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topguncortez · 9 months

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All My Heart & All My Being | Jake x Shy!Wifey

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synopsis: Jake & Y/N are given devastating news on what was supposed to be a routine midwife visit. Jake navigates how to tell his kids about the circle of life.

word count: 2.8k

warnings: miscarriage, tears, fear of doctors, cursing, talks of death, canon character death, mentions of depression, mentions of stillbirths

note: miscarriages happen in 1 out of 4 pregnancies. Most miscarriages are spontaneous, meaning that you did nothing to cause it. miscarriages are never your fault, and it doesn't make you any less of a parent. Angel baby parents are still parents.

Jake couldn’t hide his excitement. It was Y/N’s second ultrasound since she had discovered she was pregnant. It was the appointment where they were finally going to hear their baby’s heartbeat. Even though they had been here twice before, the same butterflies and nervous feelings still arose in their bellies. Jake was trying his best to not crush Y/N’s hand with his strong grip as they waited for the doctor to come in.

Jake was halfway out of the chair he was sitting in, at eye level with Y/N’s bare belly. His eyes were wide as he was retelling the story of his last dogfight with Rooster and Coyote. Y/N couldn’t help the smile on her face as she ran her hand through his soft blonde hair.

“And then, I broke right, turning right into the sun with Rooster still hot on my tail, but the ol’ man still hasn’t learned any new tricks,” Jake laughed, “He lost me in the sun, and I was able to turn quickly and get behind him to get missile lock on him.”

“Going to turn this one into an aviator before they’re even born,” Y/N giggled. Jake looked up at her with pure admiration and love in his green eyes.

“They’ve got a handful of uncles and aunts who will turn them into an aviator if I don’t,” Jake said as there was a soft knock on the door. Y/N sat up on her elbows and told whoever it was to come in, but Jake’s eyebrows furrowed at the young nurse who walked through the door, “Where’s Doctor Carpenter?”

The nurse smiled at him as she walked to the ultrasound machine, “She’s with another mother right now, but she’ll be here soon.” Y/N nodded and laid back down on the exam table, “My name is Margaret, and I’ll be doing the initial look, taking a few pictures and then Doctor Carpenter will be in.”

“Okay,” Y/N nodded, feeling the grip of nerves in her throat. Jake could feel the anxiety rolling off his wife in waves and squeezed his wife’s hand. Y/N looked over at him, as Jake raised their conjoined hands to his lips and placed a kiss on the back of her hand.

“How have you been feeling, Mrs. Seresin?” Margaret asked.

“Oh please, call me Y/N,” Y/N said softly, “I’ve been feeling more tired than usual with this one. It’s our third baby,” Jake gave her hand a squeeze, “But lately, my back has been hurting, I’ve had these weird dizzy spells, just overall felt like crap.”

Margaret nodded as she put some of the cool gel on Y/N’s belly. Y/N let out a shaky breath as Margaret pressed the transducer to Y/N’s lower belly. She always hated this part of the exam, feeling like her bladder was going to explode from the pressure.

Jake sucked in a breath as he watched Y/N stare up at the ceiling. She was uncomfortable and Jake hated that. “Did you hear about Dragon’s wedding present for Rooster?” Y/N looked at her husband and shook her head, “Well apparently, it was a fancy little picture book. Rooster was actually speechless, and you know that man is nev-”

“How far along are you?” Margaret asked, interrupting Jake. He looked up at her, noticing the pinched look on her face.

“12 weeks,” Y/N nodded, “But isn’t that on my chart?”

Margaret nodded and plastered a fake smile on her face, “Y-yeah, yes, it’s just that-”

Jake’s shoulders squared as he stood up from his seat, “That what? What’s wrong?”

Margaret set the transducer down and turned to face both of them, “I’m not seeing anything on the ultrasound.”

“What?” Y/N looked from the nurse to Jake and back at the nurse. She felt her heart start to race as she pushed herself up on her elbows, “There’s. . .there’s no baby? I lost the-”

“I don’t know,” Margaret said, “I-I’m not really authorized to read-”

“How about you go find someone who is?” Jake said sternly, crossing his arms over his chest. Margaret nodded rapidly and scurried out of the room with her head down. Jake scoffed and ran his hand through his hair, his jaw clenched shut, “What a fucking joke. Can you-” He looked down at his wife to find tears running down her cheeks, “Hey, sweets, what’s wrong?”

“There’s no baby,” Y/N cried, and Jake wrapped her in his strong embrace.

“We don’t know that,” Jake said, his voice strong and steady, “The nurse even said she’s not authorized to read it.” He pulled Y/N away from his chest and held her face in his hands. She looked up into his green eyes, “You hear me? We can’t jump to conclusions yet.” Y/N closed her eyes and nodded her head, not really believing a word Jake said. And to be honest, he wasn’t even sure if he believed what he said either.

Jake gently shifted Y/N’s body so he could sit on the edge of the small exam table and hold his wife. They waited in painful silence for the doctor to come in. The only sound was the occasional sniffle from Y/N, which was followed by Jake pressing his lips to the top of her head. A small knock pulled them out of their quiet embrace as their usual doctor walked into the room. Jake felt some relief in his body, but the look on the doctor’s face didn’t help ease much of it.

“I’m sorry for the wait,” Doctor Carpenter said, giving them both a sad smile, “Let’s see what’s going on.” She quickly went to the ultrasound machine. Jake moved off the exam table and stood by her side, holding her hand in both of his.

Doctor Carpenter did the same thing as the nurse had done previously, putting the cold gel on Y/N’s belly and spreading it around her lower abdomen. Y/N looked up at the ceiling as Jake’s eyes were on the black-and-white screen in front of him. Doctor Carpenter worked in silence as she moved the transducer around, freezing on a spot, and taking a picture, before moving to another spot. The silence stretched for about ten minutes before Doctor Carpenter sighed, and placed the transducer down.

Y/N closed her eyes as she felt Doctor Carpenter’s eyes on her. She couldn’t hear the words that came out of the doctor’s mouth but felt Jake squeeze her hand.

“I’m sorry, Y/N and Jake, but there isn’t a viable fetus present,” Doctor Carpenter said, “I’m afraid Y/N has had what we call a spontaneous miscarriage. It doesn’t present like a normal. . .”

It was all a blur after that.

She could hear the door to the exam room shut. She could feel Jake move to lean over her and run a hand through her hair. She could faintly make out the sound of his voice as he spoke to her. She could feel him hold her in his arms, rubbing her back and pressing a kiss to the top of her head. She could hear him sniffle and wipe away the tears from under his eyes.

The car ride home was quiet, as Y/N leaned her head against the window, looking at the familiar landscape pass her by. Jake would occasionally glance over at her, noticing the hand that sat protectively on her belly. He shifted in his seat and looked at his wife again.

Jake cleared his throat, “Are you in pain?”

“Not physically,” Y/N answered, “It’s just. . . when you think about a miscarriage or losing a baby, you imagine blood and pain, not. . .” Y/N fought back tears, her mind trying to come up with the right words to say. Jake reached his hand across the center console and grabbed hers. Neither of them said another word as they drove the rest of the way home.

When they arrived home, Jake noticed Amelia Benjamin’s bike by the front door. She usually babysat the kids after school while Jake & Y/N were at work. It was supposed to be a happy night, while Jake and Y/N shared pictures of their unborn child, and listen as Alex and Ella argued about whether it was going to be a boy or a girl. Now, all Y/N felt was dread of having to face her children and her parents.

“Why don’t you go into the house from the garage and up the back steps,” Jake said, looking at his wife, “And I’ll go corral the kids to the backyard.” Y/N nodded her head in agreement, “I’ll be up soon and draw you a bath-”

“I just want to lay in bed,” Y/N said, looking at Jake, “I’m okay. . . or I will be anyway.”

Jake gave her a smile. Y/N was one of the toughest women he knew. She had to be tough when being married to an aviator. Nothing in Jake’s life was ever promised and Y/N had known that first hand. She had watched as partners of fellow aviators had been given folded flags instead of getting to hug their loved ones again. She always feared losing Jake, never one of her own babies.

“I’m going to go in now,” Y/N said and Jake nodded.

“Y/N,” Jake called her name as he stepped out of the truck. She looked up at him, “I love you, with all my heart and all my being.”

Y/N smiled, “I love you too, with all my heart and all my being.”

Jake took a moment, trying to gather his thoughts as he watched Y/N walk into the house. He turned the truck off and gathered his duffle bag from the back seat, before making his way to the backyard where he could hear the loud laughter of his kids.

The second that Jake opened the gate to the backyard, Alex and Ella ran right to him. He greeted them with his usual bright smile and kiss on the cheek. He thanked Amelia for watching them and paid her. Then he stood on the front porch with Alex and Ella as Amelia rode her bike the two blocks it took to get to her house.

“C’mon, let’s go get a snack,” Jake said, leading his kids inside the house. Alex climbed up on the stool at the kitchen island, while Jake sat Ella down on hers. He cut them up an apple, splitting it between the two of them, and giving them each a big dollop of peanut butter to go with.

“Where’s Mommy?” Alex asked, looking around the kitchen for the usual bright ball of sunshine that was Y/N Seresin.

“She’s uh,” Jake cleared his throat, “She’s not feeling well. She’s laying down right now.”

“What wrong wit Mommy?” Ella asked, looking up at Jake with those big green eyes. Jake knew that at some point in time, they needed to talk to the kids about what happened, but he was hoping that he would have some time to gather his thoughts before telling them. If it was up to Jake, he would wait to talk to them, but he also knew that Y/N hated keeping things from them.

“Your mommy,” Jake shook his head, “We found out today that. . . we lost the baby.” The room was silent for a moment as the five and two-and-a-half-year-old were trying to come to terms with what their father just said. How does one even explain the circle of life to kids?

“How?” Ella asked.

“I’m not really sure, Elles,” Jake said, running his hand over her blonde hair, “Sometimes, it just happens. There’s no explanation. There’s no reason. Sometimes, God decides he needs the baby a bit more than we do.”

Alex blinked a couple of times, staring at the bottom wrung of the chair that Steve had chewed up, “Is that Baby with Uncle Bradley’s mom and dad?”

Jake nodded, “Yeah. The baby is with Uncle Bradley’s mom and Dad, and Grandpa Seresin, and the dog your mommy had as a child, and Aunt Dragon’s babies.”

“I don’t wike that,” Ella pouted, as the tears slowly started to roll down her cheeks. Jake cooed and walked over to her, picking her up in his arms, and holding her head against his chest as she cried.

“I know, baby girl, I know,” Jake sniffled, “No one does. It’s hard to lose the people you love,” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, “All we can do now, is show mama some love, give her some extra cuddles. She’s going to be sad for a while.”

“I wanna go to Mommy,” Ella mumbled and Jake nodded. He carried Ella in his arms and walked up the stairs toward their shared room. Alex stayed in his spot, still staring at that beat-up wrung of the stool.

Jake knocked softly on the bedroom door, waiting for the invite from Y/N to let him in. He knew not to overcrowd her and make her feel uncomfortable. Sometimes Y/N reminded him of a scared, feral dog that had been kicked one too many times. But her quiet, soft voice granted him permission to come in, and Jake gently pushed the door open.

Y/N was facing the door and looked up to see her baby girl with tears rolling down her cheeks. Y/N gave Jake a sad smile and shifted a bit in bed to make room for Ella. Silently, Jake stepped across the threshold and brought Ella to Y/N.

“My baby girl, what are the tears for?” Y/N asked Ella, as Jake pulled back the covers and gently placed her next to her mom.

“I don’t want you to be sad,” Ella mumbled, tears welling up in her eyes.

“I know,” Y/N said softly, “I’ll only be sad for a little while, I promise.” She pulled Ella in close to her chest and rubbed her back. Ella was like Jake in so many ways, that the small gesture was a sure way to make them both fall asleep.

Jake smiled at his girls before returning downstairs to make Y/N some tea. Alex was still in the same spot as he was when Jake went upstairs. He eyed his child as he filled and set the kettle on the stove. Jake always felt like he had a hard time connecting with Alex. Y/N was already four months pregnant with him when Jake came home from a mission. And Jake had to leave when he was only three months old for another mission. Alex was also the complete opposite of his father and Jake struggled to find things they had in common.

“What’re you thinking about, Lex?” Jake asked, leaning against the counter.

“Do you know where I can get white roses?” Alex said, looking up at his dad. Jake’s eyebrows furrowed, “Uncle Rooster always gets Aunt Dragon white roses on Ida’s birthday. He says they are for membrance.”

“Remembrance,” Jake said, “And I think I know a place where we can get some.”

— — —

Three days later, Jake and Alex were in the middle of Y/N’s garden, while she sat in a chair with Ella. Doctor Carpenter told her to take the next couple of days easy while her body and mind processed the news of the miscarriage. The kids had been a great help, keeping Y/N’s mind off the loss and giving her the extra cuddles that she didn’t know she needed.

“White Roses love the sun,” Y/N said, as Alex finished digging the whole, “You picked a perfect spot, Alex.”

The little boy wiped the sweat from his brow as Jake brought over the poted plant, “Thanks, momma.”

“Alright Ella, you want to come help with this?” Jake asked, and the little girl happily obliged. She wiggled out of her moms lap and walked over to where the two boys were standing.

Jake gently pulled the rose bush from the bucket it sat in, remembering all the critiques Y/N gave him while he helped her plant to other flowers in the garden. Ella and Alex cupped the bottom of the plant as they gently eased it into the hole. Y/N stood up from her chair and walked over to her family, watching as the kids covered the base of the rose bush with fresh soil. She felt the sting of tears in her eyes as Jake put his arm around her, pulling her flush against his side.

“There!” Alex said, clapping the dirt off of his hands, “Do you like it?!”

“We love it, baby,” Jake smiled, “Now come here! Family hug!” Y/N giggled as the kids ran right towards their legs, hugging them tightly, “I love you guys, with all my heart, and all my being.”

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morgana-larkin · 16 days

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Hello, Idk if u're still taking prompts bc it's seems like you're working on a lot of it, but here's a rather, crazy prompt I have in mind (again) afkajdksjsj.

There's a teacher at Abbott for over a year who's somewhat a little private about her life. Particularly her love life which the Abbott staff seemed to have taken an interest of specially Melissa, who's being defensive when she's called out for being too nosey about the teacher, saying she barely knows a thing about her and it's suspicious that maybe she's actually a cop or secret agent lol. Talks of where's the next venue of game night been going around and the group decided [without the teacher even knowing] that the game night would be held at her rather, fancy house to the surprise of the staff, thinking they would see a glimpse of her priv life and finally meet her partner which is apparently non-existent and later on revealed she never had any relationship in the years of her existence, which also, surprised the group yet Melissa unintentionally let a rather loud sigh of relief and the staff and the teacher gave her a questioning look which she became defensive,again, and a stammering flustered mess under the teacher's gaze.

This was so fun to write. I think I steered a little off a bit but still stuck to what you wanted…(hopefully). I tried to make it light, fun and as cute as possible. As always not edited at all and I hope you like it!

On another note: I know I spelled Chessy’s name wrong, my phone autocorrected me and didn’t notice until I posted it. I thought no one would notice until someone messaged me anonymously about it. So I went back and corrected it. I got one more Melissa prompt and two Chessy ones, and I have started on chapter 8 of ‘Worth It’.

The Game of Love

Warnings: reader has a nightmare(small part near the end), I think that’s all…

Words: 3.3k

You walked into the break room after bringing your students to the cafeteria and headed straight for the coffee machine. You’re exhausted after the morning with your kindergarteners.

“Dear, you don’t look good. Rough morning?” Barb asks you and you chuckle.

“Ya I guess you could say that. I don’t know how you do it Barb. Keep them in line all the time, mine were acting like they had sugar all morning.” You tell her with a huff.

“You’re still quite new dear. I’ve been doing this for over 20 years. You just became a teacher 5 years ago and it’s your second year here.” She says calmly, and always the voice of reason.

“I suppose.” You tell her. You grab your coffee and your lunch from the fridge and then go to sit on the couch.

“Y/n, why don’t you sit with us today?” Janine pipes up and you look at her. You know that she wants to ask questions about your life to get to know you since you don’t tell them much. All you’ve mentioned is that you’ve been living in Philly since you were born, your parents are both lawyers, you have a girlfriend, and you got your teaching certificate 5 years ago. In reality you don’t actually have a girlfriend, you just tell people that since you’ve had many friends try to set you up with a woman and it never goes well.

“Um, ok I guess I could today.” You tell her and head over to sit with the trio. You want to open up a bit more to them. With both of your parents being lawyers, you learned to keep a lot to yourself.

“So how have you been? How’s Amelia?” Janine asks as soon as you sat down. Amelia is the name of your made up girlfriend and said you’ve been with her for 2 years.

“I’ve been good, Amelia as well.” You tell her. “How have you guys been?” You ask her and Janine and Jacob both go and rattle on about their day. While looking at Janine talk, you catch Melissa giving you a look. When Janine stops talking, that’s when Melissa chimes in.

“Hey kid, you never say anything about yourself, why’s that?” Melissa questions you.

“I just don’t talk about myself much, that’s all.” You respond back.

“Why? Why are you so secretive?” She pushes.

“I’m not secretive, there’s just nothing interesting about me.” You tell her and she rolls her eyes at you. “Why are you being nosy?” You ask her and she lefts out a huff.

“I’m not being nosy. It’s just, tell us something, like what do you and your girlfriend do on the weekend or something.” She tells you and you quirk an eyebrow at her. “If you don’t say anything, how do we know you’re not a cop or a secret agent or something like that.” She says to defend herself.

“Well I’m not either one, if you want I can show you my certificate and you can see it’s not forged. But you know both my parents are lawyers so I guess I learned to keep stuff to myself.” You say with a shrug.

“Alright.” She says.

“But to answer your question, Amelia and I don’t do much on the weekends. We’re more home bodies.” You tell her and she smiles at you and you blush a bit.

You excuse yourself early, stating you have to get your classroom ready for crafts, and the trio is talking about where game night is gonna be tomorrow night and Ava comes in to get a coffee.

“Why don’t we have it at y/n’s place?” Melissa says and they look at her.

“Wait, are you coming to game night? Cause you didn’t say either way.” Janine asks her and she shrugs.

“I never know what my plans are on Saturday nights.” She says.

“Did you just voluntold y/n’s place?” Jacob asks and Melissa smirks.

“Yep. We can surprise her.” Melissa says slyly.

“We have no idea where she lives.” Janine says.

“I do!” Ava pipes up and everyone looks at her. “What? It was on her application.” Ava says and pours a bunch of sugar in her coffee. Ava says your address and they all have their mouth open in shock.

“She lives there? That’s a fancy neighbourhood! How does she afford that?” Janine gasps.

“I bet her parents bought it for her.” Melissa says and crosses her arms.

“That would explain it.” Gregory says. “We can’t just show up at her place unexpectedly. We don’t even know if she’ll be home or let us in.” He adds.

“She just said she doesn’t go out on the weekends. And she might let us in, and if she does then we can learn more about her. You can tell a lot about a person from seeing their house. Why do you think I never let youse people over to mine?” Melissa says and they all nod in agreement.

“I’m sure she’ll let us in if Melissa was there.” Barb says with a knowing smile. Melissa whips her head around to face Barb

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She questions, confused.

“Barb you’re coming too?” Jacob asks. And Barb nods.

“My Saturday night is free.” She says, Jacob and Janine grinning. Both of them have never showed up to game night before, so the fact that they are now is exciting to the younger teachers.

“OMG, I don’t even know what game I should bring over now. Ava are you coming?” Janine says with a smile.

“Of course not, unlike you nerds, I actually have plans on Saturday night.” Ava says and walks out.

“So there’ll be 6 of us then.” Janine says.

“Oh we can always have a game that requires teams since it’s an even number.” Jacob states.

“Do you guys have a preference for a game?” Janine asks Melissa and Barb.

“A family friendly game. I don’t want to play one of those games with a bunch of sex questions and sex jokes.” Barb says.

“But those are the best ones.” Melissa says. “The less PG the better.”

“Oh how about the game of life?” Janine says. “But we can play as teams. So like you still have your own car and career, but combine income and losses.” They all agree on that and then they all leave to get their students to finish the day.

You are outside of your classroom helping your kindergarteners zip up sweaters and tie shoelaces. One of your students gives you a hug goodbye and you hug them back and tell them to have a good weekend. Unknown to you, Melissa is watching you from her door frame with a smile and soft eyes. Her class is across the hall and one classroom over so it’s pretty close and she has a perfect view to watch without getting caught. Or so she thought at least, she did get caught but not by you, but by everyone else.

The next day, you’re on your couch and wondering what to watch when the doorbell rings. You get to your door and open it and see Janine, Jacob, Gregory and Barb there there with a smile.

“Hello???” You ask them.

“Hi! We thought it would be fun to have game night at your place.” Janine says excitedly. “I brought the game of life.” And you look to see the game in her hands.

You were about to question them more as to why they chose your place without telling or asking you, you open your mouth to speak but then you see Melissa coming up to your door.

“Melissa, you’re here too?” You ask her and she smiles.

“Yep, can we come in?” She asks you and of course you can’t deny her.

“Ya come on in guys.” You say and step to the side to let them all in.

They all walk in and look around your place in awe. “How do you live in a place this big?” Jacob says and you shrug.

“My parents offered to buy me a place when I told them I wanted to be a teacher.” You say with a chuckle. “I declined at first but then the roommate I had drove me to almost wanting to stab him, so I accepted their offer so I don’t commit a murder.” You say and Melissa giggles at that. In reality everyone laughed, but the one you only really notice is Melissa.

“So where’s this girlfriend of yours?” Jacob says and you got so entranced by Melissa that your brain wasn’t processing properly.

“Girlfriend?” You ask him and they all give you a weird look.

“Ya, Amelia?” He says confused. And you suddenly remembered, although with the look they all have, you doubt they’ll believe you with whatever you say.

“I don’t see any pictures of you with another girl around here.” Melissa points out, looking at all your pictures on the wall.

