial words. Back then Jace had been it for Alec, his entire life wrapped up in what he thought was unrequited love. At the time, Alec had pushed through with the ceremony, despite his doubts, because he thought it was the only way he could ever be close to Jace, the best way to keep Jace by his side. Now he realised, parabatai bond or no, Jace was his brother in all but blood. His teenage crush was just that, a crush. His own confusion around his sexuality manifesting itself against the closest friend he had.

Mmm, what'd you say?

His world was crumbling around him, he felt something solid against his head before his body hit the cool, hard floor.

Jace pulling him tight to him. The soft glow of Magnus’ loft surrounding them. The palpable relief that they’d found his brother, his parabatai, his best friend.

Mmm, that it's all for the best?

Arms cradled him in the present day, against the overwhelming swell of fear and anguish he felt he could almost pretend that this was Jace’s embrace. But he knew the truth. Deep down he knew, Jace was gone.

His breath came in dry, heaving sobs. It took him a few moments to realise that the physical sensations were gone. The pain that he had felt faded to nothing, not even a dull ache that normally followed an iratze. His body felt completely fine. His heart… That was another story.

Lifting his shirt once more, he saw nothing but clear skin where once his parabatai rune had been.

Of course it is

Songs:

Jeff Wayne - War of the Worlds (Instrumental)

Imogen Heap - Hide and Seek

Alec fumbled at the buttons of his grey shirt, checking his reflection in the mirror. Normally he wouldn't care about his appearance but today was an important day. He needed to make sure he looked his best for this evening and he had no guarantees that he’d have time after his meetings to come back and change. His movements were accompanied by that annoyingly catchy, synth heavy pop song again. He had to fight not to hum along.

We're no strangers to love

You know the rules and so do I

A full commitment's what I'm thinking of

You wouldn't get this from any other guy

Behind him, Magnus sat propped up in their bed at the Institute. Hair soft and falling gently against his forehead in the morning light. He held the New York Times in front of him, scanning the property listings and reading out anything that could be exciting for them. Planning for their future.

Realistically this should be reassuring to hear, that he wasn’t the only one who was in this for the long haul. But Alec’s insecurities were deep-seated and hard to budge. Yes, Magnus might want to live with him, but to commit to a lifetime together? That was harder to believe.

I just wanna tell you how I'm feeling

Gotta make you understand

He tried his best to hide his nerves and focus on the information his boyfriend was giving him but Magnus knew him too well.

“Alexander?” Magnus asked, voice tinged with concern.

“Yeah, yeah that sounds great.” Truth be told, Alec had no idea what the apartment Magnus had described was like. Or it could have been a townhouse? Possibly an open plan loft come to think of it?

“Is something wrong?”

Only that I want to marry you and there’s this damn song playing on a loop every time I think about it...

At the simple question panic swelled in Alec. Spinning to face Magnus, “What, no. On the contrary, everything is perfect. Now that you’re back to your old self,” he gestured at Magnus. His smile felt anything but genuine and his tone falsely cheery. He bit back a grimace at his terrible acting skills.

“Well, let’s not get carried away,” Magnus murmured, stretching to reach the coffee mug by his side, eyes downcast.

“I just mean now that you're healthy,” Alec clarified, not missing the slight derogatory quirk of Magnus’ eyebrow over the rim of his mug.

We've known each other for so long

Your heart's been aching but

You're too shy to say it

Inside we both know what's been going on

We know the game, and we're gonna play it

“So I was thinking we could have dinner tonight, on the balcony?” He changed the subject rapidly. Spilling out the details of his date night plan before he lost his nerve entirely. “The view of the city, the head chef can prepare something special.” He tugged at the cuff of his shirt, tweaking the folds where it was rolled up against his forearm.

“How romantic,” Magnus looked up at him, a barely there smile on his face but his eyes warm as they met Alec’s, “May I ask as to the occasion?”

Never gonna give you up

Never gonna let you down

Never gonna run around and desert you

“There’s no occasion, I just thought it would be nice,” Alec bluffed.

Magnus merely smiled and looked down at his hands, only a slight quirk to his eyebrow betraying his opinion on the matter.

“What? I can’t do something nice with my boyfriend?” Alec probed.

Never gonna make you cry

Never gonna say goodbye

Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you

“I am one lucky man,” Magnus looked up at him with wide, brown eyes warm with affection.

“Not as lucky as I am,” Alec replied, fighting back the instinctual blush that still threatened to creep up his cheeks whenever he broached conversations of feelings.

“OK, I’ll see you tonight at 8 o’clock,” he confirmed, pressing a kiss to Magnus’ cheek before heading for the door.

“I’ll be there with bells on,” Magnus’ answer was almost lost to the pop beats still bouncing around the room and assaulting Alec’s ears as he closed the door behind him.

Song:

Rick Astley - Never Gonna Give You Up

The couple moved slowly together drifting in gentle circles, Magnus’ chin resting gently on Alec’s shoulder, a hand warm on his lower back. Around them, their family and friends watched on as they celebrated the love they shared.

Alec felt elated - just a few short months ago he wouldn’t have believed it was possible to feel this light, to feel this free. In that time he’d met (and now married) the most incredible, magical man; they’d defeated Valentine; brought down the Circle; taken down Asmodeus; defeated Jonathon and Lillith; and somehow made it through it all stronger and happier than ever.

Magnus’ hand tightened slightly at his back, causing him to check in with the Warlock in his arms, “I’m not stepping on your feet am I?”

“How could you be? I’m walking on air.” Alec could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke. They’d got so used to the undercurrent of stress that punctuated their lives and somehow managed to bleed into even the most private moments of their relationship at times, the ability to just live in the moment was liberating.

“I’m confused though,” Magnus continued. “I thought we settled on ‘What a wonderful world’ for our first dance. Did you change the music?”

Alec stepped back, not breaking their hold but just positioning himself so he could see Magnus’ face. “You hear it too?”

I want to see that sweet smile

All of the time

And if I get you a drink, oh

You know I'll squeeze your lime

“I don’t even know what this is?” Magnus asked in confusion, tilting his head to listen closer to the strumming of the ukulele and the high pitched lilt of the woman’s voice.

“Neither do I,” Alec said, grinning in spite of the confusion. This had never happened before, not even Jace had ever heard what he heard and they, for all intents and purposes, shared a soul through their parabatai bond. “If you listen carefully, you can still hear our actual wedding song in the background. It just takes some practice to filter through to it,” he explained.

I wanna buy you things

I wanna make you laugh

When there's nowhere to sit

I'll let you sit on my lap

“Is this what it’s like all the time for you?” Magnus murmured as he pulled Alec back close to him.

“Not all the time. Only when you’re around. The rest of the time it tends to be more like elevator music or classical pieces.” The dainty, sweet sounds of the ukulele washed over him as they continued to dance to the song that only they could hear.

Like a cool breeze after a summer day

I see that smile and drift away

Little Mango

Mango my love

“Little Mango?” Magnus repeated, mischief colouring his voice.

Alec groaned and buried his head in the crook of his husband’s neck. “No. Just, no.”

“But surely this is fate’s way of telling me the perfect nickname for you?” Magnus teased back.

