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vulpes-fennec · 2 years

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Pumpkin Fields Forever (Part 4) 🎃

Summary: Elain and Lucien try their hand at some Harvest Festival games, but will they be able to win each other’s hearts?

“Living is easy with eyes closed, misunderstanding all you see. It’s getting hard to be someone but it all works out, it doesn’t matter much to me”

**I know the last three parts were pretty angsty, so I promise this one is more fun**

Read: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | AO3

The sun was setting by the time they found a festival game to play. Well, technically the dart game was Lucien’s pick. But Elain was also drawn to the floating transparent sugar balls that scattered faelight in pastel colors. Apparently the players were supposed to throw darts at the sugar balls, earning points if they made a successful hit.

“I’ll pay for this game, you can pay for the next one,” Lucien winked with his good eye as he handed the attendant several bronze coins. Is he…is he making a reference to our earlier tussle to pay? Elain thought incredulously.

The attendant gave Elain 15 darts and she supplied her name for the magical scoreboard. Her first attempts were embarrassingly dismal: the darts did not fly straight, she could not follow the ball nor time her throw properly. Elain was acutely aware of Lucien’s searing gaze behind her. Oh gods, he must think I’m incompetent and weak in comparison to my sisters!

“You should hold the dart like this.” Lucien took one of the darts in front of her and held it up as an example. Elain frowned, trying to copy his pose.

Lucien took a small step closer to her. “May I?” he asked, reaching for her hand. Elain nodded, feeling like she’d vomit from the nerves if she opened her mouth.

She breathed in his crisp scent as long fingers hesitantly adjusted her thumb and middle finger. Lucien gently moved her wrist back and forth in the motion of throwing. “Don’t grip it too tightly,” he advised, stepping away. Elain blushed furiously at the double meaning of the phrase, turning away from him so he wouldn’t notice. A lady does not think improper thoughts, a lady does NOT think improper thoughts, she chanted to herself.

Lucien’s pointers did help the darts fly straight. But she was still missing the balls. “They keep moving,” she cried in frustration.

She chewed her bottom lip, eyes following a pink ball and letting the dart fly when it felt right. Pink was certainly her lucky color. Elain could scarcely believe her eyes as the dart shattered the ball into sugar shards.

Elain tried a couple more times, managing to hit one more sugar ball with her last dart. It wasn’t enough to make it on the scoreboard or win a prize, but she was proud of herself. “Good job,” Lucien said encouragingly. Elain dipped her head bashfully in thanks, heart fluttering at his praise.

Lucien then stepped up, confidently assessing the circulating sugar balls. Elain shivered at the sight of the Fae male before her: the strands of burnished red hair that escaped his bun, the dagger-sharp focus etched in his set jaw and narrowed russet eye. With a flick of his wrist, Lucien shattered the tiniest of the sugar balls—a golden one that was no larger than a coin.

Elain’s jaw dropped. He said “good job” to me when he was fully capable of doing THAT? A murmur of awe arose from the onlookers. “Who is that?” “The games are spelled against players’ powers, right? “He must be skilled indeed.”

Possessive pride swelled in her chest and Elain stood a little straighter. That’s right, he’s with me, she thought smugly. Wait. No.

Lucien didn’t give her any time to sort her thoughts as he swiftly shattered two more golden balls with the ease of an experienced hunter. Tiny shards tinkled as they rained down onto the grass.

Elain glanced at the magical scoreboard on her left. The House of the Wind group had apparently stopped by earlier, since Cassian, Azriel, and Gwyn’s names were on the board. But Lucien’s name already showed up with only three successful attempts. It must be because he’s going for the smallest ones, the ones with the highest number of points, she realized.

Lucien readjusted his position but did not break concentration. With every golden orb felled by swift darts, his name crept up the board. The game attendant’s shock mirrored Elain’s as Lucien surpassed Cassian, becoming the reigning champion.

“Take your pick, sir, any prize you’d like.” The attendant flusteredly waved his hand, reassembling the shattered sugar balls when Lucien finished. Lucien was surprised at the small audience that had amassed.

“What prize would the lady like?” Lucien asked quietly. Elain glanced at the rows of enticing prizes. Is it typical for Fae males to win festival games for their companions? What would it mean if I accepted the prize? If the tradition is a way for males to show off their skills….well, the fireling had outranked the General Commander of the Night Court’s armies. Elain felt her mind going haywire at the thought.

“I’m alright, just pick the prize that you want.” She didn’t mean to reject his offer in front of all these people. But if she entertained the idea that he really did win the game for her, she would dissolve into a puddle of giddy emotions.

Lucien studied the rows of prizes. “I’ll take the sheep stuffed animal,” he announced, pointing to a medium-sized sheep. It looked soft and fluffy, and absolutely adorable. Cauldron boil me, has the sheep become an inside joke between us? “Shall we?” He gestured for Elain to take the lead.

“How are you so good at the darts,” Elain grumbled as they walked away.

Lucien gave her a sharp-toothed grin, revealing pointy white canines. A wily fox with a sheep in his clutches indeed. “Centuries of practice. Tam’s sentries and I were competitive.”

Why the Mother thought 25-year old me would have the life experience to match Lucien’s centuries of life is beyond me. Prime example: I can’t throw a dart while he is the highest-ranking player in the whole Harvest Festival.

“How is Tamlin?” Elain broached cautiously. Her sister’s former lover and Rhys’s former friend…there was so much bad blood between Night and Spring. But she’d gotten more tidbits about Lucien’s old home today than she ever did, and she was curious about its current state.

Lucien studied Elain for a few minutes, evaluating. Oh. It’s because I’m Feyre’s sister, Elain thought bitterly, and he doesn’t know if he can trust me.

“Tam’s doing much better,” Lucien finally said. “He stays in his Fae form more than half the time now, and he’s leading a team of builders in restoring the manor. I visit him about twice a week.”

“Oh. I’m glad to hear it,” Elain voiced. At least he’s willing to talk to me about Prythian matters. “Is Tamlin still paying you?”

Lucien shook his head. “His coffers are strained because the Tithe was not conducted last year.” Elain did not know what the Tithe was but did not want to demonstrate her ignorance by asking. “The Tithe occurs twice a year, when Spring Court residents give the High Lord money or gifts that fund the Court,” Lucien explained, noticing her confusion.

So Lucien truly depends on Feyre and Rhys…are they privy to Tamlin’s finances? “Did Tamlin hurt you? Erm…I mean…I suppose there’s a reason you aren’t living with him?”

Lucien stiffened. “It’s…complicated. He did. But he was there for me during my lowest time, and I want to reciprocate the gesture.” He winced. “I’m sorry…you probably still associate him with Hybern and I—”

“I don’t,” Elain interjected simply. “I-I know now that it was the priestess. Tamlin bought us t-time when I was c-captured.” Her voice wavered at the traumatic memories and Lucien’s face flashed with the agony of not being able to save his mate. “I know what he did to Feyre. And Rhys…it’s complicated.”

She felt herself babbling on and on. “Well, you’re a good friend to him, regardless of whether he deserves your help or not.” Lucien regarded her carefully, his metal eye clicking. For once, he did not respond.

They walked in silence for several minutes until Elain spotted an interesting game. Players were using large mallets to hit toadstool mushrooms popping out of holes in the table. It had been a highly emotional day and she was feeling jittery, so what better way to blow off steam?

“Let’s play this one,” she suggested as she paid the attendant and wrote down their names. “You go first this time.”

“Hold this, please.” Lucien gave her the stuffed sheep he was carrying. Elain hugged it close to her chest, taking a discreet sniff of it when he turned his back.

Lucien picked up the mallets, waiting for the red-capped toadstools to begin springing. The first one popped up with a loud boiinngg sound that made him jump. Lucien smacked the toadstool squarely with his left mallet, but missed two other toadstools that popped up a split second later.

For someone who was so skilled at darts, Lucien was terrible at whacking toadstools. His golden eye expanded and contracted, trying to catch the toadstools that were emerging from multiple holes in the table. He let out a growl of frustration when more toadstools evaded him.

Lucien let out a heavy sigh as he finished the round with a mediocre score. Elain blinked at him. “You’re surprisingly bad at this.” She handed him the sheep, which he tucked under his arm.

He scowled. “You try, then. It’s harder than it looks. Fighting with twin blades is much easier than wielding mallets against regenerating toadstools.”

He passed her the two mallets, holding them by their wrist straps to avoid contact with her hands. His gesture shouldn’t have bothered Elain, but it did.

Elain curled her fingers around the mallet handles, feeling the remaining warmth from Lucien’s grip. Her pink lips were set in a tight line of focus, her knees bent slightly.

She was more than ready when the first toadstool popped up in front of her. Elain brought the mallet down like a blacksmith in a forge. The second toadstool was intercepted by her right mallet before it could retreat. Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!

Every hammer was a killing blow to the grasshoppers that devoured her herbs and flowers. A slice into the incessant ivy on the ground. A punch to Amarantha’s face. Elain had no idea what the Hybern general actually looked like, but it didn’t matter. This is for Clare, for Feyre, for Rhysand. For Lucien. Lucien. Lucien.

A deep-rooted fury took over her as she lunged and struck, Elain’s focus sharper than it had ever been. Amarantha’s face. Her body. Her wicked soul. And almost as quickly as it had started, the game ended.

Elain stilled, breathing hard. Her brown wavy hair was in disarray, her dress suffocating. The game attendant was staring at her with alarm, utterly unused to proper Fae ladies savagely hammering away at toadstools. But Lucien Vanserra was grinning widely, russet eye sparkling with what looked like appreciation.

“Absolutely vicious,” he declared. “The poor toadstools didn’t stand a chance.” He leaned against the booth’s wooden beam, still smiling.

Lucien’s radiant smile reminded Elain that they were at the Harvest Festival, among pumpkin-decorated booths and buttery yellow faelight. They were not in imminent danger. Breathe, she told herself. Don’t focus on him holding that damn adorable sheep. Breathe.

She turned to the game attendant. “Did I win anything?” she asked.

The game attendant quickly recovered, relieving Elain of the mallets. “Yes, miss. You came in third on the scoreboard, and may select from the top row of prizes.”

Elain studied the prizes before her. The top row had stuffed animals, but no sheep. In fact, none of the stuffed animals interested Elain. Her attention was drawn to the jewelry, particularly a necklace with a small sun pendant. It was the size of a coin and made of cheap brassy material, but Elain did not care. Long winter nights were coming, and having something that reminded her of sunny days would be nice.

“I’ll have that one please,” she announced. “Thank you!” Elain pulled the necklace over her head. The sun pendant rested on her orange dress.

“You know, I would have appreciated a few whacking tips and tricks in return,” Lucien murmured jokingly as they walked away.

“I-I didn’t know how it would turn out! It’s my first time playing festival games!”

Lucien raised an eyebrow. “You’re missing out. The Dawn Court, in my opinion, has the best carnivals in all of Prythian. They have many festival games, and mechanized contraptions that you can ride on.”

Elain felt a prick of envy. Dawn Court, Spring Court, the continent. He’s been to so many places. How can I compare to his worldly-ness when I haven’t been anywhere except for Velaris and Hewn City?

The male looked at her with hopeful expectation in his russet eye, as if waiting for her to suggest that they visit a Dawn Court carnival together. A proper response would be just that, except…I’m so confused about how I should feel. Maybe I could ask him to elaborate on Dawn Court instead? But what if I come off as naive…

“It’s hard to find time for leisure,” she mumbled instead. “The courts are still rebuilding from the war, and there are other issues on the continent.” Koschei. The human queens. Montesere, Rask, and Vallahan.

Lucien dipped his head, hiding the disappointment on his face. “The lady is right,” he acknowledged. “But in my opinion, allowing brief moments of joy helps us get through these tough times.” The melancholy in his voice gave Elain the feeling he was speaking more to his past experiences, than future plans.

She tightened her mouth bitterly: every step towards easy companionship between them seemed to relapse a half step back to their somber selves. The realization that she wanted some progress to be made…well, her former self would have never imagined it possible.

Read: Part 5

#Elucien #Elain Archeron #Lucien Vanserra #acotar #Elain x Lucien #Lucien x Elain #Elucien fanfiction #acotar fanfiction #Elucien angst

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ofthedespondent · 2 years

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task 001.

“ how long were you at the fun fair for? who did you go with and or spend your time with? were you there during the time where brooklyn’s body was discovered ? ”

he’d been nervously toying with his sleeves of his sweater as the officer posed the question, nodding after a moment of silence. “i was pretty much at the fair the whole time. i was running a booth and when i wasn’t doing that, i was there with my..... mike.” jesus. why did he keep doing that? “my friend, mike wheeler. dustin henderson, lucas sinclair too.” among other people too, but the officer didn’t need a run down of every person will encountered, did they? “i was packing up the booth, i had left some stuff there that i forgot to grab. i was there.”

“ did you notice anything suspicious during your time at the fair? with any of the other attendants, volunteers, or fair workers ? “

he shook his head, thinking back to those he encountered. it was pretty standard, exactly what you’d expect to see at a carnival. except for the carnival worker who nearly ruined his date but he wasn’t about to delve into that. “nothing suspicious that i can recall, the carnival is exactly what you’d thought it would be. except for you know...” he gestured around them before quickly dropping his hands back down in his lap. “this.”

“ how well did you know brooklyn lambert ? did you know her or her family personally ? ”

“we weren’t like best friends or anything but she was nice. we were friendly.” she was actually one of the few genuinely nice to him people that will could remember during high school. outside of his group of friends. but maybe he’d been looking at her through rose colored glasses, especially now. all things considered. “she came by the booth i was working. i do artwork, i was doing caricatures to be exact. as a fundraiser for the art club. i did one for her, she seemed to be satisfied with it and walked away with it. that was the last time i saw her.” obviously.

“ brooklyn’s parents reported that an anonymous number had called their home phone a few days prior to the start of the fun fair. they had asked what was brooklyn’s favorite scary movie was and if she’d be at the fun fair. brooklyn didn’t think too much of it so it wasn’t reported, though she was home alone when the call was received. have you gotten any phone calls from an unknown number ? “

“nothing like that, no. but we’ve always gotten prank calls at our house. they’ve never asked me what my favorite scary movie was though. i do get them when no one else is around to answer the phone though. but i would call that pure chance if anything. ” all things considered, that sounded like a pretty interesting phone call to have. a bit more engaging than the one sided ones the byers tended to get. he wondered if jonathan ever picked up any of those or if he was just the unlucky one to hear them.

“ did you happen to see anybody dressed up in a dark cloak or ghost mask ? we’ve gotten a report or two from other people being questioned today, so we just want to make sure. ”

his eyebrows furrowed together as he tried to think back to seeing anyone in a costume. there had been a few but the carnival always brought out the more eccentric in people. nothing that would have rung any alarms for him. he shook his head for what felt like the thousandth time, “nothing like that, no. or not at all, actually.”

“ do you have any other comments you’d like to share ? ”

he chewed on his lower lip for a moment as he pondered the question, “it just doesn’t make sense. why would someone want to do that to her?” he asked but he knew there was no answer. in fact, that’s the exact reason why he was being questioned. “no other comments, i’ll just...” he pointed to the door before he got up and exited the room.

#horrorinhawkins.task

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mediaevalmusereads · 2 years

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Witchy, Vol.1. By Ariel Slamet Ries. Roar, 2019.

Rating: 3.5/5 stars

Genre: graphic novel, fantasy

Part of a Series? No

Summary: In the witch kingdom Hyalin, the strength of your magic is determined by the length of your hair. Those that are strong enough are conscripted by the Witch Guard, who enforce the law in peacetime and protect the land during war. However, those with hair judged too long are pronounced enemies of the kingdom, and annihilated. This is called a witch burning. Witchy is a comic about the young witch Nyneve, who is haunted by the death of her father and the threat the Witch Guard poses to her own life. When conscription rolls around, Nyneve has a choice to make; join the institution complicit in her father's death, or stand up for her ideals?

Content Warnings: violence

Overview: I picked this book up on a whim at an independent bookstore. I was looking for something fun, and the premise intrigued me - a magic system that is tied to hair? The promise of LGBT+ characters? Sign me up! While I did like this graphic novel, I didn’t love it - some of the worldbuilding left me with some questions, I didn’t quite feel connected to some of the side characters, and the art style (while fun) isn’t usually the kind I go for. Still, other readers may adore this book; there’s plenty to love, and most of my criticism is based on personal taste more than anything.

Writing: I’m going to include art in this section because in graphic novels, art is a storytelling element as much as (or even more than) dialogue. The art style for this graphic novel is very simple but with very dynamic motion. Ries is very good at portraying emotions on her characters’ faces, and at creating exaggerated poses to convey movement. It almost reminded me a bit of animation, which I enjoyed. The art in this book is also very colorful with a lot of purples, greens, pinks, and yellows making the pages feel bright and lively. Some of the layouts, too, are quite interesting, and it’s easy to figure out which panel flows into the next.

Personally, however, I wasn’t blown away by the art, so while I liked the colors and the motion, there wasn’t a lot visually that stuck with me after I finished the story.

Plot: The plot of this book follows Nyneve, a young witch whose father was killed by the Witch Guard for having too long of hair (and thus, too much magic power which could threaten the ruling government). Nyneve doesn’t quite fit in with her peers at the school and is nervous about the upcoming Conscription trial - a test which will determine which witches essentially get drafted into the Witch Guard and which ones will go their own way. She desperately wants to avoid getting conscripted though some of her closest friends see it as an honor.

Part of what I liked about this plot was the setting. Whenever I read political plots about magic users, it always seems like the magic users are the oppressed ones (which always felt weird because they have so much extra power). In this world, powerful magic users are the ones upholding a corrupt government, so it felt more realistic to have people born with an advantage (or privilege, if you will) to perpetuate an oppressive system.

However, I do think Ries bit off a little more than they could chew. While the political messaging is very good, I ultimately don’t think Ries adequately explored the intricacies of how power works. Of course, this is only volume one, so subsequent volumes could go into more detail, but as it stands, I felt like Ries introduced way too many themes: queer people in the military, queer discrimination in medical fields, closeting, book banning, education systems formed by the government, using religion as a tool to manipulate others, etc.

I also think Ries didn’t fully give enough context to understand some things about the worldbuilding or gave context way too late. For one, it wasn’t clear how hair and magic were connected; while I don’t need a breakdown of how the magic is embedded in the hair or something, I did have questions such as “what makes hair length vary and why is the ability to grow longer hair a struggle for some? Couldn’t they just wait and get more powerful over time?” and “Is there a law against cutting hair? Why? And how do they know if you do it?” Also, it seemed like the spiritual/religious aspect to magic didn’t come up until halfway through the book; I didn’t even get the sense that characters were profoundly religious/spiritual until much later, and I wish it had been part of the worldbuilding earlier to make it feel like a huge part of daily life.

Characters: Nyneve, our protagonist, is your typical character with an extraordinary secret which makes it hard for her to fit in with their peers. While I liked that Nyneve could be vulnerable and part of her arc involved learning to be more confident with her choices, I was also a bit frustrated because it didn’t feel like she wanted anything. To put it another way, I didn’t feel like Nyneve had any strong convictions or goals; despite professing to want to resist the government, she also questions a real resistance when she encounters it, and it was a little frustrating to see her walk something of a middle road. Of course, Nyneve still has a lot of growing to do - this is only volume one, after all. So maybe her arc will be more satisfying in the long run.

Supporting characters were somewhat interesting, depending on how complex they were. Nyneve’s closest friend is a male witch named Batu, and while I liked how kind he was to Nyneve, he also didn’t have any strong convictions that made him an interesting character. Much more compelling were characters like Prill - a transgender woman who is dying to join the Witch Guard to escape her oppressive family. Prill had some understandable motivations and is the character I’m perhaps most interested in following - I want to know if her attitude towards the Witch Guard changes or if she struggles with wanting to belong to an oppressive system.

But as much as my attitudes towards individual characters varies, I really loved the way some of them interacted with Nyneve. Nyneve’s mother, for example, was wonderfully supportive and fiercely protective of her daughter, and seeing that mother-daughter bond was one of the most touching parts of this book. I also enjoyed the rapport between Nyneve and Banana, the talking raven. While Nyneve could be rather unkind to Banana, I ultimately enjoyed how loyal the latter was, and the banter was fairly entertaining.

TL:DR: Despite some stumbles, Witchy is a delightful graphic novel with charming art and a fascinating fantastical world. While I wish the protagonist had more definitive convictions and the plot was a little more focused, I ultimately enjoyed the story and am curious to see how the characters will develop in volume 2.

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mahikacorpus · 28 days

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ARTIST STATEMENT

First of all, I wanted to thank everyone for the support given to me to even start this project. My partner who let me call and complain to them about line weight or fingers being the bane of my existence, my professor who did her best to reign me in from biting off more than I could chew, my kasamas who let me ask them questions about schooling in the Philippines, thank you to everyone who listened or offered a suggestion. Thank you to the library for letting me check out an odd number of books, heaps at a time (and telling me that it's cool if I returned one late because its due date wouldn't change from the same day I checked it out.)

It went through many more revisions than I anticipated and had to place this project on pause a few times while life happened around me, but I finally have my bits and pieces that I'm really proud of putting out into the world! Obviously, I wish that I was able to complete the entire piece but sometimes the message you want to imbue into the world through art has to be on pause while you use your physical body to put the work in.

What made you want to make a komik?

I wanted to make a komik because I think that the visual medium of storytelling is so interesting since unlike oral storytelling or prose, the words aren't the only important element. Poses, lighting, color, detail vs lack of detail, and brush choices, are all incredibly important in tone and what an illustrator wants to convey. It was also an important medium to me based on the message of my story which puts images and words in a hard tension with each other. A picture can mean a million different things based on the text captioned underneath it. But when that caption, or those words are used to paint a unreliable narrative, it's important to wonder why and examine to what end.

