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spookysmujer · 2 years

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Thru Your Phone, O. Diaz

Summary: Oscar accidentally likes one of your old IG pics and you won’t let him live it down.

warnings: fluff, shy!Oscar 🐱, s w e e t ending

word count: 1.5K

a/n: hi everyone, it’s been a minute! I hope you’ve all been enjoying the new year. I know how tough things have been since this pandemic started so if all you did was simply survive these couple of years: I am so proud of you. If you made a big commitment and did big things: I am also so proud! Let’s live 2022 with good vibes only. As always: please consider following the blog, heart/comment/reblog my content and turning on the notifs for when I post! T h a n k y o u 💖

anonymously requested!

(gif belongs to the babe @blessedboo ✨)

There isn’t a single female in Freeridge that doesn’t wish to be desired by Oscar Diaz. The man is full of charisma and can say enough without saying anything at all. He’s the whole package. The right concoction of a good man gone bad.

And Oscar, himself, knows himself how desired he is too. But what does the santo, himself, desire? Perhaps a nice little treat from you.

You were just an law-abiding citizen trying to get by in life. Unfortunate for you to be born in a town like Freeridge where the opportunities are limited but you’ve found a way to make do. A decent job, a small studio and occasional yoga class on the weekends. Peace of mind or something like that.

This isn’t how you foresaw your life at 25 but you get by and that’s a lot more than many can say so you were thankful and didn’t complain.

It’s a Tuesday night and you’re mindlessly flipping through magazines and enjoying the night off. You decided to tidy up your small area when you stumbled across your high school yearbook, which distracted you from your intended cleaning.

“Oh goodness.” You snicker to yourself, looking through and see the younger, foolish version of yourself. The many faces that you’ve seen come and go since high school. One of those faces sticking out to you, the one that sports a shaved head and teardrop tattoo below his eye.

Your mind wonders about him for a moment or two before flipping the pages.

Oscar had a long day and wanted to sleep the rest of the week away. Shit’s been constant and to come home to a half empty fridge, mess of a house and hermanito giving him attitude, pues, Oscar needs something to distract his mind.

He’s fresh out of a steaming shower, at least he has that, with his towel resting on his hips and laying back in his bed. His thumb sliding up on his phone screen as he scrolls through instagram. If it’s a distraction he seeks then there isn’t anything better than seeing other’s making fools of themselves on the internet.

There wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. But he does stumble upon a picture of green scenery. It’s a simple picture of an open field that a lot of people find themselves at.

He didn’t plan to linger until he realized the profile it belonged to.

Oscar hesitates for a moment before clicking on your name. Your face suddenly appears, many different pictures of you do. Some food shots, some scenery, some family but he scrolls over to the pictures of you. The way your eye twinkles, how your smile is a bit lopsided but still wholesome.

It’s been years, 7 years to be exact, since he’s really seen you. Sure, there have been moments he’s seen you. Sometimes passing by on the streets or at the bodega. But years since he’s really been in the same space as you.

He smirks to himself as he scrolls to a picture from over a year ago. You’re in a nice little number, fabric on you like a second skin and mangonada drink in your hand. Oscar can’t deny feeling his manhood twitch upon seeing it. He clears his throat as he felt himself staring a little too long.

Oscar snaps out of it but doesn’t do so gracefully as his finger slips and hits his screen twice. A red heart appearing and making his own heart skip a beat. “Fuck.”

After your delayed cleaning is resumed, you cook and then do a ‘works’ unwind in the shower. Hair wash, shave, skin care and music to assist you in the feel good department. When you crawl in bed and notice the lone notification from that shaven head cholo, your heart skips a quick beat.

Your brows furrow as your mind ponders. The last time you spoke with him seems like an eternity ago. When you open the notification, you are met with nothing. As if he didn’t like anything but you were certain that his name popped up with ‘liked your post’ before you unlocked your device.

“Hm…” You refresh your IG but again nothing pops up. It’s a moment later when you put two and two together. Was Oscar stalking your page and accidentally liked an old post of yours? That could be the only explanation for if it were your most recent post then for what reason would the like disappear or be taken back?

You’re guilty of going through other’s profiles and have committed the ‘old post’ like. It’s extremely embarrassing as no matter how quick you un-like it, the user will get a notification. Then you are branned as a fucking weirdo for looking at their old post.

Instantly, a grin forms on your face and you laugh to yourself. You wonder what photo it was that he accidentally liked.

All thoughts of Oscar accidentally liking an old picture disappeared overnight. When you woke the next day, all you thought about was getting through your early morning shift. Despite having to haul ass out of your house by 5:30AM, being off by 3:00PM delivered happiness in the form of a sandia paleta covered in chamoy and chilito.

When you thank the paletero and step away from the cart, you see a group of people walking up to it. Both your eyes and Oscar’s eyes widen instantly and you are stumped. You don’t move from your spot as the crowd departs around you.

“Oscar Diaz.” You finally get out after nearly a minute of staring at him.

He keeps his face as neutral as possible but there is no lying that his heart is hammering within his rib cage. Partially due the whole post thing and the fact that you are literally just as ethereal as he remembers.

Oscar pursues his lips together, “Y/N, long time no see.”

The awkwardness is suffocating. But you smile and take a taste of your paleta, “Not so long though. I coulda sworn the last time we saw each other was last night?”

You see a tinge of red flare over his cheeks and he cranks his neck to regain his stoic persona. The color flushes from his face as he rolls his eyes and looks towards the paletero. You look back and laugh, once again meeting his eyes.

“Which one was it?” You ask him and he shakes his head, stepping past you but at this point it became fun to poke at him. Though it’s not smart to poke the sleeping bear, Oscar had always been kind to you in school. That was a different man though, you remind yourself.

“Dos, por favor.” Oscar says, handing the man $20, advising him to keep the change.

The small act of kindness means a lot to the man, it makes you smile as well. When he gets handed the two mangonada paletas, he hands one to you. You look at it with a confused face. A small small at the corner of his mouth, “It was that one.”

Oscar walks off before you can say anything.

You couldn’t be mad at the yummy treat though you needed to eat with a quickness and ultimately ended up with a brain freeze. And the sweet treats had you craving something salty, a short trip to the corner store would help that.

As you mentally remind yourself to only get what you came for, you get out of your car to find the infamous red impala. You stop in your tracks when you see Oscar leaning on the hood, smoking a cigarette.

He flicks it down when he sees you and lets out a puff of smoke.

“I’m not sure if I should be scared or not.” You call out, walking to stand close to him. He smirks and shrugs his shoulders, fiddling with a lighter.

You look him up and down while he has his attention elsewhere. He’s filled out since you last saw him all these years ago. Course, you’ve seen him around but never truly got to see him.

Oscar clears his throat and nods towards the bodega, “The paletas make me crave those queso ruffles. What’s your excuse?” He tries to downplay the smile trying to break through.

You chuckle and hit his arm, he leans away but moves over when you step besides him. There’s a comfortable silence for a moment before he moves away and leans in through his open window. He pulls out a big bag of ruffles, opens it and offers you some.

The two of you lean against the car under the setting sun, it’s a sight for sore eyes.

“You like mangonadas or just girls who do?” You speak up and burst out laughing. Doubling over and pressing your hands into your knees, it’s an ache in your tummy kind of laugh.

Oscar knew you wouldn’t let him live it down. And for the most part, he didn’t mind. The next time a mangonada came up in conversation is after he took you to the beach a couple days after that fateful day.

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junicai · 3 years

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Relationship with NCT 127

➣ Taeil ☾ taria

taeil is the Sole Protector of aria’s sanity

taeil loves his maknaes so much, but he literally looks at her like she put the stars in the sky

the Proud Dad smile :’)

when aria first debuted, czennies thought that she was the same age as jungwoo - because she acted older than her age - but with taeil she lets her inner kid come out

highkey dependent on his approval for things in relation to singing

“was, was that ok?” “perfect, ari.” “ (O_O;) - (◕‿◕)♡”

she will fight mark and donghyuck for his attention, and she will win

for a while, the two had shared a dorm room before they were rearranged, and taeil let her slip into his bed when she was feeling homesick

the offer is still open, but aria takes him up on it less and less

taeil is NOT sad about that. absolutely not.

he’s vehemently against any and all diets she tries - saying that if she gets any smaller he’s going to be able to pick her up with one hand

que him dragging her out for ice-cream after a promotion, paying no mind to her protests

aria helps taeil with translating a lot of things into english during lives and interviews - so much to the point where he’s picked up a bit of an irish accent and the others never fail to clown him for it

taeil still has the small braided bracelet that aria gave to the members on their first anniversary of nct (he keeps it in the drawer beside his bed)

aria is his self-professed happy virus. he told czennies in a vlive once that her smile makes him feel really happy and he wants to protect it to the best of his ability

aria always fixes his micpack before they go onstage if its crooked, because she comes out after him in the lineup

they have monthly movie nights and they alternate who chooses the movie / show (taeil normally goes for mystery or drama themed ones, while aria enjoys making them both sob miserably)

FAN FAVOURITE MOMENT.

aria and taeil singing “I See the Light” from tangled for the NCT Music channel, and the tears that were shed by both moonis and realtai alike. sm really popped off with the staging and the lighting of the whole video - between the smiles that were on both of the singers faces and the whole ambiance created, its a cinematic masterpiece

no one was surprised when it hit 2 million views in a day, and a lot of solo stans were born from that video

➣ Johnny ☾ johria

indisputable siblings

there is not a single czennie who ships these two romantically, and that’s because they’re just too wholesome

johnny is one of the few members that aria calls “oppa”, mainly because of the age gap and sm wanted her to appear respectful, but also because he thinks she looks so cute

very chill, excellent vibes

their vlives are either chaotic messes or the closest thing to therapy since ice cubes

the blanket on aria’s bed? that was a gift from johnny - she had been complaining to mark about how cold she always was anemia tings

czennies are begging for sm to allow aria to open up a solo instagram account, becuse they see the amount of pictures johnny takes of her

in the park? he’s making her pose in front of the flowers. backstage before a show? the lighting, c’mon.

big big bear hugs - the height difference make nctzens want to die

185cm vs 158cm? p l e a s e she’s so tiny in comparison (/ =ω=)/

when she gives him backhugs it looks like a little kitten trying to wrestle with the family dog

play fighting about vernacular:

“ITS CALLED A SIDEWALK” “S I D E W A L K, ITS A FOOTPATH YOU BUFFOON”

very vocal about her wellbeing, and has asked fans before to remind her to take better care of herself and get to sleep sooner

aria, starting a vlive at 3am: hi hi~

the comments: NO GO TO BED

johnny helped her a lot when it came to the style change in choreography, as aria was used to soft, flowing movements and not the powerful, sleek style that most nct dances have

consistently forgets the fact that she is not the fourteen year old he first met, and is, in fact, an adult now. “you’re a child” “im 18″ “...no”

is the person to get angry on her behalf when interviewers belittle or ignore her

FAN FAVOURITE MOMENT.

during a fansign, a fan asked aria who did she think was the most comforting when she was stressed (besides mark and donghyuck) and aria said johnny. “he’s so, constant? like nothing seems to knock him or throw him off, and that’s really comforting when i feel unsteady.”

johnny is now known as aria’s weighted blanket.

that is all.