“This could actually be worse than pup,” Alec complained, silently cursing the whimsical lyrics for inspiring this. He prayed to Raziel that it wouldn’t stick.

When you take my hand and dance with me

There's nowhere else I'd rather be

Little Mango

Mango my love

In the end though, he wasn’t sure if he could deny his husband anything that brought such a beautiful smile to his face. After everything they’d been through together, Alec would do anything to keep the man by his side happy. Even if that meant succumbing to the nickname ‘Little Mango’.

Song:

Catey Shaw - Mango

#skylar102 #malecsanta20 #*fic20 #*gifts20

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alltheangstmygifttoyou · 3 years

Text

Soulmate AU Part 5

A/N: I am tired and I want this story out here and the parts are going to get longer from now on I think. But finally we get to meet Noah! My son, baby boy! Also a little bitch. Tumblr makes me sad because it took away all my formatting so I’m going through and fixing that. Hope I don’t miss anything.

Summery: The boys and Elena find Noah and introduce him to Jester.

Word Count: 4624

TW: violence, homophobia, manipulation, child abuse, bullying

Jester should have known not to tell Malcolm anything about her soulmate, because now he kept bringing him up, trying to get every detail he could so he could use them against her. She was tight-lipped about it all, but Jesse wasn’t and told Malcolm everything he knew, which thankfully was very little. Jesse hadn’t even found out from Jester that her soulmate stopped talking to her, she used to avoid the topic with him as much as possible. However now that had changed it shouldn’t be a surprise that they were using it against her. She hadn’t thought it would bother her much, but thinking about her soulmate so much opened a bag of worms she had avoided touching for years. For one, she never did learn why Noah had to stop writing, some days she wondered if he was dead. She didn’t dare write back in case he was alive and still in danger, but there were many days she almost wished he was dead. So much of her life was controlled, it’d be nice if she could pick who she would be with. People were more forgiving of widowed soulmates getting together for comfort. But that thought always made guilt soar through her. Then again that wasn’t the only guilt that came when she thought of Noah. Jester had never been allowed to be in a relationship that wasn’t with her soulmate, but that hadn’t stopped her from thinking about it. It was hard to imagine being with Noah since they had still been young when they talked. There was a problem when she found herself attracted to others though, they were both boys and girls. It didn’t help that she had one main crush that she managed to keep to herself, if anyone found out she was positive Father would kill her, no exaggeration. However that didn’t stop her relishing the moments when Elena Taski brushed fingertips with her, or how she sometimes day dreamed about Elena rescuing Jester from her Father’s beating only to carry her bridal style away to a new home. Her crush on the girl didn’t make much sense, she knew that. She constantly tossed insults at Elena, ones she knew would bother her the most, and Elena did the same with her. Elena had burned her multiple times for crossing the line with insults. Elena worked with Malcolm, and both of them hated Jester. But, no matter how pathetic it was, they were the only people to interact with Jester on a daily basis. The fact that she day dreamed about Elena more than Noah always managed to make Jester feel like the worst scum. She should be trying to imagine what he looks like, dreaming up ways to rescue him. She supposed Jesse was right about her, she really was just horribly selfish.

The guilt ate at Jester, and the small comments from Malcolm weren’t helping. She found herself growing shorter with the muscular boy everyday, snapping back with insults that were much too scathing for the situation. What made it worse was that Malcolm could tell he was getting to her, he had improved on brushing off what she said to take pride in that he was upsetting her. He mentioned Noah more often and by name. He kept trying to bother her for his last name claiming that he was going to find him and tell him what a bitch his soulmate was. Elena was helping him, she sometimes saw her going up to random boys asking their names and if they knew anyone named Noah. She overheard Jesse casually toss the name out to his friends. It all came to a head in chemistry, she managed to have class with all three of them at the same time. She sat at a table in the back by herself, she used to sit next to Jesse but after a fight where he claimed he hated her the teacher had her move back. She could do labs by herself just fine anyway.

The little trio came in together, Malcolm and Jesse with wide smiles and Elena with a little frown. They dragged a tall but skinny boy behind them. He had light blonde hair that barely would go behind his ears and the lightest green eyes Jester had ever seen. He was shaking in Jesse’s grip. Jester’s eyes narrowed and she didn’t bother to smile, she had a feeling that they had found Noah, or at least thought they did.

“Guess who we found Jester? One Noah Treviti at your service!” Jesse announced before pushing the boy towards her. He tripped and fell at her feet. He was even smaller than she first thought. Elena’s frown deepened and she helped the poor boy up. Jester supposed Jesse expected some sort of reaction out of her, a declaration of longing or maybe anger, perhaps he had just been hoping to get a witty remark. She didn’t give any of it to him. She just watched and waited, eventually the supposed Noah would speak for himself and be proven true or false. She’d deal with it then. Jesse frowned and pulled out a pen. He went over and gripped Noah’s arm tight enough that he winced and pulled the long light blue sleeves up and drew a line on his skin. Immediately Jester’s skin tingled and she didn’t have to look down to know that there was a line on her arm too. She still refused to give Jesse the satisfaction of a reaction, instead paying attention to Noah, who was panicking in Jesse’s grip. He was pulling away from Jesse and breathing heavily. Elena had a hand on his shoulder that he was leaning away from. “What is it, cat got your tongue?”

“You’re hurting him,” Jester answered, feeling a protective fire burn in her stomach. Noah had a hard life, he was in a dangerous situation, he listened to her when no one else did, he didn’t deserve this. Jesse scowled and let go of Noah’s arm. Malcolm stepped in front of Jesse, clearly giving Jesse a glare before looking at Jester with a malicious smirk.

“Noah told us why he stopped writing to you--”

“Then let him tell me Lockhart. I don’t care about anything you have to say.” Jester responded coolly before he could finish. Malcolm frowned and looked back towards Noah, who had frozen like a deer in the headlights. There were definite tears in his eyes. His mouth opened to speak but no words came out. Jester felt her heart break slightly, he was definitely scared of her.

“You can just shake your head yes or no if you want and I’ll ask questions, is that okay?” He nodded, Jesse watched with a frown while Malcolm seemed to be contemplating something. Elena still just had that little frown. “Was there a dangerous situation?” He nodded his head, Jesse opened his mouth to say something but Malcolm put a hand on his shoulder. “Is that situation still a problem?” He nodded once again, he had started to rock back and forth with his back. “Would I think it’s a problem?” He didn’t answer right away and she bit her cheek to stop from expressing. He shook his head slowly and looked down. “Did you stop writing to me after you discovered your power?” He looked up at her wide eyed as did the others before nodding his head. “Do you want to be friends again?” Once again he took a while to answer before slowly shaking his head no. She felt like she was going to throw up, but her face stayed the same. “Is it because of me?” He nodded and a tear fell down his face. She clapped her hands together startling them. “Well thanks for the introduction everyone but this poor boy clearly doesn’t want to be near me so why don’t you take him away.” She smiled though her cheeks ached, it ached in rhythm with her chest. This must have been her punishment for her selfish thoughts.

“Aren’t you going to insult him, yell at him, give him the soulmate speech?” Jesse asked, pulling away from Malcolm’s touch. Jester shrugged, raising her eyebrows.