What aspects of the class did you take inspiration from/where did you use your research?

Each section was inspired and based off of research I had done about the medium I was exploring. For example, with the newspaper, I took a lot of inspiration from how the news right now use certain words in order to paint the narrative that best serves a certain political idea. For example, the adultification of people of color, usually black children, in order to dehumanize them and garner less sympathy. Studies have been done by USC and Georgetown University about the negative impact that it has on young children, particularly young black girl's mental health. It is also important to note that while these intuitions have studies on the adultification bias, they also actively ignore the adultification bias that is currently affecting Palestinian children who are being murdered by Israeli soldiers.

However, I also heavily researched newspapers during Duterte's presidency in the Philippines during his war on drugs and the extrajudicial killings that took place. Language in the media was very important as is shown in the documentary about Maria Ressa: A Thousand Cuts. This documentary not only helped with the newpaper angle that I was interested in, but also the online small reporting blog that is called Snapport in the komik--after Rappler in real life. There is a very political conversation surrounding the usage of language a mainly visual based medium. When words are repressed or censored, can an image do the work on its own?

As for the final section, the Zine section, I took the most inspiration from Bamboo Girl and Call Out Queen. Along with looking into other Filipino zines from the Philippine Zine Collection. Since they tend to be the most DIY and freeform, I decided to really have fun with format and layout.

What conversations did you want to engage with?

I wanted to talk to a sort of demonization power that the media has and how it is so easy to use it to affect the social consciousness. I've thought about this a lot since learning about the Philippines under Martial Law. Because the Marcos not only had control of the narrative, mainly through cultural/media presence, but also through being the ones actively rewriting the history books. However, on the other end, how social media (which hasn't been regulated to the point of news outlets) allows for these stories to be heard and told.

I also wanted to look at the power of images versus words. In the komik, the first page is words over-powering a small image. The words are targeted and biased solely based on opinion. But as the story progresses, it's clear to see how the beginning narrative ripples through the community. How people the farthest away from the scene, mainly due to class or privilege, feel educated enough to speak up on it due to reading the news--without considering the bias the news might have toward affirming ideas of a lower class to the upper class. (This is something that has been prevalent all throughout the history of news, to the point that the first printed photo in a US newspaper was on March 4th, 1880 in the Daily Graphic, and the image was that of a shanty town. Giving the upper class something to gawk over at how people could live in such a way.)

It was important to me that the ending scene and beginning scene were the ones I focused on. I wanted to begin with words, dictating how you should feel about the blurred image of violence which is used more for shock value than important context, and ending with an image of coming together, of community and support, of love.

What was one of your biggest challenges?

Probably the most expected answer, time. It was consistently running against me, especially since I felt I kept spending the most time researching and revising rather than actually drawing. This ended up really kicking my butt, but also forcing me to pick the most important images and feelings I wanted my audience to come away from my piece with. It made me take this ginormous story which more than likely could've gotten away with me and made me distill it into its most saturated moments.

What did you fall short of?

There was so much more that I wanted to do and explore with formatting in conventional and unconventional ways that I'm not sure got across due to the small number of pages. However, I made sure to be 100% proud of the pages I produced, so I believe that's the silver lining.

#Mahika Corpus #Artist Statement

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taechaos · 3 years

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Freaky Idea

Pt. 2 of New Idea

pairing: Stepbrother!Taehyung x Fem!Reader

genre: oneshot, pseudo-incest, smut

synopsis: The last guaranteed day you have with Taehyung is spent with his choice of adventure. You learn a lot of things about the history of freakshows, and how much of a freak your brother is as well.

warnings: mention of murder and somnophilia, riding, manipulation

word count: 3.8k

When Taehyung agreed to being your slave for a month, he wasn’t lying. He was attached to your hip throughout the whole time span, obeying your every command without complaint. You didn’t deem him forgiven, but you can’t say you don’t enjoy his company and compliance. The whole month was a bliss for you.

The first week, the morning after the… event, you had him prepare breakfast for you and your mother walked in on him cooking an omelette for you. She was perplexed, and with her morning drowsiness asked, “You’re home?” before smothering him with a hug. Your father gave him the minimum acknowledgement, and it went by quickly with your mother being surprised every time she saw him in the morning.

The second week, he drove you around and paid for your every need. You don’t know how he has so much money, but you wouldn’t be surprised if he sells drugs or had robbed a bank. You decided to reward him by kissing his cheek every time he bought you clothes and jewelries per your request. He realized he enjoyed spoiling you, and took you shopping in different malls for 7 days straight.

The third week, you met his friend. You had insisted, and he gave in after a short while of you begging because it was difficult to say no to you and rules are rules. His terms were: 1. You're going to act like his girlfriend, and 2. You sit on his lap. Maybe you didn't get it, but his friend Namjoon didn't seem dangerous enough for you to be behaving the way you were forced to. Sitting in front of a burning barrel in the middle of nowhere, Taehyung and Namjoon smoked weed together while you watched them. The conversation was fun, and you wanted to see him again. Taehyung didn’t allow you to question the ordeal. Rest of the week went by a breeze.

Fourth week was relatively calm as well, and now Taehyung is on his final day of slavery. It’s somewhat melancholic for you because you don’t know if he’ll vanish once the clock hits 12. You’re sitting on the kitchen counter, swinging your dangling legs while your step-brother inspects the fridge to find you something for lunch. The two of you woke up late this morning, well, afternoon, and you don’t know why you feel so exhausted and sore. You’ve been feeling this way for a whole month now, but you’re growing somewhat used to it.

“This bitch is empty,” Taehyung grumbles before closing the fridge and standing up straight. When he notices your soft pout, he slithers his way between your legs. “What’s wrong princess? Are you tired?”

“Will you be here tomorrow?” you blurt without beating around the bush and peek at him under your lashes.

His brow ticks as he tilts his head. “Did you want to do something?”

“Well, no,” you drawl, “I just wish… you were here more often.”

"You know I can't stay away from you for long," he counters your worries, "especially if you allowed me to…"

"Stop." You distance yourself by pushing him away; you don't want to think about what he was implying. You made it explicitly clear that anything remotely sexual wasn't allowed to be brought up when you were around, and he’s been sticking to that rule until now - to your knowledge, at least.

“Stop teasing your sister, Taehyung.” your mother enters the kitchen while tying the knot of her robe, now checking the fridge herself.

He rolls his eyes before turning to her and retaliating, “I didn’t even do anything.” You giggle to yourself and bite your fist. “Did I tease you?” he asks innocently with his neck craned in your direction.

“Yes, he doesn’t even make me breakfast,” you joke with a grin.

“The fridge is fucking empty!”

“Language,” your mother warns strictly before taking out a box of frozen pizza. “And it isn’t empty. Could you turn on the oven for me, love?” You nod and arrange the heat to 200 degrees while Taehyung scoffs, “I can’t survive in a house with women.”

“Man up,” your step-father butts in monotonously. “You have to rely on your mother to cook to this day. When will you move out? Act your age Taehyung, you’re 21.”

The light-hearted atmosphere dims with the presence of Taehyung’s father. There’s a distinct contrast between your two parents, and you can understand why your step-brother is so rebellious around them. The only thing holding them together is their dedication to religion.

He only huffs and crosses his arms in response as his dad grabs a carton of juice and a glass from the cupboard. It’s tense in the room until Taehyung leans into your ear and whispers, “I’m only here because of you.”

A light blush tints your cheeks at his sweet confession, although it also makes you guilty. He later convinces you to eat with him in your room, and it’s comfortable in your bed as you chomp on the slices hungrily.

“Is there anything you want to do today?” Taehyung asks as he chews on his pizza.

“Let’s do something you want for a change,” you answer after swallowing.

Though he hasn’t been showing any lack of interest around you, you are aware that you haven’t been doing anything fun by his definition. You’re worried that you’ve bored him throughout this whole timespan of being together.

A smirk grows on his face and there’s that glint of mischief in his eyes that you’ve missed. Fair, the last time you saw it was before he traumatized you, but you try not to think about it much like you ignore the constant ache between your legs.

“There’s this circus,” he begins slowly, “I hear it’s interesting. Would you want to come with?”

You know he’s leaving something out, his cautious tone and aura implicit he knows something you don’t. But you nod anyway, because you still stupidly trust him.

Taehyung’s car is old and retro, but he must have upgraded the engines for how fast he is driving. You like admiring his side profile as he holds the steering wheel, but the view is much more interesting when he catches you looking. It’s a far location, and you’re out of the city by the time he parks his car in the woods. How did he memorize the directions when it took an hour to get there?

“We’re here,” he announces before shifting the manual stick gear with a screech. You exit the car and he is not gentle with the way he slams the door closed, so you do the same. You can see hints of red colors between the cracks of the thin trees.

“Is it open?” you question apprehensively. The sun hasn’t set yet, but it should be getting dark soon in the evening.

“Hasn’t been open for a century. You wouldn’t believe the amount of history this place has.”

He takes the lead in his steps, and you follow behind though your gut doesn’t approve. The path isn’t long, and only then do you see the circus when Taehyung moves aside. It’s run down, worn out colors in the curtains, broken glasses on the ground and the circus barely holding itself up. There’s a huge cannon in the middle of the stage, the tip balancing itself on the ground. It’s kind of creepy, but Taehyung doesn’t leave you in the dark for long.

“A lot of crazy shit happened here, you know,” he piques your curiosity, “the clowns were fucking freaks. Any type of physical disorder landed you in here, whether you liked it or not. Even for babies,” he picks up an idle shard of glass, “these were jars. They had deformed fetuses on display on a stand, but the wind must have fucked it up.”

“Deformed fetuses?”

“Yeah, like, conjoined and some other stuff.” You grimace at his description, although it stirs empathy in you. The 20th century sounds inhumane.

“Are these real stories?”

“Yeah. And the cannon: they rocketed people from this very bad boy,” he points at it before standing under.

Your stomach sinks as you panic, “It could fall on you!” You pull at his hand and the force makes your chests meet. He smiles down at you before pecking your lips. You stammer, a little mad as he chuckles before walking to a wooden wheel. He makes a star pose after stepping on the metal stand, stretching out his limbs to fit the whole circle.

“This was the Wheel of Death; they threw knives at targets on this. I think they only targeted females actually...” He nods at you to replace him as he hops off. You go along with his idea and climb on the stand, though it creaks weakly. He takes out a pocket knife from his pocket and you’re about to yell before he hurls it at you. It lands above your shoulder and you immediately scold, “What the fuck, Tae?! Why would you do that! I could’ve died.”

He shrugs with a bright grin, clearly unbothered by your stressing. “My aim isn’t too bad.” He walks over to you and collects his floating knife. “Besides, when have I ever hurt you?”

You bite your tongue and purse your lips with a glare.

“See?” he whispers. “You can’t even name one time…”

He’s teasing your silence, how you can’t even dare to voice the specific night. You haven’t even told your parents and slept with him right after, and he finds that so interesting: that you trust him with your life.

“You actually can’t? Wow, I didn’t realize I was such a good brother,” he grins lopsidedly before snapping his fingers. “On with the tour.” He is enthusiastic as he struts past the circus. You shake your head with a sigh but follow him regardless. “So there were sword swallowers, acrobats, strongmen, anything that drew attention. They had a shit ton of accidents and deaths, but you would die if you got boring as well.” Taehyung holds back a bush to let you pass; the place he’s leading you to is a lot more crowded with sages and trees than the previous path. “Once the initial attraction wears off, you’re a goner. They couldn’t survive in that society with those deformities, so it was suicide either way.”

“That is so cruel,” you mumble sympathetically. “This place was like a fractured fantasy.”

“At least they lived for a bit… up until someone ended it.” When he pushes away the woodruffs, you’re met with another rundown site with a few… cages? “This is the trailer. Where they stayed and got ready for their shows. Some were held against their will, and slept with the animals in those cages.”

You gape at your surroundings in shock. The trailer is missing one side of the wall, and the rest have been vandalized with random phrases written in spray paint. You don’t give much attention to the torture cages, because the trailer has a lot more to show. It still has couches on the incomplete hardwood flooring, and Taehyung plops on one. The fabric is torn and dust rises the moment he’s on the seat. “That’s so dirty, Tae,” you pull a displeased face.

“Don’t be rude to the past occupants. Their ghosts might still be around.” He wiggles his fingers as if imitating a monster. He then pats his thighs, beckoning you to sit on his lap. You begrudgingly do so, and he wraps his arms around your waist before pulling you flush against him. “Any theories on how this shitshow ended?”

“Police intervention?”

“Something like that, I guess. One of the acrobats went nuts and shot everyone, so the place was shut down.”

“What?” you widen your eyes at him. “Why did they do that?”

“He was going to be replaced, so he got rid of the competition. Very chilling,” he casually states. “There must be some bullet holes in the walls, but we can check that out later.” His head snuggles into your neck while you’re still processing his words, but you go blank when he starts leaving feather light kisses on your neck. “Right now,” he murmurs, “I just want you to ride me.”

“Ride you?”

“Don’t act innocent, you know what I mean. You said I could choose what we did today… and I want to fuck here.”

“Taehyung… I specifically told you we aren’t allowed to do anything sexual. You hurt me last time as well,” you frown at the mention.

“I asked you if I ever hurt you earlier. Did you say anything?” he asks condescendingly.

“No…”

“Why are you saying I hurt you now? Don’t tell lies, baby. Besides,” his hand slides down to your thigh as he speaks in a low, sultry voice, “I’ve been loosening up your cunt. You don’t even wake up at night anymore. It won’t hurt this time, I promise.”

You had an inkling, the stupid inkling that you tried so damn hard to brush aside. “You fucked me in my sleep?” you force out, your mouth suddenly feeling dry. “And you brought me here just to–”

“Christ, no,” he cuts you off offendedly, “I’m not that sick in the head. I didn’t plan it, but I can’t say I wasn’t hoping. It’s not like I’m going to rape you.”

“You did it once!”

“I was on a lot of drugs then! I’m clean now,” he huffs in irritation. “I’m sorry about that, and I know my apology is long overdue or whatever, but give me a break. I’ve been into you since I was like 16.”

You turn to look at him - really look at him. There’s not a trace of guilt on his face; the roots of his messy teal hair have grown out; the beauty of his naturally downward lip corners; you don’t know what to think. Your mind is a mess because you don’t know what to make of his confession. He has manipulated you countless times, coerced you into doing things you would never do, and for once you reflect on his personality. This could be one of his schemes in order to get you to do what he wants, and ironically, he was supposed to be doing that for you. Through all of your scrambled thoughts, you only muster a meek “really?”

“Yes,” he affirms, “that’s why I want to be intimate with you.”

Lies, lies, lies, you think before gently pressing your lips against his. Despite your attempt at kissing him softly, he doesn’t cooperate by instantly sucking on your nether lip with vigor, his hands immediately meeting at your hips to gently rock them against his crotch. He bites your lip before swiping his tongue against it, coaxing, “Suck on my tongue.” The awkward angle from where you’re kissing him makes him turn your body to completely face him, your knees landing on either side of him on the uncomfortable chair. It doesn’t matter, because you’re starting to forget the whole setting, just about everything except for him as arousal begins to seep in. Heat pools in your stomach at the switch in mood, and he’s enjoying your compliance as he quietly moans into your mouth.

While you’re busy relishing in his swirling tongue, he starts tugging down your pants and you help him without looking. You sit up to push it down your ankles and throw it on the floor along with your panties. “What’s gotten into you?” he chuckles breathlessly before leaving wet kisses on your lips and pulling away to take off his wrinkled shirt.

“What do you mean?” you ask, equally breathless.

“I don’t know, you’re just… so hot when you’re horny.” His boyish smile grows on your flustered face as he says, “Take off your shirt. Wanna see those pretty tits again.”

You bite your lip to suppress your insecurities, but it doesn’t help when you’re left in your bra as you cover your chest. “Don’t be shy now,” he teases knowingly and removes your arms before unclasping the garment. “Take out my cock now.” His tone is gentle with encouragement. You unzip his jeans timidly, but your eyes grow in wonder at the outline of his erection. “I’m so hard for you,” he assures you in a whisper and takes your hand in his to rub himself. “You’re so pretty, and sexy. I fucked you every night because you’re just so irresistible. You understand, don’t you, baby?”

“I… Yes,” you agree and finally push down his briefs. His throbbing cock stands proudly and you’re intimidated by the size until he murmurs, “I won’t hurt you.” He lightly touches your bare pussy, slick with your arousal as you shudder. He coats your vulva with all of it, giving special attention to your clenching hole as he inserts a single finger. “Does it hurt?”

You shake your head, and you’re confused by the lack of pain and the desire for more. It feels good and that is a surprise for you as you sink down lower on his finger. He curls it, adds another finger and stretches your walls, emitting a moan out of you. You’re liking it, and you don’t know why; he was so cruel the last time that you were convinced something would go wrong now. Nothing does, and if anything, his fingers make you feel the best you have ever felt though it is not enough. “More,” you beg and he replaces his fingers by pulling you to the head of his cock. He’s staring right at you with hooded lids as he rubs it up and down, making you release a needy whimper. “Please, Taehyung.”

And like the slave he was meant to be, he shoves it in with a grunt. Your scream catches in your throat at the initial sting, but it’s worth it when he screws his eyes shut in pleasure and bites his lip to hold back a groan. He looks angelic under you, although he is anything but. You realize he is waiting for your cue to move, and it flutters your hearts because he is more attentive to you this time. Rather than letting him take the lead, you act on your instincts as you roll your hips. It’s unsteady at first, the foreign position making it difficult for you to adapt to so fast. His audible quick breaths encourage you to take your time in angling your pelvis comfortably, and when an involuntary moan leaves you, you place your hands on his shoulders before sticking to the current stance and going up and down on him.

“Oh shit, you’re doing so well,” he praises you between gasps, supporting your body with his hands, “feels so fucking good. My good girl.”

It gets to your head, how much he’s enjoying your motions. He meets them with thrusts of his own, perfectly hitting your cervix and blinding you with pleasure. What is it that makes you feel so wonderful in this situation? Is it the touch, or the complimentary fact that you’re the only person Taehyung wouldn’t get bored of?

Could it be that you’re two of the same?

Maybe he’s the one desperate to please you, you think as he massages your breasts, flicking your hard nipples with his thumbs so graciously. The eerie silence is broken by both of your loud moans, ecstasy sensually building up in knots in your stomachs. Sweat accumulates on your forehead, your hair sticking to your face but not hiding the sight of his erotic expression. You arch your back and grind down on him, and he’s limp on the loveseat as he takes all that you give him so submissively.

It’s your turn to use him, and you actually start understanding what makes him so rash and impulsive in hopes of receiving this amount of serotonin. It’s worth it, the release of control and morals to be with him. “Taehyung, h-how did you do it?” you moan. “Every night, what did you do?”

“I,” he tries to catch his breath, “I used my fingers to stretch you out. One finger, then two, then three.” He groans and thrusts into you fast and hard, “I fisted you at some point, and you came in your sleep, and then on my cock. Moaning and whining every fucking night, like some filthy whore.” You mewl at his crude words. He’s so obscene with you, and you clench your walls in response. “You like being my whore, hm? Little freak.”

“Yes, yes,” you confirm in a whimper, nodding your head as you pass the dominance onto him. He’s fucking into you while you stand on your knees, eyes rolled back with drool about to drip from the corner of your mouth. He starts to rub your clit and kisses your neck for you to tighten around him over and over again; it’s heaven in an empty graveyard. It’s so fucked up, yet he can’t stop. You’re panting as he manipulates your body to mold with his. “I’m close.”

His hands fall on your ass, greedily kneading it as your hips begin to stutter, your orgasm climbing up just as your energy is falling down. It hits you like a truck: the peak of pleasure, accompanied by a silent scream, nails digging into his skin as your muscles tense. “Fuck,” you breathe once his thrusts begin overstimulating you, but it’s not for long as he shoots his load inside you with a groan. He’s twitching as his erection becomes flaccid, and you feel it as he pulls out.

“Bet it didn’t hurt,” he jokes while you recover from your climax. You’re leaking with his cum and he uses his shirt to wipe you clean, making you shake from how sensitive you are. “I’ll buy you the pill on the way home.”

“Thanks,” you plainly say and stand up to pick up your clothes. You’re trembling slightly and a little achy, but it’s nothing compared to losing your virginity.

“What? You gonna give me the cold shoulder now?” He’s only in his loose pants and has his shirt thrown over his shoulder. He buckles his belt while you put on your bra.

“Why did you make us act like a couple in front of Namjoon?” After hearing his confession, the interaction before bugs you.

“What do you mean?”

“Is it because you didn’t want him to think I was single? Because you like me?”

“No, he’s a convicted felon. Crazy motherfucker killed his ex’s new boyfriend,” he reveals with a scoff. “Besides, if you like me, you’d like him as well.”

Putting your shock aside, you realize one thing: Taehyung doesn’t want to be replaced. Does that mean you hold power over him? Or will he do anything at any cost to be in your life? Regardless of your internal monologue, you only reply with, “who says I like you?”

It’s a joke, and he knows it. As promised, he buys you an emergency pill and another shirt for himself on the way home. His days of slavery are over, and you wonder: where will he be tomorrow? Maybe take his father’s advice…

#bts imagines #bts x reader #bts scenarios #bts smut #kim taehyung #taehyung x reader #taehyung smut #bts fic #taehyung fic #kth smut #bts #thekpopnetwork

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in-ky · 3 years

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An Old Scent [1] - Negan x Reader (A/B/O AU)

Summary: During summer break, you decide to come back home to visit your dad, Rick. Over the course of your stay, you realize that your dad's friend is pretty hot.