“Alright, I don’t actually have one. I made her up, my friends kept trying to set me up with women and they kept not really going well so I made up a lie.” You say and Melissa lets out a loud sigh of relief and everyone turns to look at her. Melissa’s cheeks turn pink at being heard and put on the spot. “Something you want to say Melissa?” You ask her with a quirked brow.

“Um uh…n-no not really.” She stuttered out and everyone gives a confused look to each other. Barb decides to save Melissa in that moment as Melissa is unable to speak properly.

“Why don’t we go and set up the game?” She says and everyone agrees. You go to your living room and they set it up on the coffee table.

“I have some food I can put out for snacks, I’ll just go get it. Melissa, do you mind helping me?” You ask her and she turns to look at you.

“Uh , ya sure of course!” Melissa says and scrambles to her feet.

There was 2 reasons you asked her for help, you could have asked anyone but you wanted to be closer to her and show her your kitchen. You know from being in an Italian family, she loves cooking and would probably be in awe of your kitchen. And she was, as soon as you both entered, her eyes went wide and mouth open.

“You have an amazing kitchen.” She says and you smile at her.

“Thanks.”

“You must love cooking in it.” She says and you chuckle.

“I actually don’t cook much. I don’t always like doing it.” You tell her and she looks almost offended.

“What? But this kitchen looks like it’s made to be used a lot, to be used to do so much cooking and baking. I mean I would if I lived here.” She says and she set up a perfect opportunity for you.

You get a bunch of chip bags and some dips and place them on the counter. “Well you could always come over and use it as much as you like.” You tell her and her eyes go wide.

“Really?”

“Ya, if you want. I don’t mind.” You say and she smiles.

“I might take you up on that.” She says and you smile at her. “I think you just want to have some of my cooking.” She teases you and you giggle. You have had some of her cooking a couple times over the 14 months you’ve been at Abbott.

“Well I will admit that I love your cooking but you could come and use the kitchen and I don’t need anything in return.” You tell her and she laughs.

She helps you carry all the chips and dips out into the living room.

“Alright, here’s a variety of chips and dips.” You tell them and they all smile.

You then get into teams of two. You expect for Melissa to pair with Barb and for you to end up with Janine or Jacob. Unexpectedly, Barb asks Jacob to team up, and Janine asks Gregory. Melissa gives a look to Barb and Barb just grins at her. Melissa then looks to you.

“Wanna partner up with me.” She asks and you laugh.

“Well thank you for asking, even if there wasn’t any other choice.” You joke with her and she smiles. “I would love to team up with you.” You add and she grins and blushes a bit.

Unknown to both of you, everyone planned this, for you two to team up together and so they all picked someone to team up with before you guys got a chance.

You all pick out a car to use and whether to go straight to a career or college. Jacob and Barb both pick career right away and everyone else picks college and gets debt.

“Oh look at that, I can be either a teacher or a Doctor.” You say and everyone laughs. “I feel I might be a hypocrite if I don’t pick a teacher.” You say and pick teacher and then a salary. Melissa gets super excited and is able to pick firefighter.

“OH HELL YES!” She says as she picks firefighter immediately.

“What was your other choice?” You ask and she looks.

“Uh, accountant.” She says and looks confused at that and you laugh.

Everyone is having fun playing, there’s laughs, cheering and eating. The more the night goes on, the more touchy Melissa gets with you. Now she knows that you’re actually single, she takes the opportunity to flirt with you. She side hugs you when she’s happy with a victory, and sometimes she leaves her arm there for a bit, even after her turn is done. She’s placed a hand on your leg a few times, and everytime she does that, you blush. She rubs your arm when you experience a loss, like paying for the kids for something. “Damn demanding kids. How do we have 4 of them” You say with a pout and she laughs at that. You guys got the most kids and you picked 2 girls and 2 boys, the boys being twins.

You all end up playing again with the same teams but the rule being you can’t pick the same career. Everyone that picked college last time ends up picking career path just to switch it up a bit, while Barb and Jacob pick college.

This time while playing, Melissa has her arm around your waist for half the game and the other half on your thigh. You swear that life is testing you tonight. You and Melissa end up winning both times and Melissa grins at that. After the second time, you all end up watching a movie. The group ends up picking a horror movie, despite your reluctance since you get scared easily.

Everyone is sitting on either your couch or your 2 love seats. Barb and Jacob are spread out on your couch, while Janine and Gregory are on one of the love seats. So you and Melissa take the other seat. Barb and Jacob each use a blanket, Janine and Gregory share one, while you and Melissa also share a blanket.

Since your kids were so hyper today, you were more tired than usual and you were comfy leaning on Melissa a bit. Melissa has the one arm that’s closest to you, propped up on the back of the seat, with the other one on your thigh and her body is turned to you a bit. You end up getting scared pretty early on and accidentally go to hug Melissa during a jump scare. Melissa stops breathing for a second before she puts an arm around you protectively. “It’s alright, you’re safe, I got you.” She tells you and she smiles. Everyone pretends to not notice what happened and hide a grin.

Everyone then decides to leave but since Melissa had a few glasses of wine, so you offer to let her sleep in your spare room so she doesn’t drive home drunk.

Melissa ends up hearing you scream when you awake from a nightmare and she goes over and knocks on your door.

“Y/n, it’s Melissa. I heard you screaming so I thought I’d come to check if you were ok.”

You get out of bed and go and open your bedroom door. “I’m alright, I just had a nightmare. I knew I shouldn’t have watched the movie with you guys. I’ll be too afraid to sleep now, I guess it’s good that tomorrow is Sunday.” You tell her with a small chuckle.

“Oh I’m sorry hun.” She tells you as she leans against the door frame.

“It’s alright, maybe I’ll just watch something on my phone, maybe some stand up and fall asleep again.” You tell her and she looks at you then an idea pops up in her head.

“What if I slept with you?” She says and you look at her with wide eyes and her face mirrors that when she realises how that sounds. “I-I meant in the same bed and sleep… actual sleep not sex.” She defends and you giggle. In your tired state and full of adrenaline from the nightmare, you blurt out something before your brain has time to stop you.

“I wouldn’t say no to either one of those.” You say and she looks at you surprised.

“Really?” She tells you and that’s when it hits you what you said and a huge and noticeable blush makes it on your cheeks.

“Umm, I mean , I… I-I have no idea what I mean actually.” You say and put your hand over your eyes in embarrassment. Melissa takes the hand off your face then looks at you.

“Do you like me? As in a crush.” She asks and you nod, too embarrassed to speak. As soon as you nod, she has a big smile. “Really?” And you nod again. Melissa gets really excited and kisses you. You kiss her back and you both think that it’s wonderful, you both enjoy the kiss but then Melissa pulls back when she realises she didn’t admit her own feelings, verbally anyway. “I like you too.” She says with a huge smile and a sparkle in her eyes.

You giggle at that. “I figured by the kiss.” You tell her and she smiles warmly at you. “I would love the company in my bed to try and sleep, if you’re still offering.” You tell her and she nods.

“Of course. If you want we could cuddle. I was rather enjoying that on the couch.” She tells you and you agree. You cuddle in your bed and you manage to fall asleep wrapped in her arms and a smile on your face, and your nightmares didn’t come back that night.

On Monday morning you come into the break room and get a coffee as usual. You go and sit on the couch next to Melissa to watch the news. She looks at you and smiles and you smile back at her. Everyone is looking at you guys curiously then you see Melissa looking at you with a mischievous expression. She wraps a hand behind your head and pulls you in for a kiss, you kiss her back and hear gasps from everyone. Melissa pulls back after a few seconds and you see everyone grinning.

“Well it’s about time you two.” Barb says. “I’m glad our plan to make you team up worked.” And you both look over at her with a quirked eyebrow.

“You guys planned that?” Melissa says and you smile and lean on her shoulder while she wraps an arm around your waist, still questioning everyone.

Taglist: @esposadejoyhuerta

@imaginesmultifandoms

@idonothingalldays-blog

@sexysapphicshopowner

@dvrkhcld

@lilfartbox1

If you want to be added then let me know!

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x oc #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti #x reader #fanfic

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thechaoticdruid · 4 months

Text

[This Bites] (1)

Pairing: Astarion x F! Chubby! MC

Plot: Through some mysterious and very miraculous events, a young woman finds herself literally stuck with a character from her current video game obsession. You can guess it already. It's an isekai type fanfic. Except in this case Astarion is stuck in our modern world. I was gonna call the MC Tav, but since the actual game character Tav is mentioned I just named her Winnie.

Content Warnings: Death….sorta, An asshole of a stepdad, MC uses She/Her pronouns, eventual smut and sexual content in future parts. Characters may be Ooc, grammar/spelling mistakes are possible. MC has very low self esteem. Depressed MC.

Chapter One: You are here!

Chapter Two: Here!

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

“Argh I knew something would go wrong with this game!” The female huffed, staring down at her computer. Her eyes scanned over the error message titled ‘Character not found.’ She gritted her teeth in frustration. “God forbid I try mods….”

The young woman groaned, shutting her laptop and falling back onto the bed. Apparently after finally installing a cheat mod onto Baldur's Gate 3 the game decided to retaliate and locked her out of her save files. She couldn't even create a new character either! The same ‘Character not found’ message seemed to pop up no matter what she did. The girl’s name was Winnie, a college student in her early twenties who was still living at home. Not too long ago Winnie had gotten the game upon release. She'd played it several times since then and even yet was still able to find some hidden secrets she didn't notice the first time. Honestly this game had really helped with her current state. Life had just been dull and miserable. All her friends had moved on and had their own lives now and she really wasn't the best at making new ones.

She had a dull boring job, did online writing classes and also had to put up with the asshole her mother married. This game had been a godsend for her these past few months. It gave her an escape. A way to be someone else, at least for a little while anyway.

Not to mention live out her somewhat cringey teenage girl fantasy of dating a walking red flag of a vampire. In this game she felt important. Like she was some badass heroine who was ready to take on any foe. Not the shy, scared, awkward woman who she saw in the mirror.

Her cat Maddie broke Winnie from her thoughts as she hopped up onto the bed and crawled onto the young woman's chest. Winnie ran her hand over the cat's thick fluffy black fur. Maddie gave a small mew before purring noisily and gently kneading her claws into Winnie’s chest.

Winnie sighed, scratching the sides of Maddie's face as she was soothed by the feline’s pur.

“WINNIE! GET YOUR ASS IN HERE!!” A gruff male voice shouted from the other room, causing Maddie to jump and scramble off of Winnie and hide under the bed.

The brunette haired girl sighed and got up, walking out of the room and cautiously stepping down the hall.

“Yes, Brian?” Winnie spoke up as she entered the kitchen. She looked over to see her stepfather stumbling about. Brian was a rather large man with short dark hair and beard. He was well….very unpleasant.

“Where are the goddamn car keys?” He growled out.

“Dunno, I don't drive.” Winnie said calmly as she leaned up against the wall, “mom probably put them somewhere. Check the coffee table by the recliner.”

Brian stomped off, a tiny tan fluff of a dog following after him. He grabbed the keys before walking back into the kitchen.

“I'm going to the store. Keep that stupid cat of yours in your room! It keeps shitting all over the carpet!”

“I've told you over and over. Maddie only goes in the litter box. It's your dog that keeps making a mess in the house because you don't take him outside when he needs to go.” Winnie rolled her eyes.

“Don't fucking talk back to me! You're lucky your mother lets you stay here, if it was up to me you'd have been kicked out of here a long time ago.” Brain snapped, making Winnie flinch a little at his tone. “Now make sure the trash is taken out before I get back.” He said before stomping out the front door and slamming it behind him. Winnie flinched once again at the loud sound before letting out a sigh and pulling the trash out of the can despite the fact that she distinctly remembered her mother telling Brian to take it out this morning.

Winnie took out the trash before coming back inside heading back to her room. Her eyes scanned over her laptop as Maddie crawled out from under the bed. She walked back over and opened the device, logging herself on before attempting to open her game back up.

[Character not found.]

Winnie groaned before filling out a bug report and then putting her computer up. She needed to get ready and go to work anyway.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~

A few days had passed and nothing seemed to work. Winnie had disabled and deleted all the mods, sent in about a dozen but reports and still nothing. The only thing left she could try now was uninstalling the game and then reinstalling it.

Winnie sat on the bed waiting patiently for the game to download though she knew it would at least take an hour. She pulled out her cellphone, noticing a text from her mother. The message was informing Winnie that Brian and her mom wouldn't be home until late tonight. At least this meant she'd have plenty of peace and quiet in the meantime. The young woman spread out on her bed, stretching her limbs before slowly closing her eyes, resting lazily.

Time passed as she slowly dozed off…Eventually she was awoken by the sound of beeping? It was some strange noise that she couldn't quite put her finger on. She quickly looked over to her laptop and her eyes widened as she noticed it seemed to be going crazy. Blinking and beeping.

“What the fuck!?” She exclaimed, grasping her computer and frantically clicking the mousepad.

Then the screen went black before seemingly returning to the home screen. However, everything on the computer was gone save for one shortcut. Baldur's Gate 3.

The game’s shortcut sat in the very center of the computer, practically screaming at Winnie to click on it. She clicked it and the game opened up.

Everything seemed to go as normal up until the title screen. Winnie’s eyes widened in shock as she noticed all of the menu options were gone aside from (New Game). She raised an eyebrow before clicking on the only option available and waiting as the opening cinematic played. Everything continued as it usually did. Winnie created her Tav, a human druid with an urchin background, then proceeded to hop into the game.

Winnie did a bit of a speed run, moving through the Nautiloid as quickly as she could. She recruited Us, Lae'zel and freed Shadowheart before reaching the helm and crashing the ship.

Upon reaching the ravaged beach was when things began to get strange.

The game buffered and blinked a bit, skipping the scene where Tav would check themselves out followed by some voiced narration. Tav was kinda just there on the beach.

“Oh God. The game is glitching….” Winnie whined. She sighed in annoyance before clicking on the ground where she wanted Tav to walk. Winnie REALLY did not feel like uninstalling the game and waiting another hour to try again so she decided she'd play for as long as the game would allow. Winnie had Tav wander over towards where Shadowheart would normally be laying after crash, only to find an empty space where the half elf should be. Winnie groaned assuming it was another glitch before continuing on along the beach. While most things were there like the dead bodies and the intellect devourer enemies, Winnie did not see any sign of Shadowheart at all. Not even near the ruins where she'd be if she wasn't rescued by the player. Winnie decided to quickly go and look for the other characters, sneaking her way past the little brain creatures and moving down the path where Astarion, the elven rogue companion, would be waiting to ambush the player. He was Winnie’s favorite. She had a soft spot for sassy morally grey characters with tragic backstories. And he was also secretly a vampire to boot which just added to the appeal. Winnie had her Tav approach the area before she let out a sigh of relief seeing as the vampiric elf was in his starting area shouting for help like normal. At least the game wasn't completely broken.

“Hurry I've got one of those brain things cornered.” Astarion’s dialogue began as soon as Tav got close enough to interact with him. “There in the grass, you can kill it can't you? Like you killed the others?”

“Uh….I kinda actually didn't kill any of them…Heheh.” Winnie chuckled before dragging her mouse over the dialogue choices.

1. [Easily, stand back.]

2. Kill it yourself. You seem capable.

3. Leave

Winnie clicked on choice 1 before her Tav walked over to check the tall grass for the intellect devourer that was actually non-existent.

Instead a wild boar leapt from the grass and made Tav jump in surprise, giving Astarion the perfect opportunity to strike. He pinned the druid to the ground, pressing a dagger to her neck.

“Shhh…Shhh….Not a sound…Not if you want to keep that darling neck of yours.” The vampire practically purred out. Winnie blushed, a shiver going down her spine. There was a reason she always found herself choosing the elven vampire as her character’s love interest. Initially when she first got the game she felt he came off as a pompous prick (which he is) but damn he was so fucking seductive. It drove Winnie absolutely mad. Not to mention it helped given he had sweet delicious character development later on in his story and actually could be kind of a sweetheart… To the player at least.

The romance in this game had to be Winnie’s favorite aspect of it. She was very romantically inexperienced to say the least and this just added to what made the game her perfect escape from reality. It made her feel like someone actually liked her. Winnie prepared to select the next dialogue choice when suddenly she noticed they had changed.

1. [……….]

2. ………..

3. ……….

4. ……….

She looked up and saw a smirk form on Astarion's lips, his eyes appeared as if he was staring back at Winnie from through the screen. Before she could speak Astarion slit Tav's throat and let them drop onto the ground.

“What. The. Fuck.” The brunette haired female went pale as she stared at her computer screen. Astarion sighed in what sounded like relief?

“Finally, we've done that old song and dance so many times! The novelty has completely worn off.” He stretched out his arms, before wiping his dagger on the ground. “It feels so invigorating to try something new, wouldn't you agree?”

“Uhh…..What's going on?” Winnie asked aloud. She was shaking a bit in both confusion and a little fear. Her character was kinda just laying on the ground dead…and Astarion was talking….to her!?

“Oh dear, it seems I've gone and frightened you. Ahaha!” Astarion chuckled before appearing to move closer to the screen, even going so far to place his hand on it…

“Hello darling…”

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wowzah2nd · 2 months

Text

A Not So Secret Relationship

Severus Snape x reader

Word count: 2k

after years of a not so secret relationship a student catches then sharing a loving kiss. Which cause rumours to spiral around the school, whats going on with professor Snape and professor L/N?

You had been working at hogwarts since you were 20 which was the youngest the school had seen to teach muggle studies since you were muggleborn. 2 years later your dear friend severus snape joined you to teach as well but was offered potion professor and not defence against the dark arts professor. Even though you were very different, you being a gryffindor and him being a slytherin you got along very well. You actually didn’t become friends till both your last years at Hogwarts. You always saw him alone or being bullied by the same gryffindor as James Potter, Sirius black, Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew also called the marauders and one day you decided to stand up for him seeing how cruel it was.

Flashback

It was a normal day at Hogwarts. You were walking around the hall when you heard a commotion coming from around the corner. You'd decided to take a peak and see what was happening and you could see the marauders bullying someone and hanging him upside down. As soon as you saw that you made a run for it towards James who was the one casting the spell as you went near him you pushed him to lose focus luckily the boy wasn’t too high up when he fell.

Y/N: what is wrong with you lot doing that to someone that is just cruel and mean

James: well he deserved it y/n you know what he called lilly, he called her a mudblood

I paused for a second looking between them the boy was no sat against the wall but i still thought what he did was cruel

Y/N: still doesn't give you the right to treat someone so cruelly, if he did say something like then your the one that's supposed to be better and not do things so idiotic you head boy after all lead my example

The group stared at me in surprised that i would defend a slytherin

James: come on boy let's get out of here

Before they were fully out of ear shot i heard them call me a traitor to my house but i didn't care no one deserved such cruel treatment

As soon as I couldn't see them I turned to the boy that got bullied. He was a little hurt getting a scratch on his head from being dropped. Which was my fault, maybe I should have made me put him down slowly instead of pushing him. I crouched down to his level grabbing my handkerchief from my school bag to wipe the little blood on his head

As i was wiping his head he decided to finally speak

Boy: their telling the truth you know

Y/N:I know

He finally looked at me and look surprised

Boy: then why did you help me aren’t you a muggleborn too

I gave out a long sigh

Y/N: I am, but no one ever deserves to be treated less than anything human also how did you know i was a muggleborn

Boy: i was friends with lily before i called that name and she mentioned you a couple times

Y/N: oh did she now i didn’t really think we were friends we barely talk

Boy: yeah she talks about how smart and nice you were apparently you helped her out a few time and she felt grateful for. You are really nice by the way

I giggle at his comment it seemed he was shy when saying it

Y/N: well thank you…

Severus: snape, Severus Snape

Y/N: well snape, can i call you severus instead

Severus: only my friends call me that

I gave him a big smile

Y/N: well wanna be friends then

It took awhile to get him to agree to being friends but it was a great friendship even if people thought it was weird me being friends with him but i never let it bother me and over time i started to develop feelings for him but never got to tell him at school

Flashback ended

It had been 2 years since I graduated and I had become a muggle studies teacher here after Dumbledore gave me the offer and I gladly accepted . another year passed when a new teacher can when i found out it was severus when i saw him in the staff room i ran to him and gave him a big hug.

He was a bit taken aback from the hug and luckily no one else was in the staff room to see

Y/N: i miss you so much severus why did you ever write me

I started to let out all my suppressed emotions that i didn’t realise i was holding in. he let out a sigh before speaking

Severus: I had my reasons that i can’t tell you just yet but i will say that i have missed you too and i was actually scared yo see you

Y/N: why were you scared to see me

Severus: well that because… i wanted to confess something to you..