“I mean he has a legit reason to hate me, unlike you with Malcolm, so no. If he doesn’t want to be around me then I sure as hell won’t make him.” Jester explained and Jesse ground his teeth. Mr. Workshire instructed everyone to head to their seats though so Jesse didn’t say anything, just stormed off to the second row. Malcolm and Elena went to their seats two rows in front of Jester and Noah went to the other side of the room one up on her left. He had been that close to her the entire time, and she had never noticed. She didn’t do the lab that day, nor did she take any notes. She just casually looked at Noah from time to time trying to engrain his features into her mind. This was her soulmate, a tall skinny anxious boy, and he wanted nothing to do with her. She must have talked to him before, but he definitely had been one of the ones where they didn’t have a long conversation about powers. If he was scared of his power that probably put him in section fifteen, and she was supposed to know every (now) fifth year students’ powers and below, but she definitely didn’t remember him. If she had gone to the records room to find out his power then she would have known he was her soulmate, but she didn’t know, and she didn’t know his power.

Class was over before Jester had gotten far in contemplation and she stayed seated as everyone else got up. She watched Noah as he pressed his notebook into his chest and hunched slightly as he tried to get out quickly while avoiding everyone else. Jesse practically stomped out, probably disappointed he hadn’t managed to upset her. He seemed more desperate to do that lately. The whole Malcolm reveal must have gotten inside his head. Malcolm took his time to walk out, and Elena stood patiently by his side. Neither were talking, she hadn’t heard Malcolm’s boisterous laugh all of class. She wondered if they would ever realize that she had probably as much training as Elena did on controlling her emotions. Her face was a tool at her disposal, not something that did whatever it wanted. Once everyone was out of the classroom Jester walked slowly out, Mr. Workshire watching her the entire time. She wondered if he had been listening to their conversation before class started. Maybe that’s why he hadn’t said anything to her about doing the work. Most teachers didn’t like her, they knew her reputation as a bully but also didn’t have any evidence besides student complaints. However most people didn’t pay attention, and it was their word against hers, so the school did nothing. It helped that Jester was part of a prestigious family, and that most of the complainers were fellow students from section fifteen. No one in the faculty wanted to deal with section fifteen students. Things just stayed the same, warnings were given, but that was all. Jester, despite never taking notes, was a straight A student who always got the work done. Some teachers had accused her of cheating but even if she took the tests isolated she was fine. Quinn’s were supposed to be smart, so Jester was. If that meant she pulled all nighters studying sometimes no one would know with some extra makeup. She didn’t need to take notes in class because half the time she had already written it down studying in her room. Not taking notes gave her more time to pay attention to her classmates.

Jester felt like she was floating through the rest of her school day, everything was on autopilot. By the time dinner came around she didn’t even know when she had gotten into the commons. But she had eaten half of a soft slightly burnt slab of meatloaf and called it good. She walked the crowded halls until they got dingier and darker. Almost no one hung around the section fifteen area, not even the janitors. The only people who really did were people looking to ambush others, and it was just Jester’s luck that a certain redhead and her best friend were waiting for her. Jester grimaced when she saw them but Malcolm put his hands up in surrender. His palms were much paler than the rest of his skin, a fact that Jester had managed to never notice before. She didn’t change her expression.

“We’re not here to pick a fight, we just want to know what you did to Noah to make him so scared.” Malcolm said slowly, he put his hands down to his side. Jester forced herself to smile although it drained more energy than it should have.

“To him? Nothing, didn’t know who he was in person until today.” She pushed her hair behind her shoulder as she spoke, getting ready to play a little game with him. He would be confused and she would give him the simple truth and he wouldn’t believe her.

“Then why did you say he has every reason to hate you?” Malcolm asked, keeping his face rid of anything but suspicion, he was getting better at keeping his confusion under wraps. Jester was almost proud.

“Because he clearly has anxiety and I am known to be a bully. Those two don’t mix, and I know for a fact that he used to be bullied. How awful would that be to find your soulmate had become one of your torturers?” She explained and Malcolm’s face twisted into fury.

“You fucking bitch, you probably knew this whole time, this whole thing has been an act just so you could say that one line, wasn’t it!” His shout was phrased as a question but he said it like a statement. For once Jester was taken off guard. She didn’t really have an idea where he got that idea from. She went to question him but he wasn’t done. “That’s why Noah changed his story from when we talked to him to when you talked to him, you’ve known it was him the whole time and have been using him from the beginning, haven’t you? That’s why he’s so scared. You’re worse than I had ever imagined. You’re barely human!” He ranted on stomping closer to her, she knew she wasn’t supposed to show fear so she stayed where she was but her heart pounded violently in her chest and her muscles clenched, ready for pain. He was going to break her down, she was sure of it. The worst part was that she had no idea why. At least most of the time she knew when she crossed the line. If she lied she would get hurt, if she told the truth she would get hurt, it was as if the world had decided nothing she did would lead to good things. Malcolm stopped right in front of her, close enough that she could feel his breath on her forehead and she had to look up to look into his eyes.

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about, from the amount of times you’ve broken my bones I would think you would know I’m perfectly human.” Her voice sounded like a different person to her, a person who was confident in the face of danger, who made quips despite the pain soon to come. Inside she knew she was just a scared little girl, not old enough to be called an adult but at the age where most people wouldn’t call her a child. She didn’t want to get hurt again, she was so tired of being hurt.

“Well maybe I need to check one more time,” and with that he snapped his fingers and she felt as if fire ripped through her arm and without thinking she looked to see white bone jutting out covered in blood and tore through muscle exposed. She held in a scream, knowing that if she was loud it would only make things worse. Her instincts from home began kicking in. She kept her mouth locked shut and hunched in on herself. Every movement made her arm hurt worse but being hunched made it so there was less area to hit. She focused on keeping her breathing, trying to keep it at a steady rate, hyperventilating only made things worse. It was hard to focus with the voices around her getting louder, but she had practice. Block the voices out, in the end they would only bring more anticipation for the next hit.

She wasn’t sure how long she stood there, ignoring everything around her except for her breathing and trying not to throw up from pain, but eventually someone must have seen and gotten the nurses. Their warm soothing healing let her relax. She continued to focus on her breathing but let her shoulders fall. When the nurses were finished they didn’t ask her any questions on who did it. Jester got hurt often and never would tell who had done it. She went back to her dorm and laid on the stained disgusting mattress she had had for years. She was exhausted and ready to go to sleep when she felt a tingle on her arm. When she was young that feeling would fill her with joy, the guilt she had been harboring lashed out as she felt it again.

“Jester, can we talk?” Noah’s handwriting was still as messy as ever, he wrote with a combination of someone who wanted to write with as little space between words and letters and someone who wanted nice loops in their letters. The result was a sort of scrawl that was difficult to read, but Jester had gone through all different types of people's handwriting for years now. She could decode it in seconds.

“Don’t force yourself to talk to me, I get why you don’t.” She answered, ready to let the situation be one that only tortured her in her mind. She didn’t want to deal with it in the real world any further, especially not today. Then again it might have been early morning of the day after she had a bone ripped through her arm, she hadn’t exactly been paying attention to time.