Warnings: Eventual smut, A/B/O dynamics, cheating, age gap, Negan

A/N: yay first fic! this will have four parts! i hope everyone enjoys. this is an au where the apocalypse never happened. 3.2k words

I squinted as I stepped out into the bright Virginian sun. People swarmed all around me, creating the steady hum of airport ambience that I had grown accustomed to over the years. I had just gotten off a four-hour flight home from college and all I wanted to do was shower and curl up in bed. But I couldn't. Oh, no. First I had to endure a fun thirty-minute car ride with my best friend since second grade. I scanned the curb in front of me for her small black car and caught sight of a tall woman waving at me. I grinned and walked forward, tugging along my baggage behind me.

"Ugh, it's so good to see you, Bee." I sighed as I enveloped my friend into a large hug. She let out a laugh and swayed us gently.

"It's good to see you, too," She hummed, rustling my hair "I forgot how short you were." Bee was an alpha; tall, muscular, and very quick to remind me of our differences. Of course, it was in a 'joking with love' kind of way. I was an omega; small, rounded, and very quick to punch her gently in the abdomen.

"I forgot how much of a jerk you are." I quipped, huffing and wheeling my bag to her trunk.

"Oh, come on, babes, don't be like that," Bee laughed, opening the driver side door and waiting for me to walk back to my side. "Now get in, we've got a lot of catching up to do."

---

"How are your heats going?"

"Jesus, that's what you want to start with?" I scoffed, crossing my arms over my chest. Bee shrugged.

"We don't have to if you don't want to," She clarified, turning out onto the street "I'm just saying, I know they've gotten pretty bad as we've gotten older. Did you try out those tips I sent you?"

"Yea, I did," I said quietly, looking at the trees rushing by on the side of the highway "They worked for a while but..."

"But you need an alpha," Bee sighed, finishing the sentence for me.

"That's the plan for this summer," I agreed "Might finally settle down."

"You know, I'm always here if you need me." She said with a wink. I scoffed at her.

"I'm not that desperate," I laughed, shoving her lightly "Not yet, at least."

"Anyone take your interest back in Colorado?"

"Not really," I hummed, tilting my head in consideration. "There was this one guy. We dated for a few months but towards the end he became a total knot-head. He couldn't keep his hands off me. I thought it was cute at first, but after I started to miss a few classes...well, that shit got old pretty quickly." Bee made a disgusted noise.

"Ugh, men," She grunted, wrinkling her nose "I'm glad I never went through that phase. I'm perfectly happy with chicks, thank you very much. Much less of a pain in my ass."

"Oh, they're not so bad," I smirked "I think it's just alphas in general." She glared at me momentarily and I stuck my tongue out at her. We drove in a comfortable silence for a few moments, just enjoying each other's company. That was always something I loved about Bee. We never had to fill every second with chatter, we could just exist together in the same space and be just as content. She started to hum along to the song that buzzed softly from the radio and my eyes tracked a hawk. Soon enough, we reached our exit and Bee turned the car onto a smaller road, starting the countdown to my arrival home.

"Are you excited to see your dad?" Bee asked, killing the silence.

"Yea, I am," I smiled. We hadn't always had the best of relationships, but the distance that college gave had done wonders for us. A few texts and calls had worked perfectly for us. When he invited me to stay a few weeks during summer I gladly accepted. I wanted to see just how well our relationship had strengthened. Plus I knew he really needed someone.

"How's he doing?" There was genuine concern in Bee's voice. A few months ago, my mom had revealed that she had been having an affair with one of dad's work buddies. She left with him and took my brother down to Georgia.

"I think he's okay. But you know dad, he's not really an emotions guy. He was starting to get some closure but then the divorce papers came in the mail. That really hurt him," I told her, twisting a strand of my hair around my finger. "I just don't know how Lori could do that to him, you know? She won't even let Carl up to visit. The new baby's cute, though. Looks just like Shane." Bee hummed in acknowledgement.

"Well, tell him I said hi, alright?"

"Will do." A few more seconds of silence passed. Until we stopped at a light. Bee looked up and spotted a billboard that sported a very familiar, very handsome face.

"Holy shit!" Bee shrieked, slapping my arm.

"Ow, what the hell?" I hissed, grabbing my shoulder. She pointed frantically at the sign.

"That guy! Isn't that, shit- the hell's his name?" Pulling my eyes from my lap, I let them settle on the object of her excitement. All of the color drained from my face. It was an add for a law firm. There was an old geezer posing proudly on the left, and to his right, was the man who haunted my wet dreams for the majority of high school.

"Negan." I gulped.

"Yea, your dad's hot friend you never shut up about." Bee groaned, pressing on the gas and moving us away from the sign. Negan was a lawyer/make-shift-law-professor and baseball coach at the local community college. He had a sort-of contract with my dad's department. Many times I had come home after school to the two of them puzzling out a case on the kitchen table. Negan was an alpha of alphas, something that got my little omega heart (and other things) pumping until I couldn't breath. His humor and dominating persona made me blush a deep crimson color any time I saw him. Sometimes I would spend hours sitting on the stairs just listening to him talk to my dad. His voice was something else. I had gushed to Bee about him countless times during our times at high school. But I hadn't seen him since my graduation party.

"I wonder if you'll see him again," Bee teased, nudging me again to pull me out of my trance of memories. Then, she did a dramatic gasp. "What if he's your mate?" It was my turn to slap her in the shoulder.

"He's older than my dad!" I squealed, burying my now-blushing cheeks in my hands.

"You're an adult I don't think it matters."

"I think he's engaged."

"Just 'cause there's a goalie doesn't mean you can't scoooore." Bee pulled a face at me and I returned her grimace.

"Whatever, you're lucky we're almost at my house." I huffed, falling back into my seat with my arms crossed over my chest.

"Oh, yea, omega? What are you gonna do?" I rolled my eyes as she laughed off my grumpiness. We rolled to a stop in front of my driveway and a leaned in to give her a kiss on the cheek.

"Thanks so much, Bee, I really appreciate you," I grinned, popping open the door.

"No problem, babes," She winked, unlocking the trunk "But I swear to the gods, you better fucking call me and give me updates on everything, especially if you run into Mr. Hotcakes." I rolled my eyes once more and promised her I would before closing the door. I retrieved my bag and gave her a wave as she drove down the street. When she was out of view, I took a deep breath and turned around, walking up the driveway to the front door.

I knocked heavily on the dark oak door. While I waited for someone to answer, I decided to look around at the home I had left behind about a year ago. My childhood home had changed now and then over the years, but there were still some iconic pieces of memories in the front yard that could never be forgotten. My personal favorite was Eddie the garden gnome. He was a standard gnome: small and stout with a large white beard that led into a pointy red hat. His eyes were shut and his mouth was curved into a smile. However, he was missing a nose. I grinned as I recalled the unfortunate mishap that caused Eddie to become deformed. I was about twelve, and carl was five. He had gotten a kid's baseball from Negan for his birthday and had begged me to teach him how to play, since I was on the local softball team at the time. I relented and set it up in the front yard. Eddie was our outfielder. Eddie didn't have a mitt. Well, he did, but it was his face. Carl absolutely smashed the first pitch I tossed at him and hit poor Eddie right in the face, shattering his round, pink nose into pieces. Carl bursted into tears and I had to promise him that he did not in fact kill our precious protector of our house. Lori ran out frantically and comforted her son before giving me a thorough chewing out for damaging Eddie. We never used the set again. That she knew of, anyways. Negan always let us play in his yard, though. I smiled at the memory, but the clicking of the lock to the door pulled me from my train of thought. The door swung open and I was met with the smiling face of my father.

"Sweetie, I'm so glad you made it!" He laughed, pulling me in swiftly and squeezing me tight.

"It's good to see you too, dad." I croaked, letting out a small chuckle. I tapped on his shoulder as a signal for him to let go.

"How was the flight?" He asked as he stepped out to grab my bag. I told him it was good but that the screaming kids had given me a bit of a headache. He gave a small laugh and gestured for me to enter. I thanked him and he rolled my bag in behind me. We exchanged a few words but as soon as I walked through the kitchen into the doorway of the living room I was hit by a wall. Not literally, no, but rather a wall of overwhelming scent. It was a delicious swirl of campfire and whiskey, with a hint of cigarettes and leather. I paused for a moment, my eyes forced closed and my lungs taking a deep breath of the intoxicating air. Colors danced across my eyelids. My whole body was flooded with warmth and my toes tingled. I felt safe and calm, and there was something else; something deep within my stomach that I couldn't quite identify, something I never felt before. My eyes snapped open when I felt my father's hand rest firmly on my shoulder.

"I hope you don't mind, sweetie, but I invited company over while I was waiting for you to arrive," He smiled at me. I got a good look at him then. He looked the same, his hair was a bit longer, a bit greyer. But his eyes were different. They were darker, rounder, rawer. I gave a soft smile and told him it was fine. He guided me into the living room. It was then I realized where that deadly smell was coming from. Or, rather, who it was coming from. "Negan, you remember my girl." In that moment, I held my breath as I scanned Negan. He looked fucking amazing, just as he always had. Perfect dimples guarding a charming smile, all surrounded by a gorgeous salt and pepper beard. His hair was longer than it was when I had left, not slicked back, but it still framed his face perfectly. Negan's body was draped casually over the sectional couch, legs crossed at the ankle on the ottoman. His arms were on the top of the couch and his wrists were dangling. He knew he was hot. That bastard. I suddenly became aware of his eyes raking over my form and I shifted from one foot to the other.

"'course I do, Rick," Negan said, voice silky and deep. I couldn't help but let a small shudder run down my spine. All I wanted to do was kneel down in front of him and curl up at his feet. I forced my inner omega down, shaking the thought from my head. "How could I forget the little slugger?" I cringed inside at the nickname. Especially the use of the word 'little'. I begged that he didn't still see me as the kid down the street. Instead as a grown woman. A grown omega.

"Hi, Negan." I greeted with a small smile, swallowing to relieve my dry throat. Now that I was next to him, his scent was clogging all my senses. I gripped onto the couch and lowered myself onto the cushion, hoping to ground myself. It helped, just barely. My heart was pounding, my instincts telling me to submit to this man in front of me. Why, though? Why now? He had never smelled this good before. No alpha had. Was I getting close to my heat? I did have a stomach ache, but that could be from Negan alone.

"Hey, sweetheart. How's college goin'?" Negan asked, sipping on his drink. He kept eye contact with me the whole time. Rick handed me a glass of soda and I thanked him.

"It's good!" I said after taking a sip, thankful for the hydration in my coarse throat "Towards the end it got a little hectic, but I was able to stay on top of everything, thankfully."

"You're studying film, right?" He asked, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees.

"That's right," I grinned, crossing my legs to relieve some of the pressure the movement caused to build up in my lower abdomen "You still teaching law?" This caused him to chuckle. Literally music to my ear.

"If that's what you want to fuckin' call it." Negan sighed, falling back to his original position, hands resting in his lap "I talk, the kids kinda listen. I just do it for the coaching job, really. You remember how much I love that damn sport, right?"

"Baseball?" I asked, raising a brow "You mean the only thing you talked about at all of the Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners you were invited to?"

"Touché." Negan grinned. Goddamn that smile. Butterflies erupted in my chest, beating hard against my ribcage, begging to throw myself at his chest and bury myself in him. Rick cleared his throat and smiled at me to get my attention.

"I want to know more about your college experience!" He beamed, rubbing a hand through his beard "Any special alphas you've got your eyes on?" I heard Negan choke slightly on his whiskey. A small bubble of pride rose in my chest. I laughed at his words.

"Dad, I don't think Negan wants to hear about my love life."

"Shit, doll, I don't mind," He grumbled "I don't get to hear any drama now-a-days"

"What do you mean?" I giggled, tilting my head "You argue for a living. Your job is to literally deal with drama."

"Yea, but that's complex drama," He growled, waving his hand dismissively "I wanna hear simple, schoolgirl 'he loves me, he loves me not' kind of bullshit."

"Well sorry to disappoint," I snorted, running a hand through my hair "but no, there's no one I have an eye on." Dad's smile turned into a frown.

"Shame." I heard Negan whisper. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to hear it. It was quiet, barely above his breath, and he said it while twirling his whiskey, following the words with a large gulp.

"You really should start looking, dear." Dad said with a sigh "You know it only gets harder as you get older."

"Dad please, I don't..." I cut him off "Listen, I appreciate you trying to understand this stuff, I really do, but I don't really want to talk about it with my father." He looked at me with an understanding smile.

"Sure," He nodded "But if you ever need anything, anything at all, you just let me know, alright." I nodded.

"Well, this sure has been fun, Ricky-boy," Negan grinned, getting to his feet and stretching his arms far above his head. "We do have that big court case in the mornin', though, and I need my shut-eye."

"Big case, eh?" I asked, rising from my seat as well. Dad nodded and excitement sparked in his eyes.

"You should come! It's an open court and I would love for you to see what I do. I know you always wanted to as a kid, but your mom made you wait until you were older. Well, now's the perfect time!" He rambled, grasping my shoulders.

"W-Well, I dunno, I don't want to be a distraction," I stumbled, taken aback by my father's display of enthusiasm. I turned to Negan, as if asking for permission. He just laughed.

"Oh-o, doll, I don't get distracted. Not in there, not anywhere. Don't you worry about a goddamn thing. You should come, Rick seems like he really wants you to."

"Okay, then," I grinned, nodding in commitment "I'll see you there in the morning then." I looked up to Negan and we locked eyes for a brief moment. But in that moment, something within me quivered. He brushed up against me and smirked down at me.

"See you tomorrow, sweetheart. It was nice to see you. You're lookin' great." It took all my willpower not to let out a whimper as he walked past me, taking his glorious scent with him.

My dad said that he should also get some rest, but that I could stay up as long as I wanted to. I was pretty wiped from my flight so I opted to follow him up the narrow staircase, tugging my bag behind me. I hugged him goodnight and stepped into my room. It hadn't been touched since I left last summer. The forest green bedspread was still perfectly tucked into the mattress and two plump pillows were perched at the head of the bed. My muscles ached for the soft release of sleep. I put my suitcase down by my dresser, taking a moment to smile at some old photos of me and Bee as kids. I showered and brushed my teeth before getting into the comfortable bed. I looked up at the ceiling and giggled softly at the glow-in-the-dark stars shining overhead. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. I wasn't thinking of anything in particular, but for some reason, all of my dreams were plagued by the sweet smell, sound, sight, feeling, and taste of Negan.

#negan x y/n #negan x reader #negan smith #negan x you #alpha!negan #omega!reader #a/b/o kink #twd a/b/o #a/b/o dynamics

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cloudyempress · 4 years

Text

Storge || K. Muzan + Upper moons

✦ Fluff, comedy, manga spoilers, child!reader, reader is Muzan's daughter.

- This was originally published in wattpad.

Storge (noun); familial love, the love of a parent towards offspring and vice versa.

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

They called you Little Misfortune. Spending time with you was a nightmare worse than disagreeing with Muzan. Your seven year old self could only think of their faces as a canvas to use the paint your father regularly buys you. A few minutes babysitting you was the equivalent of being in rainbow land and hell at the same time. And if you had a single, microscopic scratch at the end of the day, they would suffer severe consequences.

Kokushibo hated how much you'd tug his hair and make fun of his eyes, along with your hideous loudness. Hantengu ran away from you when he realized how deadly adorable you could be, forcing him to become tiny so you could put him inside your dollhouse. Gyokko had to put up with you breaking his pots and making disgusting faces whenever you saw him, also having to praise your artwork even if he disliked it. Gyutaro found you incredibly annoying, but loves when you disagree with him being ugly and laughs when you prank Daki. Talking about her, she's the upper moon that hates you the most since you gained all the attention from Muzan and you generally bothered her. Akaza was the nicest out of them, so you'd crawl onto his arms whenever you were scared or feeling tired. Finally, Douma loved you, finding it funny when you blushed at how cute he was or how much you adored playing with him.

Being born a demon, which was a extremely rare case (specially being born from a human and having a lot of human features like aging), you had gained your demon blood art early. This meant more trouble for the Upper moons, you could make them lose control over their arts and breaths (in the case of Kokushibo and other demon slayers).

It was a chaos when you first used it. Hantengu's turn of babysitting you turned into you getting lost in the Dimensional Infinity Fortress, Nakime not being able to know where you were and the rooms moving and shifting randomly. Once Muzan found out, he rushed the other upper moons into an emergency meeting.

"Why are you so incompetent? First the lower moons, and now you as well? Can't you just guard a fucking child?"

Everyone was in complete silence. They knew better than to mess with Muzan when he got angry about something happening to his dear daughter.

"I'm going to say this once. Find (Name) before I disband you. Now."

Not wasting time in saying 'yes', they all left to find you. As the fort was chaos, most of them got smashed into a wall or pushed to the ground. Luckily, Kokushibo had enough instinct to avoid those, quickly finding you eating a giant jar of your favorite ice cream with lots of oreos and sprinkles. You were stuffing your face with it and humming songs, until you noticed that his towering figure was standing next to you, his accusatory six eyes piercing through your soul. You stopped everything you were doing, standing up and taking a defensive pose.

"Come, (Name). Muzan-sama is..."

Before he could continue, you took out pieces of a flute from your dress' pocket and waved them in the air high enough for him to see. Kokushibo frowned in anger and confusion, wondering how you got your hands on his brother's flute, which he usually keeps on him.

"No! I won't give in to a hairy spider like you! I used to have nightmares about you, but now I am not scared!"

"Spiders have eight eyes, (Name)."

But you didn't listen, sticking out your tongue and throwing the pieces in the air, running away the second he shifted his gaze to them instead of you.

The fort was filled with your giggles, sounding like a music only two people liked but the others had to endure it. They just didn't stop until you found Gyokko's freshly painted pots, his colors begging you to smash them into the ground. You climbed the table and shoved them to the edges, then began jumping to see if they would fall or resist the vibrations of your weight against the table. They didn't, falling into the floor and becoming tiny pieces of what they once were.

"DAMN CHILD! HOW DARE YOU DESTROY THE GREAT GYOKKO'S ART?"

"Oops!" you turned around with a cheeky grin adorning your face.

Gyokko launched at you, gritting his teeth.

"I did you a favor! Now you'll have to throw them out in the trash, were they belong"

Before his hands could reach you, a wall as fast as lightning hit him so hard he ended up in another room altogether. You shrugged and kept running around.

Meanwhile, Gyutaro and Daki walked together, both complaining about the situation. He mainly listened to her whine while she rambled on how pointless looking for you was.

"Can't somebody shut up that horrying child laughter?" she screamed at the ceiling.

Gyutaro crossed his arms, he lacked the energy to explain to her how an annoying child worked. He knew it too well from taking care of her.

"I don't get why Muzan-sama wants her when he has me." Daki spread her hand in front of her face and started counting with her fingers. "I'm gorgeous, strong, loyal... and I'm not an stupid, loud-as-fuck child!"

"Ume" Gyutaro called, as the both of them kept walking straight.

"She's a pain! She takes all of Muzan-sama's precious time away."

"Ume" he stopped walking, Daki kept her pace as she was fixated on finding things to hate you for.

"She couldn't even speak properly when we first met her. All she does is cause trouble for us, that's why nobody likes her!"

"Ume!"

She turned around to face him, a vein popping out of her forehead.

"What?!"

"At least I'm not as stupid as you, miss whore! Daddy told me you were annoying yesterday."

All her hairs perked up when she heard your voice. She turned around to find you a few meters away from her, a bit shocked from hearing you insult her that way.

"Who taught you that word?" she placed her hand above her chest, surprise evident in her expression.

"I did" Gyutaro said, a smirk appearing in his face. He waved at you ignoring his sister's terrifying anger. "Hi there, little misfortune. Everybody's looking for you"

"You're not going to stop me?"

He shrugged, going back to his usual annoyed expression.

"Not me, but my sister is"

Daki jumped at you, almost not giving you time to react properly. You spit the gum you were chewing to put it on her hair. Her eyes widened in horror as she tried to take it off, letting you off her hands.

"Fuck you, (Name)! Come back here you damn brat!"

Gyutaro helped Daki take off the gum, you running away from them. The last thing you heard as you escaped was Gyutaro offering to cut off the damaged part of her beautiful long hair.

Your legs were short and you got tired of running after a few minutes. You collapsed on the ground to take in some air.

"Oh~ Are you tired, (Name)-chan?" Douma's playful tone made your eyes shine at the realization that he was there.

You nodded, tears rolling down your cheeks. You were not only exhausted, but also feeling guilty of accidentally stepping on tiny Hantengu on your way there. It wasn't your fault he was terrified of your childishness and Muzan's rage, but you didn't notice he was in the way and stepped on him.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry for causing all of this! Is just that Hantengu didn't want to play with me and I felt lonely! I don't want to be alone! Now everyone hates me!"

"Shhh... It's ok. You're an adorable little princess, nobody hates you."

He ruffled your hair as your teary eyes stare at his rainbow colored ones. They were both beautiful and calming for you, those colors made you think pretty things when you were sad.

"You don't hate me?"

"Of course I don't!"

"Then, will you marry me when I grow up?"

He chuckled, ruffling your hair again. Your cheeks were burning from embarrassment.

"Yes, su—"

Half of his head was suddenly cut off by a hand. You frown at Akaza, who seemed very angry at seeing Douma that close to you. Douma's head regenerated fast, his charismatic smile never leaving his features.

"Why are you proposing her marriage?"

"I'm not—"

"Yes, you are. What the hell is your problem? I'm not going to let you put strange ideas into her innocent mind."

Akaza opened his arms at you so you could climb into him, letting you rest your head on his shoulder.

"Little misfortune was feeling lonely and hated, so I simply made her feel happier. Now let me hold her" Douma tried to take you to him, but Akaza's grip on you was stronger.

"You try to make her feel happier by proposing? Also, you only eat women, why would I let you near (Name)?"

"Well, she's not human!"

"Can I marry you too?" you ask above the discussion, your voice silencing the both of them. You pulled away a little bit from Akaza's hold to look at him in the eye. "When I grow up, can I marry you too?"