I was looking hopeful at him now had he been feeling the same way about me like i have about him

Severus: i have liked you for so long and every day that ive thought about you that feeling has grown and developed into love. Even though its been years since i last saw you i finally realised that i love you and wanna be with you. So if youd allows me can i take you in a date

I immediately jumped him and gave him a bear crushing hug

Y/N: of course severus you can and i love you too i loved you every since we started to be friends

He gave out a sigh of relief at my answer

Severus: you have no idea how happy i am right now

Ever since that day you have started to date everyone knew but ever brought it up since it wasn’t their business but what they saw warmed their heart. Seeing the one cold and withdrawn severus actually turn happy when you walked into a room or were in the area. But of course he still tried to hid that side of it since they thought only you deserved to see that side of him but he could not always hide it. Few years later after dating you'd gotten married it was a big ceremony it was a small one of just you and him just how you always wanted

And that now brings us to the year 1993 10 years after being married you still loved teaching at that school mainly because you also wanted to be close to Severus and he never complained. But only complained about harry potter it was the boys third year and as alway severus did really like him since he was a reminder of his youth and i would never blame him

Y/N: hello severus how are you this morning my love

I made my way into in classroom due to not seeing him during breakfast

Severus: not so good if im honest

I placed down a small plate of food he can eat since i know he didnt grab anything before heading back to the classroom

Y/N: and why is that love

Severus: well it’s because i'm teaching potters class

I let out a sigh

Y/N: you know he’s not his father right so please cut the boy a little bit of slack and the rest of the kids they have me later in the day and they still complain

Severus: i know his not his father but he remind me so much like him

Y/N: he won’t be like him the school will teach him better

Severus let out a sigh before grabbing my hand to say come sit with me, so i sit on his lap as we continue our conversation

Severus: your right, but i still won’t go easy on him or the student they need to learn one wrong move they’ll all end up like mister finnigan

I giggle at all the memories i had over the years that id seen the boy come in my class with missing eyebrows

Y/N: give the poor boy some slack he’s not very good at potions it's a hard subject for him

Severus: your beautiful when you smile you know…also i'll never stop loving you laugh it just brings be joy every time

At those comments i started to blush

Y/N: severus stop you're embarrassing me

Severus: i'm just trying to tell my dear wife how much i think she's beautiful and how much i love her presence

Y/N: well Mr snape i love you too

Severus: well Mrs snape i love you more

He cupped my cheek before he leaned in for a long passionate kiss, but without realising it students had filed into the class a a few had saw that kiss both. One of the student decided to get our attention and we both broke away from the kiss in surprise

Student: u-um excuse us professors

Y/N; o-oh im so sorry i should let you teach severus

I got up from his lap and made my way out of the class

Y/N: bye severus see you later

That potion class was a even bad one for those students since any student who tried to ask about what they saw would question it

After morning classes it was lunchtime and whispers and rumours already spread around the school about Severus and you. Causing severus to be annoyed he hated when people talked about you but it made you giggle more than anything since the amount of theories people thought of

Class had resumed and you had the third years first and you knew they were gonna ask questions but you didn;t mind telling them the truth it really surprised you though not more people new about you and severus marriage you neve had your affection but severus did always acted indifferent to it but you knew deep down he loved and didn't want people to see

As everyone was making their way into class you could sense they had questions but decided to ask later. As the class went one you decided that taking a 10 min break would be good for them since that class can be boring

Y/N: okay that's enough for now let's take a 10 min break ok

After saying that it was a que for students to start asking questions

Y/N: yes mister Weasley

Ron: is it true what they’re saying

Y/N: you'll need to be specific mister weasley

He looked a bit nervous to ask the question but the whole class was looking at him to ask it. Seems like everyone else wanted to know to

Ron: is it true you kissed professor snape i hear from some slytherin’s who went into the classroom they saw you

I gave out a long sigh i might as well be honest or else they may go wild with the rumours

Y/N: not that its anyone's business but yes it’s true we did kiss

Everyone was shocked and all started to talk either saying “ i told you so” or “ how can that be”

Then one of the slytherin’s asked a questions

Blaise: but miss aren't you a gryffindor and mister snape a slytherin

I was disappointed at that statement i hated house rivalries they always went to far

Y/N: yes its true mister Zabini but house should never matter when it come to love

That made the commotion even louder they didn’t think love was involved yet, most likely think this was a new occurrence

Then some one in the class decided to ask a smart question to finally put the pieces together

Hermione: Professor L/N what your relationship with Professor Snape

I gave a smile finally someone had maye notice i never really talked about my relationship unless asked same with severus so getting this question was a little bit exciting to me

Y/N: well miss granger good question my relationship with Professor snape is actually a simple question to answer

I paused for dramatic effect looking at all the anticipated face of the students giving them a sweet smile

Y/N: were actually Husband and Wife

Everyone was shocked giving out surprised gasps at the very thought

Student 1 : no way that can’t be true

Student 2 : why are you married to snape

Student 3: how long have you been married ?

Student 4: unbelievable

I decided to hush the class to explain this was such a big surprise to all of them apparently

Y/N; 1 it is true me and severus have been together for a few years now and quite happily married we’ve known each other since out student days, 2 severus is a very kind person and i would not appreciate you all bad mouthing my husband around me and 3 it very believable

After answering all their question classes resumed and it was finally finished the day went on as normal but you next classes were pretty much the same as the third years asking questions and being very shock at a gryffindor and slytherin were together

Classes were now done and it was time for dinner as you were waiting for dinner to start you waited for Severus but it seemed like he was a bit late, probably marking. But after a few minutes he had finally arrive while dinner was in full swing.

Y/N: hello love how were classes today

He seemed very grumpy probably due to the students constant questions

Severus: no very good student don’t know how to keep questions to them seleves

As he said that i look towards to student seeing them looking at our interactions, and a plan came into my head it could anger him a little bit or maybe help

So i decided while everyone was looking at us and he was talking, to give him a kiss on the cheek and i did

He froze for a sec but then relaxed guess the kiss worked and for a moment he ignore everyone around us and cupped my cheek to give me a quick kiss on the lips

Severus; i love you, i really do my darling wife

I smile at him i was so in love with this man

Y/N: i love you too my darling husband

After that everyone said awwww in the great hall which cause severus to snape out of it and go cold once again i slid my hand under the table to hold his hand to make sure he was okay and he squeezed back telling him he was fine then i brought it to my lips to give it a kiss causing everyone to awww once again

And to this day people say they could have sworn they saw professor snape blush

#severus snape #Severus snape x reader #harry potter #secret relationship #established relationship #romance #angst #fluff

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lykaonimagines · 2 years

Text

Two Of You - Stephen Strange x Reader

Paring: Stephen Strange x F!Reader

Word Count: 1,432

Description: After months of living in the Sanctum, when America thinks Stephen and Y/N are going to ask her to leave, she starts doing everything she can think of to convince them to let her stay.

Request: "Stephen and the reader are married and want to try for a baby and they ask America first."

Requested by: Anon

Other Things: Mild angst but it gets family fluffy/happy.

Warnings: Some swearing.

Masterlist

The first eight months in this universe had been some of the best in America’s life. Finally for once she felt like she belonged somewhere. That she had a home, that she was loved, and she wasn’t a danger to anyone.

She’d been going to school in New York, finally getting a chance to meet other kids her age and make friends she didn’t have to worry about suddenly being ripped away from one day. She lived at the Sanctum Sanctorum with Stephen and Y/N who had practically become her adoptive parents, and she studied the mystic arts at Kamar-Taj on weekends.

Everything for once felt… stable. And comfortable.

Sunday family movie nights, Saturday family breakfast, Y/N packed her a lunch each day with encouraging notes, the two of them stopping by her room each night to wish her a good night.

She couldn’t have imagined anything better.

That is until she started noticing Y/N and Stephen whispering more. While they were usually quick to invite her into their conversations, suddenly it seemed every time she entered the room they’d go quiet.

While their overall behavior toward her hadn’t really changed much, and they still followed their typical schedules, this small change was setting her on edge.

What couldn’t they talk about around her? That had to be discussed so often?

The only thing that could come to mind was that it was about her. The most reasonable answer seemed to be she’d done something wrong or they’d grown tired of her. Both possibilities made her heart ache.

So she started trying to help out more, and in her newfound panic, it all seemed to go wrong. First she burned the dinner she tried to make for them. Then accidentally turned Stephen’s socks pink in the wash when she did their laundry.

She came to the conclusion that those kind of chores didn’t seem to be working for her… but maybe some of the more magical ones could.

She’d watched Stephen perform the seals for the doorways loads of times, it didn’t seem like it could be that hard. He complained about having to do it all the time. Maybe if she could prove she could handle that, they’d let her stay.

At least that was the plan, until the spell went wrong. Of course on the door that had currently been set to some oceanic scene. As the spell went haywire, water poured through the doorway quickly starting to flood the hallway.

Trudging through the water, she breaks into a sprint as she reaches dry floor and screams Stephen’s name at the top of her lungs, frantically looking into each room.

Within seconds he appears, gripping her shoulders as he tried to get an actual answer from her. By the time she managed to gasp out the issue and they made it back across the Sanctum, the water had already started taking over the foyer.

He’d made short work of the seal and removing the bulk of the water, but the fancy thousand year rugs squished under their feet and there was apparent signs of water damage on the wood flooring and walls.

“I- let me help!” She insisted, reaching to grab a wet relic and accidentally dropping it in the process, the piece shattering as it hit the floor.

“No!” He shouts but sighs and rubs his temples. “I’m sorry. Just. Please go help Y/N with dinner or do your homework. I’ll handle this myself.”

“I-I’m sorry Stephen, I just-”

“America not right now please, I have a lot to do to fix this,” he grumbles as he turns back around to inspect the damage.

Turning away dejectedly, she heads back up to her bedroom to throw herself onto her bed and buries her face in her pillow.

“When do you think we should talk to her about it?” America freezes just outside the dining room as Stephen’s voice reaches her ears.

The tears she’d been holding back over the week since the doorway incident threaten to spill as she swallows hard. This was it. They were finally getting rid of her.

“I don’t know, I’m not sure what the best time to say that kind of thing even is,” Y/N responds.

Clenching her fists tightly and tightening her jaw, America stomps into the room with tears in her eyes, “You can just say it to me, I already know.”

“America?” Stephen asks surprised. “You know?”

“Hun what’s wrong?” Y/N immediately says as she notices the tears in the teen’s eyes. A look of confusion on her face as America takes a stop away from her as she steps forward. “What’s going on?”

“I already know!” she repeats, the tears trailing down her cheeks. “You guys want me to leave, you don’t want me here anymore.”

“Wait what?” Stephen’s brow furrows as he looks between Y/N and America. “Who said that?”

“No one yet, but I know it’s coming,” she answers, her gaze drifting to the floor. “And I- I can’t blame you. I was trying to help out more so you’d want me to stay and all I did is cause more problems for you.”

Y/N’s arms wrap around her and pull her into a tight hug suddenly, “America, I don’t know where you got that from but that’s not true.”

“B-but you two keep whispering about things and then stopping when I come in the room, and I keep making everything worse,” she hiccups, her tears spilling against Y/N.

“Kid you’re not going anywhere,” Stephen adds softly, approaching the pair and gently ruffling her hair. “We want you here, and anyways as far as the state of New York is concerned, legally we’re your parents. So you can’t get rid of us that easily.”

“You’re not mad about the seals? Or laundry, or dinner?”

“Those are just things,” he shrugs and wraps an arm around each of them. “Floors can be fixed, we can make more food, and I can get more socks. I was more upset you tried a spell you’ve never done alone. We were lucky it was just water damage. It could have been lava, toxic gas, any kind of beast. I don’t want anything happening to you.”

Y/N’s hand rubs slow circles on her back as the tears subside and she snuggles into the both of them with deep breaths. “What did you want to talk about then?

Stephen glances down at his wife and they both nod in agreement.

“Well Stephen and I have been thinking… we really like being a family. All the things we do together, being your parents. And we got to thinking about maybe wanting to be someone else’s parents too,” Y/N explains softly, America pulling back to look at her questioningly.

“Who’s parents?”

“We were thinking about trying to have a baby,” Stephen continues, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “But we wanted to know how you felt about that first.”

“Wait, you wanted to ask how I feel about you guys having a baby?”

“Yes, you’re our first priority and if you’d rather we not, we don’t want to do anything that’s going to make you uncomfortable.”

“But if you want a baby why would you let me say no, won’t that make you happy?”

“We are happy,” Stephen states simply. “We’re both really happy with the three of us, and will be if it stays that way.”

“We just liked the idea of having two of you,” Y/N smiles as America’s eyes widen.

The teen stays quiet for a moment, looking between the two as a wide smile grows on her face, “I’m gonna be a big sister!”

“Well I’m not pregnant yet!” Y/N laughs and leans against Stephen’s side.

“I want a sister!” America continues, pacing back and forth in front of them in thought. “No, a brother! And he needs a cool name, he’s going to be magical as heck! I’m gonna have a sibling!”

Before the two of them can say another word, America races into the kitchen excitedly, to inform a visiting Wong of the good news.

“Did she just basically tell Wong I’m pregnant?” Y/N sighs and shakes her head with a small smile on her face.

“I believe she did,” he chuckles and presses a kiss to her temple. “And you know how we can fix that?”

“How so?”

He lowers his mouth to her ear, playfully nipping at it as he digs his fingers into her hips, “By making it true.”

----

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buggywiththefolkmagic · 1 year

Text

Personal Do Not Read Witchy Author List

There will be a google doc with updates as I find more authors to avoid. These are all my own personal opinion and I do take the author's actions into account when judging their ability to write legitimate information.

TW: Slavery, serial killers, racism, TERFs, creeps, neonazis, asylums, and a slew of other super unsavory things. I tried to make this list as PG as possible while highlighting the issues with these individual people.

*Alestier Crowley. *

He's a literal piece of garbage. Misogynistic, thief of a toooon of closed practices, has entire cults still dedicated to him, called himself a voice of God (both Abrahamic and apparently like 5 Egyptian deities??? I mean excuse me sir how about no??) He also declared himself ‘above’ Gods back in 1922 calling himself Ipssissimus. I hate Crowley so much I have literally stuck a picture of him to a dartboard before. He can suck an egg in the afterlife. He also put his own wife in an asylum for 'alcoholism’ because she wanted a divorce. The only thing he ever did right was get kicked down a flight of stairs at a temple once by a poet.

*Anastasia Greywolf*

Appropriates at least Jewish practices if not every Indigenous practice there is. Wholeheartedly encourages people to use magic instead of going to a doctor for things like oh I dunno EPILEPSY And claims she has spells for like Marvel-level super powers which uh no Ana. You don't. Lots of Christianity for a supposedly FULL pagan and wiccan author. Her spells are all controlled like...so wrong. So, so wrong. Don't ask please. I can't begin to describe it. Advocates for smudging and uses phrases like "Cherokee Rituals", and the Romani G-slur.

*Gerald Gardner*

Made his own branch of wicca, the first technically, and his own coven had to make rules just so he wouldn't spill everything to any reporter that asked. Used Crowley as a main resource.

*Jason Miller*

Claims to do Hoodoo. A horrible formatter, and generally super dismissive of being a rootworker and other potentially closed practices, has not been initiated. Has claimed that anyone can petition/pray to Papa Legba without initiation because "Vodou is a congregational religion/practice". From the Vodou and Haitian Vodou practitioners I have talked to that is VERY incorrect, it may be congregational but you still have to be involved in the community to be trusted with those practices because so much of it has been bastardized for media and racism purposes. He is also a student of Catherine Yronwode, who is another SUPER problematic figure in the Hoodoo/Rootwork community.

A link of his own words on culture appropriation which includes mild inaccuracy towards Indiginous Peoples and that they don’t ‘own’ certain practices when it’s very clear the wording of those practices DOES in fact come from those peoples. He’s fine with people being Yogis, or Shamans, or calling satchel spells mojo bags, and other such phrases and won’t correct people if they use such words out of context because “language changes”. Also says if someone within a practice says it’s closed to go to ANOTHER AND ANOTHER until you find someone willing to teach you??? That’s not how it works sir.

Source: https://www.strategicsorcery.net/on-cultural-misappropriation/

*Lisa Chamberlain*

Not an actual person. This is a ghost writer name for a bunch of garbage literally copy and pasted from wikipedia into books. I wish I was kidding.

*Lisa Leister/Lester/whatever other spelling she's used.*

Such a major TERF. Like JK Rowling level TERF. Claims magic comes from a womb so anybody that doesn't have one isn't a real witch. Like WTF lady.

*Raymond Buckland*

Where to start...uses the G-slur often. (His grandfather was romani so it blurs the line of blood quantum.) Very sexist and obsessed with the idea of a woman getting uh...undressed for rituals while men stay dressed and more things I cannot say ina PG space??? As magic?? VERY anti-minor and LGBTQA+. Toxic, just plain toxic. Can't do it. I have read his Blue Book and it's the least problematic thing he wrote. I'm alright with it.

*Silver Ravenwolf* WhOOO boy. So super anti-christian, which is fine and dandy...if you didn't claim to be in a lineage of braucherei/hexerei. Wiccan, like the type of wiccan that says no other witchcraft exists and yet has written folk magic books??? She really needs to make up her mind. Claims Satanists don't actually exist. Claims most Jewish powers worshiped "the Goddess" (whoever that is)??? Very cult-like language about "not telling friends and family about your new life/reality/experience/whatever". Also SO MUCH APPROPRIATION. SO SO MUCH. She also gets her history wrong, on a lot of basic information that most non-witches know about like say the Salem Witch Trials.

*Catherine Yronwode* Ooh man. So Catherine Yronwode’s career started as a comic book artist. She’s worked on such things like the Elvira comic, DNAgents, and a gaggle of super controversial trading cards which included the Kennedy Assasination, a serial killer collection, and the AIDS epidemic. Of which she was sued for using one half of the Hillside Stranglers duo in said killer trading cards without his permission, the judge sadly threw the case out because and this is a quote, “ If Bianchi had been using his face as a trademark when he was killing women, he would not have tried to hide it from the police.” There were two more from her comic days, but those aren’t super relevant besides the one that pushed the envelope of what sort of trading cards should be sold to children. On the magical side of things, I will be blunt here: As one of the ‘big bads’ of the Rootwork/Folk/Hoodoo community? I really REALLY dislike her. She has made numerous false claims about New Orleans/Haitian Vodou and that it’s only a very recent practice, non-religious, and slaves never used it because it didn’t exist yet??? History books and entire generations will disagree. An example would be this link of an open letter to her written by a New Orleans Voodoo practitioner and someone she wrote a whole article about: https://conjureart.blogspot.com/2013/10/open-letter-to-cat-yronwode-and-lucky.html

She owns a few different websites namely https://www.luckymojo.com/, has written numerous Hoodoo based books, and actively has accused numerous people who have asked her for sources and or disagreed with her of plagiarism and has slung more mud that you can shake a stick at.

She also praises a book on Marie Laveau and yet discredits herself by calling New Orleans Voodoo a new religion/neopractice??? She’s just confusing as all heck to me.

*Christian Day* This guy’s just a creep. One stuck in the early 2000s mall goth phase even though he’s over 50. He also appropriates Hoodoo and owns two Hoodoo shops as well as multiple other witch shops in Salem and recently New Orleans on the French Quarter (Which is pure tourist fodder and not a reflection of true New Orleans Voodoo/Vodun/Rootwork). He has also harassed ex-employees so badly it’s landed him in court. His book The Witch’s Book of the Dead also reads very much like a list of accomplishments rather than anything useful. All about his television spots and experiences doing that. (Did I mention he was in an episode of Ghost Adventures? Yes, that one with Zac Bagans??? And it did not make us witches look too great, honestly speaking.)

Sources for Harassment Claims: https://www.cbsnews.com/news/salem-witch-gets-protective-order-against-warlock/

https://www.wcvb.com/article/warlock-christian-day-ordered-to-stay-away-from-salem-witch/8228072

*Yvonne and Gavin Frost* I dunno how else to say this, I really don’t. These two? Pedophiles. Multiple writings of theirs included not-safe-for-work-or-children rituals that must include minors. Avoid. AVOID AVOID. AVOID ANYONE WHO USES THEM AS A RESOURCE! This should NOT be okay in any circle. They are VERY used within the Wicca religion so please be careful!!

*Orion Foxwood* Some of his information is very sound! I can’t fault him there. He does have a tendency to blend different traditions without actively TELLING you he’s blending them though. He’s and this is a direct quote, “He is a witch and Elder in Romano Celtic-Traditional Craft, High Priest in Alexandrian Wicca and teacher of the Faery Seership tradition. He is also the founding Elder of Foxwood Temple and a primary founder of the Alliance of the Old Religion, a national network of covens in his line that have united to preserve the ways of his Elders. He was the co-director of Moonridge, a center for metaphysical, Craft and Faery studies in Maryland” That’s an awful lot of traditions to juggle and not only write on but actively teach. He also performs conjure, which in of itself might not be an issue but Conjure usually blends into Hoodoo really quickly if one isn’t careful! A lot of the traditions he talks about from his family sound quite familiar, he’s clearly from Appalachia but his books on the subject blend in his other practices instead of keeping them separate.

*Starr Casas* She’s in the same category as Orion, only she doesn’t necessarily give her credentials to be teaching Hoodoo, and even wrote a whole book filled with Hoodoo love spells. She also co-owns a French Quarter Conjure Shop, which if you ask any practitioners from New Orleans...is catered to pure tourists and not a true example of the crafts from the area.

*Shawn Engel* I’m gonna be blunt here. More appropriation of the Jewish practices, Hoodoo, and other information that is just plain UPG without saying it’s UPG and encourages throwing hexes at political party members solo. I read The Power of Hex and had to put it down numerous times just to gather myself and not throw it away, I don’t know if it was tone or sheer level of appropriation...likely both.

*Kate Freuler* Of Blood and Bones is chock full of Hoodoo, full stop. Only acknowledges that something comes from Hoodoo once and also gets basic mythology information on the Deities she mentions wrong in some cases. Also a lot of the book seems to be UPG because the bibliography is super small for a 300 page book.

*Dorothy Morrison* I picked up Utterly Wicked once. A very odd book full of Hoodoo and Vodun spellwork and misinformation, the author is also Garderian Wiccan so even the writing of a book full of hexes is slightly...concerning compared to the Wiccan traditions and redes. Odd is the best I have to describe how I personally feel. I will say this again: Voodoo Dolls are not used to cause pain, stop bastardizing that single aspect of the practice. Thank you.

*Helena Blavatsky*

I dunno how else to say this either, her philosophy and occult knowledge, called Theosophy is a portion of what inspired Hitler. Pure unadulterated racism veiled in a ‘Atlantian Race Theory”. Horrible stuff, read for a class project once and felt disgusting.

*Christopher Penczak*Whoo boy. On the surface he seems alright, one of the first ‘male’ witches I had ever heard of except for Scott Cunningham. But the more you dig into his work the more inaccuracies and Christian bashing you see. For example: Christianty was the first patriarchal society. Uhm...I believe you’re kinda forgetting the men who ran Rome and Greece there sir. He also fully proposes the ‘burning times’ were like a ‘witch holocaust’. NO! NO IT WAS NOT. You can’t compare the hundreds of years and MAYBE a thousand-ish people dying to the millions that died in the short timespan the Holocaust was a thing. Fuck Christopher for that comparison and also for claiming it was a ‘burning time’ to begin with. (History says that most were hung...or tortured. Burning is a very small number of that list in general.