“But it’s not what you think! I swear.” She wondered what his power was to make him so frightened all those years ago. She wondered why she didn’t have the faintest idea, she was sure she talked to every student in section fifteen. But it was like he was invisible to her. He must not have had an interesting power, but if it was powerful enough to scare him so badly then it should have at least been slightly interesting. Anything particularly deadly interested Father.

“So you’re not scared of me?” She wrote, hoping it didn’t sound too bitter. Or too hopeful. She wasn’t sure what tone she had been going for in the end, it was just a question to be answered.

“I’m not scared of you.” That wasn’t the answer she expected, and she sat up fully, realizing this was going to be a long conversation.

“Then why don’t you want to be friends?” She asked him, writing smaller so they could fit more on their arms. He wrote on the left and she wrote on the right. If they ran out of room they would switch to legs, but after that they would need to wash off their arms, and she didn’t want to do that too soon. She wanted to be able to look at what he wrote again.

“Jesse can’t know that we’re talking again.” Once again Jester was taken completely off guard again. She had no idea why Noah cared whether or not Jesse knew about them. Maybe he was just trying to keep out of the loop so he wouldn’t feel bad about not being able to be with Malcolm, like why they only wrote at night? However Malcolm and Jesse’s faces were both well known around the school, or at least in section fifteen, so Noah must have noticed the two working together. Perhaps he just thought of it as coincidence?

“Why?”

“Because then he’ll tell your father, and then your father will realize that you never told him my power. He’ll want to know. If he finds out, your father would try to use me for sure. That’s why we agreed to have you forget me.” After he finished the last sentence it became smudged on Jester’s arm and she realized he was trying to erase it. Her mind was reeling. So she had met Noah before, but for some reason didn’t remember him. That and she hadn’t told Father about him. Noah also seemed to be aware of the fact that Jester’s Father had a plan, a plan that should never come into fruition. Jester was missing a chunk of her life that seemed very important at the moment and she wasn’t sure how she felt about it.

“What’s your power?” She wrote back, if he could erase people's memories she could see why Father would want to use that but she didn’t see why that would make him think that he was dangerous. Then again that could have been a lie to throw Jesse off his trail. He might not even be in section fifteen. Jester didn’t really know anything about Noah anymore. He didn’t answer right away, not like before. When he did finally answer he wrote slower, it made his writing more legible.

“I can make people do whatever I say.” Jester had another set of realization bestowed upon by that revelation. No wonder he was afraid of Father using him, because there was no doubt in Jester’s mind that Father would use Noah until it wasn’t possible anymore and then keep trying to anyway. That kind of power belonged in section one, but if something went wrong it could easily land Noah in section fifteen. Based on the message from when they were younger Jester had a feeling something had gone wrong and he was in section fifteen, like her. She also now knew that what Noah was saying was very literal, people wouldn’t just perform the actions that he told them to do, but he could literally make them do whatever he said, like forget an entire encounter. She wasn’t sure what to say to that. Jester looked over their conversation so far and noticed that he had said “we” when discussing the forgetting event.

“How long did we know each other, before we decided to have my memory erased?” For all she knew she had hid it from everyone for over a year that she was in contact with her soulmate, a whole series of events gone.

“Not long, maybe an hour. You confronted me after my first class and asked me about my power. When you found out my name was Noah you asked what my last name was. When you realized that we were soulmates you had me come to the hallways of section fifteen and asked if you could give me a hug.” He had to move down to their leg to write now, their left arms were filled with his loops. “We talked about what we had missed in each other's lives and you explained your dad’s plan to take over the world. We knew that if you told him about my power he’d do everything he could to use me, even if that meant hurting my mom. You didn’t want to take the chance of him finding out so you asked me to make you forget the encounter, and ignore me unless I confronted you.” That did seem to be in character for herself, and she was glad she was only missing a little bit of her life. It also explained why she hadn’t noticed him again.

“I don’t want to forget you again.” She wrote to him the truth, because finally there was someone she could tell it to without worry of pain or punishment. She didn’t have to worry about anyone else overhearing or seeing, it was night and the only light came from a battery powered lamp she kept on at all times. She wondered if the lights in the boys dormitory were as broken as the girls, and if they were, how Noah was seeing. Jester needed support right now, when she was younger she needed it too but there weren’t so many people against her, Father wasn’t as close to winning as he was now and she wasn’t brought home to beat as often. Malcolm and Elena didn’t fight against her and she didn’t have to worry about broken bones and burns at school. If she could talk to Noah at night she wouldn’t be alone all the time, she could talk to someone about the pain. She could help him too, she wouldn’t mind having him practice his power on her, maybe they could use it to take down Father instead of him using it against them. She could listen to his problems, they could discuss homework together. Jester hadn’t had a friend in years.

“What room is yours in your dorm?” She didn’t know why he was asking that, maybe he wanted to talk in person. It was hard to wash in private in the section fifteen bathrooms.

“First hall way, take a right, fourth door down.” It was probably the only door that had a light coming from under it, but she wasn’t sure about that and didn’t want him to walk into a random room. That was dangerous. Then again, maybe he was just taking this down as a note for future information and wasn’t on his way there. His question had come out of left field. When she heard footsteps coming down the hall she felt a smile creep up on her face. No one else would be walking around this late at night, it had to be him, he did want to talk to her in person. She wanted a chance to look at him more, to see if she had missed anything when examining him in chemistry. She wanted to never forget her soulmate’s face again. Her door opened and she noticed for the first time how tall Noah was, he was very skinny but probably taller than Malcolm if he stood up straight. His dirty blonde hair was a short mess that was only floofy to the end of his ears. His eyes were a lighter green than Jester’s own. However the most noticeable thing about him was the deep frown on his lips, and the way he had long sleeves on still and long pants covering up the marks of their conversation. The only sign that he was the one who had been writing to her was the blue pen in his right hand. Jester ignored the frown, and moved over so he could sit next to her on the mattress. He stayed standing.

“I’m sorry,” he began and Jester tensed. Nothing good ever came from starting a sentence that way, the start of many sentences she had said. She didn’t interrupt him though, there was nothing she could do about what he was about to do. Although she was left to wonder if she actually had agreed the first time. “Forget about our conversation and meeting, ignore me unless I confront you again. Go to sleep.” With that the world went dark.

#writeblr #original fiction #soulmate au #tw violence #TW child abuse #tw bullying #tw homophobia #tw manipulation #learn to be

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audrey-lim · 4 years

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Raw Nerves - A Good Doctor Fic

It’s ME returned from the void to throw more good doctor fic at y’all before I retreat beneath my troll bridge once more. This one features Morgan and Audrey because they don’t get enough love so I have to give it to them. And I will.

Title: Raw Nerves

Summary: Morgan's RA causes her to make a mistake during surgery that rattles her. She goes to Audrey determined to resign, and confesses her newly diagnosed RA. Audrey has other ideas. Canon compliant up to 3x15.

Excerpt: : '“You did that today. You were ready to give up on all of your ambitions, on the thing that you have worked for, set aside your pride, and all your hopes for your own future in order to do what you felt needed to be done for your patients. I’m proud of you.”

The shaky smile that lit Morgan’s face at that was both heartening and depressing. Heartening because it was obvious that it meant something coming from her; that she carried enough weight with Morgan for her pride to matter. Depressing because it was obvious they were words she’d rarely heard.'