Akaza's concerned look grew bigger by the second. Douma had an amused expression, holding in laugher. Akaza's gaze shifted from Douma to you, not knowing what to say. His face told a different story than you had intended. You leaped away from them, tears floading down your face again.

"Then I'll be alone my entire life!"

You started escaping again, covering your face with your hands. The upper moons attempted to use their arts to get you back, but failed as yours contradicted their use.

Douma sighed, then turned towards Akaza with a smile from ear to ear.

"You're not a great liar, are you?"

After running around all day, your energy was so low that you could barely walk without dragging your feet. Loneliness was the strongest and most shocking feeling you'd gotten in the seven years you had been alive. No mother, no siblings, only a father who'd mostly be working and babysitters who hated your guts. Facing the ground, lips curved downwards, you clearly weren't expecting crashing with something. Or more accurately, someone's legs.

It was Muzan, his stern expression changing into a softer one when he saw your defeated state. He opened his arms to engulf you into a hug, so you jumped at him with the strength you had left.

"I'm sorry, I felt lonely!"

"Why is that? You always have an upper moon to take care of you" he walked towards your room as he caressed your hair.

"But they hate me!"

"They don't hate you. Kokushibo's always worried about your health and safety. Gyokko and Hantengu try to enhance your talents in art since they know how much you love it. Gyutaro likes to make you laugh, and while Daki acts as if she hates you, she sew you a stuffed animal for your birthday by herself knowing that other stores didn't buy the plush you wanted. Douma plays with you all the time, of course he loves you. And Akaza is always there to keep him from crossing the line. They don't hate you, they are your family." he tucked you in your bed, a smile reaching his lips before you closed your eyes in order to sleep.

He leaned in to place a soft kiss on your forehead.

"As I love you too."

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

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themurphyzone · 3 years

Text

PatB Oneshot: Every Rose Has Thorns and Petals

Summary: Brain’s plan is simple: create a Valentine card with a message that the world should adore him as their new ruler. But he needs extra help in coming up with a catchy message to rein in the consumers for the outer cover. And who better to help than the expert of all things amour?

AN: I decided to see if I could write a good Suavo. Enjoy! Warning for terribly cheesy flirting. I don’t typically write this genre XD

This borrows from the HC that Pinky can still do the Suavo persona.

Written for Valentine's Day/Suavo Sunday. I regret everything.

AO3 Link

At last, a new plan came to fruition! With Valentine’s Day looming upon them with its chocolate-coated fangs and sickly sweet aroma, people would be flocking to grocery stores everywhere to purchase giant teddy bears they could barely carry around and heart-shaped boxes of gourmet chocolate. But most lucrative of all, they would buy Valentine cards with the most obnoxious lovestruck messages that were far cheesier than Pinky’s cheesecake.

Everything clicked into place. The slightly larger than average dimensions of a Valentine’s card. Various red and pink hues for the envelopes. Colorful images with hearts, roses, and Pinky on the front cover (for Pinky met all of the scientific criteria that triggered one’s protective instincts). And on the inside, an image of Brain standing on the world in royal regalia with a message declaring that all the world shall adore him as their new leader.

But there was a single, glaring flaw to his otherwise brilliant plan.

He could not come up with a ridiculous phrase for the outside cover. It had to be eye-catching, humorous, or corny enough to grab a customer’s attention. He stared at the smiling picture of Pinky for several minutes, then gave in.

Pinky was the expert in all things ridiculous after all.

“Life is the road I wanna keep going! Love is a river and I wanna keep going ooonnnn!” Pinky sang along to his playlist, leading a Barbie doll in a tender waltz.

And it was best to interrupt before Pinky’s playlist reached My Heart Will Go On. That sappy 90s love ballad was on there. He was not striking the King of the World pose until he was actually king of the world, but that assertion hadn’t gotten through Pinky’s cotton-stuffed head yet.

Brain grabbed the prototype card and pencil, marching up to the windowsill where Pinky and Barbie danced under the evening sky. The sun lowered, the moon rose, and the first twinkling stars poked out, signifying the beginning of another night.

The phone was propped against a wall, and Brain smacked the image of Anastasia and Dmitri dancing to stop the song as he passed by. Pinky continued to hum, dipping Barbie low enough that her blonde hair touched the windowsill. His eyes were half-lidded, tail swishing to an invisible beat. Though there was no music, his rhythm was steady and his feet never missed a step.

It was mesmerizing. Pinky danced with all the grace of a professional ballerina.

He pricked his finger on a sharp point of the prototype card, and the poke brought Brain back to reality. Right. No distractions.

“Hiya, Brain! Zort!”

Dear Archimedes there were otherworldly blue eyes right in front of his face.

Startled, Brain leapt back and swung his pencil defensively. There was a muffled narf as the eraser end went into Pinky’s mouth. Once the initial shock passed, Pinky giggled and nibbled on the eraser, several rubbery shavings poking out between his teeth.

Brain took a deep breath, trying to calm his too-fast heartbeat.

“Quit slobbering on my erasers, Pinky,” Brain snapped. He removed his pencil from Pinky’s mouth, wrinkling his nose at the saliva-coated eraser. He tossed it aside, and the pencil skittered across the counter and onto the floor.

“But they taste so good!” Pinky licked his lips. “Especially with a pinch of dryer lint. That way you get fluff and chewiness in one single fantastic bite!”

Sometimes he truly worried for the state of Pinky’s digestive tract. For now, it was best to change the topic entirely. “As much as I’d love to debate the intricacies of your exotic cuisine, I require some of your eccentric expertise for my latest plan,” Brain said, setting the prototype card on the counter.

Pinky’s tail and ears perked up. A predictable reaction, but reliable all the same.

While Pinky put Barbie away, Brain retrieved a new pencil. There were few writing utensils that weren’t chewed up by a bored employee or Pinky for fun, and it wouldn’t be long before Brain would have to acquire more.

“I gotta help Brain now, Barbie. Thanks for sharing a dance with me! Those ballroom dance classes are really paying off!” Pinky chirped, waving to the inanimate Barbie, who now sat in a pink plastic convertible next to a shirtless Ken doll. He peeked inside the card and clasped his hands together, holding them against his cheek dreamily. “Awww, Brain! This is gonna be so romantic!”

“The very atmosphere I intend to create with these mass-produced cards, Pinky,” Brain replied. “However, while I have all the elements of your typical Valentine card alongside an additional message that will aid us in our conquest, I haven’t worked out one essential component yet.”

He closed the card and tapped the empty speech bubble next to Pinky’s image.

Pinky tilted his head. “You haven’t figured out how to make single people buy your cards yet?”

Drat. He hadn’t considered those outliers.

“Then we’ll just have to infiltrate the postal service,” Brain said, mentally congratulating himself on correcting that error quickly. “But before we implement the plan, I need a Valentine phrase for this speech bubble. A saying that will entice the average infatuated consumer and hook them into purchasing my cards alone. And since you lean heavily toward the sentimental and saccharine…well, this is where I require your assistance.”

“The sentimental and the saccharine?” Pinky echoed. “I don’t think I’ve heard of that soap opera, Brain. What channel is it on?”

Brain opened his notebook and found an empty page, poised to jot down Pinky’s suggestions. “The real life channel. Don’t be concerned about missing it, Pinky. It’s on 24/7 all year long. But I digress. The sooner I find a phrase, the sooner we’ll have the world!”

Pinky tapped his foot in thought, the tip of his tongue poking out like he truly believed protruding tongues had the power to magically grant ideas. For all Brain knew, Pinky probably believed that.

Then Pinky snapped his fingers. “I got it! How ‘bout ‘be mine, valentine’?”

“Too cliché,” Brain muttered. A million Valentine cards would already have similar phrasing. They didn’t have time to seize control of a greeting card factory. “Not unique enough.”

Although the valentine bit wasn’t particularly directed toward him, his grip on the pencil slackened, the tip leaving a graphite smudge along the margins. He quickly turned the pencil around and erased it, hoping Pinky didn’t catch onto his brief moment of inattention.

Fortunately, Pinky didn’t notice. “Alrighty then. Hmmm…you’re the sour cream to my cheese-slathered potato?”

“…I’ll save it for a last resort.”

Well, he asked for unique. But sour cream didn’t particularly invoke strong Valentine feelings. Idioms that involved sweet foods with enough sugar to induce diabetes in an elephant would be better, and he made a quick note to the side.

“I turtle-y adore you?” Pinky suggested, his blue eyes sparkling accordingly.

Brain felt a light blush settling over his cheeks, and he rubbed his fur to rid himself of the mortifying feeling. “Doesn’t match your picture. And no animal puns unless they involve mice.”

Pinky rubbed his chin, not one to be easily deterred. “There’s gotta be some good ones on the Internet.”

“Don’t trouble yourself, Pinky,” Brain sighed. He sat cross-legged on the counter, massaging his forehead to intercept any headaches before they began. “Figured we should’ve gone with the photobooth plan. It’s your fault for influencing my subconscious with your caterwauling over The Princess Bride’s movie adaptation.”

“Troz! I’ll have you know Princess Buttercup and Westley have great chemistry!” Pinky pouted.

Brain rolled his eyes. “Please. They’re about as compatible as two noble gases.”

Pinky went quiet after that. Whether he’d gone off into the imaginary world of talking cheeses or taken unusually great offense on the lead couple’s behalf, Brain wasn’t sure. But the silence obliged, and Brain took the opportunity to ponder their next course of action.

Take a risk and use one of Pinky’s earlier suggestions? Scrap the plan entirely and pull one from storage? Seek a second opinion?

Then Pinky gasped, his tail pointing high in the air like an inverted exclamation point.

“Brain, are you pondering what I’m pondering?” Pinky asked, gripping Brain’s shoulders in excitement.

Brain leaned back, supporting himself on the palms of his hands. “We break out the Feldman disguises and ask Mr. Sultana for his opinion on what a hypothetical Valentine card should say?”

“I’m sure he’s got a bunch of good ones, but that’s not it,” Pinky said. “Actually, I oughta slip into something more…in-character. I’ll be right back!”

Pinky skipped away, humming as he went over to his dress-up box in the corner of their cage. He pulled a divider around himself so that all Brain could see was a shadowy silhouette rummaging through clothing and accessories.

Brain continued to ponder, though no feasible ideas were coming to him. He closed his eyes, shutting out all visual forms of distraction. He listened to Pinky dressing in the cage, but it was more white noise than a true hindrance.

Five minutes later, he still had nothing. But there was something…different.

A tantalizing scent. Not overly sharp, though just light enough that he couldn’t identify it with confidence. And he wanted to know more.

It wasn’t fruit or soap. Nor was it vanilla, like the scented candles Pinky loved so much.

Something smooth snaked its way under his nose, brushing the fur above his lips. The scent was closer now. His nose twitched.

“ACHOO!”

Startled by the force of his sudden sneeze, Brain’s eyes flew open. He rubbed his nose to wipe off the lingering sensation, staring down at Pinky’s long tail, which sat unassumingly in his lap. The tip was wrapped around the stem of a small red rose.

The tail lifted, rubbing against the fur under Brain’s chin. Brain felt his cheeks heat up again, and he quickly batted the offending appendage away.

“Pinky, you’re not helping my state of-“ Brain began, ready to launch into a verbal tirade on how he needed to think and if Pinky wasn’t going to help then he could make like a mitotic cell and split…and then he saw a very familiar, perhaps all too-familiar, lavender tuxedo with an overstuffed dark purple…something underneath.

He couldn’t tell if it was a shirt, vest, or pincushion. A gold button glinted in the middle of Pinky’s chest.

Gulping, Brain knew the mysterious article of clothing was the least of his concerns. He forced himself to look up, gaze raking past the slender neck and toward half-lidded, coy blue eyes. A sophisticated mustache poked out from each side of Pinky’s muzzle. And he was genteel, charismatic…

Suave.

Pinky’s ability to play a character to perfection never ceased to astound him. He still remembered? Brain had long destroyed the Personalitron and its blueprints, deeming them unnecessary and cumbersome.

“Pardonnez-moi, you with the giant head and marshmallow body are seeking the passionate advice of I, the great Pinky…Suavvvo-“ he drawled every syllable with that odd French accent, r’s rolling off his tongue like smooth butter “-for your…ah, Saint Valentine card, no?”

Fu—choose your words wisely—I mean, dear name of a historical contributor to the scientific or mathematical field who I can’t identify properly at this time.

“I fail to see how playing dress-up is going to help with this conundrum, Pinky Suavo.” Brain stood up and crossed his arms. He wasn’t about to let the Suavo persona sway him. He was the Brain, and he bowed to no one.

Exert control over the situation. Yes. That’s what he needed.

Suavo plucked the rose from his tail between two practiced fingers, inhaling its scent deeply. Where did he even get that rose from? The lab wasn’t growing flora for any reason, nor did any scientist have the green thumb to care for anything so fragile.

“Oh, but love is always…how did you say, a conundrum, is it not?” he purred, and Brain scowled. But Suavo was unperturbed. “One may pluck the petals from a pretty flower and ask if one loves or loves not, yet how will one know if they ask the flower and not the lover? Oh, I do not know.”

His voice dipped into a lower, softer register, and a strange sensation traveled up Brain’s spine. Though the riddle seemed directed at him, he wasn’t in the mood to unravel any cryptic meanings.

Just like before, Suavo’s magnetism was…hypnotizing. Like he had no choice but to do what Pinky Suavo said. And wasn’t that ironic? He, the Brain, as the hapless follower instead of the commanding leader.

Suavo appeared oblivious to Brain’s internal dilemma. He simply set the rose back into his tail and twirled one curled end of the mustache around his finger, humming a dreamy, sentimental song to himself. He was waiting on Brain in the most irritating fashion possible.

But if he wanted this plan to work, he’d just have to tolerate Pinky’s attempt at resolving his predicament.

“Pinky Suavo,” Brain sighed, forcing all his pride back. Suavo turned to him, his eyes still in that odd half-lidded position. “Is that overstuffed pincushion actually giving you ideas for the card?”

“Of course, mon ami.” Suavo slicked his ears and fur tuft back with a smooth, graceful stroke of his hand. “For it is he, who is I, who is the connoisseur of…ammooooouuuur.”

Brain grabbed his notepad and pencil, his stomach doing odd backflips like butterflies had somehow burrowed their way into his flesh and laid eggs there. He was not paying attention to Suavo’s hand movements. No, the eye was just naturally drawn to movement. That’s how it worked.

Besides, he was looking at the same being who once managed to get all his fingers and tail tangled up in a complicated cat’s cradle.

Suavo clicked his tongue, deftly plucking the items out of Brain’s grip. “No, no, you silly mouse. You cannot experience amour through pen and paper alone. You must feel it, see it, hear it. For it is everywhere and anywhere you search…if only you would use those big ears of yours.”

Brain gritted his teeth and jumped for his supplies, but Suavo simply held them out of reach with one long arm. All Brain could manage was a tiny hop. It wasn’t getting him anywhere.

So he took a deep breath and forced himself to relax.

“I’m listening, Pinky Suavo,” Brain said, hoping he sounded at least a little cordial. “I believe the colloquial is, I’m all ears?”

A pleased smile flitted across Suavo’s face, his arm lowering.

Perfect.

Then Brain threw himself forward, digging his hands and feet into Suavo’s clothing and hauling himself towards the notepad and pencil. Fortunately, it wasn’t hard to grip. Suavo stumbled a bit, but he refused to yield. Brain grabbed a fabric fold on Suavo’s right shoulder. He was so close-

-and a red nose pushed into his own. Warm, mint-scented breath tickled the fur on his face.

“You know, it is more, ah, polite to take a mouse to dinner before you begin climbing him, is it not?” Suavo crooned.

Brain’s ears flopped against his back, a warm sensation sweeping through his body. His clammy paws lost their grip on Suavo’s clothing, and he would’ve fallen entirely if Suavo’s free arm hadn’t wrapped around his waist and secured him with a strong yet gentle grip.

In hindsight, perhaps his attempt at reclaiming his belongings was ill-thought out.

Perhaps it was for the best that the arm was covered by fabric, but at the same time, some irrational thought of wanting Pinky’s fur against his own wormed its way into his mind.

Suavo set the notepad and pen down with care, dipping Brain in the process. Brain clutched the fabric tightly, but it was unnecessary. Suavo’s embrace was strong enough to prevent him from landing on his head. Then Suavo straightened up, once again plucking the rose from his tail and holding it next to Brain.

“Oh, now this is…magnifique,” Suavo murmured, his eyes darting from the rose to Brain’s face. Though Brain tried to maintain eye contact to make his displeasure known, his resolve was quickly crumbling away. Surely it was the close proximity, the thumb stroking his fur, that was picking apart all rational thought and leaving some hormone-driven creature behind?

“What?” Brain asked, and he inwardly cringed. His voice wasn’t working properly. He’d meant to sound more demanding than that pathetic excuse of a question.

“Your eyes, mon ami, are just a few shades lighter this rose,” Suavo said. Brain stared at him in disbelief. Comparing eyes to flowers, or worse, gemstones, was just ridiculous.

And your comparison of Pinky’s aesthetically pleasing eyes to the wild blue yonder above isn’t?

Brain ignored the contemptuous voice. That was completely different. The sky was neither a flower nor a gemstone, and therefore it wasn’t off-limits. Besides, it was a thought for him and him alone. It’s not like anyone else was going to hear it.

“You are but a deer mouse in the headlights. Yet there is no need to hide under a thorny layer,” Suavo hummed, tilting his head curiously. Deliberately. How strange. Even the slightest movement was mesmerizing. His fingers traveled up the flower stem, until his hand rested underneath the petals, supporting the tiny rose in the palm of his hand. “A rosebush may scratch and prick, yet the great Pinky Suavo cannot be swayed. For there’s a pretty bloom hidden in the darkness, and he is who moi shall…shall…NARF!”

Shocked by the return of the nonsensical exclamation, Brain lost his hold on Pinky Suavo’s clothing. He fell onto the counter surface with a pained groan. The hard material wasn’t doing wonders for the bends in his tail.

Something fluttered against his nose, causing Brain to sneeze again. He removed the offending object, and found himself staring down at the rose he’d been teased with. If he ignored the heavy-handed rose imagery Suavo kept spouting, it was rather adequate for a specimen.

“Narf! Zort! Poit! Egad!” Pinky laughed uncontrollably between his usual tics, uttering them at such a fast rate that they started to blend together like a tongue twister. “Ooh, I haven’t—troz! Haven’t said narf in a long time! But it’s poit—it’s okay cause you needed my help!”

Idiot.

Brain sighed and pushed himself to a standing position, then placed the rose on his notepad so Pinky could reclaim it later.

Now that he thought about it, Pinky hadn’t said any of his favorite syllables in his Suavo persona. Of course, they’d been replaced by stupid love poetry and gratuitous French, but the narfs and poits and zorts were rather refreshing.

Odd. He never thought he’d actually miss Pinky’s…unique diction.

“Pinky, were you actively suppressing your usual speech patterns in your strange form of assistance?” Brain asked. He couldn’t help his curiosity.

“Zort! Oh Brain, I’m not nearly as good as suppressing things like you are!” Pinky’s chortles continued as Brain grabbed his wrist and led him straight to the water bottle in their cage. “Besides—narf! Besides, I had to stay in character!”

“Remind me to never have you play a villain for any future plans revolving around cinema,” Brain grumbled.

Pinky’s tail happily flicked against Brain’s own. Though the imbecile was just swishing it around mindlessly, the brief physical contact suddenly brought back that very odd, warm sensation.

Curse this heightened sensitivity! It’s only a principle of thermodynamics and heat transfer!

“Brain, are you okay? Poit,” Pinky asked as Brain made him sit down in front of the water bottle. “You’re all woozy and whirlywindy. And white and red all over like a newspaper!”

“I’m f-fine,” Brain said. He was absolutely not relying on Pinky for balance. “Just drink, Pinky. And take off those silly clothes when you’re done.”

Pinky stared, not comprehending anything Brain said, but that was normal for him. Then he started to laugh, and only then did Brain realize he needed to watch his word choice, especially around a certain someone, because of course his fluff-filled mind would misconstrue it.

“Not like that!” Brain spat.

Pinky tipped onto his back, legs kicking upwards as his high-pitched laughter continued to assault Brain’s ears.

For the sake of his own sanity, he left Pinky to his own devices and stormed over to the nearest sink. He pushed on the tap for cold water until he’d created his own miniature waterfall, then hopped right in. He welcomed the cascade over his body.

As long as it pushed his homeostasis in the opposite direction, he was fine with resembling a drowned rat for now.

o-o-o-o-o

The plan failed before it ever took off. Brain had been so distracted that he’d failed to notice the lab was completely out of colored ink, rendering the copy machines completely useless.

He’d gone with the ‘you’re the sour cream to my potatoes’ message for the front cover, formatting it into the speech bubble in an elegant cursive font. Though it wasn’t conventional by any means, he simply considered it again since no other suggestions were forthcoming.

But at the same time, part of him wasn’t keen on allowing the masses to lay eyes on the Valentine card.

It seemed special. Unexplainably so.

“Brain?” Pinky called. His verbal tics had long gone back to their normal frequency. “Aren’t we taking over the world tonight?”

Brain shook his head, relieved that he finally had control over his body again. “Not tonight, Pinky. I’m afraid I’ve been prematurely thwarted by the lack of inventory in this lab.”

“Oh, you don’t have to be afraid, Brain,” Pinky said. Gone were Suavo’s clothing and mustache, and Pinky’s lean, muscular arms were on full display as he folded them across his chest. “I’ll protect you from Tory.”

It was an unnecessary gesture, but Brain couldn’t help but be touched by the admission all the same. Brain made a show of carefully placing the card into storage, just so he could distract himself momentarily.