➣ Taeyong ☾ ariyong

taeyong took one look at aria the first time she showed up for group practice and immediately adopted her (not literally, but he would if he could)

eomma meets highly protective older brother meets life coach type beat?

so so soft for her its sickening

says he doesn’t have favourites and will then spend an hour cooking for aria because she’s been in the studio for the whole day and he knows she hasn’t eaten yet

when aria was given a duet to do for the sm stages, she had to pick another member to do it with and her first choice was taeyong

she always has said that taeyong is one of the pillars keeping her upright and sane - without him she wasn’t sure if she would have been able to complete her training

because of all the schedules they share together, if aria isn’t rooming with mark then she’s definitely rooming with taeyong

whenever she does his makeup (more often than you’d think) she point blank refuses to cover his scar, even when he asks her to

“please? i don’t like it.” *gasp* “how dare you.”

sleepy aria! snuggling into taeyong’s shoulder when a schedule ran late!

he gets uncomfy when the stylists put her in too revealing clothes, and has spoken to them on numerous occasions about dressing her in age-appropriate attire, no matter how “sexy” the concept might be

he keeps little bags of sugar-dusted strawberry sweets in his bag incase she forgets to eat and feels faint after the last time (they used to be blueberry flavoured, but he heard donghyuck throwing out any and all “blueberry-contaminated” food one evening)

taeyong doesn’t tolerate hate towards aria, especially in person, so he always makes sure to sit down the line from her so that he can see when people skip intentionally her

FAN FAVOURITE MOMENT.

taeyong had just been awarded the solo bedroom on the last night of the Mtopia series, and was staring off into the corner looking rather uncomfortable. aria, who was meant to be rooming with baekhyun looked over and saw his mouth curled downwards slightly.

“baekhyun-oppa, is it ok if i room with taeyongie-oppa tonight? i ran out of my tablets, and he has some in his bag..”

baekhyun looked down at her with a small smile and agreed, while on the video edited captions appeared with the words, “a cute maknae, asking to room with a younger member...”

➣ Yuta ☾ nakamiya

the president of realtai

this man is absolutely, completely and irrevocably whipped for aria and she is not afraid to use that to her advantage

she beat him at arm wrestling because she pouted at him - she’s too powerful

aria.exe stopped responding when yuta started to playfully flirt with her the first few times

*winks* “hu-wha-”

one of the most outwardly protective members of her, because he feels a sense of responsibility for the younger girl

he was one of the trainees she first befriended, aria’s korean not being good enough to hold a decent conversation, and yuta happy that there was another japanese trainee

9 times out of 10, when the members are making their way through crowded areas like airports yuta is always behind or directly beside aria

during a fansign one of the fans asked why he did that, and he said that he needed to keep her in his line of sight or else he’d get anxious that she’s so small that she could get swallowed in the crowds

yes aria hit him for the short comment

yuta, 50% of the time: you’re not allowed date until you’re 35

yuta, the other 50% of the time: bro where’s your boyfriend

he complains that she isn’t as sweet as she was when she first joined, and that hyuck must have corrupted her (╬ Ò﹏Ó)

he let’s her braid his hair when its longer, them both sitting on a bed with yuta in front and aria kneeling behind him so she can reach

he was the first person to take her home for the holidays, because ireland was too far to go back for a week over christmas

“what do you mean you’ve never been to japan???”

bitching about the other members in japanese? more likely than you’d think

when aria turned legal in korea, yuta took her out drinking and made sure to post pictures of her with her flushed cheeks on his instagram story with the caption “aish, i told you to pace yourself....” “happy birthday riri”

FAN FAVOURITE MOMENT.

you know that one clip of the sasaeng getting absolutely trashed by nct’s bodyguard and taeyong jumping 7 feet into the air?

well taeyong wasn’t the only one startled; standing beside yuta, aria was closest to the wall of fans when the girl ran forward towards the members. aria jumped in fright, while yuta barely made a face (#unbothered). he simply wrapped an arm over her shoulders and pulled her around to the other side, tucking her underneath his arm.

tsundere!yuta

➣ Doyoung ☾ dori

*ahem* WHIPPED *ahem*

doyoung adores aria so much

was he unsure about a girl being added to a group of boys? yes but it was moreso concern about how he was going to make sure she wasn’t accidentally trampled

they bonded over a night in the recording studio when he found her sitting on the floor with music sheets scattered around her

a whole mentor when it comes to singing

aria always turns to him after singing - especially when it wasn’t planned, like at a fansign - to see if she did a good job

doyoung has yet to tell her that she hasn’t but sue her, she appreciates the validation

the original mother and Will Not Let Taeyong Forget It

doyoung, dragging aria out of the studio: now listen here young lady-

kitten and bunny friends RISE

no seriously sm released merch of a kitten and bunny plushie and it sold out in a day

when aria had the accident that led to her two month hiatus, doyoung was the one who rode in the ambulance with her after refusing to let go of her hand

“i’m sorry sir, only family are allowed in at the moment-” “we are her family” *nurse looks around the room at the 14 other boys sitting anxiously*

he is a weak, weak man he will crumple on any decision if she smiles and slash or whines at him even slightly

carries band-aids and support strapping in his practice bag because he knows that she gets really bad blisters when she hasn’t practiced while wearing her heels in a while, and he makes her wrap her ankles for the first few sessions incase she falls

FAN FAVOURITE MOMENTS.

NCT 127 Take a Friendship Test (Glamour - 2020)

“ahh, my first impression?” *laughs* “actually, we first met in a recording studio, at like. 3 o’clock in the morning? he stuck his head in the doorway and i was so tired that i thought i had died and an angel had come to save me...” (*μ_μ)

➣ Jaehyun ☾ jaria

you know how cheetahs in the zoo get emotionally support puppies?

this is the same type of vibe

very snuggly together? but only in specific scenarios, like when jaehyun is too tired to move after a movie night, he’ll just kinda engulf aria in a hug and make her sleep on the couch with him

any back hug she gives him turns into a piggy back, its non-negotiable

likes to randomly compliment her to see how red he can make her face go

did she have a crush on him when she first moved to korea? yes, but who didn’t

that faded really quickly though once she started into the group officially - now they are more like siblings

they don’t interact that much on camera? rip to the jaria shippers

but that doesn’t mean they aren’t close with each other its just that a lot of their interactions happen off-screen

naturally, jaehyun began to think of her as a younger sister over the years they performed together

jaehyun will end anybody who lays a hand on aria

a little bap bap if you will

he asked her to take him ice-skating one day, and the entire time was spent with aria laughing her ass off as he ate the ice nearly fourteen times before getting the hang of it

he takes her out for food when he notices that she’s been put back on a strict diet plan (aria thinks she’s good at hiding those pieces of paper, but she forgets that when she puts it on top of things, that other people are a lot taller than her and have a higher vantage point)

the prince and princess of nct? check

head pats

he likes to pat her head and she’ll swat it away immediately until she gets tired and just lets him do his thing

FAN FAVOURITE MOMENT.

jaehyun was wearing a flower crown placed carefully on his head as he bent down slightly to run his hands through the damp grass. a soft shutter sound went off, before he heard a hum coming from behind him. “jaehyun-ssi, could you take off the flowers? we can’t see your face clearly because of the shadow.”

jaehyun glanced backwards at aria’s retreating figure, being chased by donghyuck with hands still stained green from the grass she had shifted through to find the fallen flowers. she stopped and waved at him before resuming her run.

“i’d rather not, if that’s alright. i think it fits quite well with the theme.”

➣ Jungwoo ☾ ariwoo

oh my god someone please stop these two

once jungwoo taught aria about the power that aegyo holds for persuasion tactics against the older members of 127, they were unstoppable

you should be afraid of them

100% have plotted someone’s murder before (and have succeeded, czennies always wondered where that last manager went after The Incident)

aggressively cute together - to the point where your teeth will rot

jungwoo will intentionally flirt with aria just to fluster her because its “so easy to do”

not very physically affectionate, but jungwoo has no hesitation calling out “uri fighting haeyadwae!” to her when she looks like she needs a little encouragement

jungwoo is the reason she wants to do a bachelors degree after finishing high school

he used to help her with her maths assignments after school when she was struggling with managing her time

they’re called the “aegyo duo” of the group, and there has yet to be an outright winner of the competitions to find the cutest member (its aria. jungwoo said it himself, its aria but we been knew)

they have an odd dynamic of looking like best friends the first second, evil masterminds the next and then siblings who want to murder each other but they make it work

will and has flopped down on her while she was laying on the practice floor and then whined when she tried to get up

he spilled the tea that aria gets super emotional and affectionate when she’s drunk

cutest shit ever that made ariwoo shippers lose their absolute minds was the clip that got released in the behind the scenes filming of Kick It, where jungwoo was half asleep in the corner and aria just pops up out of nowhere to shove a folded jacket under his head and made sure to prop it in a way that he wouldn’t get a sore neck when he woke up

jungwoo is the reason she knows korean curse words (dont tell doyoung)

FAN FAVOURITE MOMENT.

aria wobbled in her heels slightly as she stepped out of the van, trying to hold a blanket up to protect her legs while she slid off the seat onto the ground. jungwoo extended an arm around her waist, gripping the blanket in his other hand and carefully holding her to make sure she didn’t trip on the cobbled stone.

➣ Mark ☾ mari

1/2 of the best friend crew

honestly at the beginning, mark and aria weren’t very close, having only really seen each other in passing or with johnny

but after being dropped into training together the two quickly became fast friends, and now they’re borderline inseparable

you thought you knew pain? watch aria’s reaction to mark’s graduation from dream :)

mark’s the reason why aria felt confident enough to pitch some of her lyric ideas to the team, after staying up until 4am to help her make some edits so she was as confident as possible

kinda just, rests his head on her shoulder? and wraps his arms around her waist when he’s tired

mari being confused in foreigner: ???

aria said once in a vlive that she finds mark really comforting to be around - when she feels stressed or worried about something she’ll go to mark’s room and just sit on his bed for a while

aria is so close with his parents - “ahh, how’s my favourite child” “i’m doing great mom.” “no not you, how’s aria?” “wh-hu-MOM?”

you’d swear sometimes mark is younger than her, considering the pout he puts on and how much he whines when they’re not on the same team together for promotions

mark big protecc boi but also little small cuddly boi

they’re so soft for each other ( ╥ω╥ )

in one of the fancams for mark’s solo stage during superm, someone zoomed into aria singing along with him in the wings and dancing to herself with the Proudest Smile(tm)

he’s! so! proud! of! her! constantly! she could be walking and he’d be like “omg get it”

when aria refuses to get up and make herself food (this happens way too often, she just gets into the groove of her work and doesn’t want to move) mark gets her to by threatening to do it himself

consistently caught by czennies just standing behind her and holding her hand in crowded areas - airports, waiting rooms, etc.