Link: AO3

“Doctor Lim?”

Audrey paused, about to enter her office, and turned to find Morgan hovering outside it, hands clenched tightly into fists at her sides, looking tense.

“Doctor Reznick, can I help you?”

She was fairly sure she could. Audrey knew an ambush when she saw one. Reznick had been waiting for her to get back and after the events of the day, she wasn’t all too surprised to find her here.

Taking a deep breath, Morgan said shakily, as though she was having to force out every word, “I would like to remove myself from the residency program. I no longer think that I’m capable of dealing with it.”

Audrey blinked. It took a lot to surprise her. She’d been a trauma surgeon for the better part of twenty years. She’d seen every ugly, gory, messy piece of humanity; both inside and out. This surprised her.

“I wanted to thank you for this opportunity,” Morgan continued. She had now clasped her shaking hands in front of her. It seemed to be taking every bit of composure and grit she’d built up since starting her residency to get through this. “It’s been an honour working with you, Doctor Lim. I learned a lot.”

She only just managed to choke out the last word. Then she stood almost defiantly, head held high, back almost painfully straight, and gave Audrey a slight nod.

A beat of silence followed this emotional pronouncement, both women staring at each other as the moment swelled. Audrey burst it. She’d never been one for dramatics. That was firmly Neil’s department.

“Come in here,” she said, nodding towards her office, stepping inside and then holding the door.

Morgan remained standing stiffly, eyes glassy, a muscle feathering in her jaw as she fought to control herself.

“Please,” she bit out, finally, “Don’t make this any harder than it already is. I don’t want it to be drawn out, I don’t want to be processed, and fill out paperwork. I don’t want you to hold my hand and tell me I’ve done a good job and I should be proud of myself, and that I shouldn’t think I’m weak or whatever other managerial bullshit you’re required to spout now as my chief. I just...I just want to go. Please.”

That last word undercut the strong defiance in the rest of her little speech.

Audrey was unimpressed.

It had been a long fucking day. She was tired, she was sore, she was pissed off. She wanted to go home, open a bottle of beer, and put on one of the gardening shows she taped and would never reveal to anyone outside of her bad-tempered cat that she watched willingly.

“Morgan,” she said, emphasising the word with as much ‘I don’t have the energy for bullshit right now’ tone as she could muster, which was a lot, “I’m not asking you to come in and have a cup of tea with me as your mentor or friend. I’m telling you to get into my office as your chief of surgery. Do you understand?”

“Okay,” Morgan said, finally.

She stiffly moved into the room and Audrey hurried her on with a wave of the hand before closing the door and tilting the blinds. The hospital was designed in a very open, minimalist style with plenty of glass walls and doors to let in the light. It was great for her plants, but she had never liked the feeling of existing in a fish bowl, with passersby able to ogle her whenever they felt like it.

Audrey moved behind her desk and sat down, gesturing Morgan towards the chair opposite her. She sat slowly, still looking a little thrown. Clearly whatever she’d expected Audrey’s reaction to be, it hadn’t been this.

She leaned down and rummaged in a drawer for a moment before pulling out a box of tissues, which she nudged pointedly across the desk.

Morgan stared at them then, with a touch of her usual arrogance, said, “I haven’t cried in front of another person since I was eight.”

“Maybe you should,” she observed mildly, steepling her fingers in front of her, reminding herself irresistibly of her first chief of surgery.

Morgan blinked incredulously, the context of the situation temporarily lost to the situation, “This? From you?”

Audrey raised her eyebrows.

“I just mean,” Morgan amended, forcibly softening her tone, “That you’re not exactly the most...Emotionally frivolous person I’ve ever met.”

She smiled at that. Emotionally frivolous. She had to remember that. Neil would get a kick out of it, she was pretty sure, and immediately resolved never to let him hear it.

“Fair,” she conceded, “But I’m not devoid of emotion; I just control it. There’s a difference. And I also know when controlling and holding everything back is no longer the best course of action. Sometimes you need to let a wound bleed before you can patch it up. So-” she pushed the tissues closer still to Morgan with the aid of a pen.

Morgan drew the box to the edge of the table in a small sign of acquiescence, but didn’t take one. Well, miracles took a little bit more work than the impossible, she’d take what she could get.

“You have been the most obviously ambitious and driven resident at this hospital from day one,” Audrey said bluntly, leaning forward, hands clasped once more.

She didn’t see the point in beating about the bush. Not this late in the day. And not with Morgan. Straight talking was a trait they both shared and appreciated in each other.

“Tell me why you want to leave now. Without any mention from me or Doctor Melendez. And more importantly, without any kind of fight.”

“I could have killed that boy today,” Morgan whispered shakily.

“You didn’t,” Audrey pointed out.

Confronting your own mortality was hard enough. Confronting the fact that you were fully responsible for another human being’s mortality was something else. Even the hardest, most reserved and arrogant surgeons she’d ever worked with had met that beast and been shaken by it. She sure as hell had.

“I could have,” Morgan said, more forcefully. Her voice broke back down to that of a frightened child realising how small they really were in the face of the world for the first time again as she added, “That scares me.”

“Good,” Audrey said bluntly.

One of her previous mentors had observed that, with her scalpel, she had all the true delicacy that a surgeon needed. With her words, however, she could somehow have all the subtlety of a scalpel. She figured there were times for scalpels, and times for sledgehammers, and that was just how she was.

Morgan looked up from her focused contemplation of her own hands looking shocked. Audrey rather liked being able to produce that effect in her. In any of her residents. It was good to challenge them, push them out of their comfort zones, tease something new from them.

“We’re not superhuman,” she went on, when it became clear Morgan wasn’t going to be able to find a reply to that. For once. “You fucked up. It happens. Surgeons are trained to achieve perfection every single time, with every single thing that they do. That’s because when we don’t people can die.”

“Well I definitely fucked up today,” Morgan whispered, shuddering.

She stared down at her hands again, as though she could still see the mess she had made stained upon them. That might linger for a while. Audrey hoped it did. She still had blood on her hands after years of scrubbing. If she ever lost that she’d leave this profession she loved and never come back.

“You did,” Audrey agreed. No point sugar-coating it. “That’s the fact of the matter. The big secret that everyone knows about surgeons; and no-one wants to admit. That mistakes can happen. We’re flawed. We’re human. Shit’s going to happen.”

Morgan shook her head slightly.

Audrey knew that feeling. She had believed she could be perfect. She had believed she could get through all her surgeries flawlessly and never make a mistake. She’d believed that herself. When it had all come crashing down it had nearly crushed her.

There were a lot of make or break moments on the road to surgery. This was usually one of the first. How did you deal with your first big error. What did you do when you realised how easily you could kill someone? A lot of people couldn’t handle that kind of responsibility.

Med school was all about saving lives. Helping patients. Doing good. Beating the odds. Changing lives.

Residency was when the real world kicked back in. That was when you remembered that the harsh realities hadn’t disappeared while you were buried in books. And that those who had the power to save lives; equally had the power to lose them.

“You fucked up,” Audrey said, drawing Morgan’s eyes back to her, “But you handled it. You put that boy’s life in danger with your mistake. Then you saved it. He’ll go home tomorrow with his parents and his life will change for the better because of what you did today.”