When he finished his task, he found Pinky holding an elegant paper rose, crafted meticulously with purple tissue paper. A light blush settled over Brain’s cheeks as he accepted the gift from Pinky, whose blue eyes shone brightly as Brain ran his fingers over the soft petals.

“Thank you, Pinky,” Brain said gratefully, and he resisted the urge to rush off immediately and place the paper rose with his globe keychain, another gift from his dearest friend.

“You’re welcome!” Pinky smiled, and Brain’s heart beat faster. Then Pinky’s gaze flicked to the TV screen, and Brain figured he was about to be roped into watching a cheesy love story unfold. “Brain, can we watch Beauty and the Beast please? With those special Valentine M&M’s and chocolate-coated popcorn? I saw a whole bunch in the kitchen! Narf!”

Well…he could’ve suggested worse. At least this one was tolerable.

And it’s been a while since they’d watched a movie together.

“Get everything set up, Pinky,” Brain ordered. “I’ll join you when I’m finished with my own tasks.”

Pinky saluted and scampered into the kitchen, grabbing the rose he’d held in his Suavo persona along the way. He sang at the top of his lungs, though he’d forgotten most of the actual words and replaced them with a series of narfs and portmanteaus. Once Pinky was sufficiently distracted, Brain moved his notepad and pen over to the TV, then laid the paper rose over it.

He heard the crinkle of a bag followed by the sound of M&M’s being poured into a bowl. Pinky would be back any minute.

Brain knocked his head against the side of a wall.

Calm yourself. Pinky believes pebbles are precious gifts. You’ll be fine. Probably.

Slowly, he approached the drawer where he’d kept his hidden present. Sifting through several sheets of paper covered with complex formulas he’d deliberately placed in there to ward off Pinky, he found the sunflower pen he’d carefully hidden towards the back.

It wasn’t exactly…traditional for a Valentine’s gift. Simple blue ink with a green body and tipped with a bright yellow sunflower.

But it was bright. And colorful. Like Pinky.

More importantly, it was practical.

Brain’s ears twitched, and he heard the whirring of the VCR as Pinky popped in the movie. Brain debated leaving the pen and presenting it after the movie, but he didn’t want to procrastinate either. Otherwise it would be impossible to enjoy their activity.

Well, he could just drop it in Pinky’s lap. And snatch up some popcorn so his actions wouldn’t be too conspicuous. He climbed out of the drawer, holding the pen behind his back.

A preview for The Little Mermaid began to play. Pinky was enraptured by the animated marine animals. He seemed so happy.

Maybe he should reconsider. Valentine items would be discounted next week. He could just hold off and give a belated…what was he thinking? Valentine’s was just another day to turn profit!

The paper rose was sitting right there. No…Valentine’s meant something to Pinky. Like Christmas.

“Goody, you’re back, Brain!” Pinky cheered, stuffing two pink M&M’s into his mouth. The large bowl beside him was overflowing with chocolate. “It’s not raining inside, but I love your parasol! Where’d you buy it?”

A parasol?

He glanced up at the sunflower. Oh. So there was a resemblance to a parasol, he supposed. If one viewed it at a certain angle, that is.

“It’s a pen. Not a parasol. Take it,” Brain said, holding out the sunflower pen.

Pinky didn’t take it.

Instead, he made a joyful noise and crushed Brain with a flying embrace. Brain dropped the pen in surprise as Pinky’s entire body curled around him, feet off the ground. Brain had to support all his weight, Pinky’s warm fur brushing against his own.

“I love it! Loveitloveitloveit! Thanks, Brain!” Pinky squealed, happy tears forming at the corners of his eyes. “Happy Valentine’s Day!”

“You’re welcome, Pinky,” Brain murmured as Pinky nuzzled his cheek. “Now get off. I require my lungs. And heart. And my digestive system.”

Pinky didn’t get off until the Disney fanfare to herald the beginning of the movie began to play. Then he quieted down immediately, rolling the sunflower pen so that it rested across his lap.

“…happy Valentine’s Day,” Brain whispered, nibbling on a red M&M.

Pinky smiled back, teeth flecked with bits of chocolate. He shushed Brain, not wanting him to interrupt the opening narration.

As the enchanted rose appeared onscreen, Brain stroked the soft tissue paper of Pinky’s beautiful creation. Then he set it aside and reached for some popcorn.

His world was here. And there was nothing more he wanted.

Fun fact: the original name for this fic was going to be Suavo Valentino, but the current title was a last minute change cause somehow I just wrote a lot about roses.

Another change: The Princess Bride bit was originally a dig at High School Musical and how Disney Channel has bad romance in general, but since that was mid 2000s I changed it so this story could reasonably fit in the 90s.

Suavo’s lines...were interesting. I couldn’t stop laughing at how dumb some of them were though.

Brain’s got it bad here. Save him.

Are the roses corny? Yes. Do I care? Not really. Maybe. Possibly.

#pinky and the brain #patb fanfiction #pinky suavo #suavo sunday

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silence-burns · 4 years

Text

Please Hate Me //part 38

Fandom: Marvel

Summary: Based on: “Imagine having a love/hate relationship with Loki.” by @thefandomimagine Who would have thought that babysitting a god could be so much fun?

Genre: slow-burn, enemies to lovers

The pale cheek was rubbery and cold under your finger. You poked it again. "Are you sure he's dead?"

Loki looked at the severed, and a little chewed, bottom half of the ambassador. "Pretty much."

The body had been laid out on top of a desk, with all the books and documents previously occupying it put on the ground. It didn't really matter in the ways of making things messy, because the suite belonging to the recently deceased ambassador was already a dusty, chaotic mess. The room was dark and narrow and made even smaller by the bookshelves lined along one wall, stealing even more space. The carpet used to be gold and thick, but now it looked just worn and tired.

"Do we even have a plan? Like, anything in particular to look out for?"

Loki scratched his chin, looking around next to you. "Plans are for the weak of heart. We've got something better, love—a suspicion. Now we only have to find the evidence for or against it."

You looked at the shelves filled with old tomes to the point of almost breaking the wood. And then at the loose papers piled carelessly along two of the walls and also in the bedroom. The notes were haphazardly scribbled and left in places where a thought must've struck the man, and then left forgotten or lost. Ink was spilled on the less fortunate ones.

"...right."

You couldn't say you were happy about it, but there was little to do about it. Whatever the ambassador was working on before he died could shed some light on his death. Now you only had to find it.

With a deep sigh, you braced yourself and got to work.

It soon turned out you didn’t understand a single word of it.

"You said your spell would work and I would understand everything." You focused really hard on the wall of text in a language you'd never seen before. "And it works fine when I'm talking to the lords here, but not on this."

Loki leaned over your shoulder to peek a glance at the text. "I have no idea. Maybe it works differently on humans? Or maybe you're just a particularly weird individual of your species."

"Thanks."

"Welcome, love."

With nothing you could read, your job there was crippled. Even when Loki assured you he didn't mind doing everything himself and that it wasn't your fault, there was still a sour feeling you couldn't quite shake off.

"I'm going to see if I can find the kitchens and get us something edible." You decided to pass the time on something at least vaguely helpful.

Loki looked up from the notes he'd gathered from the windowsill. He’d made himself comfortable in one of the cleaner parts of the room, although unfortunately it just happened to be near the corpse. "Be careful. And please, don't kill anyone without me."

"I'd never," you promised with a wink and left.

The castle was huge, but empty. At first, you put in on the murder that must've shaken the people living there, but the longer you looked around, it struck you as odd. Everything was clean, even if touched by time. There must be people taking care of it, but you couldn't find any.

Or maybe they were avoiding the outsiders. Technically, you were an alien here.

You walked the empty corridors, enjoying the silent breeze passing through the open panels. It was strange not to see any glass in the windows, but with the weather so mild, there probably wasn't any temperature drop to worry about anyway.

There were shadows sneaking in the corners of your vision. They could be figments of your imagination and sense of wrongness of this place. They could be the things howling in the dark.

No. Thinking about that probably wasn't the wisest idea. In a place where thoughts apparently could shape reality, thinking merry, happy thoughts seemed like a much more rational option if one planned to survive and not be eaten by their own fears embodied. You had such plans, and even if Loki was convinced that you had absolutely no connection to magic unless it hit you in the face, it was better to stay cautious. And happy. What a lovely day it was, after all, with the creeping light avoiding particular parts of your vision, and something definitely following you. How nice would it be to meet someone. Anyone.

Your eyes wandered off into the gardens below, where the everlasting night was laying thick. A fountain shimmered in bluish speckles of water. And behind it, the night opened its eyes.

You might've jumped a little. Just the tiniest bit.

But there was no denying that, just for the briefest moment, your eyes met the Queen's, posed unnaturally still among the statues.

…and people said wishful thinking wouldn't get you anywhere.

You hopped over the railing, and onto the moss-covered ground. The guard you'd seen before was nowhere to be found. You stared around as hard as you could, trying to pierce the shadows and strange light. It took a moment to find what you were looking for.

From up close, the stars overhead and the stars shimmering on her skin looked like mirror images. For a moment, the night sky felt within a hand's reach.

Not one muscle betrayed the Queen had she noticed your arrival. Her eyes were dull and completely blank—to the point where you wondered if you hadn't imagined everything.

You stood right next to her and still weren't decapitated, which was a comfort and a good sign. You bowed stiffly, even if she didn't see it.

"Hi," you said quietly, looking for any sign of comprehension. "I'm one of the people who came here to explain the recent murder."

Nothing. Just the vast expanse of the night enclosed in a fading body and crumbled into a vaguely humanoid shape. The Queen only had one horn intact, white as a bone, and sharp like the crescent moon—the only one to ever be seen on the edge of the universe.

"I wondered if you knew anything about it," you tried again. "We're doing well so far, and I'm sure we'll find the murderer eventually, so don't worry about that, but… We'd still appreciate any and all help."

Birds chirped somewhere in the trees. Shimmering pollen flew on the light breeze squeezing through the thicket. The night turned her eyes toward you.

It'd been a while since you cowered under the sheets, afraid of the darkness. It was a common fear among children, and one that only a few grew out of. Those eyes reminded you of those sleepless nights.

Not a word left the bloodless lips. Not a muscle twitched. The edges of the woman blurred into the night.

"...right. Sorry to interrupt you, Your Majesty."

You backed away a few steps before turning your back to her. A shiver ran down your spine. If that was what fading was, you preferred death.

Loki enjoyed reading, he really did. Even as a child, he'd often been found buried among the old tomes in the palace's library, or smuggling particularly interesting ones to his rooms. There was something in the way of the written word that captured his attention way better than whatever training he was forced to participate in for the sake of Odin's misplaced ambition. There was a certain rush in learning facts previously unknown and in understanding the world or the forces in it better.

Loki felt absolutely none of that while going through the ambassador's notes.

Most of them were full of incomprehensible babble of half-finished ideas or references that led nowhere without the books they'd been taken from. Some seemed to be copied pages, which led Loki to the conclusion that the books were not to be taken off the library grounds.

There were a lot of dates and numbers that made little sense to him, so he put them down on the pile of things he deemed irrelevant to the investigation. The pile was growing and now consisted of several piles, forming the majority of the room's contents.

The doors opened. Loki was relieved to see you; the dagger disappeared back up his sleeve.

"That took you awhile," he noticed, throwing the crumbled papers to the right, onto the pile of nonsense. "I was getting worried."

"I'm good. I got you some apples."

The apples were a dusted orange, but tasted sweet enough to justify the unusual color. Loki leaned back in his chair and let you settle on his lap. The feeling of your body pressed into his made you share the warmth and comfort, and made some of the stress building up since morning fade away.

"I met the Queen," you said around a mouth full of apple, and the other hand buried in Loki's hair. "She seemed nice enough. The creepiness definitely runs in the family, though."

Some of the stress came back. "Did she… say anything?"

"Nope. I don't think she’s… aware of things. Which is a shame, because I seriously hoped she could help us."

Loki brushed your back in wide, soothing strokes. "There is a chance she'll regain her senses one day, just for long enough to answer some questions. Fading is a complicated process."

"You know a lot about it."

Loki's eyes dropped to the few remaining apples. "Gods fade too sometimes."

"Will you? One day?"

"I am a Frost Giant, love, even if I was raised on Asgard. I'm not sure how much that complicates my case, and there is no one to ask about it anymore."

"I'm sorry."

Loki closed his eyes and breathed in your scent as he felt you kiss his temple, gently and with enough unfiltered love to make his heart throb almost painfully. He was lucky, even despite the mess politics brought onto him. He was luckier than he ever thought he'd be. And luckier than he thought he deserved.

"Did you find anything interesting?" you asked with a face burrowed into the crook of his neck.

"There was quite a lot of nonsense, but the rest highlights the ambassador's interest in the wars and mass deaths that always follow them."

You froze. The corpse laid on the desk next to you no longer felt like something you could forget about. "...what an interesting guy. "

"Most definitely, but it's too early to judge just yet. I made a list of the books he mentioned most often. I think it'd be worth our time to pay a visit to the library to check them out and maybe ask a few questions to the people working there. They should know something about him and the dead assistant."

"We could get some more apples on our way," you offered, standing up. Loki already missed you.

"Sure, why not. It's not like you'd take the fruit of the sacred trees from the very clearly separated part of the gardens, right?"

"...of course. I'd never overlook that."

You did overlook that in the end, and Loki just happened to overlook it too. Overlooking things was always more fun in good company.

The gardens were a beautiful, lush place, bursting with colors and leaves that danced on the wind instead of falling. Some of the branches were covered in flowers so tiny they looked like ants, traveling up and down the bark. Birds too shy to leave the shadows chirped and sung.

It was a strange change to witness, especially having in mind what the gardens were like in the morning. Whatever put them in a good mood had clearly done a good job. It made the winding paths easier to follow, and the water passing through the fountain shimmer like starlight.

Loki shrugged when you voiced your thoughts.

"In your world, the weather changes just as rapidly," he said, looking at his mirrored image. "Here, it's the very essence of the Edge that's capable of changing."

It was poetic, like most things on the Edge. And just like them, the forest suddenly decided to hate you.

First, the birds vanished, their voices cut short.

Then, something else moved between the curled, twisted trees. Loki noticed too, and handed you one of his knives. The knives had a habit of appearing around him in just the right moments, and you loved them for it.

And finally, the Edge decided how to make your lives difficult this time.

The monstrosity that circled the fountain was a terror of thin legs and bulky torso, armed with too many teeth.

"Is it a spider?" you asked in a voice too high because of your heart leaping into your throat.

"It could be, if someone really hated spiders," Loki said, but there was a smile on his face. "And it might present a problem, if we were still on Earth—but now I'm free and ready to deal with this the old-fashioned way."

You blinked when golden light enveloped him in a flash. The green armor poured onto his body while magic danced around his fingers. The golden helmet you'd seen only once in the battle of New York, now returned in its full glory.

You cheered as Loki stepped out, swinging a spear with a nonchalant ease only available to children forced to learn something for years against their will.

"Kick its ass, babe!"

Loki winked.

The creature didn't want to have its ass kicked. It charged on its eight legs reaching far and fast. Loki striked, gutting its belly and cutting two legs off. It should've died, but it didn't. The cuts should've killed it, but they healed.

Loki's magic should've blocked the furious mass hurtling itself at him. It didn't.

The spell flashed a blinding yellow before it cracked like glass and shattered. The legs that were no longer cut, they hit and didn't miss.

A gold-and-green body flew through the air with a very surprised face. The fountain crashed in a rain of water and marble, covering everything in a thin layer of dust and a thick one of mud quickly forming under your feet.

"...Loki?"

Loki didn't answer, half buried under the stone.

The spider turned its too big head to you. Its legs were black and covered in thick stubble.

"Shit," you whispered.

The spider agreed.

You ran.

#please hate me #loki x reader #loki x you #loki imagine #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson x you #loki laufeyson #loki laufeyson imagine #loki marvel #loki mcu #loki laufeyson marvel #loki series #i love loki #loki fanfic

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scintillating-galaxias · 4 years

Text

simpatico week day 4 - multiverse

MTMTE and cyberverse perceptor and brainstorm collide!! @simpaticoweek read it here on ao3!

Brainstorm gasped and grabbed Perceptor’s arm while pointing at mech with a familiar red, white, and blue color scheme standing amongst the curious crowd. “Perce, look!”

Perceptor looked around, alarmed. “What? What is it?”

“Next to the red mech with the white face! It’s you!”

Before Perceptor could stop him, Brainstorm hurried off towards the mech. This mech had the same white dials on his forearms, and even the same cylindrical, white scope mounted on his shoulder—a dead-ringer for an alternate-universe Perceptor. i

“Excuse me!” Brainstorm called. The mech turned around, and whoa, he wasn’t expecting the burnt-out optics. “Uh. Hello. You’re Perceptor, right?”

“I am,” said the mech. He didn’t have the same slight accent as Percy did; his voice was flatter, a bit more neutral. The scope on his shoulder lit up, shining a bright blue light on Brainstorm’s face. Definitely, a scanner of some sort, though it left a bizarre, faintly prickly sensation across Brainstorm’s plating he didn’t usually get when Ratchet or First Aid scanned him. “I don’t recognize you. I’m assuming you’re one of our visitors from the alternate universe?”

“Name’s Brainstorm, resident genius of the universe next door. How are you seeing me right now? Is it something with your scope?”

“Correct. I reformatted my scope to operate as a visual feed after I blew out my optics.”

Guess that was a universal concept, Perceptor’s redesigning or changing their scopes for some entirely different use than their original one. “You did? What happened?”

“It’s not any of your business to ask that,” he chided.

Brainstorm put up his servos apologetically. Then, realizing his error, said, “Sorry,” after a second.

The other Perceptor gave him a look of pointed disapproval so similar to his Perceptor’s, he was almost afraid he was about to start getting chewed out for his messy labeling jobs.

“Be more mindful of your questions next time,” the other Perceptor said instead. “As for your other inquiry: I could tell you made a motion in front of your chest with your hands, and you did something else just now, but details such as color and specific body parts such as your digits are lost to me when my scope is inactive.”

“Fascinating,” said a familiar voice. Perceptor, his Percy, had finally made it through the crowd and over to them. Brainstorm felt his spark lift a bit higher in its chamber as Perceptor came to a stop beside him, servo almost unconsciously winding itself into his.

The scope went on again. “You’re… Me, I presume?” the other Perceptor asked, interest coloring his voice.

“I am Perceptor, yes.”

“Fascinating,” said the other Perceptor, and Brainstorm laughed.

“Primus, you two really are the same mech.”

“Of course,” they said in tandem, and then they looked at each other. Brainstorm poorly stifled another laugh.

“Your scope,” Perceptor prompted. “You scanned Brainstorm and I and compared the information it collected to a pre-existing database before confirming you didn’t know who we were. I can only assume you made code-based modifications to it?”

“That is correct.”

“May I ask what kind of modifications? My scope gives me enhanced magnification, but nothing to that extent, so you’ll have to forgive my curiosity.”

Other-Perceptor, who had now earned the prefix ‘Other’ in Brainstorm’s processor because otherwise, it would be a nightmare to try and recount later, cleared his throat. “When in use, it can collect information such as the light values and assign them to colors using a code assigned to every paint color on record, and how the percentage of much of each color is present within the whole subject.” He didn’t gesture nearly as much as Perceptor, either, Brainstorm noted. So far, he was turning out to be far more reserved than his Perceptor. Or... No, he reminded Brainstorm of when he’d first met Perceptor on the Lost Light. Heh. Maybe he’d had an influence on his conjunx after all. “That allows me to tell apart primary, secondary, and tertiary colors, so even if two mechs have similar paint colors, the chances they have the same frame and paint jobs are extremely slim. Decals like those on Hot Rod aren’t so easily discernible. That allows me to match the color codes to virtually any mech in my database. It isn’t the most accurate system, but it is precise enough.”

“That is remarkable,” Perceptor said, reaching up to touch his own scope. “I’ve reformatted myself before, but not to that sort of extent. Have you made any other modifications?”

“Numerous, since the threat of the Quintesson’s and Megatron X were eliminated.”

“Megatron X?”

Brainstorm tuned them out as they traded stories and statistics, looking around the crowd for some mech that could possibly be him. He could see Whirl with his arm slung around another blue, singled-opticked helicopter. Both were laughing rapturously about something. In the next cycle of Brainstorm’s code, they were wrestling each other to the ground. Rodimus was excitedly chatting it up with Hot Rod, who had enthusiastically introduced himself the second the Lost Light crew had stepped out of the portal. Beside Hot Rod was Soundwave of all mechs, and even more bizarrely, he seemed to have his servo loosely held around Hot Rod’s waist. Brainstorm only lingered on it a little bit. He wasn’t one for gossip, but even he knew that was going to be the talk of the ship later. Nearby, Drift was looking spectacularly sulky, though a cheery yellow mech was making valiant attempts at cheering him up. And of course, Megatron was talking to Other-Megatron and Other-Optimus Prime, and seemed to be rather wistfully staring at the two’s shared proximity to each other.

All in all, it felt like a very successful experiment in Brainstorm’s spark. All these mechs had somehow found their alternate selves, even though there’d been no guarantee they would even exist in this universe. And still, more mechs Brainstorm didn’t even recognize who were intermingling with the Lost Light crew. Successful experiment indeed. Except for one, tiny detail.

“Where am I?” he asked, interrupting the Perceptor’s conversation. “I mean, everyone else has a double. Where’s the other me?”

Other-Perceptor tilted his head. “I don’t know. There is no record of a Brainstorm in the Autobot databases.”

“Oh.” Brainstorm tapped his pede while Perceptor lightly squeezed his servo. “What about a Genitus?”

“One moment.” Other-Perceptor’s scope dipped down slightly. Then, after a moment, it straightened back out, and he looked at Brainstorm. “There’s no record of a Genitus, either.”