FAN FAVOURITE MOMENT.

mark and aria were standing off to one side as the mc explained the rules of the game they were about to be playing. mark looked totally confused, and elbowed aria in her side before looking down and mouthing “what?” to her. aria opened her mouth, before closing it and looking down at the ground, muttering to herself, “결합... 結合..... le chéile.... le... le.. oh oh - combined! we have to put them together, markie.”

and thus, a new confusion meme was born

➣ Haechan ☾ arichan

the other half of the best friend crew

absolute heathens to be around when they are together

donghyuck is the person aria is closest to, and someone she’d call her best friend (only when she was sure he wouldn’t hear her)

she calls him “the demon child i can’t get rid of” but will, and has definitely pouted when he ignored her for too long

generally aria is a pretty soft spoken person, but not with hyuck around - he brings out all her chaos energy (please pray for the patience of dotae)

the pair have a little tradition of kissing the back of each others’ hands before going on stage for good luck. they can’t even remember how it started, but now its an unnegotiable pre-show ritual

he’s so clingy with her absolutely everywhere its painfully adorable (ಥ﹏ಥ)

interviews? hyuck has a hand on her knee, or if she’s wearing a skirt he’s tucked his hand in between their chairs so she can hold it discreetly. in the dorms? full body tackle onto the couch, where he proceeds to lay on top of her completely.

because of hyuck’s nickname being the sun, and aria always being around him, czennies gave her the nickname “moon” to go with him

fans thought that aria was older than hyuck for a good year and a half before she released her birthday on a vlive, because she’s normally the one tasked with reigning his chaotic energy in during promotions (that is, if she hasn’t already joined him)

but off-camera, aria is absolutely hyuck’s baby there is no disputing that. aria’s sad?he’s there with ice-cream and a blanket and a baseball bat.

the winnie the pooh character that is on aria’s bed was a gift from hyuck for her 17th birthday, after she made him watch seven episodes of the show on netflix with her one night

yes he complained, but he slapped her hand away when she went to change it to something else

a twitter thread of a czennie comparing their horoscopes together went viral when people realized that it was quite plausible that the pair were each others (platonic) soulmates

after an incident involving blueberries, donghyuck took it upon himself to check the ingredients of every. single. food item in their dorm to make sure it was ok for her to eat

hyuck clowns her for her irish accent, and aria curses him out in japanese

tldr: they cute or whatever

FAN FAVOURITE MOMENT.

donghyuck was doing a vlive in his bedroom, sitting and talking to czennies when aria opened the door to his room quietly. she didn’t say anything, just waved slightly with almost closed eyes before she crawled underneath his covers and tucked her plushie underneath her chin. hyuck didn’t even blink at it - so it must have been a regular occurrence.

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putseraphinaonthaphone · 3 years

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Behave, Majesty

There was a reason he was assigned to be the head of your security. He was the fiercest warrior your father could find, which meant you- the heir to the throne and the most wanted marriage match between the three largest kingdoms of the land- would be safe against any reckless nobles who resorted to more desperate means to take your hand by force.

When you met he was still in his full armor, and he held his helmet impatiently in his hand, allowing you to see the mess of pale gold strands of his hair. You descended the stairs leading into the main audience room, the gossamer layers of both your cape and your dress- designed to highlight the generous curves of your body and show off your desirability to potential suitors- a soft rose that complimented the dusky shade of your skin, and made your dark areolas and nipples stand out. It was also thin enough that Bakugou could see the shadow of hair that covered your pussy. You weren't sure if he wanted to fuck you or kill you based on the way he was taking in your official royal attire.

You always felt ridiculous in these outfits, like a show pony, but somehow when it was his gaze taking you in like it was his right- you felt powerful. Desired.

Introductions were long and ornate and boring, and somehow you were relieved by your new head guard's rude interruption-

"Bakugou, your Majesty. Can we skip the formalities? I'm sure the heir to the throne has more interesting things to do." He almost sneered at you, as if he knew most of your life was preparing to be the trophy of the most politically beneficial suitor.

"Yes, I have an appointment with the master of the baths this afternoon in preparation for the suitor ball in a fortnight." You returned evenly, but your narrowed eyes and cuttingly dry tone just made your new guard grin with a sharp fierceness that made your stomach clench.

"I'll keep you safe while you're getting pretty Majesty."

Having Bakugou as a guard was.. interesting. He was always alert and prepared for all threats, and he saved you from many attempted kidnappings. Every time he put you to bed after an attempt he'd stay the night with you, sitting in a chair by the door while he sharpened his knives.

You loved these nights, because you never felt safer than when you called out to him in the low light of the room, only able to see him in his poet shirt because of the candle he used to see his blades and wetstone, and he grunted at you, "I'm here Majesty. I'm not leaving your side. Now go to sleep."

Having Bakugou as a guard meant getting lectured the first moment you're alone.

"My job, Majesty, is to keep you safe. That means you have to behave. You have to obey every order I give, when I give it, because your obedience can mean life or death in a moment of danger. Do you understand?" He was crass and abrasive around others, even your father the King, but when it was just the two of you he was focused and straightforward. Determined. A conquerer, if you'd ever seen one. Whatever he set his mind to he'd accomplish, you were sure. What would it be like to be the focus of such relentless intent?

"Focus, Majesty. I asked you a question." His words were sharp, making you guess he'd called out to you more than once when you were lost in thought. You blushed furiously but nodded, and if your voice shook at least only he was here to witness it.

"Y-yes, I need to behave for you and be obedient to ensure my safety." His eyes seemed darker for a moment, watching the way your tongue swiped over your bottom lip. With a sharp nod he ended the conversation, and retreated to be a protective shadow like he was assigned to be.

Having Bakugou as a guard means through all the would be suitors, the balls, the brunches, luncheons, court audiences, he was by your side. Rolling his eyes when you couldn't at the ridiculous promises suitors made you, and holding his hand while you lean on him to take your painfully ornate shoes off for just a moment before your next appointment.

Having Bakugou as a guard means seeing the way he slowly starts to show his respect for the work you do for those in your kingdom you claim your father's infrastructure has failed. He follows you day after day going around the kingdom's orphanages and poor houses, bringing your maids in waiting to carry more baskets of food and blankets and medical supplies. He helped carry the heaviest supplies, his red eyes following you as you sit and talk with the children while your aids distribute the food and blankets (because as much as you'd like to you're not allowed to actually do any of the cooking and preparations yourself as another ridiculous limit because of your royal blood.)

But then your father tells you he's found a suitor, that he's tired of your arguments for not marrying the decent, perfectly acceptable matches he's put forth, and that you're to be married within the year.

Having Bakugou as your guard as a betrothed royal is hell. He sneers more often than not when mentioning anything about "Prince Izuku, the Compassionate" your soon to be husband if your father has his way. And after meeting your betrothed you found he was a perfectly kind man, with an honest heart and a genuine desire to do what was best for his people.

But he didn't make snide jokes with you about the gilded trappings of the upper class that felt like a prison, he didn't sit with you to ward off nightmares of men coming to take you simply because of who you were born to, and he didn't make the vow to keep you safe- willing to lay down his life to make sure you kept your freedom.

Having Bakugou as a guard means finding the most inconspicuous time to have a moment alone to tell him-

"I don't want to marry Prince Izuku." Your handmaids were dismissed for the night, and you had claimed you were fearful of nightmares to get Bakugou to stay the night with you.

You were in your bed, the sheets long since turned into a tangled heap, and you leaned against the ornately carved wood of the bedframe's canopy as you made you declaration.

The nightgown you wore was, like most of your clothes, more gossamer threads than anything substantial. And in the candlelight of your royal bedchamber the champagne fabric made your skin shimmer like bronze. Bakugou's heart clenched at your words and he hoped so brightly for a moment it took a viscous amount of self control to wait, hear everything you had to say.

You stood and walked over to him, barefoot, a vision that was begging to be claimed.

The doors were locked, and no one but the man you wanted was able to see the way you knelt before him- a royal showing such an act of loyalty and submission was unheard of. But Bakugou could see that you were genuine in the way you bowed your head to him for a moment, and the longing in your gaze when you finally looked up at him.

"I want you. You swore to always keep me safe, do so by taking me for yourself. You'd protect me.. and you'd protect any heirs we may be blessed with.." You murmured your reasonings softly, your hands resting on his knees as you spoke. You saw the hardness between his strong thighs and you took a risk that had your face flushing red-

"I'd have to obey you, as my husband. But I always obey you don't I? Give me a command. Let me show you how well I can obey."

Bakugou cupped your cheek and brushed his thumb over your lips, bitten red with your worrying.

"Such sweet lips saying such tempting things. You'd give up the throne to two kingdoms to be tied to a simple knight?" His question was quiet, but the weight of it hung between you two heavily.

"I'd give up everything to be by your side for the rest of my days. I'm not afraid, I'm never afraid because.. I know you'll protect me. That's all I need." You'd thought this through. You were prepared to present your father with an alternative form of union between the two kingdoms, or runaway if need be. You also had a plan, one that was crazy, reckless, desperate. But if there was no other way to make sure you were his.. You too, could be relentless in pursuing what you wanted. Maybe your love for him gave you that drive.

"And you want to give me children?" The way his voice grew rough as he asked it let you know this question affected him just as much as it effected you. Your thighs clenched together, and that heat that always lingered in your belly in his presence seemed to be ignited by the thought of what he was going to say to your reply.

"I want to behave for you as any good royal should, and provide my husband with as many heirs as he desires." You met his eyes seriously, and you didn't when his hand lowered to wrap around your throat. You leaned into his grasp, breathing in sharply when his grip tightened briefly at your blatant trust and submission to him.

"Your father may not allow it." It was as if you scented blood in the water, if he was coming up with reasons you shouldn't it meant he was in favor of it. You would have him, because no one else could ever compare to the brightness of him that exploded in your life and didn't leave a single thing the same.

"If I'm already with child when we present our argument, he won't have a choice but to give you my hand in marriage." You blurted out, your one ace card. The way Bakugou's jaw clenched and his grip on your throat tightened enough that you got light headed made you squirm.

"Are you truly so desperate for me that you'd allow me to put my seed in your belly? Tonight?" All it took was a nod, and he was hauling you into his arms. Your legs went around his waist without hesitation, and he carried you back to your bed.

Stripping you of your close was easy, especially compared to your lover's brute strength- the gossamer silk fabric didn't stand a chance. You were bare before him in moments, and he shouldered his way in between your lush thighs to he could finally get his tongue in your pussy like he'd been dreaming of doing for months.

You were biting your lip and trying to hold in your moans, because you couldn't get caught. Not yet. Not until you were sure his seed had taken root in your womb.

"Not a sound, Majesty. We are not going to be interrupted until you are leaking my seed." The low, growled words made you whimper, and you pushed your hand against your mouth to try to obey him. Because you would always behave for him. Your Knight.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou #happy birthday bakugou #i have a thing for knights #and royalty #tw: dubcon #tw: duboius consent #tw: dark content #tw: kink

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heybeybey · 3 years

Note

Did I ask you the peaceful rivetra cabin one honey with a slice of nsfw ?? ( if I did already ignore this 😭)

Not yet! @himebee-5 And I'm glad you requested this! Anyway, you know how long my HC posts are so the actual cabin headcanon comes in halfway through (this is 1,454 words wtf) haha

This is 3 full cups of honey, a dash of dramatic angst in the beginning and two teaspoons of NSFW btw.