“It could so easily have gone the other way. His parents could be going home right now making funeral arrangements because of me.”

“But they’re not. That’s also because of you. A monkey could nick an artery in the middle of surgery - anyone can do that. Not everyone can handle the situation afterwards. That’s the difference,” Audrey said.

Morgan blinked. Audrey enjoyed the effect of her processing the rollercoaster of that little nugget of advice for a moment.

Then she said, more seriously, “If we kicked out every resident who made a mistake during a surgery the world would very quickly run out of future surgeons.

“I don’t want to leave because I made a mistake,” Morgan said rigidly, her jaw clenched, that same feeling that she was having to force out every syllable back in her tone again, “I want to leave because I should never have been able to make that mistake in the first place.”

The deep breath she sucked in to compose herself shook audibly in the quiet of her office. Morgan hesitated, then reluctantly yanked a tissue from the box in front of her and proceeded to twist it between her hands, fraying it.

“I should never have been in that OR today. I shouldn’t have been in one for a while,” she finally got out, with the same aura of a person relieving the darkest sins of their soul in a confessions box.

“Why not?” Audrey pushed.

Sometimes you had to apply a little pressure, cause a little pain, to get to the root of a problem before you could yank it out and stitch up the wound.

Morgan stared at the tissue she was now shredding between her fingers without really seeing it. Audrey was impressed with her steel as she managed to swallow, actually look up with her head high, when she spoke next.

“A few weeks ago you noticed that I was...Shaky during the tracheal surgery. I told you that I hit my finger with a hammer while I was hanging a painting at home…”

Morgan closed her eyes and took several deep breaths. The words were barely distinct when they came, but they came. For that Audrey commended her more than anything she had yet seen from the young woman.

“I lied to you.”

The admission hung heavy in the air for a moment, both of them hearing it and processing the implications, the enormity of this moment in the life of Morgan Reznick.

“The truth is,” Morgan said, her whole body shaking along with her words now. “The truth is that I-” She broke off and reached for another tissue, having successfully crumpled the first into a mulch of confetti in her agitation. She used this one to dab at her eyes which had started shedding tears against her concrete will. “The truth is that I...I…”

“You have rheumatoid arthritis,” Audrey said, gently.

She’d heard enough. Morgan had done enough to convince her she was ready to tell her the truth and trust her with this most vulnerable new aspect of her existence. She wasn’t cruel. She was a mentor. She was there to challenge, and push, but also to guide and assist where she was needed.

Morgan stared at her, eyes wide, every other emotion forgotten for a moment in the face of her shock.

“How did you know?”

Audrey gave her a rueful smile. “You told me that you hit your hand with a hammer, Morgan. I’ve never seen more perfectly manicured hands in my life,” Morgan gave a small watery smile, staring down at them. “No cuts, no bruising, no marks whatsoever,” Audrey said, shaking her head. “In future if you’re going to lie to my face, at least put some effort in.”

Morgan huffed a soft laugh at that, dabbing her eyes. “To be fair I was under a lot of pressure.”

“Well I’m glad you stitch better under pressure than you lie,” Audrey observed.

“That’s why I became a surgeon and not a lawyer,” Morgan joked. Then her face crumpled and she had to bite her lip hard to stop herself crying. Audrey was about to reach out to her when she coughed and said, with forced composure, “How did you know it was RA, though? It could have been something else, something other than what I’d said.”

Audrey sighed heavily. “I’m not an idiot, Morgan,” she said flatly. “You have a family history. I have eyes. And you decided to confide in Glassman who, for the record, lies even worse under pressure than you do.”

“He promised me that he’d give me a chance; that he wouldn't’ say anything to anyone,” Morgan mumbled.

“And he didn’t,” Audrey admitted, “Not until I implied that I already knew and then, well…” she trailed off with a shrug.

“So...So how long have you known exactly?” Morgan asked, now frowning slightly.

“A few months or so,” Audrey replied calmly.

“So you’ve just been waiting for this,” Morgan said, gesturing stiffly, “Ever since you figured it out?”

It was obvious she was trying to control the anger and frustration Audrey had known this would provoke in her. She was largely failing.

“Yes, I have,” she said evenly.

Morgan scoffs, shaking her head. Audrey sat up a little straighter and prepared herself with the rebuttals she had worked out for this eventual confrontation. Morgan surprised her however, “Then why didn’t you just fire me on the spot as soon as you found out? Why did you let me keep going on as a resident when you knew I was...Compromised,” she spoke that last word as though it left a bad taste in her mouth.

Audrey leaned back, considering her. She’d expected an angry tirade about why she had let Morgan continue in pain and fear all this time without reaching out to her. She wouldn’t at all have blamed her for asking that; it was a valid question. She’d spent a long time weighing the pros and cons of each option.

She took a moment to adjust to the altered trajectory of the conversation, then said carefully, and honestly, “I wanted to see how you handled the situation. That’s part of being a good attending. If you dive in the second one of your residents makes a mistake, or encounters an issue, and fix it for them, they’ll never learn or grow. Neither will you. You’re always learning in this job and anyone can have an idea you would never have thought of. You miss those opportunities if you’re too quick to assert what you think is right onto a situation.”

Morgan nodded stiffly, and Audrey softened her tone and added more gently, “It’s not easy. And this is not a decision that I took lightly in any way. But...You received a setback. I wanted to see how you recovered. And you did. The same way you did today in surgery. You dealt with it before it became a problem that I had to intervene in because you no longer cope with it yourself.”

“So you just...You used it as a test?” Morgan said, sounding hurt and betrayed, in spite of herself, Audrey knew.

The relationship between an attending and a resident was a lot more intimate than someone who hadn’t experienced it could ever understand. There was a lot of trust, that went both ways. But especially from the residents. Their attending was someone they could look up to, someone they knew would have their back, be in their corner, but who also made all the decisions in their day-to-day lives.

It was a relationship with a big, natural power imbalance, and it was difficult to negotiate from both sides.

Audrey loved it. She loved being able to teach, being able to learn from her residents. She loved being able to guide, and train, and help her surgeons thrive. And she thought she was suited to it.

She’d met attendings who worked the way Morgan assumed she had. She’d had them use those tactics, and play those games, with her. And the betrayal cut deep.

“No,” she said, voice still gentle, “This isn’t a game, Morgan. This is your life, your career, your dream. I get that,” Morgan looked up at her, a kind of desperation in her eyes, seeking that validation, the validation of someone who understood her and her love for this job.

“But you didn’t say anything,” her voice wasn’t as accusatory as it had been a moment ago, but there was still an element of distrust in it.

“No, I didn’t.” She took a deep breath, wondering how exactly to explain herself, “Being a good surgeon is about more than knowledge or skill-”

“You have to care,” Morgan interrupted, with thinly veiled sarcasm.

Audrey smiled, thinly, “We all care, Morgan,” she said wryly. “Maybe not as openly as someone like Claire, or as abstractly as someone like Shaun, but no-one does this job if they don’t care. That’s a given. I don’t care what anyone says, how aloof they appear, how emotionally frivolous,” she caught Morgan’s eye and they shared a small smile, “They care.”

“I do,” Morgan mumbled, a little unnecessarily, but she could be forgiven under the circumstances.