“Huh.” Damn. He really hoped alternate-Brainstorm wasn’t dead. That would suck. Or maybe he had a different paint job than Brainstorm did. Other-Perceptor had said his database was based on color. Or maybe… “I was a Decepticon for a bit in my universe,” he offered. Other-Perceptor offered no reaction to this fact except for a minute twitch of his scope. “Maybe this one still is.”

“If you wish to search the Decepticon databases, I would ask Soundwave. He and Hot Rod have been in charge of integrating the two sides since the defeat of Megatron X, and though there is still much to work to be done, he is likely your best chance.”

A brilliant idea lit up Brainstorm’s face. “You should come with us!” he said, optics sparkling. “I’m great! I’m sure you’d have a blast with this universe’s Stormy.”

“I’m not sure that’s—”

“Naw, come on, it’ll be fun.”

“I wouldn’t resist him,” Perceptor advised. “He can be extremely persistent.”

Other-Perceptor sighed with a tired acceptance. “Alright, then. Let us go.”

Brainstorm whirled around on his heel and happily marched right through the crowd, cheerfully announcing, “Coming through!” approximately half a second before barrelling through a conversation. He made it through the crowd in record time and stopped promptly before Hot Rod, Soundwave, and Rodimus. All three of them immediately turn towards them, though their interest is evidently in the two Perceptor’s and not the incredibly antsy jet.

“What do you want?” rumbled Soundwave. Jeez. Did he always sound that menacing?

“Be nice,” Hot Rod scolded. “You know these guys. Perceptor, Perceptor two, and… who’re you?”

“That’s Brainstorm,” answered Rodimus over Brainstorm’s affronted noise. “He and Perceptor were the ones who figured out the whole… universe swap magic.”

“Time travel, alternate universe traveling. Twice, I might add,” Brainstorm said, primly turning over his servo as he looked down at his digits with extreme satisfaction. “No biggie.”

Rodimus rolled his optics. “Toot your own horn later,” he complained. “We get it. You’re smart. Primus knows you don’t let us forget it. Now, why’d you come over here?”

“To ask him something,” Brainstorm said, angling his wing at Soundwave, who stiffened. “I want him to look up this universe’s version of me. Your Perceptor couldn’t find me in the Autobot databases and recommended we check the Decepticon ones.”

“I dunno,” said Hot Rod, looking Brainstorm up and down with a doubtful frown. “I’ve met a lot of mechs, and I’ve never seen anyone like him…”

“You weren’t ever a Decepticon,” said Soundwave. “I am.” Rodimus, Perceptor, and Brainstorm all shared a look, but Hot Rod either didn’t care about or didn’t notice the tense. “I recognize the name. Megatron banished the Decepticon scientist Brainstorm to an off-planet site early in the war because his experiments potentially posed a greater threat to Cybertron than anything else at the time. We have not been in contact with him since.”

Brainstorm pouted. “‘Potentially posed?’ You didn’t even let me stick around to find out? Where’s the fun in that?”

Soundwave leveled him with the dryest, most unamused look Brainstorm’s ever seen from someone without a face. “You were a menace to all of Cybertronian society.”

“Nothing’s changed then,” said Perceptor. Brainstorm flicked him in the leg with one of his ankle winglets.

“Wait,” said Hot Rod. “You banished someone for ‘potentially threatening’ experiments, and you still let Shockwave run around? He tried to destroy Earth like, five times! He literally poisoned the AllSpark! He nearly killed everyone and the whole planet! What kind of logic is that?”

“Same old then,” Rodimus said drily.

Hot Rod sighed. “It’s a long story. He’s gone now, anyway. How long has Brainstorm been away? Does he even know the war’s over?”

Soundwave paused. “Uncertain. All contact with the moon he was banished to and Cybertron was cut off directly after his arrival.”

Hot Rod and Rodimus both clapped a servo over their face. Other-Perceptor shook his head, while Perceptor consolingly patted Brainstorm on the pauldron. “Unbelievable,” Brainstorm groaned. “Megatron looked at my EM field and thought it was awful enough to kick me off the planet. And then he forgot. Me! Forgot about me!”

“A slight oversight has been made,” Soundwave admitted. “I will inform Megatron and arrange a ship for him immediately. If he still functions.”

Hot Rod huffed. “Oh, even better! You left some innocent guy on the moon, and now he might be dead?”

“Should we go?” muttered Rodimus as Soundwave and Hot Rod broke out into bickering. Brainstorm nodded and slowly started backing away, and the two Perceptor’s plus Rodimus followed him.

“When can we expect an answer?” Perceptor asked Other-Perceptor once they were safely out of ear-shot.

“Soundwave is usually prompt about these things, based on my work experience with him. Megatron is… less so, I’m told. I would wager at least a couple of weeks.”

“Are we staying that long?” Brainstorm asked Rodimus.

“Is something catastrophic going to happen if we do?”

“There’s an eighty-nine point seven-five-three-four-two-four percent chance that the portal could destabilize and collapse, trapping us here until someone aboard Lost Light reopens the portal. Given that everyone who knows how to operate that portal is currently here, it would be implausible we would be able to return to our universe,” said Perceptor.

“It’ll be fine,” said Brainstorm after a stiflingly tense beat. “C’mon, I wanna go talk to Wheeljack.”

“Still can’t believe they just left me on the moon,” Brainstorm muttered. He, Perceptor, and Other-Perceptor were currently making their way to a temporary condominium in residential Iacon. It currently was housing a number of freshly displaced Cybertronians until something more suitable could be found or built for them. As Other-Perceptor had predicted, it’d taken roughly twelve days for them to be informed of Other-Brainstorm’s (whose name actually was Brainstorm, not Genitus) whereabouts. It’d then taken another two days for Other-Brainstorm to say he was ready to accept visitors, and another four to get plans in place.

“I’m sure it was nothing personal,” Perceptor was saying as they squeezed their way around a group of laughing mechs.

“I’ve never heard of this mech,” Other-Perceptor mused. “But he must have had some truly uncanny ideas if Megatron decided he was too dangerous for his tastes.”

Brainstorm hummed. “Yeah. I wonder what that poor sod discovered to wind up getting him kicked off the planet.” He gasped and stopped suddenly, servos flying to his subspace. “Scrap! I left my notes in the lab! I wanted to compare them with him!”

Perceptor made an apologetic noise but reluctantly said, “That’s probably for the best. You’d be here for years if you had your notes, and we have to make it back to the Lost Light for our reservations at Swerve’s anyway. I don’t want to try and cajole him into giving us the bar for the evening again.”

“Yeah,” Brainstorm sighed. “There’s always next time, I guess. Hey, do you think our next date could be in another universe?”

“I don’t see why not. Perhaps the energon will be different.”

“What if there isn’t even energon in that universe?”

“Hm, true. I didn’t consider that. We’ll bring our own in case that happens to be the case.”

Other-Perceptor was watching them carefully. “What is the relationship between you two?” he asked mildly. “I didn’t want to assume, but…”

“We’re conjunx endura,” Perceptor said, that especially pleased sparkle that always showed up in his optic whenever he talked about their recent unification glowing to life once again. It gave Brainstorm weird fuzzy feelings in his circuits. He’d have to investigate what precisely in his code caused that later.

“‘Conjunx?’” Other-Perceptor frowned. “I’m not familiar with the term.”

“Write that down, write that down!” Brainstorm hissed, grabbing Perceptor’s arm.

“You write it down. I’m attempting to have a conversation,” said Perceptor, brushing Brainstorm’s servo before capturing it in his own. He gave it a light squeeze, which had Brainstorm’s wings fluttering away. “Yes. Brainstorm is my conjunx. The formal term is conjunx endura. It, in an extremely oversimplified definition, means he is my significant other.”

Other-Perceptor nodded. “I see. I don’t have one such partner myself. The war and the Quintesson invasion took away most time for such matters. For most others, anyway.” Brainstorm thought of Soundwave’s servo on Hot Rod’s hip and wondered what in the hell happened to this universe for that to happen.

“But the war’s done now, isn’t it?” he said as they turned down into a plaza and started making their way toward the condominium.

“Allow me to rephrase. I’m not interested in seeking such a relationship at the moment. A new lab partner is more than sufficient. And I must admit I am curious about what exactly it is this Brainstorm created that scared Megatron of all mechs so badly.”

“Eh, that’s fair. Lab partner is still pretty alright.”

“I happen to agree with that,” said Perceptor.

“Oh, you just happen to?”

“You know what I mean.”

The three of them entered through the first set of doors and were met with a wall of buttons labeled with room numbers. Other-Perceptor unhesitantly pushed the button to Other-Brainstorm’s room. A few seconds later, a small screen flickered to life, revealing someone with a familiar orange blast mask.

“My wings look different,” Brainstorm commented as soon as the connection stabilized.

“Good thing they’re my wings and not yours,” Other-Brainstorm snipped back without missing a beat. Brainstorm barked a laugh.

“Fair enough! Can we come down?”

A loud crash! crackled through the speakers. Other-Perceptor grimaced, while Perceptor merely looked faintly resigned. Other-Brainstorm, entirely unperturbed, said, “Yeah, yeah, just watch your step when you come in. I haven’t gotten to organize yet, so the place is a tad messy.”

“Oh, dear,” murmured Perceptor as the second set of doors to the lobby slid open and the trio of scientists stepped through. “I can only hope that this universe’s Brainstorm’s idea of ‘messy’ is far more reasonable than yours.”

Brainstorm narrowed his optics. “Is this about the moldy energon crystal sample again? I feel like this is about the moldy energon crystal sample again.”

“It was there for three years, Brainstorm.”

“So I sometimes lose track of things! Big deal!”

“How did he manage that?” asked Other-Perceptor as they piled into the elevator. Were all elevators in his universe this roomy? This one could have comfortably housed a few more average-sized mechs like himself. Or maybe like, twelve Tailgate’s or Rewind’s.

Perceptor sighed. “I still haven’t quite managed to parse that one out. All I know is that three years ago, it wasn’t possible to grow mold on crystalized energon.”

Brainstorm threw up his servos, narrowly avoiding whacking Perceptor’s scope. “You’re teaming up on me!” he whined. “Okay, fine. I’ll admit it was bad.”

“That’s what I’ve been telling you.”

The elevator was a short ride to the basement, so it was only a few seconds before the doors dinged open, and the three of them spilled out into the hall.

“Which way?” asked Other-Perceptor.

At that moment, a shrill whistling began to shriek from the leftward hallway, pitching up higher and louder with every passing second until it was cut off with a loud bang accompanied by profuse swearing.

“G51 sounds like it’s that way,” Perceptor said dryly.

He’s correct, of course, and Brainstorm knocks a cheery rhythm against the door. It slid open, and in the doorway stood Other-Brainstorm. Yep. That was him, alright. There was the teal paint job, the white wings, and… a purple Decepticon sigil, branded right across his orange cockpit. Yeesh.

“I was starting to think I’d cleaned up for nothing,” Other-Brainstorm greeted.

“If this is your idea of clean, I’d hate to see what messy is,” mused Other-Perceptor as he stepped into the threshold, scope bobbing wildly as it drank in the chaotic environment. A criss-cross of thick cables and wires were taped to the ground, winding around the room to various machines lined up against the walls. Multiple experiments suspended in thin air crowded up the ceiling, ranging from maybe-guns to definitely-guns to things Brainstorm didn’t even know what to call. Datapads were scattered everywhere, tossed into open drawers, and haphazardly stacked into concerningly tall towers.

“Hardy har,” said Other-Brainstorm, crossing his arms. “Who’re you to start critiquing my workspace?”

“I am this universe’s Perceptor. I am a scientist like yourself. And my companions are an alternate version of you and I.”

Other-Brainstorm looked distinctly unimpressed. “Alternative universes? Please. That was like, a million years ago.”

“What?” squawked Brainstorm.

“You—Excuse me?” Perceptor gaped.

Other-Perceptor pushed further inside and started scanning the massive whiteboard taking up an entire wall of the apartment. “I don’t recognize any of the formulas here,” he said, somehow sounding simultaneously highly skeptical and impressed. “What are they?”

“Oh, I derived those. They describe a relationship between the mesh that constitutes the space-time continuum of multiple dimensions and any one object,” Other-Brainstorm said with a shrug.

Other-Perceptor stared at the board for a while longer. Then he turned around and said, “I can see why Megatron would perceive you as a class one threat. These could cause insurmountable amounts of devastation if they fell into the wrong hands.”

Other-Brainstorm threw up his hands. “Why does everyone keep saying that! I’m not gonna do anything!”

“Why make these, then?”

“I had to see if I could.” He paused. “And it gets boring on the moon.”

“A test, then? A game?”

“I guess? It’s not that deep, to be honest. I was just having fun.”

Other-Perceptor nodded. Then, he turned and neatly sat down in a nearby stool, chin jutted up. “You’re going to tell me everything you’ve learned,” he said calmly, “and I’m not leaving until you do.”

“Uh.” Other-Brainstorm blinked. “You sure you won’t be missed anywhere? Might take a while,” he warned.

“I might be. I don’t care.”

“...Slag. Okay. I guess I’ll start with… Well, where do you wanna start?”

“The beginning. I meant everything.”

“Well, damn,” Brainstorm murmured to Perceptor as Other-Brainstorm stared for a second before he grinned and launched into his explanations. “That was fast.”

“He might not be missed,” said Perceptor, “but we will be if we don’t leave soon.”

“Aw, c’mon, we were just getting to the fun part!”

“You can get caught up later when you come back,” Other-Perceptor said, half-distracted as Other-Brainstorm brought up a sprawling holograph of notes. Brainstorm whined a bit; he didn’t know what those equations were for either, and he was dying to know. But Perceptor was right. Rodimus’ threats to leave anyone late to take-off behind were not to be taken lightly. He’d done it before, and he would do it again.

“I’m holding you to that.” Brainstorm shimmied out of the doorway and back out into the hallway. “C’mon Percy, let’s go.”

Once they were back outside the condominium, Perceptor and Brainstorm took a bit of time to meander around the city, trying to identify anything they could. But the buildings here were in a completely different style to the ones on the Cybertron they were familiar with, and monuments and popular spots in town looked nothing at all like what either of them knew them to be. God, it was positively killing Brainstorm to have to leave so quickly. Slaughtering him. There was so much to explore still, so many more questions he had, and not enough of them had been answered to tide him over until their next visit.

“Do you think they’ll get along?” Perceptor asked as they finally began to make their way back to the Lost Light. The fuel quills were nearly at full mast, the sharp points just barely peeking out above the city skyline. They’d need to hurry.

Brainstorm glanced at him. “You don’t think they will?”

“I didn’t say that. I’m only asking because I know we didn’t exactly have what one would call an instant connection when we started working together.”

A thunderous, rumbling boom cut Brainstorm off before he could answer. Seconds later, the shockwave rolled over them, just strong enough to force them to take a step back. They whipped around, a plume of black smoke already smudging the air in the direction of the condominium.

“You know what?” Brainstorm said as the smoke rose higher and higher. “I think they’re gonna get along just fine, Percy.”

#simpaticoweek2020 #simpatico #tf #my writing #multiverse shenanigans!#the inspiration behind cbv stormy was the single thought 'lord megatron thought my vibes were rancid'#perceptor #brainstorm #maccadam

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jilytho · 4 years

Text

and they were roomates

Jily/Marauders roomate thing just for fun. Happy Jilytober!!!!

Read below or on AO3 of FFNT

Moving in together had always been the plan. The Marauders, out in the real world. Throughout Uni they were always forced to split up into different apartments in groups of two, usually ending with Sirius and James in one apartment and Remus and Peter sharing one down the hall. Remus insisted it be that way because he insisted he wouldn’t be able to focus on schoolwork if he had to deal with his idiot of a boyfriend 24hours a day but separate apartments in no way made them spend any less time together. James swears he spent more nights on the floor of Remus and Peter’s kitchen than in his bed. Still, once they were done with school and off in the Real World having an apartment for all of them to live in was the ultimate goal.

They set out to look for a spot that was nice enough to fit the bizarrely high standards of Sirius, while still not breaking the bank for Remus or Peter who insisted on paying their own way without any help.

It was Remus who ended up finding their place, somewhat dodgy area of town but right down the street from his favorite Thai takeout place, three coffeeshops with adequate reading vibes within a four block radius, and a seven minute commute for Remus to get to the lab everyday. 14C was a once cute three bedroom apartment now covered in years of dust and grime and now officially theirs.

Sirius and Remus claimed the master with its very own ensuite so James could stop having to pick Sirius’s hair out of the shower. It wasn’t a perfect set up but they all found ways to mesh together and make it just right and just theirs. Peter was immediately made interior designer and found a couch and two armchairs off of craigslist so that they could stop sitting on the floor in front of the TV. James was in charge of the kitchen and bought real utensils and bowls so Sirius would stop pouring his cereal onto frisbees. Remus developed his very own homemade cleaner filled with bleach and alcohol and was likely poison in a bottle but it somehow made the beige counters white and sparkling.

Technically James and Sirius were the only names actually on the lease, a Sirius suggestion, so that if they were ever late on rent it wouldn’t impact the credit Remus had spent so long building up. It had the added benefit of Peter and Remus not having to worry if their paycheck was being delayed and they had to pay Sirius or James a few days late because the boys were always good for it.

Being adults in the real world never stopped any of them from still behaving like children. Sirius refused to take out the trash so James took to dumping the trash on his head while he was sleeping, and accidentally got day old noodles onto Remus’ pillow. They broke two TVs during two separate games of indoor football and Peter was a world class baker but was the worst at cleaning in the whole flat and left flour everywhere, constantly. But still, they were happy. They ate dinner together almost every night and had movie nights on Thursdays. Peter and James invested in heavy duty ear plugs within three weeks of moving in and realizing just how thin the walls were.

After a full year of making Apartment 14C home, the lease was up they unanimously decided to resign because this was their place. But then one day they wake up to find that Pete has his bags packed and is all “I got a job across the country bye”. They want to fight him and Remus, always the logical one, brings up that they literally just signed for a whole year and are only 20 days into this new lease. And Peter, the little slimy rat, smirked and said “Not my name on the lease, not my problem” and just left.

They learn from Facebook that he was working for some politician that stands for everything the boys do not. The kind of politician who would actively root against the happiness and togetherness of Sirius and Remus. Once they learn that, they are officially done missing him.

At some time in the middle of the night all the pictures that Peter was in from school are mysteriously replaced with pictures of James’s cat.

Sirius wants to keep He-Who-We-Do-Not-Talk-About’s bedroom empty and make it into a yoga studio/library combo but Remus says that it's ridiculous to pay that much extra in rent and he refuses to let Sirius pay for the room and so the roommate hunt begins.

Everyone they met with was either too sweaty or too loud or was great on paper but had a super distinct death like scent so the room sat empty for almost a full month. James was content to let it stay that way and just keep finding reasons because it was good with just the three of them. They weren’t the same and James was sometimes a third wheel but these were his brothers, he didn’t need anyone else.

It stays empty until one day, Remus comes home from work one day saying that he has a friend from class, a nice well mannered and smart girl who would pay her rent on time but is in urgent need of getting off of her sister and terrible brother in laws couch before she “sets it and the house on fire”. Sirius isn’t sure he wants someone willing to commit arson moving in across the hall from him but a quick look from Remus shut him up and he was suddenly all for the mystery girl coming in. Remus said she would be moving in in three hours and would James be available to help her carry in her bags? James felt slighted that he wasn’t even given a vote or a chance to meet the girl, but that was mostly because despite Peter leaving and betraying them, James is loyal to a fault and still saw the room as Pete’s room and Pete’s stool in the kitchen despite the fact that the lying bastard just took off with no warning and changed his phone number and was a traitorous little bastard. Still, he couldn’t argue the point too much or he’d look stupid so fine, let the new girl move in but “Remus I swear, make it clear that this is just temporary until she figures it out and we find someone else we can all agree on”. He decided he just wouldn’t hang out with the new girl. They’d be apartment mates but they wouldn’t be friends.

She shows up with seven boxes and three bottles of wine to her name. James’s mouth is full of pasta when she introduces herself to him and he is so startled by the green of her eyes that he swallows without chewing and starts hacking noodles up while waving hello as she watches, green eyes wide with concern and amusement, hand still held out to shake.

The first week after she moves in, he avoids her like the plague. He mentally insists that he has no need to get to know her because this is just temporary and she is going to find a new place and it doesn't matter how green her eyes are if he just doesn’t look at them.

By the start of the second week, it stopped mattering if he didn’t directly interact with her because she was still everywhere. The living room was transformed from a bare bones TV and couch room to completely cozy with scented candles and fuzzy blankets and fun, colorful throw pillows that James instantly became obsessed with. He couldn’t lie and say he didn’t love the lemon scented soap in the kitchen or how she always made sure there was coffee in the pot for him or how the scent of her rose body wash somehow fills the whole apartment everytime she showers and is amazing or how the whole apartment just felt warmer and better now that she was there.

He stopped getting surprised when she found ways to just fit with them. He always thought Peter worked well with them, they were brothers of course, but now he couldn’t help feeling like Peter had been a square peg squeezing into a circle hole. He fit but it was also just a little tight or tense or unequal. Lily, on the other hand, clicked in just right. She was instantly just one of them, even before James had accepted it. On her 10th day of living with them (a celebration Sirius insisted required an ice cream cake) all reservations about her completely imploded because there was no arguing that she belonged with them and they belonged with her. When he woke up in the middle of the night to get a glass of water, he wasn’t at all shocked to find her and Remus reviewing chemical formulas at 3am on a Tuesday. Like of course they were, why wouldn't they be. It felt even less surprising that he just walked himself over and sat on the ground in front of her and stole her flashcards so he could quiz them both. It felt only natural when he saw her and Sirius getting ready to go to spin class together, even though Sirius never brings James to spin class with him anymore because of the one time he fell off his bike and caused a ruckus. He’s barely even confused when he ends up at a sunrise yoga class with her even though he had never been awake to see sunrise a day in his life. He’s even less surprised to learn that he enjoyed it immensely and had never been so happy to be up that early. He tells himself that it's just the impact of the yoga that he is in such a good mood but knows it has a lot more to do with the laughing goddess in the downward dog next to him.