Hope you'll enjoy!!

Rivetra Cabin +++ (you’ll understand what the + is later on) Canonverse AU

Petra lived through the 57th failed expedition but both her and Levi were permanently injured. Petra came out with a spinal injury and while the doctors did say that she's going to make a partial recovery, her mobility won't be the same as before.

Levi, on the other hand, lost his left leg. Both have no choice but to retire from the Survey Corps.

I want to add a dash of drama so in this Canonverse AU, the Military Police are forcing Levi to go back to the Underground.

His temporary citizenship above ground is revoked since he's not going to be a Scout anymore and he wasn't able to fulfill the required service years needed to become a permanent resident (this is something that I just came up with lol)

Erwin tried to pull some strings but even he can't do much since the Survey Corps' reputation is tarnished at this point (same as what happened in the show). The MP tried multiple times to escort Levi out the Survey Corps HQ but Erwin and Hange always finds an excuse to delay it a bit (ex: wrapping things up regarding his dead squad, recovering for a month or two until he can be escorted back etc.)

Petra, stressed and panicking over the fact that her captain will be dragged back to the Underground, frantically begs Levi to run away with her.

Note that they don't have a relationship (yet) and Levi was surprised at her suggestion since Petra lives a decent life as a citizen born in Wall Rose.

He refuses and said that he can run away by himself if needed but Petra argues that now that he's disabled, he needs someone who will support him.

Our girl got bolder since she knows that they're not really Captain and Subordinate anymore.

She was persistent and a day before they know the MPs will come knocking again, he gives in and they made a run for it.

Erwin and Hange def. arranged a few things for them and Erwin even expedited their last salary

They jumped from one cheap apartment to another just to escape the MPs and finally found a cabin they can afford on a slightly rundown village somewhere north and towards the edge of Wall Rose

It wasn't the best village to live but definitely still better than the Underground (or in jail, in Petra's case since technically she just helped a criminal escape)

Few years passed (let's say their universe had a happy ending that Isayama won't probably give us 😭) and the MP gave up on Levi's case.

Petra and Levi live a quiet life together :3 Both of them needs some support when walking so they do have a crutch (for Levi) and a wheelchair (sometimes for Petra) on hand.

Levi used his last salary and savings to open a small tea shop in the village while they used Petra's for their monthly expenses during the first year. The tea shop eventually was able to support them once it started picking up.

Levi thought he'd hate not being able to serve in the Scouts but was surprised that he did prefer this domestic bliss instead.

He usually prepares the tea while Petra serves the customers in their tea shop.

They'd support each other in cleaning the cabin til it's spotless.

Petra buys groceries every week while Levi focuses more on cooking and laundry for the both of them.

It wasn't easy living together at first since we all know how Levi is and since they're really equals now, Petra doesn't hesitate in speaking her mind anymore. They'd sometimes clash but Levi is the one who often approaches her to apologize and make up.

They both hear news about what's happening and Erwin and Hange sometimes visit them (I want a happy ending for this so Daddy Sasageyo and Hange are both alive ok)

They didn't immediately jump one another btw. They both know that there are already feelings between them but Levi's too emotionally constipated to explore it, much less make it official.

It happened 2 years into living together. Levi was watching Petra sweep the floor and just abruptly said that they should get married.

Petra dropped the broom in shock and her face was absolutely comical. While she and Levi did have a few romantic moments here and there (small but unofficial dates, cheek and forehead kisses given subconsciously), they never talked about an actual relationship.

Levi said that they're already living together anyway and wasn't her dad upset that she's living with a man but not married to said man?

He also remembers the time when they were still in the Scouts and he and his squad were talking about what it might be like to be married since Eld just announced his engagement (rip ☹️)

His only contribution to that conversation btw is "no" when asked if he wanted to get married lol

Anyway, he remembered how Petra said that she once dreamed about getting married someday and having a happy family. However, at that time, her dream of dedicating her life to the Scouts was more important than settling down and she doesn't plan to retire for many many years.

They were both silent after that and Levi started feeling embarrassed. He tried to take it back, saying that of course, he understands that she doesn't want to since he is in his mid-30s and she'd probably find a better, able-bodied, younger man in the village instead.

Before he even finishes his apology, Petra said yes :3 (Girl has been fantasizing about this for years, of course she'll say yes haha)

They did a shotgun wedding that same evening and Levi started trying to find ways to romance her. It's all awkward at best and downright embarrassing attempts every single time but Petra wouldn't want it any other way.

Petra, being a romantic at heart, wanted a wedding dance and Levi, being a sap, gave in. They had their own wedding dance of sorts in their cabin the best they could with their conditions.

When they got the cabin, they shared one room but have separate beds. The next day after they got married, Levi found Petra pushing the bed together and she said they're married now and he usually climbs on her bed at the middle of the night whenever he has nightmares anyway.

The first ones to know about their shotgun marriage is Petra's father, Erwin and Hange. Hange dragged Erwin to their cabin the very next day after they received the letter.

Mr. Ral wasn't happy at first that Levi didn't ask for his permission (Petra scolded her father for being too old-fashioned) but he eventually told Levi that he approves as long as he's making Petra happy.

Erwin and Hange brought wedding gifts that can help them with their cabin (new cleaning materials, something for their fireplace and since Hange can be crazy, she also brought baby materials. Most are storybooks and onesies haha)

They weren’t planning on having kids but then Levi started reading the children storybooks that Hange brought and Petra noticed that he’d sometimes get this look in his face

We all know Levi would make a great father!!!!

She asked him to stop using protection one night and after three months of trying, Petra did end up pregnant :3

Now for the spicy HCs 💦

Levi wanted to make sure he does everything the right way for her so yes, they do have a wedding night. It was awkward the first time around but Levi has superb stamina 😏 so they did a few rounds and he got the hang of it the second time around.

After the third round, Petra was begging him if they can go to sleep instead. Levi teased her since she accidentally revealed that she's been fantasizing about fucking her captain for years. Now she's giving up?

Okay, that challenged her and they did one last round lol

Turns out Levi being a clean freak doesn't end with brooms, rags and mops! He's also great with aftercare.

Since Petra didn't have the energy to shower any longer (also taking into consideration her spine's condition), Levi cleaned her afterwards while she just lay there smiling stupidly in contentment.

Sometimes, aftercare ends in more sex though since Levi can't help himself and he starts teasing her again.

...Petra got dicked down on every furniture in their cabin btw. Their favorite is the wooden living room table because it’s in front of the fireplace.

#rivetra #levi x petra #petra x levi #rivapeto #levipetra #petra ral #petra rall

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lov3nerdstuff · 3 years

Text

Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 7.16}

*Severus Snape x OC*

Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend... and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.

General warnings: professor x student, blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 5.3k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

______________________________

"May I ask you something you might find rather odd?"

"Don't you always?" Robin chuckled softly. "You can ask and say anything at all, you know that. Odd isn't a thing between us anymore."

"Why does your hair smell so insufferably much like pineapple? You don't even like pineapples."

For a broken second, Robin was so surprised by the indeed quite unexpected question that she didn't react at all, then however she had to snort and finally just started laughing. Gods, what a question… whether he had meant to take the edge off the situation or not, his inquiry certainly had done just that. In a sudden mutual agreement that it might be better to let go of each other –better for whom, one might ask– they both removed their tight hold from the other and Robin took a tiny step backwards. Not enough to call it an appropriate distance, really, but enough to look at each other's faces again.

"I, uh…" She started, once she had more or less stopped laughing, and finally folded the letter and the permit back into the envelope. "I haven't really had the money to buy new shampoo after I'd run out, so I first borrowed from Jorien for half a month, and now ever since the beginning of October I've been borrowing from Cas, who unfortunately loves pineapples. That's why I smell like one currently."

"I see… Curious how I haven't noticed it before."

"Well, we don't really… get that close to each other so often." Robin shrugged, trying to suppress the sad subtones that wanted to sneak into the statement, and instead acted over it by removing her wand from the tousled damp mess on her head, now that she remembered that her hair still would have to dry at some point indeed. "And I literally just took a shower before coming here, so that should make the smell even more prominent as well. Sorry…"

"Not for that. But say, do I even want to know why you decided to take a shower in the middle of the night? On your birthday?"

"Cas smeared some sticky goo onto my face and it was really itchy and got stuck in my hair…" She rolled her eyes at the memory, and upon his questioning and slightly horrified expression, she snorted but went to explain. "It was just some kind of face mask, nothing gross! Well, actually, it was pretty vile, all pink and smelling horribly sweet, even worse than the pineapple!"

"Sounds like your evening with your roommates went exactly as expected."

"Well, part of it at least. At first we had tea and cake, which I very much enjoyed actually. They told me about the incident in class as well, even though they thought it was hilarious rather than annoying. But then I became subject to their idea of a girls' night, and that meant sticky goo and painted nails." Robin held up her hands with a humoured sigh to demonstrate Jorien's work. It actually looked quite good, or at least it had, before Robin had already chipped one nail in the shower. She couldn't bring herself to care enough to fix it though. "Then they tried to get me to talk about boys, which was the point where I shut down."

"I can imagine."

"They got me a lovely gift though; a framed photograph of the entire group. The girls and I, and Simon, Gideon and Michael. All sitting together in the great hall." Robin smiled, still very much happy about the picture. "There's so few photos of me and the people I care about. Honestly, I only have the conference photos from last year and the year prior, and either has about fifty strangers in it, but only one has you."

"Good. I doubt that I'm particularly photogenic."

"Neither am I, but I like looking at the picture nonetheless."

"You always were the most photogenic person in the entire newspaper. All three years of conferences."

"Thanks." Robin laughed, once again quite glad that it was too dark for him to really see her blushing. "Remind me to show you the horrible pictures of me as a toddler some time… You'll change your mind about me being photogenic then."

"Don't bet on it."

"Alright, I won't." Her smile turned warmer, less amused and more heartfelt. "But I'm still happy to have one more picture of the people I care about now."

"You should be. It is a nice gift indeed. An actual gift."

"Oh will you stop it now!" Robin rolled her eyes exaggeratedly, then couldn't help smiling up at him nonetheless. "I think your gift IS an actual gift! A perfect one! But if you just keep refusing to believe it, might I make a suggestion?"

"Don't you always?" He raised an eyebrow as he quoted her own words back to her with a not-smirk. "Go ahead."

"Go to Hogsmeade with me on Saturday. I know you're not overly fond of being there while the students are roaming around, but you could consider it a gift to me, if the incredible one you've already given me just won't count for you. Which I still don't understand, by the way." She suggested, then went on with a small smirk. "I'm sure I can sell some stuff to the guy in that ingredients shop you sent me to forever ago."

"I will have to see it to believe it. Saturday it is." He replied and the corners of his lips quirked up more and more. "The man you're speaking of is a sleazy individual, ripping people off wherever he can, and getting him to pay a decent price will be practically impossible. But I will enjoy seeing you try."