He makes a lot of sweeping statements and sees witchcraft as a religion and NOT a practice. He whitewashes, fully harps on the Wicca = witchcraft = religion thing and THEN hones in on the difference between “white and black” magic and how cursing is evil and yet highlights certain practices that actively practice...cursing...as they have for generations??? He (atleast) doesn’t demonize Satanism but does still backhand the idea anyway, that they CAN’T be witches because witches only ‘heal’. Cultural appropriation and fetishization of ‘Native’ practices while calling them primitive all in the same breath, I just can’t with this guy. I really can’t.

*Amy Blackthorn*

Owns a tea brand called ‘Blackthorn Hoodoo Blends’ she is white. When questioned by BIPOC individuals she complains and blocks them instead of explaining why she chose the name Hoodoo for just teas. TEA. She is also the author of Blackthorn’s Botanical Magic, Sacred Smoke (A book on smudging yikes on trikes), and Blackthorn’s Protection Magic.

Proof of blocking: https://thisblackwitch.com/2016/04/01/blackthorn-teas-whose-culture-is-it-anyways/

*Tarl Warwick *

Is more commonly known as Styxhexenhammer666 on youtube and other social media sites. Has written a pile and I mean a PILE of occult based books including ones on Hermetic magic, ritualistic magic, demons, solomon, folk plants and healing, Kabbalah, and many MANY more.

He makes no claim to being Jewish, and given his political wishy washiness, and multitude of controversies which includes claiming the Holocaust wasn’t ‘that many dead’, Charles Manson deserved release because he was ‘extremely innocent and didn’t kill anyone’, and fairly recently also wrote and published a book on Critical Race Theory and why it’s ‘garbage’. I can’t support him no matter how accurate some of his information may be (if any at all).

*Temperance Alden* This really pains me to say, Temperance in her Wheel of the Year book made a claim that birth control “stunted her magical abilities” because it affected her hormones…in OTHER words unless you are a perfectly hormone producing WOMAN you don’t have great magical power. AVOID. AVOID. AVOID. That is a slippery slope to claiming medication will harm you, not to mention how TERF-y it is AND completely disregards that magic is for well…everyone. Such a stupid gatekeep-y concept.

*Sarah Kate Istra/Dver*

Advocates for using ‘spirit animals’ regardless of Indigenous beliefs and concerns. Is also a known ally with the Piety Posse, a neo-nazi group of pagans who claim the term polytheist can only apply to them and if you aren’t a Hellenistic pagan…you aren’t pagan at all. They also advocate for animal sacrifices, blood tests to prove purity, and other horrible HORRIBLE stuff.

*Sannion/H. Jeremiah Lewis*

Obvious Neo-nazi, keeps images of swastikas on his personal blog, and not the ones that the nazis stole from, the nazi one. And super SUPER transphobic.

*Edward P. Butler*

Major persecution complex, spends half his twitter complaining about how monotheists are destroying…I dunno…everything? Also defends Krasskova quite heavily. Antisemetic as well.

*Galina Krasskova*

Hellenic pagans watch out. Defends the AFA. A ringleader of the Piety Posse. There’s a lot more horrific stuff about her and I won’t go into extreme details. But TW: Romanticizes SA with deities, human sacrifice, animal sacrifice. Compares debating to the holocaust, lots of victim blaming, gatekeeping, and screams folkish.

*Diana Cooper*

Racist. Hard stop. Also appropriates chakras. Has a weird belief that food controls skin color and that Africa will never be a good country because it’s the solar plexus of the universe…or something like that. I got 20 pages into the book and literally couldn’t go any farther. Did I mention this book was supposedly on dragons???

*Judika Iiles* So much appropriation, advocates for making altars and working with closed deities. Lots of incorrect information including dangerous spellwork like obsession spells. And one in particular that has roots in a racist stereotypes. Avoid please!

#witchblr #witchcraft #Authors to avoid #Will update in the future #If anyone has any questions about any of these please feel free to ask

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maxybabyy · 6 months

Text

It’s almost half past eight when the door opens and breaks Max’s focus.

Usually, people don’t come into this room. It’s too noisy, too hot when it isn’t completely freezing outside.

Lewis comes by occasionally, uses the nanodrop for his DNA samples. But his project is on the tail-end, and he’s too deep in the writing phase to even be on the lab cleaning rota. Max knows he was meant to stay, that Toto wanted to build a part of the group around him and his expertise. But funding runs out quickly; what was hot five years ago, may as well be old news today.

But it’s Daniel who pokes his head in, smile wide as he spots Max in the corner.

“There you are, Maxy.” He says, pushes the chair closer to Max before sitting down. “Alex said you’d left, but your stuff was still in the office, so.”

He doesn’t have a lab coat on, but always he doesn’t wear it. Max doesn’t know still if it’s an Australian thing, or because he is a pharmacist maybe, but also Oscar does it.

“But I have my gloves on today, Maxy.” Daniel said yesterday when Max had commented on it, trying not to stare at the lovely white tee shirt Daniel had been wearing. He wiggled his fingers as a tease, the bright pink gloves Seb had brought as a joke. He would have to at least be a large to escape the bright blue nitrile hell Max and the other mediums were saddled with. “Don’t get used to it though, just Oscar’s apparently shit at aliquoting piss I’ve learnt.”

“So what are we doing tonight, Max?” Daniel asks now. He is sitting on the chair the wrong way; elbows on the back of it with his chin in his hand. He couldn’t sit like that, Max thinks, at least not for very long. Not like Daniel can, like he does in their shared meetings when Christian and Zak remember they have a grant together.

“The university said the power would be out for a while tomorrow, so I of course have to shut down the MS,” Max says, huffs when he has to turn back to the computer.

The email had come Wednesday night, barely any information except for the notice of a power outage within eighty hours. Max had used the reply-all function to tell them to go suck an egg, turned off his phone and gone for a run.

Checo should of course be the one to do this, senior to Max in every way but one. But last time Sergio had been in charge of shutting down the systems, Max had come in the next day unable to complete calibration, and they had to replace two different parts.

It’s a new instrument too, and always he can be – the mass spectrometer can be a bit fussy when you have to shut it down. But Max has been working with mass spec since undergrad, was the second author on GP’s Nature Communications paper. Had come to Christian’s lab for this very instrument, so he of course knows it best.

“Always they say we are a part of a core facility, and still, they do this,” Max says. He’s already discussed it with GP and Jonathan how it isn’t okay, with the facility manager who hasn’t touched probably a mass spectrometer in his life.

Daniel also hasn’t worked with MS by himself before, but he would of course understand, would know it isn’t okay to do this.

“Was the Friday bar alright?” Max asks. He had gone too for a bit, shared the last dregs of gin with Charles, pouring the tonic directly into the bottle to get the most of it. “George said he made a quiz, but to me it sounded very boring. There was a part, I think, where you had to spell out chemicals’ names.”

Daniel laughs, and it sounds so loud in their tiny room for two. Daniel has of course always had a very lovely laugh, but it sounds even better like this. The two of them only. Max likes it like that the best.

“Yeah ah, George kinda went to town on the goon sack instead,” he says. “I reckon Alex had to carry him home.”

“George drank the wine?” Max asks. “No! But that is so old, it’s been in the fridge since Liam graduated.”

“He went for the sangria too, it wasn’t even good fresh.”

“Always George should not be in charge of this, of drinking and parties,” Max says, remembers the nightmare his grad party had been. “You are of course very good at it, how to make it a good night.”

“You think so?” Daniel says, soft, hesitant. Max looks up from the instrument with a frown, touches Daniel’s hand where it’s been hovering in the air, like he didn’t know if he could touch him. Always he can. Max should tell him this, maybe.

“Yes, Daniel.”

“Then, would you go somewhere with me tonight?” He asks, closes his hand around Max’s. It’s different to work like this, one-handed and typing slow. But Max doesn’t want to pull away, keeps his hand in the warmth of Daniel’s.

“I think I am too tired for the club, Daniel.” Max says softly. He has gone before, after the Friday bar. But he cannot do it tonight, his body is too tired. He doesn’t think he would survive if he did, considers already if he should take the bus home and leave his bike behind.

But to his surprise, Daniel laughs, squeezes their hands together. “Nah, I was thinking we could maybe go get some food? You said you’ve been craving like, tacos, and I’ve found a place down by one of the bridges that I thought we could try. If you wanna, of course.”

Daniel has only been in the city for five months, but already he has made friends in high places, in the low ones too.

“I would love to, but always I don’t know how -“

“Hey, we’ll just leave whenever you’re done, no rush, Maxy.” Daniel says.

Max nods, “Then it of course sounds very lovely. It will not be that much longer, I think.”

“I’ll be here,” Daniel says softly.

He pulls his hand from Max’s, the loss of touch, of warmth is sudden, but Max knew it would happen. But Daniel doesn’t leave.

He doesn’t go back to the office to work on the paper Max knows has to be sent back with major revisions, doesn’t go over the postdoc application Zak isn’t supposed to know about. He pulls out his phone instead, plays one of those indie rock albums that Max has come to like.

It’s very nice, Max thinks, his own earphones still dead in his ears.

The MS does finally shut down, leaves the room almost quiet except for the music.

They’re in the basement to get their bikes, Daniel will go in front because he knows where they’re going. He wears a helmet now too, one of those fancy Hövding airbags that will inflate if he crashes.

“So I won’t mess up my hair, baby,” he had said, the collar loose around his neck when he came into the office to show it off. Max doesn’t care, thinks he looked cute in Max’s borrowed helmet, but this is good also.

“Hey Maxy,” Daniel says now, one leg swung over the bike. “Would it be cool with you if this was a date instead?”

Max almost stumbles over the pedals, but he doesn’t, corrects himself so he’s upright and staring at Daniel, who watches him back almost shyly.

“It would of course be very lovely, I think, if this was a date,” he says, faint.

Daniel's lips stretch into a wide grin, and Max cannot help but return it.

“Cool, let’s do that then.”

#maxiel #max/daniel #maxiel fic #my fic #my writing #fic

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to-fly-with-clipped-wings · 3 months

Text

Chapter 1.2 - Train Rides and Talking Hats

Pairing: Harry Potter x Chosen One! Reader

“Oi,” you spoke, feeling your jaw clench at the blond boy’s demeanour. “I’d watch what I was saying if I was you, especially considering the crap that’s spewing out of your sewage-system of a mouth.” Draco Malfoy turned his sharpened gaze toward you. “And I’d be more careful if I was you. You don’t want to make enemies with the wrong people.” “The same goes for you.” OR: in which you hitch a ride on the Hogwarts Express and buckle up for one hell of a ride. → Set in a universe where you are the chosen one, and Harry Potter is your best friend who tries to help you navigate the woes of being the lone hero of the wizarding world. A swap au where you are the chosen one, your parents are dead but the marauders + Lily are not. Eventual Harry x Reader, slowburn, friends to lovers. Series Masterlist

.｡*ﾟ🗲.*.｡　ﾟ*..🗲｡*ﾟ

Perhaps, if you had any less self-respect, having had a mental breakdown on the King’s Cross platform would have been your morning on the 1st of September.

The train leaves at eleven, Hagrid had told you. The Caddels had dropped you off at the station at half past ten before leaving to drop Odette off at her new school, Smeltings, they’d said.

All you were really aware of was the nifty cane that came with the uniform, supposedly used to thwack fellow peers. An excellent training for later life.

Regardless of peculiar apparels or uniform, you had now acquired a steadily rising fear that you would never be able to wear yours, if you couldn’t uncover where exactly platform nine and three-quarters situated on the station.

There they were, right in front of you, platforms nine and ten – right there – but nowhere could you spot any semblance or notion of anything three-quarters related. The large plastic number nine leered tauntingly at you, swinging back and forth vaguely with the passing breeze.

You had pestered the guard manning the station. He hadn’t even heard of Hogwarts, and since you had no flying clue where or even what the school was, you couldn’t describe it to him. The guard stared you down incredulously, as though you were trying to be stupid (you didn’t miss how he eyed Hedwig, the name you had christened your snowy owl, who chirped irritably back at him).

It took every ounce of your remaining willpower to not snap or lunge at him and cause a scene in the middle of the station, especially when a congregation of people had formed a circle around you to observe the exchange curiously.

Apparently, according to a variety of people at the station, there wasn’t even a train that left at eleven o’clock. And to top the cherry on your fabulous sundae of anxiety and chagrin, according to the large clock situated on the arrivals board, you had a little under fifteen minutes to be seated on the train.

You wished Hagrid had left you with more information, but when the man had dropped you back at your house and allowed you the time to blink, he had vanished.

Urgent magical business, you mused dryly. Almost like the kerfuffle of being stranded on a station with not the foggiest idea of where to go.

Fleeting anxiety began to weave around your periphery. What if you missed the train? Were you missing something? Did you need to cast a spell? Oh, you knew you should have read the books before coming to the station. You swore at that moment to leave no page in your spell-books unturned.

You prepared to brandish your wand at the stray ticket box next to platform nine, trying your very best to formulate a spell that would divulge the presence of platform nine and three-quarters.

In a perfectly timed turn of events, a group of people passed behind you, and you managed to glean a glimpse of their conversation.

“ – packed with Muggles, of course –

You heard your neck crack from how fast you wheeled around. Muggles. You had never been happier to hear a single word. The speaker was a stout woman, to an audience of about five red-headed children. Four boys and a girl, who from the conversation that ensued, you discovered was too young to attend Hogwarts just yet.

You turned your hawk-like stare toward ‘Percy’, the oldest boy, as he dashed toward the brick wall of platform nine, pushing his trolley along with him. Wincing, you closed your eyes so you wouldn’t see him and all of his school supplies crash onto the floor.

Miraculously, though, when you peeled your eyelids back open, the boy was gone.

As were the twin brothers, Fred and George (or did their mother say George and Fred?).

There was only one more boy left; a tall – though that entire family seemed to be on stilts – lanky, deeply freckled one. If you wanted to know where the sons were disappearing to, this was your final shot.

“Hey!” you called out, dragging your trolley behind you as you approached the remaining members of the red-headed family. Then, realising how the abruptness of a random girl yelling at someone may be perceived as rude, you decided to dial back your advances. “Hi, sorry. Do you happen to know how to –”

“How to get on to the platform?” she said kindly. “No worries at all, dear. Is this your first time at Hogwarts? Ron’s new, too.”

She pointed at her last son. He had dirt on his nose. You tilted your head slightly toward him in greeting, but your mind, however, was still hyper focused on how the clock was dwindling closer and closer to eleven.

“Pleasure,” you smiled, desperation beginning to blemish your voice, evident as it began to inch one or two octaves higher. “So, er, I’m hoping that you do know how to get to the train?”

“That’s right,” she said. “All you have to do is walk straight at the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Don’t stop and don’t be scared you’ll crash into it, that’s very important. Go on, go now before Ron.”

You ruffled the collar of your shirt, which was looking far too neat and sophisticated (and therefore, not nearly as charming as you liked it to be). “Thanks, Miss.”

You sucked in a deep breath before gathering your courage and sprinted toward the very solid, opaque looking barrier of platform nine and three-quarters.

As you were running, you realised you were almost there – and then, quite suddenly, you weren’t.

Rather, you now found yourself underneath a sign that read Hogwarts Express, 11 o’clock.

Permeating through a brick wall was yet another box to check from your list of magical experiences. Twice, actually, if you counted the entrance to Diagon Alley. Odd was it indeed, but it was your odd now, and you lest let anyone try and rob you of it.

You stood in awe, head on a swivel as you examined the new environment. A mammoth of a train, one whose size could only be attributed to the slight of one’s magical hand, with smoke seeping out of its charcoal chimneys, stood tall against the crowded stage of the station.

You turned around to see if the red-headed family had made it through as well, and sure enough, there they were. The woman was still looking at you, and when you waved at her, her face split into a soft smile and she returned the gesture.

You swept your dishevelled hair to the side – it had tousled itself into a heaping mess sometime during your episode on the other side of the train station.

You only registered the consequence of this action when the red-headed woman’s eyes widened, and as an abrupt muteness circulated throughout the platform, capitulating the vocal cords of what seemed to be every single man, woman and/or child present there at that very moment.

Families that were once bidding their children goodbye, lovingly caressing cheeks or smoothing down fly-away hairs, or families who were once loading trunks onto compartments, were now reacting in an identical fashion of the same scene that had transpired at the leaky pub; normal chatter was extinguished, and murmurs crept around the platform like an amateur thief in a treasure trove.

“The lightning scar!”

“Is that – oh, my sweet Merlin, it is!”

“Oh – where –?!”

“Move! Let me get a glimpse!”

“Look, over there!”

“(Y/n) (L/n)!”

You stiffened slightly under everyone’s combined gazes, the abruptness of this changing you off guard. But, as quickly as the alarm had rippled into your body, it had dispersed out.

A smirk split your face, and you nodded toward the woman closest to you (who promptly went pink and near-fainted) as a way to acknowledge that you acknowledged their sudden interest in you. You heard someone chuckle at your brazenness, and a few more flurries of whispers burgeoned from other by-standers.

During the time it took for you to jostle your trolley into an empty carriage near the back of the train, the number of people actively tracking your every move had died down, though only by a fraction. From the corners of your eyes, you could still see the odd third-year trying to estimate how many laces you had on your shoes, no doubt so he could pester his parents into getting the same.

(You kept to yourself that they had previously belonged to Odette, however, as you seriously doubted anyone wanted to know that (Y/n) (L/n), hero of the wizarding world, still wore hand-me-downs.)

Unfortunately, it seemed that although you possessed the power to terminate the reign of the darkest and most powerful wizards in history, you had apparently not attained the muscles required to heave your trunk up the stairs onto the Hogwarts Express. You stumbled back, cursing as you reeled from the pain that rocketed through your foot after you dropped your trunk on your toes.

“Want a hand?”

You looked up. It was one of the red-headed twins, from that family you had met before.

“Yes,” you said almost immediately. “Er, please.”

“Oy, Fred! C’mere and help!”

The three of you managed to successfully store your trunk into the corner of your compartment. Before you could thank the twins for their help, though, one of the twins pointed at the spot on your forehead where the thin lightning-shaped scar donned your skin.

“You’re (Y/n) (L/n),” he announced. Just like Olivander, this had not been a question, but rather a statement.

“Yes,” you straightened your posture a little higher. “That’s right. I am.”

The two boys gawked at you, and you subtly swept your sweaty hair to expose the scar even further. To your slightest dismay, however, the familiar voice of the red-headed mother drifted through the carriage before you were able to elaborate further on your battle-scar.

“Fred? George? Are you there?” Both the twins groaned at their mother’s summoning. Sparing one last glance at you, they ambled toward her call. “Coming, Mum.”

You waved the twins goodbye. Sitting down by the window, you ducked your head so you could listen to the family, who were still on the platform, whilst being half-hidden at the same time. Their mother had scourged out a handkerchief and was furiously scrubbing at Ron’s nose to rid the smudge of dirt that laid upon it.

You watched with amusement as Ron tried to lurch away before being caught in his mother’s iron-fisted clutches once again.

“Mum – geroff!”

One of the twins snickered, leaning close to Ron. “Aaaah, has ickle Ronnie got somefink on his nosie?”

“Shut up!” You saw the oldest of the red-headed siblings saunter towards his family, already draped in his robes. A shiny red and gold badge was pinned onto his chest, with the letter P engraved onto it.

“Can’t stay long, Mother,” he said stiffly. “I’m up front, the Prefects have got two compartments to themselves –”

“Oh, are you a Prefect, Percy?” One of the twins gasped, bringing his hands to his face in disbelief. “You should have said something, we had no idea.”

“Hang on, I think I remember him saying something about it, once –”

“Or twice –”

“A minute –”

“All summer –”

You huffed a laugh at the back and forth going between the family. Percy the Prefect’s face was starting to sport a lovely bright, irritable shade of red.

“How come Percy gets new robes, anyway?” queried one of the twins.

“Because he’s a Prefect,” their mother smoothed Percy’s already-perfectly-smoothened hair fondly. “All right, dear, well have a good term – send me an owl when you get there.”

She sent him off with a kiss.

You sunk back into your seat. For some reason, the jovial atmosphere you’d felt upon discovering the magical platform had now become strangely dampened.

Call it a moment of weakness, sure – but in that moment, you wished that you could have a mother. A mother who would dote on you like that or who would comfort you.

But, as soon as that looming train of thoughts had festered, you vanquished them from your mind – the other kids could keep their affectionate mothers who waved them goodbye as they left, the same, in fact, would go for their superficial, gentle-natured fathers; you had your fame and that topped any shred of whatever they may have had, whatever you were missing.

As though the red-head family were suddenly attuned with your train of thought, you heard the voice of the youngest child (the girl) pipe up. “Oh! (Y/n) (L/n) On the train? Please can I go see her, Mum, please, please…”

“You’ve already seen her, Ginny, and the poor girl isn’t something you goggle at in a zoo. Is she really, Fred? How do you know?”

“Asked her. Saw the scar. It’s really there – like lightning.”

“Poor dear.”

Your fingers traced the pattern of the scar, not particularly enjoying the feeling of pity emanating from the family.

“No wonder she was alone. I wondered. She was ever enthusiastic, though, when she asked how to get on to the platform. I’d have thought she’d be scared, by herself…”

“Never mind that, do you think she remembers what You-Know-Who looks like?”

The red-headed mother swelled like an angry bullfrog. “I forbid you to ask her that, Fred! No, don’t you dare. As though she needs reminding of –... ”

The disarrayed ruckus of another family hurriedly barrelling onto the platform and ushering their boy onto the train, stripped your focus from the ginger group.

Observing the mop of black hair, you realised pleasantly that it was the boy you had met at the Quidditch store that day in Diagon Alley. Closely behind him, a stressed looking woman with copper-coloured hair, followed him briskly onto the train. Your lips twitched as you noticed that she possessed the same brilliant green eyes as her son.

The father, a carbon copy of his son, followed seconds after, carrying a tremendously large trunk onto the train. There was one more man – perhaps one of the uncles the boy had mentioned – who remained on the platform, presumably allowing the family their final moments together. He didn’t really look alike to the mother or father of Quidditch Boy’s family, so you guessed that he was probably an uncle by choice, not blood. He had sandy brown hair with substantially sized scars running down the entirety of his face and neck. There was a large, shaggy black dog beside him too, and you swore that it had winked when it saw you looking at it.