“You can teach surgery,” Audrey said, “You can teach technique, and medicine, and even how to cope under the kind of pressure situations we face. But you will never be a truly great surgeon if you can't be aware of your own flaws and manage to overcome them.”

Morgan swallowed, and Audrey was sure she felt this was going to go in the direction of ‘your RA is a flaw you can’t overcome, so you can never be a great surgeon’. It wasn’t. She was kind of offended Morgan still expected her to go that conventional route. Audrey was many things but she tried, as a rule, to never be conventional.

“ You have to be able to take yourself out of the equation. You have to be able to make decisions beyond yourself - to ignore your own feelings, your own beliefs, and judgements. Your hopes and dreams, and demons, all need to go inside a little box in your head that you throw out of a window every morning before you come to work. You have to be able to do what is right for your patients, no matter what it costs you, or how hard that might be.”

She saw a faint spark of hope rekindle in Morgan’s eyes, and endeavoured to tease it into something stronger, bring back that fire she was known for.

“You did that today. You were ready to give up on all of your ambitions, on the thing that you have worked for, set aside your pride, and all your hopes for your own future in order to do what you felt needed to be done for your patients. I’m proud of you.”

“This really wasn’t a test?” she whispered the words as though they were a question, but both of them knew it wasn’t. Not really.

“Life is a test,” Audrey said, frowning slightly at how unfortunately philosophical that had sounded. “This is just something that you had to face during the course of it. It was a choice you had to make. It’s a choice that every resident will have to make before they qualify. Or they won’t. It’ll come from different places, and affect you all in different ways...But it always comes.”

“So if I hadn’t done this...If I hadn’t come to you and told you the truth…”

“If you hadn’t been able to make this decision I would have made it for you,” Audrey relied brutally. “But today you showed me that you could. You have the self-awareness and understanding to put aside your ambitions, and your dreams, and your fears and admit when you can’t do something.”

“I’m sorry that I didn’t come to you sooner,” Morgan said, slowly. “Both in the sense that I feel guilty for lying to you by omission for as long as I did...But also because I think it would have made things a lot easier for me.”

“Being a resident is tough. It’s competitive and it can be cutthroat. Showing weakness or vulnerability to your superior is tough, too. Especially as a woman. Especially as a woman with a newly diagnosed disability.” Morgan flinched slightly at the use of the word, but didn’t challenge it. “I get it,” Audrey said, nodding.

“That day you confronted me in the locker room - you figured that I’d made a complaint preemptively to try and protect myself...It just made me so sure that if I came to you about any of this...You’d fire me on the spot,” Morgan admitted quietly, addressing the mess of tissues still clutched in her hand.

Audrey sighed heavily at that. “I know,” she said ruefully, “But I had to impress upon you that certain tactics weren’t going to work with me, and that you’d only cause more harm with them.”

“I understand,” Morgan said, nodding, “But...You knew then, right?” She nodded. “I know what you said about seeing how I coped and having to make decisions but...Why didn’t you just come out and confront me then and there? Force me to deal with it, to make the choice then?”

“I considered it,” Audrey said honestly, “But I decided that forcing this out of you before you were ready wasn’t going to be very productive. I didn’t want you to feel like I was another odd stacked against you in the hand you’ve been dealt. I thought that the likelihood of you responding was low, and that the chances of you turning defensive and lashing out were pretty high.”

“You just...Let me struggle alone,” Morgan said, her face becoming more closed as she said it.

“Yes,” Audrey admitted quietly.

It hurt to say. It hurt to hear. But it needed to be said. She wasn’t going to lie and deny that she caused pain. She just had to lay it bare and hope it had been worth it.

“Why?” Morgan breathed. She knew. They both knew. But Audrey understood why she had to ask. “Why didn’t you help me?” she said, voice breaking. “I- I needed help.”

It took all of Audrey’s self-control not to flinch at that.

“I know,” she said, as gently as she could. She reached across her desk and gently squeezed Morgan’s clasped hands. She waited until she looked at her to add, “BUt you couldn’t ask for that help. You couldn’t admit to needing it. Before today, you wouldn’t have been able to accept it, either, even if I had tried to give it to you.”

“You couldn’t have known that,” Morgan accused, shaking her head and pulling back.

“But I did,” Audrey said quietly. She had to proceed carefully, now. Her scalpel was balanced precariously in the middle of a network of raw nerves. One wrong move would do irreparable damage. “We know our residents a lot better than they think we do. A lot better than you all probably want to think about,” she added musingly. “But I also know,” she went on, before Morgan could interrupt, “Because I’ve been where you are now.”

Morgan looked startled, “You have-” she began, and Audrey swiftly intervened to correct.

“Not exactly where you are,” she said, and Morgan deflated a little. “But you still remind me of myself when I was a resident.” Morgan looked up again, head cocked slightly to one side, looking genuinely curious now.

As a general rule she tried not to reveal too much of herself to her residents. Her personal life was hers. She wasn’t the most fiercely private person at the hospital. But there were lines, and boundaries, and in her experience it was best to be careful when crossing them. This was one of the times she felt it would be a benefit to share her experiences as a person, not just a doctor.

“I was underestimated, too,” she began, “I was smart, driven, ambitious, and talented.” There was no point denying your own worth to anyone; least of all yourself. “I was also the one they waited on to fail every day. I was the one they wanted to see fail. And so I had to be twice as good every step of the way to prove them wrong.”

Morgan nodded, a small, unconscious thing, Audrey’s words resonating with her.

“For me ‘they’ were my superiors in the program - dusty old white men who felt challenged and threatened by very existence in their hospital.”

“With good reason,” Morgan muttered.

She blushed, telling Audrey the words had slipped out accidentally. But she smirked, pleased. “Quite,” she agreed.

Neil had confessed to her over drinks that he was never sure how she’d restrained herself from breaking bones in their chief’s body on more than one occasion. She told him she’d satisfied herself with breaking all of his records in surgery instead. Which she had. Repeatedly.

She took a breath and softened as she returned to the task at hand, “Your ‘they are your family. And, more importantly, yourself.”

Morgan glanced up at her, apparently both wanting, needing her to go on, to understand...And also terrified that she actually might.

Audrey went carefully, slowly, “You need to prove to yourself that you should be here. You need to know that all the bridges you’ve burned, all the opportunities you’ve turned down, all the things you’ve sacrificed, all the fights that you’ve had...You need to know they were worth it.”

Morgan met her eyes then slowly, tremulously, she nodded.

Audrey smiled sadly and continued, “Living every day under that kind of pressure..Eventually it breaks you.”

Morgan shook her head in disbelief, “I find it hard to imagine you ever breaking.”

The smile Audrey gave her this time was rueful. She would have loved that to be true herself, but she knew damn well it wasn’t.

“Oh believe me, I broke,” she said with a humourless laugh. “It wasn’t pleasant. But it forced me to finally ask for help, and to acknowledge something about this job it takes a long time for most residents to realise.”

“That we aren’t invincible?” Morgan said quietly.

Audrey understood that feeling, too. There was a rush to surgery that she had never been able to replicate. Not with her bike, not with sex, not with anything. Knowing that you had saved a person’s life; that they would be dead without you...It could very quickly go to your head, make you believe that you could do anything.