"I can get him to pay any price you name." Robin teased with a nonchalant shrug. "I don't know what prices to set anyway, nor what the different objects are worth in theory. Just give me a number I can tell him, and you'll see me getting him to pay it."

"I sincerely doubt that."

"Wanna bet?" She quirked an eyebrow at him, smirking openly with just a tad of mischief in her tone. There was no way she would lose this, she was certain of that. "If you deem me so unconvincing, you should have nothing to lose."

"If you insist. What stakes shall we set?"

"Loser buys the winner a drink afterwards, how about that? We should both be able to afford that much at that point."

"Agreed. It should make for an interesting Saturday either way." Snape seemed to be entirely amused by the idea at this point, and Robin wondered if he was actually serious about doubting her in the first place. He did know better than to question her abilities, especially those she actually believed in herself, and somehow she had the feeling that agreeing to this bet was his way of encouraging her to do her best on Saturday. But he might also just be wanting to buy her a drink. The thought made Robin grin even more, and she decided that she was fine with either version.

"I hope I'll make it to Saturday in the first place…" She said then, remembering that it was only Friday now, roughly around two in the morning. "The girls have made some plans for my birthday, but after this evening, I'm not sure if I will survive any more of their ideas."

"To your luck, they will be busy with classes for most of the day, much like myself unfortunately. Are you going to be assisting Pomona with the second years again?"

"Yeah, it's the only thing I have to do. It's fun, actually, when the students aren't being idiots. Gonna be an easy day."

"Perhaps you should go to bed now nonetheless. As much as I would like to sit down now and keep you here until morning, you certainly would be better off with some sleep before your roommates drag you into whatever schemes they have set up for the morning."

"Yeah… I should go." Robin sighed, and this time she didn't even bother trying to hide her sadness about the fact. "Don't forget about the salt thing though, yes? And please tell McGonagall; even if just for the sake of helping me keep my promise."

"I will." He replied as he followed Robin to the door, keeping his eyes on her as she stepped out into the hallway. "If your roommates haven't already claimed every single minute of your day by then, perhaps we could take a walk in the afternoon."

"I would like that very much." Robin smiled up at him too happily, in too much excitement, but she couldn't bring herself to care. He already knew that she loved spending time with him; he just didn't know all of the reasons. "But for now, goodnight."

"Get out of my sight already."

"As you wish." She grinned at his feigned annoyance and not-smirk, then made her way down the hallway and back towards her room, clutching her wand in one hand and the letter in the other. Surprisingly enough, this had been a great start to her birthday after all.

When she lay in bed a little while later, she could still feel the shadow of his touch along her spine, the brush of his fingertips on her sides, and it took her a while to fall asleep like that, when part of her mind wouldn't shut up and instead kept on wondering what it would've felt like without all the fabric in between his skin and her own.

… … …

Morning, as always, came way too soon, and Robin was woken up by two overly excited girls who then proceeded to dictate her every move. Luckily she could talk them out of painting her face this year, but they still put up her hair into an intricate braid before they finally made their way to breakfast while playing some kind of game Robin never quite understood the rules to in the first place. When they arrived in the great hall, they still were terribly early for once, as they sat down at the Ravenclaw table with the boys, who each proceeded to congratulate Robin as well, and she in return thanked them all, especially Simon for the idea with the picture.

Once the hall had filled up with students and staff alike –Robin took careful notice of the fact that McGonagall was once again sitting next to Snape, chatting away amicably while the latter looked indifferent as always– the beginning of the meal was announced, and the foods and drinks were sent up from the kitchens. The moment everyone had been waiting for had finally arrived, and when Robin looked around, she saw more excited faces than she dared to count. Obviously the news about the prank had made their rounds among the student body, and spread even beyond the Ravenclaw table. In the careful attempt not to be entirely obvious about it, Robin then observed Snape and McGonagall. Both of them went with coffee this morning, and if she wasn't mistaken, they both focused on their mugs a little too long before moving to drink at last. Neither of them pulled a face, nor did McGonagall falter in her one sided chat with the bored man next to her, which relieved Robin quite a bit. Once she looked over at Jorien, the girl mouthed a quiet 'thank you', to which Robin answered with a single subtle nod. Then both their attention was drawn back to the head table, when a happy coincidence decided that it should be Morgan who first made a show of spitting out his salted coffee in an indignant spout. A wave of giggles ran through the student body, and while more professors followed Morgan's example mere seconds later, the giggles turned into straight out laughter. McGonagall made an attempt to hide the fact that she had known in advance, going neatly along with the other professors' surprise and outrage, while Snape however merely let his eyes travel over the students in a menacing glare. When his eyes caught Robin's, however, his face brightened up ever so slightly with a not-smirk for a moment, then he continued his cold inspection of the tables and Robin turned back to her breakfast. Perhaps seeing Morgan spitting out his coffee had made her morning a little better after all, and knowing that Snape had succeeded to get McGonagall, out of all people, to play along with this scheme definitely made her both happy and proud.

The day then continued on quite as good as it had started. During the herbology class she helped with, Sprout not only congratulated her right away, but also gifted her a beautiful scalpel-like knife that was small in size, but sharper than Robin thought possible. The gesture honestly surprised her, but the herbology professor insisted that she couldn't continue watching Robin use that old rusty thing she had been using for both her in- and out-of-class work for the last two years. A little overwhelmed but very much grateful, Robin finally accepted the highly useful gift, and stored it in her pocket for now, just before first students filed into the greenhouse.

The next surprise came during lunch, when Robin found yet another wrapped gift waiting for her in her spot at the Ravenclaw table, where her small group of appreciated people was already awaiting her arrival. Upon Robin's inquiry about the package, they all shrugged and said it had just suddenly been there some time after they'd sat down. Her name was written on a piece of paper that was tugged into the wrapping, but she didn't quite recognise the handwriting. Odd… why were so many people giving her gifts for her birthday, all of a sudden? She appreciated it, of course, but it made her wonder nonetheless. Then, encouraged by her overly curious friends, Robin finally unwrapped the gift, only to reveal a small and desperately old looking book. 'The Unforgivable Curses: A detailed study'... The title alone made the hairs in Robin's neck stand up, while the small group of people around here was simply confused. Of course they understood the title, but they were just as clueless about who would give such a book to Robin as she herself was. There was no note, no letter, nothing but the slip of paper with her name on it, which she tugged in between the pages after briefly flipping through them in search for any more pleasant or unpleasant surprises. But it was just a book, a quite rare one if Robin wasn't entirely mistaken, and certainly not of the kind you would find in a school library. If anyone saw her with this, especially one of the professors, they might just think she was up to no good; thus Robin stored it away in her backpack, making sure to inspect it more thoroughly later today. Preferably together with Snape, he knew way more about these things than anyone else, and he appreciated a good mystery quite as much as she did.

After lunch, when Robin was just about to head to her room to pass the time and perhaps change into something warmer before Snape would be done with his classes for the day, she found herself stopped in her path, surprised yet again by something she hadn't quite expected. This time it was McGonagall who, after a quick glance down the hallway, first congratulated Robin, and then also thanked her for the indirect warning this morning. What surprised Robin however was when the professor took her hand, placed a small and surprisingly cold object in it, and then closed her fingers around it even before Robin could see what it was.

"You did not receive this from me, do you understand?" She asked with an intent look at Robin, who in return merely had the time to nod before the professor turned on her heels and was off down the hallway a second later.

Confused, Robin opened her hand again and her eyes fell onto a key that was now resting in her palm, heavy and cold and no less ancient than the book she had already received an hour earlier. What on earth was going on here that she was missing? What was this key for, in a school that –as far as Robin knew– locked all doors with magic anyway? And why was McGonagall so keen on keeping it a secret? Robin couldn't answer either question, but she hid the key in her locket anyway, to keep it safe until she knew what she was to do with it. Then she finally made for her room, with the intention to get some long overdue rest at last.

… … …

Shortly before four in the afternoon, Robin quietly let herself into Snape's office during the last minutes of the class he was teaching next door. She had indeed changed into something warm enough to be comfortable outside (for once!), and then thought it a nice idea to pick him up here to go for her promised walk. That at least would give them a good two hours before dinner, and thus enough time to actually get away from the castle for a little while. Content with her plan, Robin took her perch on the edge of the desk, not bothering to sit down properly for the little time she planned to stay here. It wasn't long indeed before the door between office and classroom flew open, and a very much annoyed Snape stormed into the room, throwing the door shut behind himself again without looking back. Still it took a few seconds for his eyes to find Robin's, but then he stopped in his track while the tension remained written all over his features.

"Don't." Was all he said in a deep and warning tone, and Robin knew very well what he meant, but she just couldn't help it. She had to smile, brightly and without any attempt to hide it, and he rolled his eyes in return, the tension fleeting, while he tried not to smile in return. "You are insufferable. Just let me be angry in peace."

"I'd rather not. Because I can't be happy when you're upset, so logically I will have to see to it that you're happy. For my own sake." She shrugged easily, and her eyes followed him as he moved to drop a stack of notebooks next to her on the desk. "And I'm here to claim what's been promised to me. Before you can find a way to get out of it."

"Whyever would I want to? Wasn't it I who asked for a moment of your precious time in the first place?" He raised his eyebrows at her for a second, then grabbed his warmer robes from the back of his chair. "I would hardly want to miss the narrow time frame I was given to spend with you."

"Oh come on, I'm not that busy! You're the one who had to teach all day… I've just been in my room ever since lunch."

"Napping, as it seems." He quipped, finally unable to keep the not-smirk off his face, and Robin felt called out immediately.

"How the hell do you know that again?"

"Your hair tells me all about it. Admittedly, the difference from lunch to now is very subtle, especially with the braid, but I know what you look like when you wake up. I've seen it before."

The blush that rose to Robin's face immediately was accompanied by a wave of tingles that were equally a result of his words and her own imagination. Yes, they had woken up in the same room before. But not together, in the way she would've liked. Not the time to think about that now.

"Well, you caught me." Robin finally replied, forcing away the previous string of thoughts. "I was napping because I didn't get a lot of sleep last night. I'm fine with little sleep, generally, but less than two hours isn't enough even for me. With the two herbology classes of the first and second years this morning, on top of two meals with the girls, I honestly just needed some rest."

"What kept you from getting a good night's sleep in the first place?" He asked in return, as they left the office and started making their way outside, unseen as always, through the many rooms and passages Robin found herself actually able to remember at this point. She had no idea how Snape even knew about all these shortcuts and secret paths in the castle, but she was glad to have learned about them too. Wandering around unseen was a lot easier like this.

"Oh, you know… just too many thoughts spinning in my mind." She shrugged, careful not to let slip that it had been thoughts about him that had kept her awake. Thoughts about them, together.

"I understand. Your visit also left me thinking for quite a while." He said, as they arrived at the foot of the hill, under the open grey sky at last. "I have come to the conclusion, for example, that you were right. My gift to you may be considered a gift indeed."

"Where did that change of mind come from?"