A shrill burst of steam raged outwards from the chimney of the train. You guessed that this was a warning to families that the train was about to depart right now. True to your word, just as Quidditch Boy’s mother and father practically leapt off the train carriage they’d left their son in, the train doors slammed shut, and the vehicle began dutifully chugging forward.

Left behind now, was the platform of nine and three-quarters.

Leaning back in your seat, you exhaled roughly. This was it, the moment that marked the beginning of your journey into Hogwarts. You had no clue where you were going, but you just knew it would be good. A grand moment, you were sure, but what you were also sure of was that the next few hours on the train (or possibly days or months, who knew?) would result in you being bored out of your mind. Stuck in an empty carriage by yourself with no one to talk to – tragic – maybe it would do you some good if you popped down into one of the other carriages and try to find some other first-years.

Coincidentally, the door of the compartment was opened by none other than Quidditch Boy himself. His hair was askew, glasses lopsided and cheeks clearly flushed from the rush of trying to scramble onto the Hogwarts Express before it departed. He did not have his trunk with him, so his father was probably able to store it in time.

“Hey, again,” he flashed you a bashful smile. “Would it be alright if I could sit here with you?”

“Sure, no problem.”

You observed him as he took the seat opposite you. He was already wearing robes of sorts, not the Hogwarts ones, judging from the lack of school emblem, but the sorts that you hypothesised would be the wizarding equivalent to a t-shirt and a pair of jeans.

“Er,” he started, causing you to look over at him. “It’s nice to see you. Again.”

“Yeah.” you agreed with him, offering a lopsided smile. “Great. To meet you.”

“Yep.”

The compartment fell into a highly awkward silence, one that you were not at all familiar with. Back with the Caddels, or even at your previous school, you had no problem whatsoever making friends with strangers. In fact, conversation came easily to you – you weren’t the school captain for no reason, after all. So the stuffiness invading the atmosphere was most definitely unwelcome, and quite frankly, unnatural.

Thankfully the awkward cloud hanging above you and Quidditch Boy dissipated abruptly when the compartment door slid open again, revealing the tall, freckled, ginger boy, Ron.

His eyes widened when he saw you sitting in front of him. “Uh – sorry, anyone else sitting here? Everywhere else is full.”

Quidditch Boy shook his head and Ron took the seat beside them, so they were both facing you. Ron’s eyes hadn’t settled and he kept on glancing toward you and then toward the window whenever he made eye contact with you. It was amusing, his discomfort, from how often he did it.

“Hey, Ron.” The red-headed twins popped into the compartment suddenly. “Listen, we’re going back down the middle of the train – Lee Jordan’s got a giant tarantula down there.”

“Right,” said the youngest sibling.

So we’re not going to question the spider. Okay, seems good.

“(Y/n),” the other twin, the one who hadn’t been talking to Ron, turned to you. “And other Kid,” referring to Quidditch Boy, “did we introduce ourselves? Fred and George Weasley. And this is Ron, our brother. See you later, then.” The three of you said bye in unison as the twins left.

As soon as they were gone, Ron blurted out, “Can we see the scar?” You blinked at him, and he went pink, but complied anyway (you had no qualms to showing off the lightning-shaped bolt). Pulling your hair back, the scar on your forehead was revealed to Quidditch Boy and Ron.

“Wow,” breathed out Quidditch Boy. “It really does look like lightning.”

Ron was equally stunned. “So that’s where You-Know-Who – ?”

“Yes.” You grinned brightly at their awed expressions. They stared at you a couple seconds longer before Ron diverted his gaze back to the greenery flitting through the window.

“So, is your whole family magic then?” you asked Ron.

You already knew that Quidditch Boy’s father was a pure-blood and his mother was a muggle-born, whatever that meant; you weren’t going to be the one to say you had no idea what those were.

“Quidditch Boy?” puzzled Quidditch Boy, eyebrows furrowing.

Ah, had you said that outloud? Whoops.

You laughed, bringing a hand to your nape. “Sorry, I don’t know your name, so I’ve kind of just resorted to calling you Quidditch Boy in my mind.”

“Uh, well, I’m Harry, Harry Potter.” said Harry, smiling at you once more.

“Nice to meet you, Harry Potter.”

Ron interjected into the conversation, for which you were grateful. The ginger boy seemed to hold the power of evaporating awkwardness with a snap of his freckles fingers. “Pure-blooded means that everyone on his father’s side is magic. I’m the same – everyone in my family is a wizard, well maybe except for my mum’s second cousin who’s an accountant, but we don’t really talk about him.”

“I get it,” you said, cupping your chin with your hand. “I’ve got no clue what I am. But I know that my father had no magic.”

“A muggle,” Ron nodded appreciably. “Well, basically everyone knows that your mother was a pure-blood, though. That makes you a half-blood like him, since you’re a mix of two bloods.” He pointed at Harry. You were slightly startled that he knew more about your family and lineage than you did yourself. Maybe you should get used to people knowing more about you, than you did yourself.

“A muggle-born’s a witch or wizard who was born from muggle parents,” continued Ron.

You tilted your head to the side. “Where does their magic come from, if they’ve got no magical blood or whatever?”

Ron looked partially affronted. “Who knows, – magic isn’t exactly something that comes in a nice little package that gets delivered to you when the time is right. All I know is that if you’ve got magic, then you’ve got it. That’s all there is to it, really.” He waved his hands about in the air for further emphasis.

This was probably a topic Ron was passionate about, as you noticed his ears flushing red under the combined blank stares of you and Harry. You decided then that if Ron were to ever wear something salmon-coloured, it would definitely wash him out. You wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between his face and his left knee.

You tried to recover from the painful silence. “You two must know loads of magic then.”

“Not nearly enough as my mum wants me to,” said Harry.

“Hear, hear,” mumbled Ron.

“Huh. Guess that’s one good thing that comes out of being an orphan.”

You chuckled at the uncomfortable looks on the boys’ faces.

“I heard you went to live with Muggles,” said Ron, scratching the back of his neck. “What’re they like?”

“Alright,” you shrugged. “Not outstandingly nice or anything, but they do their job. Would be cooler to have wizarding brothers like you though.”

“Not if you’ve got five of them.” answered Ron gloomily. “I’m the sixth in our family to go to Hogwarts. You could say I’ve got a lot to live up to. Bill and Charlie have already left – Bill was Head Boy and Charlie was captain of Quidditch. Now Percy’s a Prefect. Fred and George mess around a lot, but they still get really good marks and everyone thinks they’re really funny. Everyone expects me to do as well as the others, but if I do, it’s no big deal, because they did it first. You never get anything new, either, with five brothers. I’ve got Bill’s old robes and Charlie’s old wand. I wanted an owl, but they couldn't aff – I mean, they got Percy one instead for becoming a Prefect.”

Ron’s ears went pink again. Your brain, it seemed, was temporarily delayed and was not able to formulate a response to that.

“I’m sure you’ll do better than all your brothers combined,” said Harry.

Ron smiled gratefully at him.

As the train rolled onward and your surroundings grew greener, you, quite helpfully, took Hedwig’s cage and placed her on the centre of the table, announcing that the first one to get nipped whilst feeding her treats would be declared the ultimate ‘Lame Loser Lord.’

The three of you fell into an easy conversation after that, and you barely even realised how much time had passed until a smiling, old-looking woman popped her head into the compartment and said “anything off the trolley, dears?”

With that lovely gesture, you had leapt out of your seat and essentially pounced onto the food she was offering. Your pockets were lined with wizard money now, an infinite stash really, and so there was nothing stopping you from buying three of everything she had. As such, you, Harry and Ron had to drag back the food you’d purchased before dumping it on the table.

“Hungry, are you?” said Ron, raising his eyebrows at the pile of snacks that was nearly as tall as him.

“Starving,” you grinned back.

You, Harry and Ron tore into the pasties and cakes, the mountain rapidly diminishing by the second. There was one incident with a chocolate frog creeping into Hedwig’s cage before getting mauled by her talons. The card that supposedly came with the treat, according to Harry and Ron, had also been destroyed, so Harry had given his to you. One with a moving picture of Albus Dumbledore, who had waved politely at your stunned expression.

Once you’d moved onto Bertie Bott’s Every-Flavour Beans, you found a lot of enjoyment when Ron had the misfortune of coming across a bean that tasted like dirty socks. Though, your amusement at Ron’s plight had been adjourned with the appearance of a round-faced boy.

“Sorry,” he said, “but have you seen a toad at all?”

“No, sorry.”

You were taken aback when the boy promptly burst into tears. “I’ve lost him! He keeps getting away from me!”

“He’ll turn up,” said Harry.

“Yes,” said the boy, turning away dejectedly. “Well, if you see him…”

“Don’t know why he’s so bothered,” remarked Ron once the boy had left. “If I’d brought a toad I’d lose it as quick as I could.”

You deadpanned at him. “You haven’t even got any pets to lose, Ron. I’m betting that if you ever got one, you’d have even worse attachment issues than Toad-Boy.”

“Mind you,” said Harry, talking around his mouthful of Cauldron Cake. “That’s saying a lot.”

“What’ve you got then?” asked Ron, turning his head to glare at Harry. “You seem awfully high and mighty for someone who probably doesn’t have rat, or even anything at all.”

“I’ve got a dog,” defended Harry. “Snuffles.”

You and Ron both stifled giggles. “Snuffles? No way you named your dog that!”

“I didn’t pick the name!”

“A dog’s not as good as an owl anyways,” you teased.

“I’d beg to differ – my dog totally is,” Harry grumbled, crossing his arms. “Plus you don’t even need to have an owl – the school’s got its own aviary shock-full of ‘em that you can send letters with.”

“One day, I’m gonna get an owl.” Ron sighed dreamily. “Just for myself, I wouldn’t have to share with Fred or George or Percy or Ginny.”

“Who’s Ginny?”

Before Ron could divulge the identity of this ‘Ginny’, the compartment door was opened by a bushy-haired girl whose face was wrinkled up irritably. Toad-Boy also made a reappearance.

“Has anyone seen a toad? Neville’s lost one.”

“We’ve already told him we haven’t seen it,” said Ron, but the girl wasn’t listening. Rather, she had been staring at you.

“You’re (Y/n) (L/n).” she declared matter-of-factly. “I saw you on the station. I know all about you, of course – I got a few extra books for background reading, and you’re in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century.”

Ron gaped at her and Harry blinked a few times repeatedly.

“Be surprised if I wasn’t,” you said, winking cheekily. You also had no idea what she was talking about though.

She studied you appraisingly before asking Ron and Harry “and who are you?”

“Ron Weasley.”

“Harry Potter.”

“Pleasure. Well, I’m Hermione Granger. I was ever so pleased when I got my letter to Hogwarts, of course, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I’ve heard – I’ve learnt all of our set books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough.”

All three pairs of eyebrows furrowed in synchronisation. You, personally, had only caught about one-third of what she had been saying since she’d been basically rapping out her words.

Herminkoni (was that what she said her name was?) began talking again. “Do either of you know what house you’ll be in? I’ve been asking around and I hope I’m in Gryffindor, it sounds the best by far, I hear Dumbledore himself was one, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn’t be too bad. Anyay, we’d better go and look for Neville’s toad. You three had better change, you know, I expect we’ll be there soon.”

Herpes Motion thus turned around and left, taking Toad-Boy with her.

“Well,” you announced cheerfully. “She was nice.”

“Sure,” muttered Ron, reaching for a Treacle Tart.

“She was right about one thing though,” said Harry, grinning and brushing his hair out of his face. “Gryffindor, by large, is definitely the best house.”

“Who’s Gryffindor?” you squinted your eyes at him.

Ron attempted an exasperated face-palm with his left hand (he was still holding the tart in his right). Harry laughed at this, and proceeded to explain the four houses to you.

Gryffindor had been the house Ron’s and Harry’s families had gotten into. The house of the brave, it was known for. Ravenclaw, the house for smart people (you had a feeling you would not be getting into that); Hufflepuff was the house for the loyal and well-meaning. And finally, there was Slytherin. Both Ron and Harry detested the green-and-silver clad house, for it had been the group to pump out the most dark witches and wizards.

“Ah,” you said. “So naturally, we should hate that house, since that was the one Voldemort was – “

“Woah,” said Ron, looking impressed. “You just said his name.”

“Why wouldn’t I? It’s just a name. Anyways, I’m guessing that you all want Gryffindor then?”

“Of course!” Ron puffed out his chest.

“Hey, did you – ?”

Unfortunately, whatever Harry had wanted to ask had been interrupted by the compartment door sliding open again.

This time, it was a group of three – the ringleader being a sallow-faced, gauntly blonde boy. The other two were giant-sized, goliath looking boys who looked like his bodyguards. And, of course, they were all fixated on you.

“Is it true?” he said. “They’re saying all down the train that (Y/n) (L/N)’s in this compartment. So, it’s you, is it?”

“That’s right,” you smiled at him.

His lips twitched into a small smirk. He waved his hand carelessly at the two body-doubles next to him. “This is Crabbe and that’s Goyle. And my name’s Malfoy, Draco Malfoy.”

Ron choked on his treacle tart, but you suspected that may have been him trying to disguise a sneer. Draco Malfoy narrowed his eyes at Ron, causing your hackles to rise immediately.

“Think my name’s funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford.”

Ron’s face went pink again and he sunk into his seat.

Draco Malfoy raised an eyebrow at Harry, but before he could say something about his family, you cut him off.

Draco Malfoy turned his sharpened gaze toward you. “And I’d be more careful if I was you. You don’t want to make enemies with the wrong people.”

“The same goes for you.”

You stared down Draco Malfoy. Harry was glancing back and forth between the two of you, and he looked ready to stand up if this altercation escalated.

“You don’t get to come in here and poke fun at us,” you muttered slowly. “Especially, if you want to end up on good terms with me.”

His cheeks tinged a faint pink. “Not like I would want to be friends with the likes of you.” He placed the emphasis on ‘you’ the same way you did.

You, Harry and Ron all stood up.

“I think it’d be best if you left.” you gritted out, disliking the boy less and less by every twitch of his rat-like face.

Unfortunately for you, Malfoy’s rattish face had broken out into a sneer. “You’ll regret making enemies out of me, (L/n). I promise you that much.”

He furiously spun around and out of the carriage, but not before he could shoot you a final scathing look. Crabbe and Goyle chased after him, robes billowing out from behind them.

“What a buffoon,” you huffed angrily.

“Agreed,” said Harry, still glaring at the door.

“I’ve heard of his family before,” said Ron darkly. “They were some of the first to come back to our side after You-Know-Who disappeared. Said they'd been bewitched. My dad doesn’t believe it. He says Malfoy’s father didn’t need an excuse to go over to the Dark Side.”

“‘Specially if they thought it was the winning side,” added Harry.

The door opened before you could open your mouth. There was Hermit Yeti, yet again, standing at the entrance.

“What has been going on? Why did I just see three boys bolting out of this compartment?” She looked you up and down. “You haven’t been fighting, have you? You’ll be in trouble before we even get there!”

“They were the ones starting it – not us!” defended Ron, scowling at her.

“All right – I only came in here because people outside are behaving very childishly, racing up and down the corridors,” she said sniffly. “And you’ve got dirt on your nose, by the way, did you know that?”

“Thank you,” you interjected, glaring at her on behalf of Ron. “Could you leave now?”

And finally, Herm-onion left.

If you had to guess, it had been only an hour after that when the train had pulled to a stop. You had donned your robes, ensuring that they still had your signature wind-swept appearance about them. Ron and Harry were also wearing their robes now too. You stuffed your pockets with the remaining sweets as you left the train.

Hopping out of the train and onto the station, you were delighted to be met with the familiar, gentle face of Hagrid.

“Firs’-years! Firs-years over here! All right there, (Y/n)?” He beamed at you from under his scraggly beard.

You waved enthusiastically at him.

The first-years, it looked like, had their own means of reaching the school, which involved travelling in groups of four in a little boat across a lake. You, Harry, Ron and the bushy-haired girl (to your displeasure) took a boat close to the front.

Whilst you did not dislike the girl, you weren’t fond of her tendency to huff or be bossy, especially when she did it toward Ron (which you found she did often). Harry hadn’t done anything to get into her wrong books, and nor vice versa, so they were probably on the most amicable terms between you, him and Ron.

The boats glided in unison across the great body of water, before coming to a stop at the front of the school’s castle. You could hardly hear Toad-Boy’s reunion with his toad (“Trevor”) amongst the excited buzzing in your ears.

The gaggle of first-years came to a stop at the entrance of Hogwarts, a ginormous wooden castle door. Hagrid raised his fist and rapped three times on it.

The door opened immediately. There was a stern, grey-haired witch standing behind it. She was sifting through the crowd intensely, and her gaze did not linger on your scar like how most peoples’ did.

“The firs’-years, Professor McGonagall,” said Hagrid.

“Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here.”

The door was opened further and you streamed into the Entrance Hall. The entire school was huge, you realised, and was very elaborately decorated – like something you would read in a book. Flaming torches illuminated the corridor. The first-years were pulled into a little room, next to a place where you could hear the rest of the school talking.

It was then you noticed that Ron appeared quite pale under his freckles and that Harry was fiddling with his fingers. In fact, every first-year seemed to be exhibiting some sort of nervous tick, apart from Malfoy, who was rolling his eyes for some reason.

You drew your eyebrows together in confusion. Should you have been scared too? It wasn’t like they were going to force you to fight each other or anything right? At least, that’s what you hoped. Although, you definitely knew that if they made you fight, you’d win.

“Welcome to Hogwarts,” said Professor McGonagall. “The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory and speed free time in your house common room.

She continued giving a debrief of the houses, but as it was something you had already heard from Harry and Ron, it wasn’t anything new. You fidgeted restlessly, wanting to get onto the Sorting already.

“The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting.” Her eyes lingered on your messy hair and ruffled collar, where one lapel was sticking up.

Once she left, you turned to Harry and Ron. “What do they do to get us into these houses? Is it like a test? Based on how you answer, that’s where you get in? Like, ‘what is the square root of sixteen?’”

“That’s probably only good for finding Ravenclaws and non-Ravenclaws though,” said Ron, taking you seriously. “My brothers said it was a test too, though. Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking.”

Harry was looking more unsettled by the minute.

“Hey,” you said, patting his shoulder. “Don’t be nervous. I’m sure Ron’s brothers are just messing with us.”

“Me too,” nodded Ron.

“But,” Harry’s green eyes met yours anxiously. “A test? In front of the whole school? I barely know two spells, how will they sort me with that? What if they send me home? What if –”

“Listen,” you said. “That’s already two more spells than I know, and probably most of the first-years too. That Malfoy included.”

You narrowed your eyes at said boy, before returning them to Harry. “Don’t worry, alright? I’m sure we'll all do great.”

Beside you, Ron nodded appreciatively (although it looked like his skin was beginning to reach a sickly pale green colour).

“You’re right,” said Harry, and you were pleased to see that he was a fraction less scared than he was a moment ago.

You didn’t bother with ‘smartening yourself up.’ You were already pretty smart enough, in your opinion. Having bested the darkest wizard of the age at a meagre one year old didn’t come to just anyone, you know?

After a whole debacle with some ghosts flying in to greet you before the ceremony, Professor McGonagall entered the room once more. You all trudged in a single-file line into the Great Hall.

You gaped openly at the Great Hall, which looked even bigger than the Entrance. Four long tables were lain across the room, with golden plates and goblets sitting on each. The students were segregated by houses, indicated by the colour of their robes and ties. There were also several candles floating in the air, which was pretty sweet too. Oh, and the roof looked like the sky as well.

Professor McGongagall placed a three-legged stool in front of school, and then she placed a rusty-looking hat on top of it. You deadpanned when it broke into song, and even more when everyone burst into applause once it finished.

“So, we’ve just got to try on the hat!” Ron whisper-yelled to you and Harry. “I’ll kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll!”

Harry gave him a nervous smile, and you said “I told you it wouldn’t have been that bad. Probably.”

Professor McGonagall approached the stool, unravelling a long roll of parchment paper. “When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted,” she said. “Abbott, Hannah!”

Hannah stumbled from the crowd of first-years and toward her. If you squinted, she looked a little like Odette, with yellower hair. She placed the hat on her head and after a moment of silence, the hat shouted out “HUFFLEPUFF!”

The table on the right, with the yellow-and-black clad students cheered and hollered as Hannah went to join them.

‘Bones, Susan’ went up next and she too went to Hufflepuff. ‘Boot, Terry’ went to Ravenclaw, and ‘Brown Lavender’ became the first new Gryffindor. The cheering from the red table was definitely the loudest, especially when right after ‘Bulstrode Millicent’ was sorted in Slytherin and all she got was only a polite and semi-silent applause from her new house.

A few more people went, and then, so did ‘Granger, Hermione’ (so that was her name) who sat on the stool for a precariously long period of time before being sent to Gryffindor. Ron groaned. Toad-Boy (Longbottom, Neville) got Gryffindor too, but he was on the stool for longer than Hermione. A few more people went after them.

You were raising your hand to scratch your ear when your name was called.

As you stepped forward, the students in the Hall whispered loudly, just as they had done at the station.

“(L/n), did she say?”

“The (Y/n) (L/n)?”

Those comments did not help the rising ego blooming inside of you. You swaggered over the stool and sat down. Your fingers delicately gripped the brim of the hat. The fabric felt ragged and old underneath your fingertips. You brought the Sorting Hat down toward your –

“GRYFFINDOR!”

The hat had barely scraped the fly-away hairs on your head when it had shrieked out the name of your house.

The Great Hall was silent for a few, stunned moments, taken aback by your instantaneous sorting (which you guessed was not a frequent occurrence). You stared back at them with wide eyes, darting downwards to look at Harry and Ron. They were wide-eyed too, before Harry broke the silence and beamed a gigantic smile at you, and the Gryffindor table erupted into cheers – louder cheers than for any of the people before you.