They get glared at all through the class because he keeps whispering things to her and making her giggle and then he becomes so transfixed by her laugh that he loses his balance and falls out of his pose, almost toppling the woman next to him. She laughs so hard her face matches her hair and giggles every time she looks at him for the rest of class.

And then it’s Sunday and Blokes Brunch easily becomes “Lily, let’s go time for brunch” and when she pops the champagne (which had always been James’s job but he couldn't’ even fight her properly for it) he sees the sparkle in her eyes so much clearer than the sparkle in the drink and he lets himself actually see her and oh my god did she look good.

It still hurts when they see a picture of Peter on facebook or in Snapchat memories but slowly their memories start to fill up with green eyes and red hair and lovely smiles. It is no surprise when just the suggestion of her moving out became criminal. It was no surprise to any of them except for James when she stopped sleeping in her room and started sleeping across the hall with James. None of it was how the Marauders expected their lives to be at all but there was also more joy and warmth and love than any of them could have ever predicted.

#happy jilytober #jilytober #jily #drabble #mywriting #James Potter #lily evans #maurauders era

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cutegirlmayra · 4 years

Note

May I request cute Tails and Amy friendship? You can choose which version just them being cute friends? Maybe they defend each other when someone tries to mess with them? Love your writing

Watch 18:19 of Pajama Blogs - Prompt Requests - Ep 1 for juicy first thoughts on this prompts! (I may divert away from it, but we’ll see :3c)

Thank you so much! I try hard to stay pumped with energy so that I can give you all reading material during these trying times, lol. So let’s hope and press our hands together in a prayer that I’ll entertain, satisfy, and bring joyful feels to everyone through my prompts and fanfiction updates :Db

Prompt:

“Still working on that observatory, eh, Tails?”

As Tails was about to hammer in on his half-finished ‘dome-effect’ he wanted for his upper-level room, he blinked a moment at the familiar voice and excitedly looked down.

“Amy!”

“The one and only.” She winked, grinning widely.

He had managed to get half the curve of the wall done, a dark, steel grey for it’s base color as it held a half-finished walled hole where the large glass would be for viewing the stars. He would insert a self-made telescope between there, and design a way to bring the view as though a holographic light performance right into his ‘black room’ when he wanted to personally ‘sit among the stars’.

“Permission to come aboard, captain?” Amy joked, placing a hand on the ladder and saluting him.

Tails’s twin namesakes wagged in joy, smiling and closing his eyes as he nodded, “Permission always granted! B-but be careful of the rickety-”

“Ah!” the ladder seemed to tilt as a piece of metal began to bend.

“Amy!” he was about to fly down but she summoned her hammer, wedging it into the place where the metal was bending.

“Phew~” she sighed out in relief, having some sweat trickle down the side of her face before climbing up again.

She removed her hammer and used it to place the metal back into the proper alignment again. “You might have given me permission, but did you consult your ship on that decision?”

The two laughed.

“Sorry about that. Everything is still a work in progress, and honestly, it’s kinda revolutionary if this actually works.” Tails scratched behind his head, then explained how new this technology and optical illusion trick really was.

“Yeah,... kinda amazing, Tails.” Amy admired the work already done to give Tails a space to mediate and enjoy the nature of wonderful night sky above him. “I remember when I first met you, that the dark used to be such a scary thing for ya.” She kid, looking to him kindly but nudging him with a tease.

He blushed slightly, looking away, “Well... then you and Sonic showed me how beautiful it was! A-an-and besides that, I’m too old for a night light.” he tried to seem so mature... but that pout made it obvious he just didn’t want to be looked down upon.

“Right. So a big sky-show isn’t the same thing?” She looked over to see he had already marked a place with some cushions, a reading-outlet to the side of the wall imbedded in with a shelf for the books, and a big fuzzy blanket. The tape read: Second Bed.

It all made her smile, “What a lovely little R&R space...” she lowered her eyes, wondering if he still got lonely like she did... and this was his way of coping.

He lived far away from the city, and although Amy lived down a winding road, she would visit the city often enough for groceries and other fun shopping sprees.

What did boys do to occupy their time?

“Heh, I wouldn’t say a 3D projected model of a precisely positioned magnifying glass and hyperized telescope make for a sky-light.” he tried to defend himself, and it was rather cute to Amy.

“Well, I bet Sonic’ll love to bunk here more often.”

The tone suddenly shifted as Amy and Tails both looked down, away from the other.

“Have you... heard from him lately?” Amy asked, almost worried that she already knew the answer to that question.

“No.” Tails sighed out, before dramatically leaning back and letting his head fall back on his shoulders, “Not since Eggman last showed up.”

“Yeah... he’s been rushing off more and more lately on some daring-dos that apparently don’t require any of us to come along...”

There was a quiet somberness...

“Yeahhhh...” Tails once again leaned properly back in place and dipped his head, scratching it softly...

He seemed friend-sick... and as Amy observed him more, he even looked starved for conversation.

“Hmph!” She puffed up the side of her cheek, “Well, we’ll have to give him the ol’silent treatment when he gets back this time too! Serve him right for all those times he’s left us behind on all the fun!” Amy rambled off, but Tails perked up a bit, looking over to her with a slight turn of his lowered head.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah! Just you wait! He’ll come back ready to tell us all his cool stunts on his new latest adventure, and we’ll be just chatting it up about your awesome star project!” She posed with her arm out and her hand upon her muscle, as though Rosy the Riveter. “That means we should wrap this little project of love up and really see what it’s made of!”

“Y-you mean it?” Tails looked thrilled by her offer. “I-I mean, if it’s not too much trouble... I could use your hammer for a few things.” He looked down at the metal that had bent out of place. “You’re strong arm means I could patch the rest of this in one hammer hit! It’ll remain sturdy if you’re strength! Ah...! Sorry!” he looked back over and saw Amy frowning embarrassedly, pushing her fingers together. He wagged his arms out to the side of her, apologetically. “I forgot... how you sometimes take the praise for your strength a little...” he felt awkward now, seeing her begin her usual spiel.

“But I’m... elegant... A-and lady-like when I do it... right?” She looked over to him as though pleading for his approval.

“O-O-of course, you are! I-I even remember Sonic saying something about it! Your hammer is super cute and only adds to your-! Uhh... c-charms!” Tails bundled his fists up and started shaking them profusely around, not sure how to convince her a ‘giant hammer’ was somehow ‘girlish’ but he did his best. “And besides, I don’t care what anyone else says, Amy! You’re super useful thanks to your strength! Just like I am with my brains.”

He was so determined to succeed in cheering her up that Amy couldn’t bear to disappoint him.

She took in a deep breath and got over herself, straightening up. “Yeah... well, I have to be strong, to look after and protect you and the others.” She ruffled up his hair and he laughed lightly, slightly moving away from her touch as a brother would to his older sister.

“I’m sorry that you’re sensitive to that.” He admitted, “You really are super cool when you hit a robot miles away!”

She flinched.

“I-I-I meant that in a good way!” he shook his hands out again, “Honest!”

Amy just laughed, “I can cook too, you know. Why don’t we finish building this thing and then I’ll make us something good to eat. We can turn it off with some smores and maybe crackers or something too later tonight!” Amy’s usual optimism was restored and Tails immediately caught on to it’s wave.

“Woah! You mean it! T-that could take all day...” His ears lowered just slightly.

“Pfft!” Amy turned with a proud look upon her face, placing one hand to her hip as she sat off the edge with him and then slammed her hand to the top of his head again, making him flatten slightly as he was sitting slightly on his knees. He looked uncomfortable, like her force had made him do an unwilling ‘split’ sort of with his knees being parted and he looked as though in strained pain. “Think nothing of it, Tails! As you said before, my hammer strikes are good on one blow! We’ll have this done in no time, so..? Can I stay the night?”

He continued to flinch and twitch in the pain, “S-sur-sure, I-I-I don’t mind... mmm...” he had a small tear forming at the right of his eye.

A few hours passed as the two worked hard, and finally, the dome was done and the telescope he had already completed for the room was successfully moved up to the upper-room... with a lot of back-strain and power from the two working together. Tails had to really test his twin-propelling tails’s weight limit on how fast they could twirl to lift something, and Amy’s powerful arms and back were put to their ultimate test as well!

But somehow, the two worked great together, though bickered and taunted the other at times...

“You can fly higher than that, Tails!”, “D-don’t act like I’m the only one lifting my weight here!”, “AH! What is that supposed to mean!? I’m as light as a feather! And this is... nothing... compared... to what I can lift!”, “Then push harder!”, “You fly harder!”, They both ‘ggrr’d and finally got the massive telescope up that ladder...

When everything was set up, Amy put on a movie for Tails to rest and started cooking up some dinner. She wanted to leave room for the late-night snacks, and coming back in, noticed Tails wasn’t watching the television.

“Huh?” She looked up the ladder to the room and smiled, seeing the computer light on as he must have been programming the telescope and other functions. “He works so hard... he must be excited to show it off to Sonic.” she felt a slight bit of envy. She sighed, “Not like girls and guys can have that strong of a bond... botherhood and sisterhoods are really exclusive, huh?” she frowned, not liking the idea that she could never be as close to Sonic or Tails as the other was with them.

She called down Tails though, and they had a nice dinner together, complimenting their success as Tails hoped it would all work, but Amy told him not to worry.

“You’re incredibly good at designing these technological masterpieces, Tails.” Amy scolded him for about to open his mouth to answer with food in it, and seeing her hand raised and her eyes closed while one opened slightly, he chewed and swallowed before continuing.

“W-well, that doesn’t mean that their isn’t going to be some error on my part involved...”

“I’m sure Sonic will love it. I know I’m excited to see it.” She picked up his finished plate, going to wash them and as she removed her apron...

“Sonic? I was building this for us to view it together, tonight.”

Her face shot up, touched.

Her heart seemed to rise up as though being elevated to a status it thought unattainable.

“R-really?” She always had felt a distance between the boys, and found it just seemed easier and less forced when interacting with Cream... but Cream was still so young too. She loved picking flowers! Don’t get her wrong! She had just gotten really, really good at making flower crowns for so... long...

She placed her apron that she had borrowed from him down, planning to wash it if needs be as well, but turned back to Tails.

He didn’t seem to notice how much that meant to her, already wiping his hands on his white fluff like he would if he was greased up in oil or gunk stains from working on his pet-projects like the X-Tornado and this Observatory. She puffed up her cheek, “I still need to teach you proper manners, huh?” she whispered under her breath, but smiled and touched her heart.

He was already racing up the ladder, and she immediately went into mother mode.

“Ah! Tails! D-don’t move so fast after eating!” she reached a hand up but he called down to her.

“Bring up the treats! I think it’s loaded all the settings in by now! ... Yeah! Yeah it has!”

His excited voice sprang her into an excitement, “W-well, hold on! I’m coming!” It was like he just called out that the fireworks were gonna start...

She rushed through the cleaning and threw the plates into the dishwater, a little rougher than she usually would like to and washed herself up before charging up the ladder. “Don’t let it start without me!”

“Hurry!” Tails called, and she immediately started to leap passed rings on the ladder to just reach out and jump pass a few steps.

“I’m here!” her quills looked a mess as she clung to the edge of the room, Tails rushing over and helping her up as she huffed and puffed in her strain to get there in time.

“Haha, and you tell me not to rush.” He teased her back.

“Hmph.” she blew up her bottom bang of the three quills on her forehead and then smiled to him, cheekily, “If I get stomach cramps, I’m blaming you!”

“Over here!” He laughed a moment at her response but was too excited to show her what he had set up.

“Ah... Tails...” Amy felt so important and loved then, seeing he had taken the large fuzzy blanket and got in it, opening a space for her to join him.

“S-sorry, is this too... um... close?” He squinted an eye, lowering his arm that was gesturing for her to intimately cuddle up within it and watch the show together.

She shook her head, holding back tears and hoping to not confuse him. “Absolutely! I-I mean, it’s perfect! Don’t change a thing!” she crawled down and got into the blanket, taking the other side as she felt Tails bouncing in his seat.

“Okay, good. Three... two... one... Ehem,” he cleared his throat, like a child about to press ‘liftoff’ on a rocket. “Computer! Activate Spatial Definity Mock 5 Advanced Overhead Project 3.2.7.”

Amy blinked her eyes rapidly at such a long line...

“What? You couldn’t have called it, Sky-light?” she teased again, “For nightlight?”

“Quit it...” He nudged her lightly, embarrassed she kept teasing him on that one. “It sounds cooler this way... and it reminds me how long it took to set up the program and make it run right. I haven’t tested this final version yet, so SDM5AOP 3.2.7 is a perfect name for-!”

“O-okay, as long as it makes sense to you.” she decided not to question it.

The whirling of a computer was heard and the two waited anxiously for the results...

“It has to take a second to go through all it’s processing. Lots of... kinda like doors to hurdle through and collect data for.” He explained.

“...Do you... wish Sonic were here instead of me?” she looked away from him for a moment. “I mean... not that you would have a preference b-b-but...” she thought this was a bad, killing the mood he had tried to set up and wish she didn’t say anything. “Nevermind.”

“No, I think you’ll appreciate it more than he will.”

She felt that ranking skyrocket again, as though her tiny significance in life was suddenly bumped up again to a higher sphere of importance in this little fox boy’s life.

“W-... What makes you say that?” she was trying so hard to hide the sparkles in her eyes, but her quivering voice gave away how happy she was to hear that. No, not happy, overjoyed to know she was considered such a special friend to him.

“You actually helped me complete it!” He spread his arms out as the first little light formed in the blackened room.

“Ah!” Amy saw it first, marveling as it faded and then grew brighter and brighter to show the actual dimensions of the star that was currently in the sky, or at least, the radiance of it.

She marveled as he continued to talk, not noticing multiple other little constellations starting to form over his literal head and scattered all throughout the room. Accurate and pronounced, their distance was a miniature diorama of the actual space of the universe...

“I knew you’d want to see it... I’m sure he would too, but Sonic would rather be in the stars then just viewing them... though he does all the time. Heh, I guess you’ll be able to brag about how you were the first to see it! I-if it works or not... It’s still a longshot, s-so... don’t get your hopes up too hig-”

His face was yanked towards the direction of the star, then Amy started shaking his arm. “Ah-AH-AHHHH!!!” she freaked out as a very distinct cosmic entity was defined in the space.

“AH-! AHHH!! IT ACTUALLY WORKS!” Tails flipped out as they both cried out-

“EARTH!”

Then, one after another...

“The Milky Way!”, “It’s the galaxy from Chris’s world... and look! Here’s our constellations!”, “Ohhh! It’s our solar system! Ahhh! It’s so bright!”

“...Do you think Cosmos seeds found good land to grow on?”

The two suddenly stopped gawking...

Amy couldn’t even look to him, and him the same.

Instead, she scooted closer to him in the blanket, felt his tails solemnly wrap around her for support and comfort, and placed her arm to his opposite shoulder to pull him into the gap of her neck.

He laid his head on her shoulder, tearing up.

“Is... is that why you made all of this?” Amy’s heart tugged on her vocal chords, making them choke slightly.

“...Yeah.” he admitted. “If this was Sonic, I don’t think he’d be willing to talk about it... not like you.” he looked down a moment.

“No, don’t look down.” Amy’s voice plucked up an octave. “Look at your amazing work, Tails. Look at how vast... how beautiful the universe is... I’m sure you’ll see evidence of Cosmo’s seed blooming all over the place. You know why?”

She ducked her gaze down slightly, moving her head to make sure she didn’t obstruct his view.

He smiled lightly through his tears.

“Because life never quits, that’s why!” She pulled him into a half-hug and continued to snuggle up in the blanket. “Hehe, because Cosmo would want you to look at these stars and know that she’s everywhere. Smiling just as brightly as any of these ol’stars and wishing you the best forever!”

She felt his shoulders bounce a little...

She knew Sonic would have done an alright job if he were here too, but...

She was so glad...

Holding him and tucking him in better into the blanket...

That she was the one he shared this whole project with.

That she was the one... who could dry his tears tonight.

-Author: And now I cry, wow, hands slapped together in a prayer really did wonders for myself in this prompt, how about you? lolol To those of you who actually did the gesture and wished me the best, this one’s for you.

#amy and tails #amy prompt #tails prompt #miles tails prower #amy rose #sonic x #cosmo #tailsxcosmo #cutegirlmayra #sonic x prompt #sonic prompt #cosmo the seedrian #cosmo prompt #tailsmo

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harrysgoldenbum · 4 years

Text

Their Bond

At first, I had a completely different idea for this blurb, but it ended up becoming something else. I will admit that I am not too sure about the ending, but I can’t complain. I hope you enjoy it and let me know what you think.

Dad! Harry x reader

warning: none

5 months back

Harry’s baby was growing up. As soon she turned five the first thing she had demanded her mum and her dad was to sign her up for dance classes. It’s actually a funny story. Little Princess had just woken up early that morning.

Well, earlier than normal.

So much earlier, Harry was slightly upset that he didn’t get the chance for morning nooky. But once her little body climbed onto their bed and tumbled onto Harry, all he could remember was when she was born. She was a premature baby, nearly giving him a heart attack when Y/N went into labor 6 weeks early. But when she came to the world, it was the greatest moment in Harry’s existence (so he says). Little Princess wiggles into Harry’s body to cuddle. She places her head on his chest, tucks one of her hands into her chest, and her other smooths out along Harry’s butterfly tattoo. She extends her little legs across the little space that is between Harry and Y/N and tucks her toes in between her mum’s thighs.

You know, to warm up her tiny toes.

Causing Y/N to flinch.

From the moment the Little Princess had leaped out of her “big girl bed” (Harry hates it when she calls it that) Harry laid awake in bed. So when her tiny hand starts to stroke the wings of the insect, Harry drops his chin to his shoulder and watches her. Her lips are puckered as if she's cooing at the tattoos on his chest. With a small smile gracing his face, Harry glances over at his wife, Y/N has her back to them, but her neck is twisted and she is looking at her baby girl with her daddy. Y/N looks at Harry and blows him a kiss. She turns around, giving him time with their little one.

Harry shifts, kissing his daughter’s head and wishes her a happy birthday. With a giggle, he looks up at her father and cries out in joy “You remembered!”

With a small chuckle, Harry asked her how could he forget the most important day of his life? To which Y/N clears her throat,

“Oh! Is that the only important day of your life?” she asks, teasing Harry.

“Of course not love! You should know better.”

Reaching for her daughter, Y/N tucks Little Princess’s wild, bed hair behind her ear. “Happy Birthday baby.” With a kiss on her nose, Y/N tells her how she is the greatest gift that she had ever received.

Once the formalities are done, the trio gets ready for breakfast. Harry starts to make breakfast when he asks their little girl what she would like for her birthday. For the last three years, Harry and Y/N would get her what she wished for.

Of course, as long as it was a reasonable request.

So when she blurts out that she would like to join a dance class. Harry and YN (to say the least) were in shock.

Now it wasn’t that they couldn’t afford to put her in a class, but rather, they didn’t know that she was interested. Their Little Princess often made it very clear to them about her interests. Like the time she “borrowed” her cousin Joey’s soccer ball (sorry, football). Then promptly asked if she could start playing (much to Harry’s delight!) Or the time she started to beg her nana to let her paint with her too… then on Christmas Day, her grandparents got her an art kit.

That was a complete nightmare… and her bedroom walls can tell you that story.

“Oh! What got you interested in dancing lovie?” Y/N asked

With a giggle, she cries out “Mummy!”, she launches into the story of going over to her Nani’s home and watching home videos. She reveals how her Nani played some videos that showed Y/N getting ready for her recitals and her performances. “She had all the glitter and sparkles in her hair and clothes. Mamma had pretty shoes on and a pretty dress, sometimes mummy would be wearing a shirt and plants- I mean-pants.” She was so excited, she tumbled over her words. She went on to show the different steps she watched Y/N do.

Sitting down at the kitchen table Harry asked his wife how he could have been married to her for seven years and not know that she used to dance. With a shrug, Y/N told him that she didn’t think about it, that it was years ago. But with a sly smirk, she also whispers that dance is also the reason she is so (you know) flexible. Clearing his throat, Harry once again turns his attention to his newly turned five year old.

Hopping off the chair she was sitting on, Harry’s baby moves to climb into her Mama's lap. She starts to fire question after question to Y/N about dance. The kind of dances she did, what was her favorite, does she still remember the moves. After answering the first few questions, Y/N convinced Little Princess to finish her birthday breakfast.

Humming quietly she scoops her mixed fruit and starts chewing. Looking across the table, Harry looks at his baby. She is looking at both of her parents with her big, starry eyes.

And Harry knows that she will have her birthday wish. How could he not? Especially, with the way she was looking at him like he hung the stars and the moon in the sky.

With a glance toward his wife, she is smiling at him. Content in the presence of her tiny family.

And that’s what they did. Harry and Y/N added their baby into a dance class. She thrived off the confidence that she gained, and the praise her daddy would give her when she would show him the new dance move that was taught in class.

Two weeks ago

When the Little Princess was told that her class was going to have a recital, and all the mummies and daddies would come to watch the class dance, she was over the moon. So, once she made it home,(after eating dinner and taking a bath), she went into her playroom and started making invitations, similar to the ones her Daddy got when he got invited to an award ceremony. She made them for her parents, grandparents, and her favorite cousins. Whenever Harry or Y/N would walk by or check in on her, she would do whatever she could to hide the surprise she was making.

What she didn’t know was that her dance instructor had emailed the parents about the event.