Coping once that bubble burst and the dam it had kept on the real world crumpled and it all came rushing back in was tough.

“Yes,” she agreed, “But it taught me that we don’t exist in a vacuum. No matter how good you are, no matter how many things you can do, no-one can do everything alone. No matter how much they might want to,” she added, correctly interpreting the wry look on Morgan’s face. “And we’re human. Holding yourself to impossible standards every day is only going to truly change one person - yourself.”

Morgan blinked, surprised. “But you did change people’s minds, didn’t you? You proved yourself to your superiors - all the men who thought you couldn’t do this job. You proved them wrong.”

“I did,” Audrey said, “But it didn’t change as much as I thought it would at the time. Everyone else will think what they want to think, regardless of what you do. Their thoughts won’t affect how you do your job. Destroying yourself trying to prove a point to them will.”

“This is all very inspiring and everything, Doctor Lim,” Morgan said shakily, staring down at her hands again, “But there’s a major difference in our stories.” She raised her head and looked Audrey in the eyes when she said, “You didn’t have a chronic incurable condition eroding away your nerves.”

“No,” Audrey agreed gently, “But I had to deal with a lot of prejudice - which, believe me, can be just as chronic, painful, and incurable as rheumatoid arthritis. Not to mention the effect it has on the nerves.”

Morgan managed a weak smile at that, but it quickly faded as she sobered once more, shaking her head, staring down at her hands again with a look of such betrayal in her eyes it hurt to watch.

“It’s not the same,” she whispered, tears forming again, despite her obvious attempts to hold them back.

“No,” Audrey said again, and Morgan looked up at her once more. “BUt they’ll say the same thing to you that they said to me,” she told her. “The same thing that they said to Murphy. They’ll tell you that you can’t.”

“And they’ll be right,” Morgan interrupted with a hysterical note to her words now.

“They don’t get to decide that,” Audrey cut in firmly. “You do. You proved that to me today. If you know what you can’t do, if you understand your limitations, then you know what you can do, and you understand your own capabilities.”

“And that’s enough?” Morgan said, with obvious disbelief.

“It’s enough for me,” Audrey replied.

She’d made her decision on this. One of her friends from med school had specialised in rheumatology and they’d had a lot of late night conversations and dinner meetings about this. The condition was damaging, but it was also variable, and relied a lot on the individual’s understanding of their own well-being and function day to day. She’d decided that if Morgan could prove she could master that, she still had a place at this hospital on her team.

The visible relief that flooded Morgan’s body seemed for a moment to sweep away every bit of pain she was in. Her eyes brightened again, and for the first time in weeks, Audrey felt that fire from her again.

“It will not be unconditional,” she said quickly. She didn’t want to ruin this moment for Morgan, but at the same time she had to establish boundaries. “I will trust you. If you tell me that you can do something, then I will let you do it. But I also need to know when you can’t do something, or if you’re unsure at all.”

Morgan bit her lip, and Audrey thought she could sense the reason for her hesitation, so clarified.

“It doesn’t have to be a big deal. I don’t need you to come in here every morning with a neon sign detailing where you’re at on a pain scale. We can work a system between us - but I do need to know.”

“Of course,” Morgan said. She was nodding eagerly now, sitting up straighter, perching on the edge of her seat, looking alive and intent, ready to do whatever it took to be a good doctor.

“And you’re to keep seeing your rheumatologist regularly,” Audrey went on, “I would like to be kept up to date with your progress, your meds, any new symptoms. If things get worse, if they get better. I’d like to know your options.”

“Alright,” Morgan said, though she looked a little more uncertain.

“This is not something I can force you to give me,” Audrey clarified, “It’s your choice to divulge those things to me, and it’s your right to keep them from me, but it will help me, which will help you, if I understand as much about your condition as I can.”

“I’ll forward you over all of my notes tonight,” Morgan promised, a spark of defiant resolution in her eyes that Audrey decided against challenging.

“I also think,” she went on, tone softening as she knew how this was likely to be received, “That you should tell the team about this.”

Morgan balked visibly at that, which Audrey understood. The competition the program fostered between them all was good, and generally healthy, producing good results, but it made it difficult to confide weaknesses. This was something that frustrated her, as understanding the weaknesses of your coworkers was as important as knowing their strengths.

She raised a placating hand, “Like I said, it’s not something I’m going to force you into. I know that it’s hard, I know that you don’t want to, but I think that it might help.”

“I don’t want them to treat me differently,” Morgan said quietly.

“I know. But you should be,” she started. “You have a disability, Morgan,” Audrey said, as gently as she could while not sugar-coating the facts of the matter. “That’s hard to accept, I know that. But it does change things. And it means that some things will have to be changed in order to manage that. Accommodation is not a bad word, and having team members who understand what you’re going through and can support you will not make you weak, or less talented, or less deserving of a place among them.”

“I know,” Morgan said, “Logically I know all of that. It’s the same advice that I would give to a patient in my position reacting the way that I am but…”

“But emotion is the death of all logic,” Audrey said with a sigh, “Humanity throughout history has struggled with this. I don’t expect you to come up with a solution for it in an afternoon.” Morgan relaxed at those words. “But I do think you should at least consider what I’ve said,” she added firmly.

“I will,” she promised in turn.

“Alright then,” Audrey said, pushing her chair back and getting to her feet. She could almost taste the kiss of the fresh air on her skin and she was ready to embrace it on her ride home.

“Morgan remained sitting, looking a little shell shocked by the abrupt end of their meeting. “You’re...You’re really not getting rid of me?” she said, as though she felt stupid asking but couldn’t stop herself.

“No, I’m not,” Audrey said with a small smile. “Not unless you want to tell me right now that you don’t think you can contribute anything to this team anymore. That’s the only reason I would have for letting you go. Are you going to tell me that?”

“No,” Morgan said defiantly, also getting to her feet. “I can. I will.”

Audrey smiled. “Good. Then go. Do.”

Morgan actually smiled. It had been a long time since she’d seen that expression on her face.

Audrey stepped out from behind her desk and moved towards the door. “Then I think we’re done. Good night, Doctor Reznick.”

Morgan smiled and marched briskly to the door, which Audrey was now holding open for her. “Good night, Doctor Lim,” she said formally, giving her a small nod.

She moved to walk out of the office, hesitated, then, in a sudden rush, turned and pulled Audrey into a quick hug.

“Thank you,” Morgan breathed in her ear, squeezing her a little more tightly than was strictly necessary, “I promise I won’t let you down.”

Audrey recovered from the shock of the move and patted Morgan on the back a few times until she released her.

“You’re welcome,” she said warmly, “And I know you won’t.” Morgan nodded again, looking confident and renewed. “See you tomorrow,” Audrey said with a smile.

Morgan smiled back, “See you tomorrow.”

#the good doctor #morgan reznick #audrey lim #christina chang #fiona gubelmann #the good doctor fic #audrey x morgan #(that's not a romantic tag it's just how i tag any relationships for the sake of my SANITY)#my fic #mine #text post tag #long post #feast upon the product of my SALT #i pre-emptively salt wrote this #because i can see what the writers are going to do #and i HATE IT #Audrey Lim is a boss in every sense of the word and that's just how it be

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