You felt a warm glow in your chest. You looked around the table, and saw many friendly faces. Percy the Prefect had dived over the table (almost) to shake your hand vigorously and you could hear the Weasley twins jeering and yelling out “We got (L/n)! We got (L/n)!” Even a ghost, Nearly Headless Nick, was congratulating you by patting your arm, which felt like you were being doused in a cold bucket of water.

At the High Table, Hagrid was grinning and gave you the thumbs up. Dumbledore, you recognised him from the chocolate frog card, was up there too with a faint twinkle in his eye.

The only notable people left up, really, were Harry and Ron.

Harry had been called first.

The Sorting Hat was sat upon his head for what seemed to be the better portion of an eternity. For the first time since your arrival, you felt a jolt of fear. What if you and your friends would be separated into different houses? You didn’t to be stuck in a full with only Neville and Hermione, everyday you would wake up to find Neville’s slimy toad on your pillowcase or –

You felt a surge of joy and relief, as after a minute or two, the hat declared “GRYFFINDOR!” and the Great Hall erupted in cheers for Harry. You clapped your hands and smiled widely, looking for him among the sea of red and gold.

He took a seat beside you and you high-fived him.

“Nice to see you here, Potter, Harry,” you said, changing your voice to mimic McGonagall’s.

“Nice to see you too, the (Y/n) (L/n),” he snickered, mocking the way the students had reacted when they’d heard your name.

You grinned at him, shoving his shoulder.

Ron joined you rather quickly, even though he was one of the last people to get sorted. You were delighted at this, as it meant you could still be with them for the rest of your Hogwarts years, according to what Professor McGonagall had said.

Dumbledore rose to his feet, “Welcome! Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!”

He sat down, and as he did, food magically appeared in front of you.

“Is he – a bit mad?” Harry asked you uncertainly.

“Probably,” you said, shrugging, reaching for the roast potatoes.

You scarfed down your food, listening to the conservation around you. You cheered when the dessert had come, causing the people around you to chuckle, quietly – except for Ron, who had gotten to the apple pie before you could.

You wrestled Ron for a slice of said pie, and were happily munching on it when you glanced back up to the High Table. Hagrid was drinking from his goblet, and Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore were in a deep discussion with each other. Another Professor, in a purple turban, was fiddling nervously with his cutlery, tapping his fork against the edge of the table. He was speaking with a professor with greasy black hair, a hooked nose and sallow skin.

The teacher, as though he could sense your presence, glanced straight past the Turban-Professor and bore his black eyes into yours – a sharp, hot pain seared within your scar, and you let out a hiss of pain.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked you, foreheading furrowing in concern.

“N-nothing.” The pain had left as quickly as it had come. How strange. You got the feeling that the hooked-nose teacher did not like you very much.

“Who's that teacher, the greasy-haired one?” you pointed at him, not discretely.

Harry stifled a laugh. “That’s Snape. No one likes him, they say he wants to be the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, but every year he gets stuck as the Potions one instead. My dad doesn’t like him at all – actually, my entire family doesn’t really too.”

“Why’s that?” you questioned.

“Not sure,” said Harry, but he scratched his cheek nervously. “They won’t tell me.”

Deciding not to press him further, you continued to watch Snape a little longer. He never looked at you again, though, after that.

Once the desserts had all faded away, Dumbledore had announced his final speech and conducted a very tragic school school orchestra. He wiped his eyes when he had finished. “Ah, music. A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!”

Powering your legs through the sheer force of the food you’d guzzled down, you followed Percy up to the Gryffindor Tower. With horror, you realised that you’d have to climb an average of seven staircases everyday, simply just to get to your bed.

Anyways, the entrance to the Gryffindor headquarters was through a painting of a Fat Lady and she flipped open when you told her the password, Caput Draconis. You scrambled through the portrait hole and into the Gryffindor common room.

You lazily trudged up the stairs, and without even bothering to notice that your trunk had been transported up to your dorm room, you face-planted onto your bed and fell into a heavy sleep.

Perhaps you had eaten a bit too much, because that night, you had a very strange dream.

You were staring into a mirror, desperately trying to tug off a purple turban from your head. When did you get a turban? How did you get a turban? The fabric of the turban grew tighter, making you feel a sharp pain in your skull as the turban squeezed your head like a vice. You wondered how you got into this mess in the first place.

Furiously pulling, pulling, at the turban finally caused it to unravel and expose your hair. With a start, as you glanced back to the mirror, you discerned that your face had, horrifyingly enough, taken on the face of Snape. His own black, empty eyes stared back at you.

You scrambled back, leaping away from his cockroach-like eyes, only to find that, for some reason, there was a bottomless abyss behind you. You fell down, down, down into a pit. Closing your eyes as your head thrummed painfully, you braced yourself for the impact.

A bright flash of green light, and a high, cruel laugh jerked you awake.

Oddly enough, however, when you’d gone back to sleep, you hadn’t remembered the dream at all. You did question, however, the next morning why when you closed your eyes, all you saw was a luminous, green light in the shape of a lightning-bolt scar.

.｡*ﾟ🗲.*.｡　ﾟ*..🗲｡*ﾟ

→ Author's Note: Hello my lovelies, welcome to ch 1.2 yippee!! Sorry that its super long but we’re pretty already halfway through the ch 1 portion of the series XD — I’m guessing now that it's gonna reach about 1.4 or 1.5 but I could also be widely incorrect :P Anyways that’s all so catch ya next time :))) thank you

Time for this chapters analysis ~ You will have probs noticed one of the most canon-divergent parts of this series so far is that instead of the same dilemma Harry faced when he was getting sorted (Slytherin vs Gryffindor), as soon as the hat touched the little hairs upon your head, you were sorted into Gryffindor. During this chapter, and a little of the last one (but mostly this one), I've kinda been subtly trying to hint that the Reader is really quite arrogant and brazen. Rather than Harry as the chosen one, where he longs for a quiet and normal life, Reader dives headfirst into her role. She shamelessly self-promotes her lightning-scar and doesn’t try to hide it – she knows she’s special and she feeds into that!! She’s kinda like James Potter in that regard >.< and therefore I want her to kind of be epitome of a Gryffindor (courageous and arrogant) and maybe, maybe not, a parallel to Draco Malfoy (who also got sorted into Slytherin ASAP, and is ambitious and arrogant) hehe → that’s also why Reader and Malfoy get more aggressive even more quickly than Harry did in canon… Anyways!!! This is the briefest hint at what I have in store for this series, and we’ll see how Reader’s arrogance courageousness deviates Harry Potter from canon. Tbh I’m planning to make the reader Percy Jackson-coded (with the sass and reckless bravery and loyalty and what not) and maybe just the slightest bit Gojo-coded hehe, I know that it's not that clear rn lol but I’ll work my way into it hopefully… Anyways, thanks again! :D Series Masterlist

Taglist (thanks for asking!): @kaverichauhan

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allwaswell16 · 6 months

Text

A fic rec of Halloween themed One Direction fics as requested in this ask. If you enjoy the fics please leave kudos and comments for the writers! You can find my other fic recs here. Happy reading!

—Louis/Harry—

😈 knock knock, i love you by beautlouis / @thelovejandles

(E, 86k, uni) Harry and Louis get kicked out of a statistics exam for passing a knock knock joke note, and subsequently fall in love. Harry's a virgin, there's a cat, a hot cocoa date, a lot of sex, even more knock knock jokes, and everything is lovely and happy.

😈 A Twist of Fate by @perfectdagger

(T, 59k, Just My Luck Au) Louis, who apparently is the luckiest man in the world according to his friends, might have his fate and luck twisted when he crosses path with a handsome and mysterious bloke dressed up as Zorro at Syco Entertainment Press Corp’s Halloween party.

😈 love is divine by stylinsoncity / @aliensingucci

(M, 25k, witch Harry) Being a witch doesn't help when it comes to unrequited love.

😈 got me feelin' like by @levelofcharm

(E, 12k, party) Strangers, Harry and Louis, accidentally wore matching costumes, leading everyone to think they're a couple when they definitely are not.

😈 Happy HalLouWeen by SunTomato / @sun-tomato

(G, 11k, cat Louis) Harry ends up with a cat. It's wildly stubborn and has bright blue eyes. It's maybe also cute.

😈 Wasn't Looking by @berzerkshires

(M, 10k, soulmates) AU It is well known that the first time soulmates touch they leave a vivid mark on their partner’s skin. Well one morning Louis wakes up with a bright stripe across his cheekbone and no idea what happened.

😈 Rainy Days and Leaves by amomentoflove / @daggerandrose

(E, 9k, coffee shop) Louis works at a coffee shop and spells Harry's name wrong on his cups.

😈 Just Like You by Rearviewdreamer / @all-these-larrythings

(G, 7k, party) Harry had been planning his perfect costume and looking forward to wearing it all month.

😈 Fallen treats by @sweariwouldnt

(NR, 6k, trick or treating) Harry hates both Halloween and Louis Tomlinson.

😈 My Arms Are Hungry For You by @afirethatcannotdie

(T, 6k, party) the one where Harry and Louis meet at Nick Grimshaw's Halloween party and things go better than anyone could have expected.

😈 All's Well That Ends Better by graceling_in_a_suit / @graceling-in-a-suit

(G, 5k, party) Louis goes to a Halloween party as a Hobbit and finds himself a Gandalf.

😈 Let You Lick the Lollipop by @allwaswell16

(E, 4k, party) Louis may be throwing a Halloween costume party for a lot of drunk college students, but that doesn’t mean he can’t also hand out candy to trick-or-treaters.

😈 our gentle sin by @phdmama

(E, 4k, uni) A priest and a nun walk into a bedroom.What will happen next?

😈 Cookbooks and Toothpicks and One Lizard by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup

(G, 3k, witch Harry) It’s as if for 364 days they forget what his profession is entirely, and then all remember at the same moment on the morning of October 31st. Oh yeah! I have a friend who is a witch!

😈 Messtival by @kingsofeverything

(T, 3k, teacher) Harry just wants some good candy for the school's annual fall festival, but someone buys it all before he can get any.

😈 Cat & Mouse by @jaerie

(E, 2k, secret identity) It's the one day out of the year that Harry doesn't have to hide and can be himself — at least he thought so. Louis is just a little more observant than he anticipated.

😈 Exposed by jacaranda_bloom / @jacaranda-bloom

(M, 666 words, art) Louis should really stop agreeing to do favours for his friends while drunk, especially when they result in him becoming a live-art model…

😈 A Halloween M(ass)hap by @lululawrence

(NR, 666 words, costume) He’d been so distracted by his roommate’s cleaning and fussing while he had been looking for the perfect trousers for Liam’s annual Halloween fancy dress party that he’d not realised the black leather trousers he’d chosen to complete his vampire look were arseless.

😈 Vintage Suit by @juliusschmidt

(M, 666 words, masturbation) Louis takes off his Halloween costume.

—Rare Pairs—

😈 leave my life outside (or let me in) by we_are_the_same / @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed

(M, 52k, Zayn/Liam) Halloween is the one night a year where people won’t look at them and immediately recognize them for who they are. It’s the one night a year where their horns or talons are considered to be part of a costume.

😈 wonder what it's like by eynap / @panye

(E, 4k, Niall/Shawn Mendes) Niall uses his Halloween magic to make photos of the male model he's obsessed with come to life. Instead, he accidentally summons the real-life model, Shawn, to his workroom.

#ficrec #trackinghappily #1dficvillage #trackinghome #ficsfor4am #hltracks #tracksintheam #1dsource

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llondonfog · 8 months

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Hi!! Feel free to ignore, but I was just thinking about kid silver being adorable AND Halloween because of the upcoming event...and this thought was born—

(This is so long I'm sorry 😭😭)

So, Silver gets de-aged (bear with me here lol)—maybe due to a potions mishap or a spell gone wrong, it doesn't matter which. It's during Halloween week, so everyone's kinda frazzled due to everything being set up, etc. Lilia gets called to deal with it while Crewel tries to figure out a counter-potion/spell wears off because nobody can get in touch with Malleus, and therefore goes to Diasomnia's vice to help take care of Silver (not knowing that they're father & son).

Silver spots Lilia and yells "Papa!" while running to hug Lilia—while Lilia tries to cover up what Silver said. Regardless, he still picks Silver up and cuddles him—he's a silly old man who loves his kid, who can blame him?

Anyway, kid Silver hijinks ensue: running off with the animals on campus, taking naps surrounded by deer, birds, squirrels, etc., calling Malleus "big brother" and Lilia "papa" while around other Diasomnia students (they wouldn't say anything, because Malleus looks so endeared by the little human and Lilia glares and hisses *unknowingly* at any of them who DARE to interrupt their family).

Silver sees Sebek and looks back at Lilia. He's like, "Why did you make him so tall?? Papa, change him back, please!" *cue puppy eyes* he genuinely thinks Lilia pranked him. As much as Sebek says that he dislikes Silver's behavior, he's actually the one to take him everywhere. "You shouldn't miss so much school, Silver! I won't let you besmirch Waka-sama's good name!"

OK, but back to Halloween—Silver dresses up as a knight, or a prince. Maybe a unicorn??? DRAGON?? Any of them are cute tbh. Anyway, they end up going to each dorm to trick or treat (on Halloween night ofc) and Silver charms everyone, because he's Silver. Then, you have Lilia behind him just being the creepiest little demon fae you've ever had the misfortune to see...

As they're going to one of the dorms to get more candy, Silver sees another kid pouting at the lack of candy said dorm has, and their meager amount. Silver, despite having only a few more pieces himself, gives the kid most of his, and gives the other kid a hug. "There, there, you can have some of mine."

Honestly, you can do whatever you want with this, but I'd love to see this written out more coherently, if you want lol

I've been thinking about this for a while, and I NEED more kid Silver being cute and adorable and pure!! He deserves to be cuddled by his family and to eat candy :D

oh my goodness, this whole entire prompt was adorable and thank you for practically writing the premise into my inbox!! i'm not sure this is coherent.....or cuddly....but my mood with lilia has been in a pretty introspective place for sometime so i do hope you find something to enjoy :')

(and i did end up keeping that paragraph after so many of you seemed to like it akaldjll what do i know about anything)

for a fae as long-lived as he, the concept of time is an ephemeral thing. one does not count the years in a decade nor the decades in a century; a fae knows time by the erosion of a mountainside, by the loneliness of an abandoned settlement, or even by the chance meeting of a human wearing the face of another long since passed.

silver fills his arms, helmet askew and heavy with satisfied slumber, and lilia feels the ache of every day that has gone by since he was last able to cradle his son so tenderly in his embrace.

he may be the only fae that now minds his days by the sharpening of his son’s features, a change emerging far too quick and now, strangely, unwelcome.

beside him, serene, the heir apparent to the valley of thorns— looking most pleased himself in their resplendent costumes so artfully reminiscent of the admirable long, yet any dignified mysticism is rendered charmed by the plastic pumpkin bucket clutched in his crimson-tipped claws, brimming with brightly wrapped candy. the overflow is nearly double the amount given to the visiting children, even with silver eagerly dispensing his sugary treasures to any who asked, for no dorm had been able to resist his solemn request coupled with those adorably drowsy eyes and plastic sword when he had so politely asked for one piece more so that their prince might experience trick or treating for the first time. not wanting to be the dorm known for stiffing the fae heir on the most magic-blessed night of them all, both toddling knight and noble dragon walked away, tiny hand in careful claw, with a bounty piled high between them and matching smiles on their twin eager faces.

lilia had been so torn over which to get a photo of first, cheeks aching from stifling his laughter; the vulnerable delight on malleus’ face as silver so kindly presented him with his share of candy, or sebek’s ill-disguised fussing as silver’s sword had slipped from its sheath to drag across the ground.

what kindness to be able to share such precious memories with them once again.

what cruelty to remind him of what would disappear tomorrow morning, crewel’s antidote ready and waiting for them in the dorm.

“...i can see why silver enjoyed such a night of festivity and why he spoke on those memories with you so fondly,” malleus’ reflective tone scatters his wandering thoughts, leaving him to pull his focus back to the present with no small amount of difficulty. “I wish i could have participated in the revelry, but i understand now why you might not have invited me, lilia. the presence of their prince would have dampened any carefree spirits, and i would not have wanted to spoil the fun.”

a wry smile tugs at his lips at malleus’ inaccurate assessment, crooked and out of place, and he can feel the prince’s gaze weighty upon him with surprise, brows furrowing and lips parting with the question on his tongue—

there had been no such festivities, no happily shrieking village children for silver to scamper among, sharing in the night’s delights and trickery with all the innocence of youth.

there had only been an old fool of a general, taking it upon himself to fumble through the recreation of a human spectacle, for no other reason than he could not bear the sight of the boy’s features even mildly unhappy.

he might have wondered how far he could have fallen to find himself repeatedly affecting surprise as he opens the door time and time again to a giggling child, but he knows better now; he had always been steeped in a miserable, lonesome darkness, and to nurture the vulnerable child curled into his chest was to bask in an undeserving light.

without consent, his arms tighten around the slumbering boy in his arms, and malleus is wise enough not to comment.

“I do wonder if silver will be able to remember tonight’s events,” lilia comments lightly as they continue their walk to the dorm, seemingly apropos of nothing and unbothered by the watchful gaze of his young companion.

and he wonders which is more selfish; to wish it so, to have his son’s head filled with such saccharine-sweet dreams of a proper halloween as only a sweet and darling boy like none other deserves— or to cling to the lonely truth of the past, in which a bruised and battered soldier finds a purpose too kind for his bloodied hands in protecting that high and clear laughter of his child, delighting over and over again in the simple fact of his father opening the door.

#lettie's asks #twisted wonderland silver #twst silver #lilia vanrouge #twst lilia #i couldn't not put it in the tags after you practically gifted me a story of its own <3 #something something lilia experiencing a Regret about the loneliness of silver's childhood #and all that was stolen from him #but also that painful notion of a 700 yr old war veteran needing this human child to feel better about himself again #each of them wondering if the other cherishes those memories as much as they do (spoiler: yes.)#ah diasomnia #how you wreck me

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cyanide-latte · 26 days

Note

5 6 7 FOR Cooper, Rin, Xi and the twins are PULLING on my hair demanding Talesin as well

OHOHOHOHOHOHOOOOOOOO EXCELLENT

This is going to get a bit lengthy so my apologies in advance, I'm going to be putting this under a read more cut.

Additionally! If some of you are looking at the name "Talesin" and wondering which of my OCs that is, I've not talked about them on here yet but Talesin is a nextgen OC for Kalim and my boy Copper. The biggest reason I've been mum about him on here is because, quite frankly, @blithesharem is the only person who can apparently coax Talesin into talking. He refuses to offer me anything to work with otherwise, and I only just recently figured out some things about him, again because Blithe and I had been chatting in DMs and it knocked something loose. (I did find out at least one other thing about him today thanks to a prompt from @inmateofthemind but that actually came from Copper, Talesin didn't tell me himself.) He's an elusive little scamp and I love him but boy is he hard to pin down.

5) Any animals you most associate with your OC?

Copper Benoit- ignoring the low-hanging fruit of Copper's unusual animal companions, I associate him with dogs. While you could say it's because Floyd's nickname for him is "Sea Dog", it's also due to the fact a lot of other people have said he's got the energy of a sad, lonely puppy. And I would say that's fairly accurate, especially at the start of his story. (And he probably grows up into the kind of dog that you'd love to have around but definitely don't want to get on the wrong side of.)

Wei Renqiao- Perhaps this is cheating but I associate him with phoenixes. His Signature Spell/Unique Magic, "Revenant Warlord", allows Ren to revive after he's died or been killed somehow. There are certain circumstances in which he can be perma-killed, sure, the magic has its limitations, but typically speaking it would be near-impossible to permanently kill him. And his body heals rapidly when he revives, so I've always seen him as a phoenix since I was first conceptualizing him.

Wei Xinyi- This one might seem a little odd, since Xinyi is an extrovert at heart, but I tend to see them as a tiger. Because we do tend to see more and more videos of tigers being playful or fun, and there are absolutely some endearing moments of tigers that are brothers being silly, but they're still tigers. And I think that's a fairly good rule of thumb for Xinyi: they come across as extremely playful, lighthearted, and affectionate with those close to them, but don't think for a second that's all there is to them.

Talesin- a ring-tailed lemur, apparently. It just fits.

6) Any flowers you associate with your OC?

BITCH FLOWER SYMBOLISM IS MY DAMN LIFEBLOOD

Copper- Blue iris. They symbolize hope and faith, both integral parts of where Copper's story begins, and they also symbolize mystery, which is appropriate to his heritage going unknown for so long (as well as how well he keeps his unique magic hidden.) The color fitting so well with him eventually ending up in Pomefiore is a nice little bonus!

Ren- Lotus, for its meanings of rebirth and regeneration. Emilia, for creativity. Periwinkle, for intellect and mental capability. And forget-me-nots, for fidelity, faithful love, resilience and memory.

Xinyi- it feels fitting that, as a Mulan expy, at least one of the flowers I associate with them the most is pink magnolias, for innocence, youth, joy, femininity and romance. Also sweet William for masculinity, gallantry and courage.

Talesin- Anthurium, for hospitality, and freesia, for joy and friendship. And rhododendron, for danger and a need for caution.

7) Does your OC have a favorite and least favorite food?

Copper- I don't know if he has a least favorite food, but his favorite foods are all fairly spicy. He's not the pickiest eater and I don't think he has a single favorite.

Ren- "Ants climbing a tree", if we're going for food from his culture. It's mung bean vermicelli noodles stir fried with minced meat and sprinkled with scallions. It's been his favorite since childhood and nobody makes it like his mother does! He's also extremely fond of red bean bread and he often bakes it himself! Not sure what his favorite dish is from other cultures, but I can tell you his least favorite food is anything with duck in it. Don't ask why, I don't know, he just doesn't like duck.

Xinyi- This one is interesting, because Xinyi loves cross-cultural exchange and a big, big part of that for them is other foods! They have a running list and their fave foods are subject to change, but (presently based on what they tell me) they love chocolate-covered strawberries, chili-cheese fries, and cheesy potato soup served in bread bowls. (A-Xin, did you go to a festival or something and not tell me.) Atm they don't have a least favorite food.