It took her two days of making sure everything was perfect. She snuck her favorite juice boxes into the playroom along with her favorite snacks. Then she used her old Easter baskets (the ones Nana Anne gave her) to place all the goodies in.

That night during dinner she was shaking with anticipation. Once the meal was finished, Harry and Y/N were expecting her to run into her playroom as she had for the previous two days. She stood in the middle of the living room and folded her hands behind her back, waiting patiently for her parents to give her their attention. After a few seconds, Y/N asks her daughter if everything is okay.

“I’m so happy you asked!” she cried out with a slight hop. “I have an imforfant annou-annou… thing to say” she struggled.

“What’s that darling?” Harry encouraged.

“Please stay here!” and ran into her playroom. The parents stayed seated on the couch and watched as their princess came back to the room with a bright pink basket. It was full of juice boxes and her favorite sweets and snacks. In the middle of her goodies was a yellow card.

“This is for you!” She smiles and hands her mamma the basket.

At a loss of words, Y/N takes the basket and sets it between Harry and her. Harry is the first one to react, he asks Little Princess what it was.

“You have to open it, Daddy! I can’t tell you!” she laced her fingers together and rocks on her feet with a happy gleam in her eyes.

Playing along Y/N gets her daughter’s attention by telling her how cute the basket looks. “Who made the arrangement love?”

“I did Mummy!” she informs them with a giggle. She was happy that her parents didn’t figure out that she had been working on this project in her playroom.

“Oh look Y/N! We have been invited to a dance recital! How fun!” Harry shows Y/N the bright yellow card that was covered in colorful glitter pens. In the middle, there was a small girl posing with a tutu on and what would be hair in a bun. I’m sloppy handwriting (but an effort was made to keep the writing neat).

“You are formally invited to my ceremony! It starts at 6:00 p.m. You have to come!”

(she had used Harry’s invites - Y/N always makes it a point to keep them - to help her write out her invites)

With a slight chuckle, Harry calls his daughter to come to him. She climbs onto the sofa, in between the tiny space that is left between her parents. He grabs hold of her hand and exclaims with the utmost excitement “We will be honored to be there and watch you perform!” (emphasizing on the word perform, not using the word ceremony).

“It sounds like fun! We’ll make sure that we are dressed our absolute best.”

“Good” she responds with absolute seriousness. “Now we have to go to Nana, Nani, and auntie’s house to give them their baskets.”

Y/N manages to convince her to wait until the weekend and starts to get her ready for bed. After kissing her goodnight, the parents move into their bedroom. Harry spends the time he gets ready for bed talking about how much effort Little Princess had put in order to give them the basket.

Present Day

Tonight was the big night. Little Princess was in a frenzy, running from one room to another, trying to make sure she had everything she needed. In her dance bag, she stuffed her hairbrush, hair ties, her favorite stuffed elephant, and two different pairs of shoes.

(most of it being stuff she didn’t need)

Y/N had just finished doing Little Princess’s hair when Harry got home. They were going to have a light “dinner” (if you could call it that… it was more like a snack) and have dinner at Olive Garden.

(the decision was made by their Little Princess since she loves their endless salad so much.)

Harry walked into his bedroom and saw his daughter all dressed up and ready to go. Little Princess hopped off her little stool (well, it was more of a step stool, Y/N uses it to do Little Princess’s hair) and trots over to Harry. Winding her arms around his hips and arching her spine to what seems to be a painful angle, she looks up to him

“Look, Daddy! I did makeup like Mumma and you”

With a light chuckle, Harry comments on how grown up she looks. She gives him a squeeze and skips out of the room. Giving a quick kiss to his wife Harry climbs into the shower.

He comes out of his room and joins his family for the small snack that Y/N prepared.

Y/N spends that time telling her daughter that she might get nervous and might get a funny feeling in her tummy.

“Daddy gets butterflies in his tummy before he steps on to the stage.” Harry inputs, trying to assure his daughter that it’s normal to feel anxious and nervous.

“Daddy, butterflies don’t live in your belly!”

“You’re right,” he laughs. “But you know the funny feeling you get in your belly when you don’t know what’s going to happen next?”

“Mmhmm, like when I do something bad and you and mamma don’t like it.”

With a laugh, Harry picks his little girl up from her stool and seats her on the island counter.

“Is that so,” Harry teases. “Mummy and I want you to know that we are very proud. You are going to do wonderfully when you are on stage.”

“Just remember baby, take a deep breath when you get worried.” Y/N advises.

“Like when my chest hurts?”

Little Princess had asthma, so when she would have trouble breathing, the parents taught her to take deep breaths, and how to use her inhaler.

“Exactly like that petal.”

On their way to the theater, the whole family met up early to get good seating. Y/N’s mum had pulled out her camcorder and declared that a new tradition was made.

After all Y/N’s mum was a professional ballerina.

The dance teacher stepped out to the stage and gave a brief welcoming speech. She explained the different dances that would be performed that evening. Y/N and Harry’s daughter was the sixth and ninth group to perform.

The married couple and their family sit through the first five performances, as soon as the lights lit up the stage for the sixth time. Harry and Y/N reached for each other's hand in the dim lighting. Front and center was their baby girl. Many children waved at their parents and were slightly distracted.

Even the Little Princess had broken her “serious” face and waved at her mummy and daddy.

Once the music started playing, Y/N’s mum started recording her granddaughter's performance, all while naming off the dance move that was being executed by the little girl. Y/N and Harry could not have been more proud of their baby girl. She had spent hours practicing at home and hours at the dance school learning new moves, all for this night. A total of three minutes and thirty seconds of dancing and then she was done.

That’s exactly what their baby girl did. She danced her heart out, on her two tiny feet, with her hands in the air. When the routine ended, Harry and Y/N saw their little princess looking at them from the corner of her eye, as if to make sure that her mummy and daddy were there. And were paying attention.

She saw Harry and Y/N clapping their hands and smiling proudly at her. They saw their daughter glow from their attention.

Once the recital was over, Little Princess ran over to Harry, she was lifted up into the air and placed onto his hip.

“You did so well baby! I am so proud of you!” Y/N exclaimed as she joined the little bubble or her tiny family. With a quick kiss from both her parents, The Little Princess was put back on the floor to meet the rest of her loved ones.

It was well after the family dinner at Olive Garden.

(and well past bedtime for both Harry and his little girl)

He sat with his daughter on her twin size bed, with her playing with his long fingers. It's these moments that Harry cherishes with his daughter the most. Right before she falls asleep. When her imagination is running and she is telling him a bedtime story. Her voice starts to slur, similar to the way he does when he is tried. He watches his baby fall asleep. He lays with her a while longer, with her still clutching his hand. With a small smile, Harry moves her curly hair from her face and gently kisses her forehead. He slips out of her room and joins his wife in their bed.

20 years later

Y/N stands in front of her husband fixing his bowtie, “are you ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Harry responds. “I am torn between walking her down the aisle or telling her that she needs to get in the car and that she is grounded.”

Looking down at his wife, he takes hold of her hips “you look beautiful,” he tells Y/N. “Doesn’t she?” Harry asks his son, who is standing off to their side.

“You look pretty mum.” their son confirms.

It's minutes later when his Princess’s wedding party starts to walk down the aisle. It's then Harry sees his eldest daughter. His chest tightens and she looks beautiful. Tears start to pool in his eyes.

“Hi Daddy,” she calls out in a shy voice.

“Hi baby,” Harry whispers. “You look absolutely beautiful.” he pulls her into a tight hug. He tells her how she is one of his greatest accomplishments. He was so proud of her and he knew that her husband-to-be was going to make her the happiest person in the world. “I can not imagine a better someone better for you sweetheart.”

“I love you, dad,” she said in return, choking up with emotion.

Hand in arm, the short walk to the altar was the most difficult thing Harry had ever had to do, but it was his proudest moment. It was at that moment when he realized that his Little Princess grew up faster than he would have liked. He held on tight to the hand that was clutched to his arm. When the father and daughter reached their destination, Harry gave one last hard look at the man that was going to marry his daughter, before he finally kissed her cheek. With the sigh, he sat down next to Y/N. The ceremony was beautiful. Harry managed to shred a tear or two. But for the most part, he was beaming up at his Princess.

At the reception, Harry was able to loosen up a bit (thanks to the booze). When the bride and groom had decided they were ready to leave and went around hugging their family, it was hard for him to let go. But he managed to, knowing that his baby was living about 30 minutes away. When Y/N, Harry, and their son went home that night, Harry was having a hard time falling asleep. Even when Y/N reminded him that their daughter hadn’t lived with them for some time. After an hour and a half of tossing and turning, Harry’s phone rang. Answering quickly, to avoid waking up Y/N.

It was his baby girl.

He felt as if a weight was lifted off his shoulders. He kinda realized that he didn’t completely lose his daughter that night. The father and daughter had a nightly ritual, they would call each other, tell them about their day and wish each other goodnight.

That’s exactly what the duo did. She told Harry that she got married that day and that she wasn’t sure if her dad was going to let her. She told him that she is happy and that she can’t wait for what the future holds. She ended the call by telling him that she loves him and will see him in a week. Because you know she is going on her honeymoon. He tells her that he loves her too and wishes her and her husband safe travels.

“Give everyone my love Dad! Tell mom I’ll call her tomorrow. Talk to you soon!” and ends the call.

With a relieved sigh, Harry puts his phone down and turns to spoon his wife.

“That’s all you needed, wasn’t it. Your nightly phone call.” Y/N teases.

“Hmm, and you will need your morning call.”

Two minutes later, Harry falls asleep.

~~~~~~~~~

My Works

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hvlfwygod · 3 years

Text

aquaman | griffin, zoey & reid

summary: does anyone even knock anymore? tw: teen angst

Griffin was on Zoey's couch, and Aquaman was playing on her TV, but he wasn't watching. Instead, he was angled toward Zoey, awkwardly leaning, kissing her. They'd started without really discussing it, and he hadn't had the time to adjust his position in a way that was more comfortable or even remotely cool. But he didn't really want to stop for long enough to shift, so he just dealt with the weird angle and the quiet protest in his back.

It was like this every time he came over now. No, they never talked about it, but it was more an unspoken rule at this point. They start movie, or a TV show, or maybe a game. It didn't really matter, because whatever they did they hardly ever finished. (He could still feel the ghost indents of the Battleship pieces pressed into his hand when they started making out before clearing it away.) At least the couch was soft and his shoes were off so he could, if he wanted, tuck his legs up and make himself more comfortable and— did he always think this much while he was kissing her? He could never remember, everything always blanketed out into white noise by this point. Griffin pulled back for a breath, and he quickly rolled his shoulders as he pressed into her lips again.

Zoey was in an apparently more comfortable position than Griffin, not at all bothered by the explosions in the background. She was always tempted to turn off the movies or shows that they had running, since it was pretty obvious that neither of them were actually interested in watching them, but the idea of kissing in silence was weird, and she wasn’t quite desperate enough yet to make a make out playlist.

She ran her fingers through his hair before she snuck them under the hem of his shirt at the back of his neck, and felt satisfaction curl in her stomach at the contact. How lame. She moved unconsciously towards him as he pulled away, felt dumb, and made a small, pleased sound as he kissed her again. She hoped that Griffin would react to it positively instead of making fun of her; something he hadn’t done yet but something Zoey feared any time she gave him opportunity.

“Ten minutes is enough of a heads up, right?” Reid didn’t wait for an answer, not like they’d get one from Koa anyway. The enormous dog just kept chewing on one of his toys. They grabbed the boxes of hair dye on the kitchen counter and checked their hair in the mirror, admiring Devin’s 2am handiwork. Taking a few steps, Reid reached the kitchen door, checked their phone one last time, and disappeared.

It was dark. And fuzzy. “Which way is the— fuck. Where’s the door?” Reid grumbled, pushing past clothing until they bumped their shoulder into the closet door.

He made a small, pleased sound in return to Zoey’s, his own hand moving tentatively from her thigh to the small of her back. He paused there, trying to decide without pulling away where his line was. He liked it when she splayed her fingers along his neck, so maybe she would, too… But before he could continue, he heard something. Maybe he was imagining it, but Griffin heard the faintest thump from… somewhere. Further in the apartment? Reluctantly he pulled back, just long enough to ask, “Did you hear…?” But he didn’t wait for an answer before he was kissing her again.

Zoey moved closer at Griffin’s touch. Maybe one day she’d tell him about how much she wanted to bottle up the sound that he just made, but any opportunity she’d had was never taken. If she ever said that out loud, it would be so embarrassing that she’d combust on the spot. She looked at him through a heavy lidded gaze when he spoke, and realized that she made a mistake immediately. He was gorgeous and she wanted to make him pay for it. Too focused on the task at hand to process his question or any distant sounds, she moved her hand to his jaw, and pulled away this time to kiss Griffin’s neck.

A pair of Zoey’s sunglasses sat askew atop Reid’s head as they burst into the common area. They threw out their arms, calling to their best friend. “Honey, I’m hooo—“ Zoey was on the couch, tangled up with— “-ly SHIT. Griffin?” Reid’s hands flew up to block out the euphoric expression on Griffin’s face before it was burned into their retinas. “MY EYES!” They wailed, turning away from the couch.

He knew he heard something. As soon as he was recovering from the near-euphoria of Zoey’s kiss against his neck, he heard an ungodly yell. The first thing he did was scowl. Something that piercing and grating didn’t belong in this moment. And then, his mind caught up with him and he leaned backwards, but not by much. The scowl remained, and he glared at Reid, hoping they felt it through their hand. “Dude!”

It was a lot to process at once. The yelling began once her lips met Griffin’s skin, and in a moment of panic, she pulled away. And then Zoey realized that it was not Griffin yelling but her teleporting best friend. Better? Not by much. She felt the heat rising up from her chest all the way to the top of her head. For a single, horrible moment, she was afraid that she might cry in front of Reid and Griffin. Instead, she pressed her hand to her forehead and laughed.

One arm over their face, vision obscured, Reid turned back around. “Dude? Dude!” They did their best to jab a finger in Griffin’s direction, but completely missed the mark, pointing a few inches too far to the right. “What are you doing?! Zed, blink twice if you need help.”

"Oh my gods," Griffin grumbled, rubbing a hand over his eyes. He just wanted to go back to kissing, but Reid of course had to ruin everything. Zoey's laughter only grated him further, and he felt his whole body getting way too warm. "She doesn't need— can you leave?" Griffin crossed his arms over his chest.

Zoey sucked in a short breath before laughing again, Reid’s appearance and continued reaction getting the better of her. She finally contained herself, rubbed the space between her eyes, and sighed. “Can we, like,” She wasn’t really sure which one she was speaking to or where she was going with the sentence, but she felt pretty swindled by the fact that she didn’t get the teleportation powers that her friends did, because then this wouldn’t be a problem for her anymore. “Let’s just– look, let’s,” she kept expecting the rest of the sentence to fill itself in. She groaned and pressed her fingers into the space below her eyes. “Can we just, like, Reid, can you give me like, ten minutes?”

“Can you leave?” Reid countered, crossing their arms. Eyes still screwed shut, they turned in the direction of Zoey’s voice. “I gave you ten minutes already.” Their voice sounded whiny, even to their ears, and Reid scrunched their nose in distaste. “Didn’t you get my text? I thought we were doing my hair. Is that still, like, on the table?” They tried to point at Griffin again but this time their aim was a few inches too high. “Or did you knock it off the table while you were eating each other’s faces off?” Reid shuddered dramatically.

The heat spread and got more intense, not only because of Reid, but also because it seemed to him that Zoey was planning to blow him off. He wasn't sure if he felt hurt or annoyed more. His jaw clenched and unclenched as something loud crashed on the TV screen. "I got here first," he grumbled." And then, louder: You texted her and she didn't answer and you came anyway?" The acid was clear in his tone. "Who does that?"

“The one fucking time I’m not on my phone,” Zoey huffed. She’d picked up a nearby pillow and was running her hands over it. “Dude, you can open your eyes, we’re literally just sitting here.” She turned the pillow and ran her hands in a different direction. They hadn’t set a specific time for hair coloring, and she didn’t think that it would end up a problem. She was going to request that they push it back a few hours, but frowned as Griffin spoke. “Woah, dude, chill out.”

Reid twitched slightly at the sound from the TV. A scowl passed over their face. Opening one eye, they squinted at Griffin. “I got here first.” Mimicry was not Reid’s strong suit but it was clear that they were poking fun at Griffin. “Yikes, did you really say that?” They had been about to offer to give the couple (ew) some space for a few minutes but the way Griffin was talking to them frayed on Reid’s nerves. It felt good to have Zoey back them up— even if she had been sucking face with Griffin, at least she wasn’t blind to the fact that he could be a dick. There was another loud sound from the TV and Reid finally opened their other eye, face turned towards the screen. They jabbed a finger in its direction, taking the excuse to turn away from the couch. “You made Aquaman witness that too? Eugh. A crime.”

"What?" Griffin looked to Zoey this time, his nostrils flaring as she turned on him, too. Hurt flashed across his features, but then he just looked annoyed yet again. "Are you actually—" He didn't know how to continue without turning this into even more of a disaster, so his mouth just hung open while Reid continued, pointing now to the TV screen. Eventually he pressed his lips together, then grabbed the remote and turned the TV off. "Happy?" He tossed the remote back on the table then sank into the couch, his head dropping into the back cushion. "Didn't realize this was so..." That, too, he didn't know how to finish, so he didn't.

Zoey glared back at Griffin. “You can’t–“ But her jaw twitched as Reid continued, and the background noise and distraction was cut. She made a disgruntled sound and threw the pillow across the room, vaguely in Reid’s direction, but there wasn’t enough force to actually pose a threat of hitting anything but their ankles. “Stop acting like you don’t walk in on Devin and her fucking pick me boyfriend doing way worse. At least this is my place. I’ll do whatever the fuck I want in front of Aquaman.”

Reid raised their eyebrows slightly at Griffin, the room feeling too quiet now without the buzz of the movie in the background. "Son of a shit," they muttered, not caring if he heard them. The pillow Zoey had thrown collided with one of Reid's ratty Converse and settled limply on the floor. "Ow," they deadpanned, looking over at her. Immediately their face screwed up in an expression of disgust. "Don't remind— Yuck. Okay, yeah, and it's awful every time. I have to ask Logan if he can wipe my memory like he's one of the Men in Black but he hasn't yet." They shrugged, jamming their hands into the pockets of their jacket. It would be easier to leave, since their dramatic reaction had been less funny than Reid had thought it would be. But leaving meant that Griffin was getting what he wanted so they stayed where they stood, waiting to see if Zoey would ask them to go again.

His jaw clenched again at the mention of Eli, and he sat up again, this time glaring at Zoey. "Dude. If I can't talk back to Reid when they're the one who walked in on us, then you, neither of you," he swung his angry stare to Reid and then back to Zoey, "can talk shit about my friend." He didn't want to be the one to leave, but the longer he sat here, the less he wanted to stick around. "I think I should go," he grumbled, but still he didn't rise from his seat.

Griffin had a fair point, Zoey guessed, but she was too angry about the situation to admit that. Her eyes burned as she watched him. She didn’t want him to leave, but the fact that he hadn’t actually moved to do so riled her up until she was the first one to stand. “Cool, take your time thinking about it.” She walked around the back of the couch so that she wouldn’t have to pass Griffin on the way to her bedroom, and kept her gaze on the door so that she didn’t glare at Reid as she passed them. “Just–“ She opened and closed her mouth but just made an exasperated sound as she slipped into her room and slammed the door behind her.

The desire to say 'yeah, maybe you should' was so strong, Reid had to turn away to avoid making the situation worse. They closed their eyes, tilting their face upwards as they inhaled through their nose. Zoey's retreating footsteps were expected, as was the following slam of the door. The look they cut in Griffin's direction was icy. It's message was clear: look what you did. Reid took a few steps down the hall, their voice drifting through the cabin as they knocked on Zoey's door. "Zed?" It would be easier to use their powers and pop into the room but, with the way the day was going, Reid decided against it. "Zed, you dramatic ass Leo. Come back out here, this is your house."

Griffin felt the slam of Zoey’s door through his whole body. He stood as soon as she was gone, all the pent up energy escaping through his limbs as he stalked around, picking up his things. He sneered at Reid once he noticed their accusatory look. “This is all your fault,” he sniped, returning the blame right back to them. And even though they were already walking away, he continued, speaking to their back. Somehow he seemed to be getting even angrier with every word he spoke. “Thanks for always making my life a little worse. You suck.” He ground his teeth together as Reid spoke to the closed door, evidently ignoring him. He couldn’t believe Zoey was picking them over him. “Yeah!” he shouted, hoping she heard from her room. “The gross boy is leaving so it’s safe!” Suddenly, the strap to his backpack broke clean in half, and the bag crashed to the floor. Griffin glared at it, confused and frustrated that nothing seemed to be going his way, then quickly snatched it back up and then stormed out.

Zoey pressed her back to the door and slid down it to the floor. She felt like screaming, but apparently not everyone knew that slamming a door meant that an argument was over, Zoey wasn’t actually available, try again later. She pressed her palms into her eyes until she heard Griffin make his exit. “Go. Away!” She brought her fist down against the door with the second word, hoping that it covered up the shake in her voice. “Just fucking leave, Reid. Like, literally get the fuck out.”

He couldn't see it, but Reid rolled their eyes at Griffin's words. When his backpack crashed to the floor, they snorted. He deserved it for the way he'd spoken to them. The tension only left their shoulders when he stormed out. Zoey's words, however, were a different matter entirely. A defeated groan rose in the back of their throat and Reid tapped the door twice with the side of their hand, almost too softly to make a sound. "I'm going," they said quietly, already heading for the door as the past ten minutes replayed in their head.

#griffin x zoey #griffinzoey6 #griffin x reid #griffinreid2 #griffin #aquaman

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