"I couldn't find an argument against yours. Giving someone a gift is an act of caring, and as you rightly so pointed out, caring extends way beyond the material. Thus a gift should be judged by the amount of care put into it, not its material worth."

"That's pretty much what I was trying to say last night, yes." Robin smiled up at him, doing her best not to trip over anything while they made their way towards their by now common favorite place outside the castle. The shoreline of the lake. "I received three more gifts today, even though I'm not so sure if the latter two go by our definition of 'gift' in that sense. The care as well as the message behind them are kinda, well, untranslatable to me. Anyway, I've been dying to tell you about it all day."

"I'm listening. And intrigued, seeing as once again you just have to build up suspense."

"Well, first there was Sprout." Robin started, in ignorance of his second comment, and pulled the delicately ornamented knife out of her robes, showing it to Snape with a smile. "I was quite surprised that she got me a gift at all, to be honest. We've gotten a bit closer through my assistance in her classes, but I didn't think she liked me enough to even remember my birthday, leave alone to get me anything."

"She gushes about you all the time actually, in the staff room, or during meals… It seems to be one of her favourite pastimes to tell everyone, especially me, about your brilliant work." Snape replied, then handed the knife back to Robin who slipped it back into her pocket. "I'm not surprised that she would give you a present such as this; she holds you in a higher regard than she does with most of her colleagues."

"I certainly appreciate it. The gift, and that she's obviously quite fond of me too. Especially since the other two items that were given to me today are way more confusing in their nature and their circumstances."

"I know you received a book during lunch. What was that about?"

"I haven't got even the slightest idea. Nobody knows who it's from or why it was given to me, and I was hoping you could help me solve this mystery." She said, and summoned the object in discussion from her bag, once again handing it to Snape. "There's a piece of paper inside with my name on it, perhaps the handwriting will tell you more."

He stopped walking once his eyes fell onto the title of the book, and he inspected it for a moment longer until he looked up at Robin once again, in sincere surprise. "I have heard of this book, but admittedly I believed it to be nothing more than a myth. It still might be a mere joke; we will have to find out about that."

"What's special about it? It probably contains a bit more information than we are taught here at school, but that can't be it, right?"

"Supposedly, it contains methods to resist all three of the unforgivable curses. I highly doubt that rumour however, for obvious reasons."

"Obvious to you, perhaps. Enlighten me."

"If there was a way you could cheat a curse that was banned by the ministry, wouldn't they have an interest in making that knowledge known and thereby eradicate the usefulness of such curses in the first place?"

"That definitely makes sense. But perhaps they also believe the book and thus the methods to be nothing more than a myth? Either way, I have this book now, and I have no idea who gave it to me."

"I could give you an answer to that even without looking at the handwriting." Snape scoffed, but opened the book and inspected the snippet of paper nonetheless. "Quite obviously, Professor Dumbledore has an interest in it that you become better acquainted with these curses. I don't have to tell you that this isn't a good sign."

"No…" Robin breathed in return, and if she was honest with herself, she could also have guessed by herself that it was the headmaster who had given the book to her. "If Dumbledore wants me to read this, I bloody better should. No matter what his intention behind it is."

"Indeed. I would ask him about it, but he hasn't been letting me in on anything of importance for a while now, and I doubt that he would give me an honest answer even if I tried. We are better off drawing our own conclusions from now on. May I read the book, once you have?"

"Obviously! It's really not much of a gift and more of a homework assignment the headmaster expects us both to do."

"An oddly fitting way to describe it. Tell me, if that was the second 'gift', what is the third?"

"Something I understand even less." She sighed, then fiddled the key out of her locket to hand it over too. "This was given to me without a comment, without context, and with the instruction to not reveal who gave it to me."

"That certainly-..."

"It was McGonagall." Robin shrugged with one shoulder, giving him a small smile which only widened as his brows furrowed in confusion. "I'm not keeping secrets from you, and she certainly knows that. But I have every intention to keep her involvement a secret from absolutely everyone else."

"If she was concerned about keeping it a secret in the first place, it likely means that Dumbledore doesn't know. This in return means that whatever his reason might be for not wanting you to have the key, it isn't to your advantage. But the key likely is."

"Why do you think so?"

"Dumbledore has long lost his conscience between the bigger picture and his own ambitions, but Minerva will do what she can to protect the innocent from any misfortune. And if said misfortune was caused or tolerated by the headmaster, I believe she will go against his wishes to act on her own conscience instead. Put differently, Dumbledore's concern lies with the school, and its place in the grand scheme of things. Minerva's concern lies with the learning and wellbeing of both students and staff."

"But… that would mean that Dumbledore is willingly letting something bad happen to me. And McGonagall is trying to protect me from it, even though Dumbledore doesn't want her to."

"So far my theory at least, but I have no proof of it other than both our past experiences. It certainly would make sense in the context of both her own words after the incident with Morgan on the first night of term, and also the fact that Dumbledore gave you the book now."

"Oh great…" Robin groaned under her breath and let herself fall back against the tree behind her. "What have I done that makes me everyone's favourite victim? First Morgan, now Dumbledore, and well… There's literally an entire school full of people to pick on! Why do they keep choosing me?"

"I have another question for you. Why does Minerva believe that an old key will help you against either of them?"

"Yes. Great! Thank you for making matters even more complicated." She rolled her eyes with a huff, but felt bad for it immediately. Time to be better than her emotions. "Sorry… that was really unfair. None of this is your fault."

"It's quite alright." He replied calmly and took the remaining two steps to stand in front of Robin, handing her the book and the key. "I can't say I'm not equally concerned about these developments."

"I just can't get rid of the feeling that it all comes down to Morgan somehow. If McGonagall is the proof of a connecting point, back on the day of the welcoming feast and today, it means that Dumbledore sees Morgan as he is, as a threat, but doesn't want to do anything about it. Not because he doesn't care about Morgan's actions, but because he has some grand scheme in mind where Morgan is a chess piece of yet unknown importance and I'm just a casualty he's willing to sacrifice for whatever greater cause. And McGonagall doesn't want that to happen, but she also can't tell me about it because he doesn't want her to. Does that even make any sense? This is a school and not some bloody thriller!" She scoffed as she returned the book to her bag and the key to her locket, then however didn't lean back against the tree. There was too much tension in her body, too much anxiety in her mind, and thus she simply looked up at Snape with an almost sad expression. "Honestly, what am I missing here? I just… I don't understand what's going on anymore."

"Right now, all that matters is that you are out here, with me. You are supposed to have an enjoyable birthday and not a mental breakdown over people who definitely do not deserve it." He said while lightly tracing the outside of her hand with one finger, and when the gesture made Robin smile instinctively, he took her hand entirely and gave it a gentle squeeze. "We will find answers to all the questions, given the right time and opportunity. You and me together, like always. Yes?"

"Yes." Robin sighed, and her smile broadened into a real one that captured the rest of her face as well. "Let's walk on then, shall we? You could tell me what the fifth years did that was so terribly annoying during your last class."

"The better question would be what they didn't do to annoy me. I cannot believe I have to get those dunderheads through their OWLs at the end of the year." He rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, and slowly let go of Robin's hand as they sauntered on, along the shoreline. Oh well… Robin was happy about the gesture nonetheless; as small and fleeting as it had been, it had been initiated entirely by him for once.

"You better start telling me then." She suggested, quirking an eyebrow at him with a smile. "If it's such a long list. What did they do wrong this time?"

"Would you like me to answer chronologically or alphabetically?"

_____________________________

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taizi · 4 years

Text

it’s a better place since you came along

the adventure zone taako & angus mcdonald 7k words

read on ao3

“So, you must be here about the job,” the old man goes on. “To tell you the truth, I’d just about given up on finding a decent nanny. When can you start?”

Taako stares at him. There’s an alarm klaxon blaring in the back of his brain, along with a shrill inner voice advising him to “abort, motherfucker, abort!”

***

In which Taako answers a general “help wanted” ad that actually changes his entire stupid life.

There’s a baby crying somewhere.

Taako, left waiting in the foyer by a harried maid, has nothing else to do but tap a foot, twist one of the rings on one of his fingers, and count the long seconds that the plaintive wail continues to echo through the cavernous house.

Listen, he may not be a very good dude, just in general, and for a healthy plethora of reasons—but there’s a prickling sense of unease growing in the pit of his stomach, as one minute passes into two, and the sounds of distress go unheeded.

What in the fresh fuck, he thinks, when another member of the house staff drifts through the room without any sense of urgency. If he knew shit about magic beyond a few travel-handy tricks and the occasional intuitive transmutation, he’d assume this was some sort of elaborate illusion. Maybe a sort of test played on unsuspecting hopefuls who came to answer the help-wanted ad.

Unfortunately for Taako, he remembers all-too well what it feels like to be an unwanted child, outcast and always alone. As it turns out, he has a very particular Achilles’ heel and he’s not overly thrilled to discover it.

“Well, I didn’t need the job that bad,” he tells himself, as he gets up to single-mindedly fail this stupid test. And nevermind that he kind of really did.

‘Confidence is key’ and ‘fake it till you make it’ are two mantras that Taako could live and die by, so it’s with long, unchecked strides that he crosses the grand foyer and chases the miserable cries up some stairs, down a long corridor, and finally into an out-of-the-way bedchamber at what must have been the back of the house.

The cries stutter when the door clicks open, and Taako gets a glimpse of a tiny round face peering at him through the bars of an ancient-looking crib. The sudden appearance of this strange elf in his nursery seems to have surprised the little human, but not for long. After about two seconds, he screws his face up and screams with renewed vindication.

Taako winces, his sensitive ears twitching back at the onslaught. This is way above his paygrade, but he used to babysit younger kids in the caravans while their parents were busy or drunk, in exchange for a hot meal or a few coins. He’s not totally out of his depth here.

“Hey, little man,” he says by way of hello. “Trying to bring the roof down, huh? No, I dig that. I wasn’t gonna say anything, but this house of yours is ugly as hell.”

Taako doesn’t raise his voice, because what the hell would be the point? There’s no way he’s winning that contest of wills, and nobody wants some lunatic shouting at them when they’re this fucking distraught, anyway. He just crosses his arms on the side of the crib and leans down to get a good look at the kid.

The baby’s face is tacky and snotty, dusky skin flushed darker with exertion, curly hair a tangled mop. But he’s a cute little guy despite himself, probably a year old or thereabouts, not that Taako is in any way a decent judge of that sort of thing. As Taako talks to him in a conversational tone, his awful, heaving sobs peter out.

The tearful gulps are better. The way he lifts pudgy arms up to be held, not so much.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Taako says, casting a nervous glance over his shoulder. “I’m not even supposed to be in here. You have no idea how culturally insensitive people are when it comes to elves and babies. Your mama walks in and sees me holding you, and then she’s calling the guard, and I’m getting hauled off for attempting to spirit her little heir away, and we both perpetuate an archaic myth that all elves are equally capable of and greedy for voluntary childcare. Let me just say—from personal experience—that is not the fuckin' case.”

But he reaches a hand into the crib and lets the little human clutch at it. Tiny, clumsy fingers wrap around Taako’s much bigger ones and hold tight. The baby’s eyes are wide and curious now, soaking up Taako’s every word without a damn clue what any of them mean.