Talesin- His dad got him hooked on gumbo and cornbread, his baba got him hooked on lamb and rice, and Uncle Jamil got him hooked on beef curry. He also REALLY loves waffles. He immensely dislikes any dishes made with shellfish but he'll tolerate them (with a lot of dramatics) if he absolutely has to.

—————

Taglist: @ramshacklerumble @simons-twsted-children @tixdixl @elenauaurs @rainesol @distant-velleity @theleechyskrunkly @thehollowwriter (let me know if you want to be added to the taglist for my TWST OCs!)

#TWST OCs #Copper Benoit #Wei Renqiao #Wei Xinyi #Talesin #my OCs #OC ask game #Cyanide speaks

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thechaoticdruid · 2 months

Text

Seriously, now!?

Astarion x Named!Tav

Plot: (Set in late act 1 early act 2) After causing a scene, embarrassing and being shouted at by their own resident wizard, Winnie storms off alone to sulk. Her monthly bleeding is upon her and is making everything seem so much worse! But perhaps her vampiric lover can make it all better?

Warnings/content: Period comfort fic (because I needed it), emotional MC, soft Astarion, Galeshaming (I'm sorry for constantly bullying Gale), Winnie is honestly being a bit petty, but Astarion doesn't care really, he's on her side anyway, angst, fluff, comfort, a wee bit of smut at the end, oral (female receiving), MDNI, possibly ooc moments, possible grammar/ spelling mistakes.

After finding only disappointment and danger from their failure at the githyanki creché, Winnie and her merry band of weirdos were now turning towards the mountain path that would lead them onward to Moonrise. They'd run into a little confrontation on the way, had to fight some undead baddies and then met face to face with the famed 'Elminster.' Winnie had no idea who he was, nor did she really care. All she was concerned with was that this guy came into her camp ate all HER cheese and then told her friend his ex wanted him to go kill himself. Needless to say the young druid was not that impressed. Despite dreaming of being a wizard as a child, Winnie had never heard of this man before. The village she was born in had been pretty cut off from the rest of the world so all the stories of heroes from all over were never told to the children living there.

"I can't believe you! Picking a fight with an old man." Gale exclaimed looking over at Winnie with disapproval.

"Last I thought you said the old man was the strongest wizard in the world." Winnie tilted her head in confusion.

"That's no excuse to get into a fist fight with him! Didn't your parents teach you to respect your elders?!" Gale shouted.

"My Gran taught me to kick ass if someone takes what is mine. Especially my food." Winnie huffed and crossed her arms. Granted Archdruid Winnifred the first was known for being a crazy old crone with a fiery temper and some outdated views. She also seemed much too calm when her husband apparently died in an owlbear attack.

Ah, but Winnie still missed her.

"Oh come on wizard, Winnie's little show was absolutely hilarious! Ahaha!" Astarion giggled. The elven vampire had been watching the chaotic scene unfold with a shit eating grin the entire time. The fact that the druid used none of her powers or weapons just made it all the better. Hells she even bit the old man.

"Hilarious!? She attacked one of the greatest wizards this world has ever known over cheese!!! A child has more restraint for gods' sake!"

"Oh, suck my dick!" Winnie snarled, quite literally making a wolfish growl at the bearded man before stomping off. Gale rubbed his temples before slumping off to his own tent.

"Winnie is rather eccentric at the best of times, but usually not this vicious." Shadowheart piped up, stepping over to join the vampire spawn.

"She has a temper, but I agree she's been acting more irritable than usual. You wouldn't know anything about this would you fangs?" Karlach asked looking over at Astarion.

"Must you assume whenever something goes wrong it's my fault?" Astarion crossed his arms.

"No one is accusing you of anything yet, but you have practically been glued to Winnie's backside as of late." Shadowheart raised an eyebrow.

"Just wanted to know if you knew if there was something going on." The tiefling female added. Astarion rolled his eyes before looking over in the direction of where Winnie had wandered off.

"Oh there is something going on, not that I'm the type to gossip about a woman's personal matters." Astarion ran a hand through his ivory curls.

"Fangs, we all know that's complete bullshit." Karlach looked at him with an unamused expression.

"Well, not about this! It's different. Even I have limits you know." Astarion murmured. He was well aware of Winnie's predicament, and if he had been completely honest he definitely would have gossiped about this sort of thing if it had been anyone else. "But perhaps I can go and calm our feisty little wolf down." The high elf suggested, hoping to keep the others from asking any more questions.

"Alright I'll go try to console Gale I think he's screaming into his pillow again...." Karlach mentioned before her and Shadowheart walked off.

Astarion looked over to where Winnie had wandered up, finding her curled up on her bed-roll under some trees. Winnie whimpered and groaned, clutching her lower stomach in pain.

"In a spot of bother are we?" Astarion looked down at her.

"Leave me alone Astarion!" Winnie snapped before covering herself in her blankets.

"Oh come on, don't be like that. I'm only here to help." Astarion sat down on the bed-roll next to her. "I know you're still mad that the mean wizard yelled at you, but if you want I can go and break his legs? Would that make you happy, dear?" Astarion practically cooed, a small smile formed on his lips as he ran a hand over her back.

"Maybe...." Winnie mumbled and glanced up at him. Astarion smirked, "I thought so." He gently caressed her head.

"I'm.....Sorry....I...I haven't been myself lately...." Winnie confessed before wincing again in pain.

"I know. I can smell the blood..." Astarion said calmly. Winnie turned bright red before hiding her face in her pillow.

"This is so embarrassing!" Winnie whimpered into her pillow. Astarion sighed before laying beside her.

"Well if it's any consolation...You smell absolutely delicious." He grinned looking over her before receiving a light smack on the chest.

"Don't be gross!" Winnie huffed, and then looked up at Astarion who was just staring at her. "I don't want to think about anything.... going on down there....right now... It's too uncomfortable..." She mumbled, before burying her head back into her pillow. Astarion frowned. Comfort was really not his thing. Whenever Winnie was feeling down, usually due to insecurities about her appearance he'd just bed her, compliment her and she'd be happy, but this was different. If she didn't want to be touched he was a little bit at a loss of what to do. Still, these gods damned feelings urged him to try something. Despite his best efforts to avoid it, he was growing attached to her.

"Come back to my tent darling." Astarion whispered as he pushed some of the druid's messy hair behind her ear.

"Astarion I just told you-"

"Not for that. I promise, just let me take care of you." Astarion sat up, looking down at the human female with a softening gaze. Winnie turned towards him and sighed.

"Fine..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Winnie followed Astarion back to his tent with her things, she waited a moment for him to go inside and to take care of a few things before entering and setting her stuff down. She placed her bedroll and blankets down before noticing him placing pillows down around her stuff. She stared at him, curiously. Was this all some kind of plot? She wasn't so sure why he seemed to care this much. Astarion would usually mock someone else's pain. Sure the two of them had been sleeping together, but Astarion was quick to return to his usual apathetic self once out of the bedroom so to speak. Mocking any acts of heroism she did.

"Wait here I'll be back." Astarion ruffled her hair with a soft smile. Winnie laid there on the bedding, nuzzled her face into one of the cushy pillows Astarion had set out for her.

He'll probably just want to feed on me later.... That's it.

Winnie reached into her pack and took out a small worn out green dragon plush holding it to her chest for comfort as she curled up.

The others probably made him go after me because I was acting like a lunatic.....They all probably hate me now....

Tears began form in the corners of her eyes as she slid there. Winnie laid her head on one of the pillows before taking in the nice earthy scent of bergamot and rosemary. Her heart ached as she thought about the elf. The druid knew in her heart that it was meaningless, that he was just using her for his own gain, but she just smiled and went along with it, wanting to stay lost in him for as long as she could. With Astarion she felt something no one had ever given her before. She felt wanted. Even if it was all just a beautiful lie.

Winnie huffed, squeezing her eyes shut as tears forced their way out and began to drip down her cheeks.

She could see it happening almost vividly how he'd approach her eventually after everything at Moonrise was settled and done with.

"What were you expecting, some fairytale prince?" He'd laugh at her naivety and shake his head when began to tear up. "This is what I do. I give you a moment of escape with a world endingly beautiful vampire and you satisfy my needs. Cheer up. There's really no one better you could have spent your first time with. Especially with how homely you are."

Winnie sobbed quietly into the pillow. Her mind running wild with self loathing thoughts, imagining several different ways Astarion would break it off with her. Eventually after a while the tent flap opened and she felt a breeze brush over her cheek though she refused to look over. Astarion slipped in, carrying a well stuffed sack over his shoulder. His crimson eyes gazed over Winnie's plump curvaceous form as he sat down beside her on the bed-roll. Astarion set down the sack near the entrance of the tent before looking over Winnie further.

"Darling, I'm back." He said softly before noticing the little stuffed dragon in her arms. "What's this? Really dear a stuffed animal? You're twenty three years-" Astarion stopped his snarky comment as he noticed Winnie's red puffy eyes, her nose sniffling.

"Winnie....Did Gale come by while I was gone? Did he say something to you?" Astarion clenched his fist, about ready to go and shove the wizard inside his own bag of holding.

"No.... Nothing happened..." Winnie muttered. Astarion sighed in relief before looking back at the sack he brought with him. He opened it, taking out some wine and setting it down near the bedding.

"Then why have you been crying, my sweet?" Astarion asked, a worried frown formed over his face. "Was it something I said?"

Winnie huffed and looked back at him.

"No...I'm.......I'm just overwhelmed... Everyone depends on me and now I've gone and made myself look like a fool." Winnie said, half lying and half telling the truth. "And my bleeding isn't making it any better."

Astarion then proceeded to hand the bottle of wine to her. "Perhaps this will help your mood." Winnie looked over the bottle before drinking some. The flavor was sweet with a faint hint of bitterness masked by blackberries. She set it down before noticing Astarion fiddling with the sack again.

"I may have found a rather generous merchant nearby." The pale elf added as he took out a wooden plate with a wedge of cheese and a chicken leg on it. Winnie practically drooled at the sight before shaking her head and thinking.

"Generous? Astarion, what did you do to him?" The druid crossed her arms.

"Nothing! I assure you, he is still very much alive. I didn't hurt him....Much..." Astarion said muttering out the last part with a smirk as he thought back to how he left the merchant tied to a tree after robbing him. Winnie sighed before suddenly grabbing hold of the cheese and taking a bite. Her face almost instantly relaxed into a smile as she savored the taste biting into the chicken next. Astarion watched her contently as he made himself comfortable on the bed-roll beside her. She finished the food before setting the plate to the side and relaxing.

"Thank you. I think I feel a bit better now." Winnie murmured before looking back at Astarion.

"Happy to help, although I do expect to be paid back in full for my trouble." Astarion smiled, lips forming an awkward looking grinch like grin.

"Oh....Um... Would this work?" She pulled down her shirt, exposing her neck and shoulder to him.

"A kiss will do for now." He said, moving her hand away from her neck. Winnie blushed darkly before nodding. The brunette haired female leaned in with her lips puckered before pressing them to his sweetly. Her kiss was chaste and innocent as in lingered upon his lips. He cupped her face, returning it before pulling back and pecking her forehead.

"Ahh!" Winnie grunted in pain as Astarion pulled away, hand moving down clutch her abdomen.

"Fucking hells, why does my body hate me!" She cursed.

"Probably getting back at you for not letting me inside." Astarion joked before moving closer to her. He moved a hand over her stomach. "May I? I won't do anything perverse. I promise."

Winnie bit her lip for a moment before nodding. Astarion slid his hand under her shirt and began to rub soothing gentle circles around her lower stomach. Winnie sighed in relief, before leaning against him. Astarion smiled and laid his head on her shoulder, continuing his motions.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day Gale looked around searching for one of his wizard tomes he'd forgotten he lent to Winnie just a few days prior. The wizard groaned at the prospect of possibly invoking the moody druid's wrath once more, but that was indeed a very important book! Quickly he made his way over to where he remembered Winnie had set up camp before eventually being met with an empty space.

He turned and retraced his steps before looking over to Astarion's crimson red tent with curiosity.

The wizard stepped over towards the shelter cautiously until the faint sound of soft feminine whimpers hit his ears. Inside the tent Winnie laid back against the bed-roll, pillow pulled over her bright red face as she moaned into it. All the while Astarion had his head buried between her legs, one of her thick thighs slung over his shoulder as he feasted on her.

"Uh....Winnie....D-Do you still have that tome I lent you?" The wizard stammered out, face turning bright red.

Astarion's brows knit together in annoyance before he pulled his tongue out of the druid's cunt.

"She's currently quite occupied, Gale. Now do piss off!" The vampire hissed out before returning to ravishing the human female. Winnie herself wasn't able to form any coherent sentences while the pale elf had her in his clutches, but eventually later on she returned Gale's book to him and eventually apologized for the scene she caused yesterday.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Note from TheChaoticDruid: Hope you enjoyed! I admit this is a completely self indulgent fic that was kinda a spur of the moment thing. I've seen a lot of period comfort fics that more so focus on the pain and mess than the emotional aspects of it so I wanted to put a bit of focus on that, cause honestly when it happens to me I have a tendency to be rather mean. Of course this is a little exaggerated for laughs in the beginning, but sometimes when it happens you feel like everyone is out to get ya and you wanna tear people's heads off over the littlest of things. I was a little afraid I might have made Astarion a little too soft, but given it's close to his act 2 confession I think it can maybe work.

~Druid

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mistiell · 2 years

Text

A Phone Call Away|

Eddie Munson x GN!Reader, Wayne Munson x Platonic! Reader

Summary: When you wake from a nightmare and call Eddie to check on him, someone else answers the phone

A/N: I wrote this in one go so if it sucks, I apologize lmao

Warnings: Fluff

———————————————————————

You wake up in a cold sweat, heart thrumming in your throat while you gasp for air. It takes you a long, panic filled moment to realize that you aren’t back in the upside down. Instead, you’re in your bed, which feels even emptier now that you’ve just woken up from a nightmare.

You swallow and press your palms to your eyes, taking deep breaths and willing yourself to calm down. It was a lot easier to do so when Eddie was there. You’d both gotten into a habit of having sleepovers as often as possible, even going so far as sneaking out when your parents said no. Being able to check on him the moment you woke up was something you relied on more than you cared to admit, and something you would sell your soul for right about now.

You could call him, but what are the chances he’ll be up at — you check the time — 6:30 in the morning? You look to your window to find the sun just barely poking it’s head above the horizon, turning the sky a pinkish-purple. Fuck, there’s no way he’ll be up at this time, is there? Maybe the phone will wake him up. But you guys have school, do you really want to wake him up at this time?

Apparently, you do.

You peel your covers off, shivering as your feet come in contact with the chilly ground. As you sneak passed your parents bedroom and down the stairs, you wonder briefly if he’ll be mad at you for waking him up so early. You’re quick to brush it off, though. This is Eddie you’re talking about. The same Eddie who called you at 3:00am once just to ask you how to spell ‘gargantuan’ when he was up late writing one of his campaigns.

When you reach the phone, your anxiety is at an all time high as you quickly dial his number with shaking fingers. The monotonous ring of the phone is loud in your ear as you fiddle with the cord, chewing on your lip as you wait impatiently for Eddie to pick up.

“Hello?” That’s not Eddie.

“H-Hi, Wayne. It’s, um, it’s Y/n.” You stutter, cursing yourself for the tremble in your voice.

“Hey,” Wayne furrows his brow at the tone of your voice, “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, um…,” You pause, feeling a little awkward. Should you just tell him? You’ve met him a handful of times and of course, you hit it off great, but it doesn’t make this any easier, “Actually, no. Not really.”

“Figured as much. I don’t normally expect calls from anyone at 6:30 in the morning unless something’s wrong. What’s the problem?”

“I, uh, I had a nightmare.” You bite your lip again, feeling childish at the admission.

Wayne frowns on the other end of the line. Whatever you’d dreamt about must have been pretty horrific if you were calling his nephew so early. He’d noticed Eddie had been waking up with nightmares recently too. He had his suspicions that something happened while he was on the run, something that involved you after he’d called out your name so desperately while he sobbed in his sleep. He wouldn’t push, though. Not when it seemed to be a very sensitive subject, something he understood to be between you two and you two alone. He could wait until one of you was ready to open up about it, if ever. Until then, he’d support either of you in any way he can.

“How can I help?”

You let out a soft breath of relief at his response. You aren’t sure what you were expecting. You know he’d never just turn you away, Wayne wasn’t that kind of person. As stand off-ish as he could seem to anyone that doesn’t know him, he really does care deeply about the people close to him, “Could you maybe check on him for me?”

“‘Course.” Wayne brings the phone with him as he walks the short distance from the kitchen to his nephew’s bedroom, the cord stretching as he goes. He gently pushes open the door to find Eddie snoring softly in his bed, blankets tangled around his legs and his face smushed against his pillow, “He’s snoring up a storm but he’s alive and well.”

You huff a small laugh at the mental image, relief flooding your body at the confirmation that he’s okay, “Okay, good.”

“Anything else I can do for you?” He asks, walking about to the kitchen after closing the door.

“No, I’m okay.”

“Alright. Eddie should be up in a half hour if you wanna call back.”

“That’s okay,” You hesitate, twirling the phone cord, “Wayne?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

You can’t see it, but he smiles a little, “Don’t worry about it, Kid. If you ever need anything, we’re just a phone call away.”

Your heart swells at his words and you nod before remembering he can’t see you, “Right. Thanks.”

“Stop thankin’ me and get back to bed.”

You laugh, any residual anxiety dissipating in an instant, “Yes, sir.”

“And don’t call me sir. I’m not that old.”

“Okay. Bye, Wayne.”

“Bye, kid.” And with that, the line goes dead.

When you return to your bedroom, exhaustion has crept back into your bones as you flop down onto your mattress. The moment you’re settled, you’re drifting back off to sleep, comforted by the knowledge that Eddie’s okay and that Wayne is with him.

#eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson st4 #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson stranger things #eddie st4 #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things 4 #st4 #eddie munson fanfiction

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starsstuddedsky · 1 year

Text

Chapter 2 - What Happens in the Closet...

reader x jihoon

Chapter 1 | masterlist | Chapter 3

summary: when you're caught in a simple lie, the best solution? dig in and stick to your guns until everything inevitably goes wrong and everyone gets hurt

or, a serial dater and a pessimist fake a relationship in the vain hope that nothing will go wrong

genre: fluff, angst, non-idol au, lawyer au, coworkers to lovers??? friends to lovers???? fake dating!!!!!

warnings: cursing???? i think that's it???

wc: 5.2k

a/n: tysm for reading!!!! school is kicking my butt this week lol so there's a solid chance there's typos, i'm sorry :(

taglist: open! send an ask or comment!

Jihoon has always trusted his gut. It’s never led him wrong; the schools he chose, the law firms he declined, the clients he advised, they’ve all been good choices. He knows better than to ignore the little feeling deep down in his stomach that doesn’t sit right, warning him that something is wrong.

Unfortunately, this morning he convinces himself it’s just because he hasn’t had his coffee yet.

He multitasks, typing a furious reply to Mark from accounting (who has apparently lost the ability to read, since the information he is asking for is in the first e-mail that Jihoon sent) while also heading toward the pretty wall of expensive coffee makers that played a significant role in his decision to accept the job offer here. That’s why he doesn’t notice you until you practically bounce off his chest.

“My bad, I—” You freeze when you meet his eyes.

I’m sorry, Jihoon tries to say, except the words don’t come out, and now he’s stuck looking at you with the same wide-eyed stare you are giving him. It’s not often that Jihoon finds himself speechless, but there’s so much he needs to say, to explain. Too much. He hasn’t had the chance to even think about telling you the absolutely idiotic things he said on Saturday night, even after he spent all day Sunday staring at his ceiling and imagining how to explain. The only proof it wasn’t all a nightmare is the texts blowing up his phone this morning from Seungcheol and Joshua who managed to find your Instagram (apparently they approved, though it was tricky to explain why he wasn’t following you).

“We need to talk,” Jihoon finally says.

“I really am sorry,” you respond. You lean back against the counter and Jihoon catches a glance of a cup of coffee behind you, a mug decorated in bright letters that spell out your name (Fact #5: you like colors?).

“Not about that,” Jihoon says. “Well, I guess about that, but not really, it’s complicated, and—”

“Morning,” a familiar deep voice says. Jihoon turns around to find Wonwoo behind him. His eyebrows are raised well over his round glasses, forming shapely arches. He slings his arm over Jihoon’s shoulder, glancing between Jihoon and you.

A sudden thought crosses Jihoon’s mind. Even though Wonwoo was shipped off on a last minute “emergency” work trip over the weekend, there is no way that news as inconceivable as Jihoon finally losing his lifelong title of ‘bitchless’ wasn’t the first thing Wonwoo saw the second he turned his phone off airplane mode. Meaning that the side eye he is giving him now is because he’s about to call Jihoon out on the worst lie he’s ever told and turn him into the biggest laughing stock the world has ever seen.

He really should have listened to his gut.

“So,” Wonwoo says, “How long has this been going on?” His grip on Jihoon’s shoulder tightens.

You frown. “What are you talking about?”

“You and him,” Wonwoo says, gesturing between you and Jihoon.

Jihoon elbows Wonwoo, pushing the taller man off. “Not here,” he mutters.

Before he can say anything else, you gasp. “It’s not what you think!”

Jihoon grabs your hand before you can say anything else, pulling you past a bewildered Wonwoo. He ignores the stares of the paralegals and lawyers in the halls as he pulls you past the peering eyes, into the nearest open door, which, unfortunately, is the janitor’s closet. There goes any chance at subtlety.

“Jihoon?” You ask as he fumbles along the wall trying to find the light switch. He’s still holding your hand, which he only realizes when you lightly tug it out of his grasp.

He finally finds the switch, flipping it on to find that it connects to a solitary lightbulb hanging from the ceiling that flickers and is definitely a safety hazard. You’re standing directly under the light. Because the light is tinted yellow, Jihoon gets the faint impression that you’re glowing.