Taako almost forgot he knew how to do this. It’s been months since Glamour Springs, since Sazed ditched him on the road. Taako’s been living a half-life, made up of odd jobs and never staying for too long in any one place, and for all that it’s absurdly one-sided, this is the longest conversation he’s had since then, too.

“One of us is pretty fucking pathetic,” he confides. “And it’s not the screamy baby.”

“Ah, this is where you’ve gone,” a voice from the doorway says.

Taako jumps in alarm, and looks around in time to watch a man step into the nursery. He bears a striking resemblance to the baby in the crib, though he’s graying at the temples and his face is lined with too much age for him to be an immediate parent. Grandparent, probably. Distinguished, dressed in a suit that probably cost more than the entire cumulative worth of everything Taako currently owns, leaning heavily on a walking cane.

He doesn’t look as though he’s about to ring the alarm, but Taako is still a little keyed up. Given the way he’s been living, the feeling of getting caught, even for a moment, activates his fight or flight response.

“Sorry,” Taako says lamely. “I heard him crying.”

“I don’t doubt it. His parents, my daughter and her husband, died recently. An accident on the road,” the man says. There’s some sorrow there, but it’s pushed back and away. Compartmentalized. “He came to live with me, but the transition hasn’t been an easy one. It seems as though all he’s done is cry.”

Taako doesn’t melt even slightly for the poor kid, because he’s made of sterner stuff than that. But he does let him hold onto his hand for a little while longer. It’s not hurting anything.

“So, you must be here about the job,” the old man goes on. “To tell you the truth, I’d just about given up on finding a decent nanny. When can you start?”

Taako stares at him. There’s an alarm klaxon blaring in the back of his brain, along with a shrill inner voice advising him to “abort, motherfucker, abort!”

It wasn’t a nanny ad. It was just a ‘general help wanted in exchange for room and board’ type of deal. He wouldn’t have shown up to take the job in the first place if it had specified providing 1) cooking, 2) companionship, or 3) childcare, and that’s for damn sure. He believes in playing to his strengths, and while vapid charm is certainly one of them, being personable and likable for any extended period of time is not.

And Taako absolutely doesn’t know what to think of this old rich guy who seems to be operating under the illusion that thirty seconds is plenty of time to get enough of a read on some rando to then trust your child to them. For real, and from the bottom of Taako's heart, what the fuck?

He’s only been acquainted with this particular child for about five minutes, but his ears go back and his hackles go up at the idea of someone just walking in off the street to take charge of him.

Maybe there’s some crucial insanity element to parenthood that Taako just isn’t fucking picking up. Maybe total and complete willingness to just ditch your kid at a moment’s notice is part of the package. Sure would explain a few things about Taako’s childhood.

But… this old manor house is clearly in the middle of nowhere. Two hours from the nearest settlement, where the job posting was hiding beneath other flyers on the board in the square. Taako wandered the woods all afternoon and almost gave up finding the place before the chimney smoke tipped him off.

It’s remote. Safe. And, at a glance, more comfortable than any of the inns and caravans Taako has lived out of since his auntie died.

He’s not qualified for this position, but since when has that ever stopped him? It’s not like he went to culinary school, either, and for awhile he was one of the most famous chefs on the continent. A baby can't be that much work.

Fake it till you make it, he thinks, and then faces the old man with a smile.

“Hell, I’m already here. Might as well start now.”

Aside from Taako, there are three other members of staff on the books, and none of them are full-time. The maids come in every other day to do the cleaning and the laundry and bring in groceries, that sort of thing. The groundskeeper only works the weekends.

They like Mr McDonald well enough, the girls confide in Taako over tea on his first night there, and the pay isn’t bad, but he’s forgetful. Doesn’t think to eat until he feels hunger pains, that sort of thing. Don’t be surprised if you get paid twice some weeks, or not at all others.

“He’s just not interested in running a household, I think,” the older of the two imparts, ancient at seventeen for all the weariness in her eyes. “I’m glad he finally found someone to take care of the baby. I felt bad about him crying all the time.”

Baby Angus had seemed to surprise both teens by being agreeable and downright adorable, perfectly content to be tucked into the crook of Taako’s arm and soothed to sleep by the rumble of his voice.

Did any of you try, like, holding him? Taako wants to ask acidly. Seems a little fucked up that Taako, of all people, is more on top of this than anyone else. But the maids are little more than kids themselves, and it seems as though grandpa isn’t completely with it.

About a month after Taako first wandered in, grandpa proves it.

“It was before Angus was born,” Mr McDonald says, digging through the many drawers in his study, looking for some expensive rich person thing he’d acquired at auction four years ago. There’s an empty crystal tumbler sitting on the liquor cabinet, next to a half-empty decanter of whiskey. “We went to Goldcliff for a charity fundraiser. Marquis proposed to my daughter that night. You remember, Taako?”

Taako, halfheartedly poking through stuff on the desk while Angus chews on the end of his braid, replies, “Sure do, homie. Hell of a party.”

He finds a photo in a stack of letters and pauses. Two humans are pictured with their arms around each other, handsome smiles on their faces for the camera, a baby cradled tenderly between them.

At the bottom, in looping handwriting, someone wrote ‘Marquis, Angela, and Angus.’ There’s a little heart drawn under the names with such care that it, in itself, is something of a revelation.

Angus’ parents wouldn’t have let him cry himself sick in a faraway room. They wouldn’t have let some stranger be holding him now. They abandoned him, but not on purpose. Not the same way Taako’s family did.

This kid was loved. He’s due love. And all he has is an absent grandpa and a shitty elf looking after him.

“Check it out, Ango,” Taako says quietly, holding the photo up so the baby can see, carefully out of reach of those sticky fingers. “Your genes are killer. You’re gonna outshine the whole damn world.”

He pockets the photo with a sleight of hand he perfected at ten years old, and then guts some ugly painting in the service hallway in the name of repurposing the frame, and then he and Angus stage a tactical retreat.

The nursery was too depressing, just in general, so one of Taako’s first acts as nanny was to move all the baby stuff in with his. He had his pick of any of the second floor bedchambers, and he chose one overlooking the overgrown gardens, with a pretty bay window that it only took like two hours and a handful of stubborn Prestidigitations to scrub clean.

He enlarges the photo, slides it into the frame, transmutes it to look like a more professional job, and then sets it in place of pride on one of the empty shelves.

“Gang’s all here,” he says. He bounces Angus a few times, eliciting a toothy smile from the kid.

Lordy, Taako thinks, she’d be laughing her ass off if she could see me right now.

The thought comes out of absolutely nowhere and disappears just as quickly, sliding right out of his mind like water through a sieve. Then Angus makes a sudden dive to grab one of the charms hanging off the brim of Taako’s hat, and he has more immediate things to worry about.

Living in a house is weird. Having the run of the place is even weirder.

Taako is certainly not the type to sign up for extra responsibility, and he’d be the first to say as much to literally anyone who asked. Keeping himself alive has always been trouble enough, and now he has a whole ass extra person he’s in charge of, too.

But as time drags on, he realizes he’s been pretty solidly assimilated.

When McDonald forgets to give Catherine the grocery allowance before he fucks off on one of his bi-monthly business trips to Neverwinter, Taako forks over his own gold without feeling the sting of it too badly. He practically writes his own checks around here, anyway. He can make up the difference whenever.

When crotchety old Boniface came in from the gardens looking for an answer about the freshly broken fountain, he bypasses McDonald’s closed office door entirely to demand guidance out of Taako instead. Taako is in the library, laying on his stomach to supervise Angus’ painstaking and artistic destruction of a probably priceless but unfortunately racist oral history Taako found on one of the shelves, and gives Boniface the go-ahead to gut the old eyesore.

“If it dies, it dies,” Taako says plainly, passing Angus a new red crayon. Boniface, pleased that he’s allowed to demolish something, makes it a point to ask Taako about these things first from then on.

When Ezra shows up in Taako’s suite one morning with tearful eyes and an ugly burn from the temperamental furnace in the basement, neither of them stop to question why she ran all the way up here. They’re both reasonably intelligent people, after all, and Taako is quick to cast a nonverbal Helping Hand. He doesn’t need to overthink it. The burned skin on Ezra’s arm is shiny and red, but repaired.

The girl surges forward to hug him, visibly rethinks it, and then changes course and scoops Angus up for a hug and a noisy kiss on the cheek instead. Angus shrieks in bald delight, and Taako finds himself smiling.

So, yeah. It’s weird, the whole thing is weird, but he wouldn’t say it’s bad.

McDonald is a kind but largely absent presence in their lives. When he’s home, he’s shut up in his study. Angus hardly seems to recognize the man anymore, only watching him with solemn brown eyes from the comforting circle of Taako’s arms. It doesn’t really sit well with Taako—he didn’t take this job to upstage any relatives or be a replacement parent—but he’s already nanny to a precocious two-year-old, he can’t also be nanny to a seventy-something-year-old retired scholar. If McDonald wants to be a part of Angus’ life, that’s on him. It can’t possibly fall on Taako’s shoulders.

“And even if it did, I have a bad back,” Taako informs Angus. “You’ll have to do the heavy-lifting for me, sweetpea. How’s that sound?”

“Okay, Taako,” Angus says gravely. If there’s a tiny part of Taako that’s fucking delighted every time this tiny miracle says his name, he squashes it down good and hard and no one is the wiser.

It feels a little bit like nothing exists outside this spacious manor house. The extensive grounds might as well be a magic barrier between Taako and the rest of the world. It won’t last—nothing good ever does—but for now he allows himself to pretend that it will.

Taako and his little shadow swing into the kitchen around noon one day to find Catherine in tears.

This is so far from the norm that Taako actually draws up short in the doorway. Angus toddles right into the back of his leg, loses his balance, and plops down hard on his padded bottom.

“What’s this all about, darling?” Taako asks warily.

Catherine is sharp in all the places Ezra is soft, and while it makes her much easier to understand—a girl after Taako’s own black, shriveled heart—it also makes her approximately one million times more difficult to comfort, as likely to bite at a helping hand as accept one.

At the first sign of her vicious temper, he’s gonna grab his kid and bail. There’s fruit and bread in the larder that’ll see them through to dinner, and if not, he's not above bribing Ezra to run interference.

But Catherine just lifts her head out of her hands and says, “I burnt the stupid soup!”

Taako blinks. He stands still so Angus can use one of his legs as leverage to pull himself back upright, and cups the back of the boy's head in silent praise when he manages it on his own.

“Okay,” Taako says slowly. He can piece this shit together. “The soup is burnt. And you’re cheesed about it because…you feel really strongly about soup.”

“Don’t be stupid,” she snaps, but it’s without any real heat. “I just. I can’t get anything right today.”

Ah. Okay. So it’s one of those.

He hesitates for a moment, and then leans down to scoop Angus up and balances him on a hip. Angus knows not to toddle into the kitchen unsupervised, and rarely gets to toddle in at all when there’s cookery going on.