You glance between Jihoon and the door behind him, which he realizes he is accidentally blocking. He steps to the side, not wanting you to think that he’s trapping you in here, though he doesn’t have a contingency plan if you run away now. Not that he has any actual plan right now; none of his Sunday-morning-imaginary-conversations took place in a room that smells like bleach and has lighting that hasn’t been touched since the ‘80s.

“I swear, I have no idea how Wonwoo found out,” you say quickly. “No one knows other than my friends, and I told them we’d both get fired if anyone at work found out, so I really don’t know how he found out, but I swear, I’ll tell him it was just a rumor and it isn’t true at all. I’m really sorry, I know you said you wanted nothing to do with me, so, whatever I can do, I’ll do it, just please don’t report me to HR.”

Jihoon felt bad before, but now if guilt could build a time machine, he’d go all the way back to elementary school and beg his mother to take him with her when she left. Maybe then you wouldn’t be looking at him with actual tears threatening to fall.

It wouldn’t be the first time he’s made someone cry, but somehow it’s not nearly as satisfying when he’s the one at fault.

“So the thing is,” Jihoon says. “I think it might have been me.” Thankfully your frown doesn’t send the tears tumbling down, but your confusion means that he must, unfortunately, continue to explain. “I sort of told a few of my friends that I was dating someone from work.” He can’t bring himself to say it all, not with his own words echoing in his ears berating you for doing something so foolish. “It’s a very long story, but they believe that I am dating you, and I let them believe it.”

“You let them believe…” you repeat softly, as though you still aren’t understanding. Jihoon can’t blame you; he hardly believes it himself.

“Well, believe isn’t really the right word, because they didn’t see any evidence.” Jihoon had also spent a lot of time on Sunday trying to explain why he didn’t have any photos of you, let alone with you. “So I may have told them that you are coming to my friend’s thing on Saturday. As my date.”

You stare at him. If you keep looking at him with a frown that deep you’re going to get wrinkles, but he figures now is not the time to mention that. There’s nothing he can do now but wait, (most of) the truth now out in the open. He holds his breath as you open your mouth, then close it, then open it again.

“Are you asking me to fake date you?” You finally ask.

“Yes?” Jihoon says.

Fact #6: You have a ridiculous laugh.

He discovers this as you burst into laughter, smile finally breaking the frown as you gasp for breath, clutching your sides. It sounds like something between a machine gun and a dying deer, not that he’s heard either of those sounds in real life before.

“Are you okay?” He asks, because it seriously doesn’t look like you can breathe, and he’s starting to worry that he’s actually broken you.

“You told them you’re fake dating me?” You manage between gasps.

Jihoon sighs. “Yes. Look, I know an apology is overdue—”

“Way overdue.”

“Way overdue,” Jihoon says because you’re mad enough at him already and he can survive appeasing you at least a little. “So I do apologize. I shouldn’t have yelled at you and threatened HR, and I should have talked to you before I did anything as dumb as telling my friends that we are dating.”

“Obviously,” you say.

“Are you okay?” Jihoon asks now that you’ve mostly stopped laughing, wiping a few tears from your eyes.

“I don’t really know how to answer that,” you say.

Jihoon nods. “I don’t blame you for being mad.”

“I’m not mad,” you say quickly. “Shocked and stunned and a lot of other words, but mad isn’t one of them. Mostly, it’s funny.”

“Funny.”

“Funny!”

Jihoon frowns as you burst into giggles again, though you stifle them quickly at his glare.

“Seriously, I mean, who goes off on their coworker and then not even a day later does the same exact thing,” you say. “I’ve always known you were a little… But that’s beside the point, because you are, in fact, asking me to fake date you?”

“Wait, a little what?” Jihoon asks.

You shake your head, leaning against a metal pole, then immediately straightening when you almost knock over a shelf of toilet paper. “I don’t think I’m obligated to answer that.” He opens his mouth but you raise your eyebrows. “If you ask again I’m going to answer something that you won’t like.”

“Is it the truth?”

You shrug. “Do you want me to come to the thing on Saturday and pretend to be ridiculously in love with you or not?”

“You don’t have to be ridiculous,” Jihoon mumbles. He takes a deep breath, trying to convince himself that this is still a good idea somehow (eventually he settles for the conclusion that it’s much too far to turn back now). “Yes, I would like you to please be my date on Saturday.”

“Can you say that again so I can record it?” You ask a little too innocently. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say please.”

“You’ve barely heard me say five words,” Jihoon says. “This is the longest conversation we’ve ever had.”

“With the exception of literally three days ago when you yelled at me. And the presentation you gave in eighth grade on the importance of fish in the ecosystem of the creek by the school and you were so excited because you brought your fish except it died on the way to school and you were so upset you locked yourself in the bathroom and they had to call your dad to pick you up.” You look a little too smug.

“If you tell anyone about that, I’m telling them about the time you wrote an entire essay on symbolism in the Harry Potter series over the summer, and then it wasn’t even accepted because they said extra credit was unethical.”

“You remember that?” You frown at him. “Look, I was a different person back then. J.K. Rowling was a different person back then.”

“Pretty sure a TERF is always a TERF,” Jihoon says. It’s easy to fall into banter with you. He finds himself wondering why he’s never spoken to you like this before, until he remembers Fundamental Fact #3: you are an idiot in love.

More than anything, he wants to leave this closet. Run away and lock himself in his room and dive into his work (and tell Mark that he’s an idiot who can’t read) and forget all of this. But you still haven’t said yes.

“I will do whatever you want,” he says, quickly adding, “within reason,” because your eyes light up a little too brightly. “You can tell your friends that we’re fake dating. We can actually fake date. I can write a contract and everything, just, please, come with me?”

Jihoon has always thought that your kindness made you weaker, but he’s grateful for it now because you smile at him and say, “Yes.”

He hopes his sigh of relief isn’t too obvious. He thinks you might say something else (“You have to pretend to be my date to my friends in return,” or “I was just kidding, you’re insane and I won’t do it,” or “Don’t fall in love with me”) but before you can open your mouth, there’s a knock at the door.

“Hey,” Wonwoo says, voice muffled. “I hate to interrupt, but yn, we have a meeting in like two minutes.”

You glance at the time on your phone and curse, pushing past Jihoon and practically bursting out of the closet. He loses sight of you sprinting toward your office as the door swings shut. Jihoon seriously considers staying here for the rest of the day (possibly the rest of his life), but the door creaks open again to reveal Wonwoo, pinstripe suit and all. He folds his arms and leans against the door.

“We need to talk.”

Jihoon has never been scared of any of his friends, but fear is the only word he can use to describe how he feels now. The final beats to Jihoon’s life sounds a lot like Wonwoo’s footsteps as they echo while he follows the tall man to his own office. This is it. The jig is up before he even shows you to his friends. Well, it was an idiotic plan in the first place and at least he didn’t embarrass you alongside everyone else.

Wonwoo has the decency to wait for the door to shut behind him.

“I can’t believe you,” Wonwoo says, shaking his head. “I leave for one weekend, and you tell everyone that you’re dating yn?”

“I know, I—”

“I mean, seriously, we’ve been friends for how long now?” Wonwoo pauses to count on his fingers. “Eight years? Nine? We work together! I know yn better than any of them, and I had to hear from Mingyu that you two are dating?”

Jihoon frowns. Did Wonwoo actually believe him?

“Honestly, I’m offended,” Wonwoo says. “Seriously, how am I not the first person you think of? I’ve been saying for years that you and yn would be perfect together.”

“I didn’t mean to tell them,” Jihoon says. “They were just being annoying about it, so it slipped out.”

Wonwoo shakes his head. “I don’t know what to believe anymore. Right under my nose and I didn’t see it.”

“Well, you are like a point away from being legally blind,” Jihoon says.

Wonwoo glares at him. “You owe me details.”

“Don’t you have a meeting?” Jihoon says.

Wonwoo’s phone rings. He answers in a hushed tone, shooting Jihoon a look that clearly says this isn’t over. Jihoon breathes a sigh of relief as Wonwoo exits, resting his head on his desk. What just happened?

A small part of him had hoped that Wonwoo was going to call him out and this entire mess would be over. But he believed him? Jihoon, who had only ever scoffed at you, despite Wonwoo constantly talking about how well you would work together. Well, he’s clearly having the last laugh now.

Jihoon takes a deep breath and sits up. He still has a job to do. Though his life is clearly falling apart, he should at least make sure Mark from accounting doesn’t mess up his paycheck (again). And he has a contract to write.

Objectively, Jihoon has to admit you look good. It has nothing to do with opinion; it’s a fact (fact #8: you look good in formalwear, though he makes a mental note for an addendum that says that’s the whole point of formalwear). Jihoon spends a normal amount of time looking at you (counting to five seconds before looking away), then ushers you into the backseat of the limo because for some reason you aren’t moving.

“Do I get to know why we’re in a limo or why I had to buy new clothes?” You ask, taking care to make sure none of the flowy garment got stuck in the door.

“I told you I’d cover that,” Jihoon says.

“No, it was kind of bad that I didn’t have anything this nice, and now I have something to wear to the end of the year gala,” you say. “Way to dodge the question though.”

Jihoon grimaces. It’s difficult to judge how people react to finding out about his friends (given that he has “little-to-no” experience introducing anyone to them), and he isn’t entirely certain that you won’t jump out of the car when he tells you the truth. But apparently you can’t sit in silence for long.

“Okay, well, if you won’t tell me, then I’m going to guess,” you say. “Are we going to a wedding?”

“No.”

“A funeral?”

“Why would I wear a tux to a funeral?”

“Hey, I don’t judge,” you say with a shrug. “It looks very good on you, by the way.” Jihoon glances at you but you’re twisting your face into a strange frown as you think, so you don’t notice the way his ears tinge pink at the comment. “Prom?”

“We’re grown adults.”

“Prom needs chaperones,” you say. “Besides, you never went to prom.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t catch my date making out with someone else either, so, it wasn’t that bad of a night for me.”

“Ouch,” you say. “That was low.”

Jihoon remembers that you are technically doing him a favor today (if saving his life counts as a favor), so he says, “Well, there’s no way you could know I was in my pajamas watching anime all day, so, it wasn’t fair. Sorry.” Maybe around you he’ll get used to apologizing. He can’t decide if that’s a good thing or not.

Luckily, you accept his peace offering, flashing a smile that is quickly becoming familiar. Your face twists into that strange frown again, and Jihoon determines Fact #9: you are unwaveringly stubborn.

“Oh!” You gasp. “Are you secretly rich?”

Jihoon snorts. “What makes you think that?”

“Well, you picked me up in a limo wearing a tux, after telling me to dress in fancy, expensive clothes,” you say. “Plus you are super secretive about your personal life, and, I don’t know, you give off rich guy vibes. Unless I’m totally wrong?”

“I’m not rich,” Jihoon says. “I mean, I guess I have a decent amount of money saved since I mostly just work and go to the gym and the only thing I really buy is groceries.” Jihoon realizes just how boring he sounds. “I mean, I do go out. Just not often, and I buy… things, anyways, I’m not rich.”

“Sure,” you say. You turn to look out the window, but Jihoon doesn’t miss the laugh poorly disguised as a cough.

Luckily (because Jihoon is absolutely positive you would have continued interrogating him), the limo stops and you don’t have to guess anymore.

“You’re joking,” you say, whipping around in your seat to stare at him.

Jihoon can’t say that he doesn’t enjoy seeing you speechless. You look back and forth between him and the chaos on the street.

“You said you weren’t secretly rich!” You say. “How did you get tickets for a literal red carpet event?” Your face is centimeters away from pressing against the glass, breath quickly making it too foggy to see. “This is the Eternals sequel!”

“You like Marvel?”

“No, actually I think the franchise has a lot of issues.”

Jihoon gasps, but you’re already climbing out of the limo, turning back to face him with a smile. It’s so bright Jihoon forgets why he was mad.

“Come on,” you say. You hold out your hand, and after a moment, Jihoon takes it. He doesn’t let go when he gets out of the car, tightening his fingers around yours, anchoring you to his side.

It’s chaotic, but not nearly as chaotic as he knows it will be soon. Half the press haven’t even arrived yet, and the theater is mostly surrounded by the scatter of crew members and invited guests that aren’t celebrities. Jihoon spots Mingyu first, his tall head standing out in the crowd.

“You ready?” Jihoon asks, turning to look at you. You’re still staring at everything, unable to hide your grin. Maybe he should have warned you, but it’s kind of fun to see you like this. Bright.

Mingyu literally shouts when he sees Jihoon. He watches as Mingyu’s eyes practically lock on to you, and he starts pushing his way towards you, Wonwoo and Seungcheol in tow.

“The tall, overly excited one is Mingyu,” Jihoon whispers. “You know Wonwoo, and—”

“Seungcheol, right?” You glance at Jihoon.

He frowns. “How did you know that?”

“We did go to the same college, you know.” Right. Because this wasn’t complicated enough. Jihoon starts to think that all of this is a mistake, but it’s hardly the first time today, and as Mingyu approaches, all he can do is tighten his hand around yours and commit.

“Jihoon!” Mingyu says as soon as he’s close. His voice carries, more than a few people casting a glance at him. He takes another step, but his foot gets caught on something (knowing Mingyu, it’s nothing), and he’s sent tumbling to the ground. Neither Seungcheol nor Wonwoo attempt to catch him, letting the tall man collapse on the ground.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” You ask over Seungcheol’s giggling. Wonwoo helps Mingyu up, but he’s laughing as well, and even Jihoon’s nerves aren’t enough to stop him from breaking a smile.

“I’m used to it,” Mingyu says, walking much slower. His hair took the worst of the fall, now a disheveled mess. Jihoon wonders how long it’ll take for him to notice.

“Mingyu, Seungcheol, this is yn,” Jihoon says. “My real, living, breathing, human date.”

“Nice to finally meet you,” Mingyu says, shaking your free hand. “We’ve heard so much about you.”

“Really?”

“No, this is Jihoon we're talking about, we were lucky to get your name.”

“That sounds more like the man I know,” you say, turning to flash a smile at him before facing Mingyu again. Mingyu glances at your other hand, fingers still intertwined with his, and Jihoon thinks he might actually believe it.

“We’ve met before,” Seungcheol says. “Though there was a lot of alcohol, and I don’t really remember it all that well.”

“Georgia’s Bar, right?” You say. It takes all of Jihoon’s self control not to react. Surely he would have remembered seeing you at the only bar his friends could drag him to during college?

“Probably,” Seungcheol says. “I was getting my MBA, and there were a lot of bars. Very few that we could get Jihoon to go to, though.” He raises his eyebrow. “That’s why we're all a little surprised that someone actually managed to get him out of his apartment and away from his work.”

Jihoon glances between you and Seungcheol as you think about the answer to what is obviously a test. “I don’t think I really got him away from his work.” You turn to Jihoon with what can only be described as a warm, loving smile. You’re really good at this. “But I’m pretty much married to my job too, so it works.”

Seungcheol nods but Jihoon can tell he doesn’t believe fully, at least not yet. “We should go inside before everyone else gets here and this turns into a mess.” He turns to head into the cinema, leaving everyone else to follow. Mingyu and Wonwoo start chatting about Mingyu’s (alleged) drama at work that has something to do with a secretary, the CEO of the company, and his famous but estranged brother. Jihoon doesn’t bother to listen, turning to look at you.

Your smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “He doesn’t believe us.”

“Not yet,” Jihoon whispers. “Give him time, he’s just particular.” He pauses, then says, “The detail about Georgia’s was good.”

You nod. “It was true.”

“How many times have you met him?”

“Just once,” you say. “You were there too.”

Before Jihoon can ask anything else, Wonwoo calls, “Hey, lovers, are you coming or what?” They’re already inside the cinema, waving for you to catch up or get left behind. You flash Jihoon a determined smile and squeeze his hand, jogging to catch up to the rest of the guys.

Jihoon can’t help but wonder how long your lives have been like this, the roots of two trees that brush against each other but never tangle. Until now.

“Do we have an ETA on the kid?” Wonwoo asks as you settle into the theater seats. You’re doing a good job of acting natural, or at the very least, not gawking at every other detail of the (admittedly stunning) theater.

“You’re not calling him that now, too,” Jihoon says. “He’s a grown adult. Also, he should be here soon.”

“How’s the kid?” Seungcheol asks, folding his arms. Jihoon rolls his eyes with the emphasis on kid. “No nervous breakdowns?”

“He was fine when I called him earlier,” Mingyu says. “As soon as the cameras are on him, he’ll put a smile on.”

Seungcheol grunts but still looks worried. Jihoon would tell him that he cares too much, but he knows Seungcheol will just say that it’s to make up for Jihoon not caring at all, so he doesn’t quite see the point. Besides, it’s Seungkwan; Jihoon is pretty sure all his friends have a soft spot for the younger man, Seungcheol especially.

“He must be here,” Mingyu says when screams erupt from outside. He checks his watch. “A little early, isn’t he? Doesn’t he normally make a grand entrance?”

Jihoon doesn’t miss the way you frown at him, clearly aware that you’re missing something very important. He studies the lights and pretends not to notice your glare.

Most of the commotion is at the entrance, though the bulk of the press aren’t allowed into the theater. Jihoon hears more than he can see, but he knows it’s Seungkwan and the rest of the star-studded cast that are used to being the center of attention. He doesn’t miss you craning your neck to catch a glimpse of why everyone is staring.

Seungkwan’s blonde head appears from the crowd, but he makes the rounds first, checking in with every staff member, shaking hands and taking pictures. Ever the perfect celebrity.

Still, he doesn’t miss how Seungkwan locks in on you, grabbing a tall skinny man and whispering a few words before striding across the theater to where the entire group sat.

“That’s Boo Seungkwan,” you whisper. “And he’s walking over here.”

“I didn’t tell you we’re friends?” Jihoon says.

If looks could kill, Jihoon would be dead, but it’s worth it because even with murder on your mind you (objectively) look good. Maybe it comes from being a divorce lawyer—Jihoon wonders if this is the glare you use when the to-be-divorced couples bicker, then wonders if he’s thinking a little too much about your glare.

The rest of his friends greet Seungkwan as if this is normal, which, technically, it is. Except this is a blockbuster movie premiere and Jihoon is using it to soft launch his (fake) relationship to his world famous best friend. To your credit, you manage to shake his hand and greet him normally.

If Jihoon is being honest with himself, Seungkwan is the only one he really feels guilty lying to. It doesn’t sit right, even though Seungkwan is partially to blame for thinking Jihoon’s happiness is reflected directly onto his love life. It doesn’t help that Seungkwan knows exactly how to guilt him, smiling and greeting you as if this is normal. Jihoon knows him too well, seeing the suspicion behind his friend’s eyes. As if convincing Seungcheol isn’t hard enough.

“So are all of Jihoon’s rich and famous?” You ask after he introduces himself.

“Hey! We have the same student loans,” Wonwoo says.

“I’m not rich,” Seungcheol says.

“Yeah, but your family is, so basically the same thing,” Mingyu says.

“Not the same thing,” Seungcheol says, glaring at Mingyu, who, honestly, should have known better than to bring that up. But because it’s Mingyu, he laughs it off, and soon enough Seungcheol is smiling too.

“Joshua’s pretty broke too,” Minghao says. “He doesn’t make a million dollars for crying in front of a green screen.”

“I told you, my character has grown since then,” Seungkwan says.

“You cry on an actual different planet?” Seungcheol asks.

“I’m convinced none of you actually pay attention to the movies,” Seungkwan says with an overdramatic sigh. “We were on Earth for the entire movie.”

“Wasn’t there a bit where Gemma Chan yelled at someone in space?” Jihoon asks.

“Nerd,” he’s pretty sure he heard you whisper through a fake cough.

“I don’t know if that counts, she wasn’t actually there.” Seungkwan rounds on you. “I don’t suppose you remember?”

“Weren’t you technically in space right at the start?”

Seungkwan cocks his head, thinking back. “Huh, oh yeah. I forgot that.”

Jihoon has about a million questions that he wants to ask you, mostly related to Marvel movies and the fact that you’ve seen them all, even though you clearly don’t like the franchise. He curbs them because he knows you’ll call him a nerd, plus Seungkwan almost looks like he approves.

“Do I have a lot to look forward to today?” You ask. “Someone didn’t tell me where we're going, so I couldn’t look up any critic reviews.”

Seungkwan winces. “I don’t like looking at those.”

Jihoon rolls his eyes. “I saw at least three headlines talking about the prodigy dropping another masterful work of acting, or whatever they say about people like you.”

“Not a prodigy,” Seungkwan mutters.

“Either way, whatever Seungkwan is in, it’s good,” Seungcheol says, patting Seungkwan on the back. “And he gets paid.”

“That’s the most important part,” Wonwoo says.

Seungkwan looks like he wants to say more, but the director of the film waves him down and he’s forced to say a hasty goodbye, promising to meet with them later.

Jihoon feels your hand squeeze his tight enough to cut off his circulation. He turns to face you in the dim lighting, finding you with a disarmingly sweet smile.

“When were you going to tell me?” You ask, voice so sweet he almost believes you aren’t upset.

“I thought it would be fun if it was a surprise?” Jihoon says.

You lean in close to him, your breath mixing with his, smelling faintly like clementines and something else citrusy. For some godforsaken reason, Jihoon thinks you are about to kiss him. “You’re going to regret this.”

He opens his eyes and you are gone, laughing at some joke Mingyu made about PDA. Jihoon is vaguely aware it’s at his expense, something to do with how red his ears are, but he’s too busy trying to get his heart to at least pretend like it isn’t about to explode out of his chest. Why the hell did he think you were going to kiss him? Why is he disappointed that you didn’t? Jihoon wonders for the thousandth time if it’s not too late to call the whole thing off, but the lights in the theater are dimming and a spotlight is put on the director, who gives an unnecessarily long speech about what a labor of love this movie was to make, and then the movie is starting, and it’s too late to run away.

#seventeen x reader #woozi x reader #svt x reader #svt #seventeen #woozi #lee jihoon x reader #lee Jihoon #woozi angst #woozi fluff #lee jihoon angst #lee jihoon fluff #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #seventeen fic #as a matter of fact

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