Taako himself rarely goes in. It feels too much like tempting fate. But his feet carry him forward, and he leans over the pot of thick and creamy chicken and dumplings, and right away he can smell the problem. It caught on the bottom of the pot and scorched.

He’s never worked in this kitchen—and he never will—but he remembers the steps. It’s mise en place. He reaches into the spice cabinet and withdraws a small tin shaker.

“Cinnamon,” he says at length, offering the tin to Catherine.

She stares at him, losing some of her steel for a moment. “Really?”

“Really,” Taako says, and firmly steps back. The six-second exchange has left him feeling tense and sick, his appetite fully and completely fucking out of the picture.

Angus is a perceptive little monster, and settles more heavily into Taako’s arms. He heaves a very pointed sigh, something he started doing to communicate that he’s feeling particularly safe and content. It makes Taako’s chest hurt in a much different way than impending panic attacks tend to, and he presses a kiss to the kid’s curly head.

“Thanks, angel,” he says.

“You’re welcome.”

“Holy shit, Taako,” Catherine says, looking up from the soup with awe in her eyes. As he watches, she tries another spoonful, and then she actually laughs out loud. “It worked!”

He finds himself searching her face for—sickness. Shortness of breath. Something.

It’s stupid. The people he killed in Glamour Springs didn’t show signs of death for days.

“I didn’t know you cooked,” Catherine goes on. “Could you teach me?”

“I don’t,” Taako blurts. It comes out sharper than he meant for it to, sudden and a little bit too loud. Catherine’s smile tapers. Angus lifts his head off Taako’s shoulder. Breathe, idiot, Taako tells himself. Be a fucking person for two seconds. “Cook, I mean. I don’t cook. Or, uh, teach. I’m kind of useless. Pretty, though.”

He flips his hair. It makes Angus giggle, but Catherine isn’t an easily-amused toddler, and she’s not buying it.

Her eyes are sharp, and seem to peel through layers of Taako’s bullshit like a knife. And then she scoffs, and mimics his hair flip with her wrist even though her hair is only about two inches long, and the tension drains out of the room like someone pulled a plug in the floor.

“You’ve been teaching Mango to read,” she says dryly. “And Elvish. And magic. But okay, Mr I Don’t Teach.”

“He’s my fucking protege. That shit’s different!”

“Shit!” Angus agrees cheerfully.

“Whatever. Now that I know you’re secretly a fountain of knowledge, I’m dragging you in here the next time I fuck up a recipe.” She studies him for a moment, and adds, “You don’t have to cook, Teach. If it bothers you. I just…I need help sometimes.

Taako feels himself relenting. This house is turning him into a fucking pushover.

“I know, Cat,” he sighs. “Try to find one person who doesn’t.”

“Alright, little man,” Taako says, tugging Angus’ collar straight. “What are the rules?”

“Hold your hand, don’t talk to strangers, aim for the eyes if I can reach them, knees if I can’t,” his boy recites gravely.

Next to him, Ezra stifles a snort of laughter. Boniface, waiting by the loaded carriage, looks reluctantly amused. Catherine says, “Who the fuck thought it was a good idea to give you a kid?”

“Uh, your boss,” Taako says without looking at her. He stands up from his crouch as the front door closes, and they all turn as McDonald comes down the steps to join them in the crumbly courtyard.

“Are we ready, boys?” he asks with a smile. “Neverwinter is waiting.”

Honestly, Taako has been sick with dread over this trip for the past two weeks, but he wouldn’t know how to go about explaining that. And he sure as hell isn’t sending Angus off alone with his absent-minded grandfather. The kid probably wouldn’t make it home.

It’s not as though Taako has been sequestered in the manor house for the last five years. He’s ambled into the settlement with the girls now and then, has gone farther up the road to buy from caravans for Candlenights gifts, has let himself be bullied, cajoled, blackmailed and bribed into helping Boniface lug imported plants home from the train station.

But this is fucking Neverwinter. The Jewel of the North.

“Taako? You okay?” Angus says from somewhere near his elbow.

“Just dreading three hours on the road playing I, Spy with you, boychik,” he lies smoothly. “Go pet the horses so we can get that out of the way.”

Angus looks mulish for a moment, but he does insist on petting the carthorses before they take the carriage literally anywhere, so he lifts his head and crosses the courtyard with great dignity. Taako watches sharply until Boniface rolls his eyes so hard Taako can practically hear it and hefts Agnus up in one huge arm to better reach the giant creatures without running the risk of getting fucking trampled.

“I’m making the salmon at home tonight,” Catherine says abruptly, a non-sequitur that takes Taako by surprise. “If I don’t fuck it up, I’m gonna cook it here, too. So don’t be late, Teach.”

“I’ll a hundred percent eat your share if you’re late,” Ezra adds. Her smile looks a little strained.

Taako has not been subtle. He’s been freaking out right out loud where anybody could see it. Get it together, asshole, he coaches himself helpfully.

“Cat,” he says earnestly, “your salmon is literally the only thing I have to live for.”

She groans and pushes him away from her. Angus has finished with the horses and returns to Taako at a run, even though they’re all going to be walking back across the courtyard to the carriage in like one minute anyway.

McDonald is handing out a few last minute instructions. They’re mostly things that have already been taken care of, errands that have already been run, the ushe. The girls nod along politely, but there’s a level of uncertainty lingering above them like a cloud. They look as nervous about Taako leaving as Taako feels.

Now, Taako is many things—an elf, a failed chef, a murderer, a dime-store wizard, and one lucky nanny—but he is not some mercurial fairy tale creature. He’s not going to vanish from their lives the second they lose sight of him. He could if he wanted to, and he will if he has to, but he doesn’t want to. For now, he doesn’t have to.

So he lifts a hand and says, “Back soon.”

But for some reason, it fucking hurts.

The trip is about everything he expected it would be: long and boring. Angus gets bored with I, Spy within about ten minutes, the interior of the carriage is a little too tight to practice his cantrips, and Boniface seems to be aiming for the roughest parts of the road on purpose. Taako tries reading aloud from one of the Caleb Cleveland books, but McDonald keeps interrupting every time they get to the good, mysterious parts, so Angus and Taako trade a loaded glance and wordlessly agree to save it for later.

Still, it’s not awful. Angus at six years old is bright-eyed and relentlessly clever. He wants to be a detective like Caleb, and has taken to solving little mysteries around the manor house, like who left the jam out on the counter (Taako, and what are you going to do about it, pumpkin?) and who tracked the mud inside the undercroft (Boniface, obviously, that’s where all the booze is, and he literally works in mud all day. You didn’t have to put on your detective cap for that one).

Needless to say, Taako would burn the whole world down for this kid.

With no choice but to spend time in his grandson’s company, Taako can see Angus’ innate charm going to work on McDonald. There’s something wistful in the old man’s eyes, affectionate and more than a little bittersweet. He stops interrupting as Angus starts to describe his latest case in great detail—the mystery of the missing tarts!

The tarts are wrapped up and waiting in Taako’s bag for when they inevitably get snacky during the trip, but he's not going to tell. He kinda wants to see how far the kid takes this one.

By the time they board the train, Angus is tuckered out. The excitement of a trip so far from home is wearing off after hours in a carriage, and Taako ends up carrying him into their sleeper car and putting him to bed in one of the bunks.

McDonald takes a seat at the small table and watches without commentary as Taako extracts the boy’s hat and glasses and wand without waking him, pulling the blanket up to his shoulders. And then, out of habit more than anything else, he murmurs the only Elven blessing he remembers, quite literally ‘sweet dreams.’ He remembers Auntie saying it to him, and…someone else, maybe? He remembers that it always made him feel loved to hear it.

“Hiring you was the best thing I could have done for him,” McDonald says suddenly.

Taako turns with a trademark smile on his face, only as charming as it needs to be. “Hiring me was the best thing you ever did, period.”

His boss smiles back, but there’s an edge to it that Taako can’t translate. This is the most present and aware he’s looked in the last five years. Taako isn’t sure he’s ever had this much of McDonald’s attention.

“There’s another reason I wanted to take the two of you with me this week,” he says.

It’s ominous as fuck, and as the train lurches into motion, pulling away from the station, Taako realizes that he’s effectively trapped here, in a way he never was at the manor house. Some of his thoughts must show on his face, because McDonald’s smile warms a bit, and he gestures at the other chair.

“It’s a good thing, son. No need to be nervous.”

Taako sits in an irreverent collapsing of limbs to prove that he isn’t nervous, actually. McDonald pulls a bunch of papers out of his briefcase and sets them on the table. They look official as fuck. McDonald’s signature at the bottom draws Taako’s eye—huh, so that’s his first name. After this long, it would have felt a little awkward to ask. Beneath that is the signature and seal of a notary.

“What am I looking at here, Charlie?”

McDonald’s lips twitch. He probably cottoned onto the name thing.

“Well, this isn’t an easy conversation to have, and I probably could have picked a better time for it, but.” He glances over Taako’s shoulder at where Angus is sleeping. “It’s probably better if the boy doesn’t overhear until it’s sorted.”

“I hear ya. That little bugbear is all up in everyone’s business all the time,” Taako says proudly. “Just the worst.”

“He’s amazing,” McDonald says. That sorrow swims into his eyes now, an ancient, ruinous thing. “He reminds me of my daughter every time I look at him.” Oh. “It’s been…hard to look at him sometimes.” Oh.

Taako carefully reevaluates his opinion of Angus’ absent grandfather. Not too much, because the dude still should have been around, but, you know. Some.

Taako tries to imagine losing somebody, how much it must hurt. He tries to imagine looking like somebody, a family resemblance, a belonging at face-value. He’s never experienced either, but there’s still a bitter pit in his throat, a feeling like if he swallows too hard he’ll start to cry. So he sits very still instead.

“But still, he’s my only grandson, and I want him to be taken care of when I’m gone,” the man goes on. “I’m getting on in years, and I probably don’t have much longer left—oh, Taako. It’s alright.”

Taako is certain he didn’t move. He’s still doing the sitting-very-still thing. Then he realizes his ears betrayed him, pressed back flat against his head. Goddamn things.

“No, it’s uh. Taako’s good, don’t. Just.”

It’s the human age thing. He doesn’t want to think about it. He waves McDonald on, a tight rolling gesture. They really need to power through the rest of this conversation while Taako still has enough self-control left to not do something really embarrassing in front of his boss, like have a whole emotion.

McDonald takes pity. Thank fuck.

“It’s normal to want to get your ducks in a row,” he says. “I’m not planning on kicking the bucket any time soon.”

“Alright, let’s organize these ducks,” Taako says with unwarranted enthusiasm. He’s trying to trick himself into it. “Fucking ducks, am I right?”

“Angus is my heir. When he’s of age, he’ll get the estate and everything that goes with it, as well as his parents’ properties,” McDonald says, once again reminding Taako that he’s a rich old fuck. Istus. “But that’s still more than a decade away. If something should happen to me, I don’t want him to end up a ward of the state.”

Taako blinks. In the back of his mind, he realizes that he has become one of those elves that would one-thousand-percent kidnap a human baby if it came down to it. Leave Agnes in an orphanage? His Agnes? It would literally have never occurred to him.

“Custody cases can be so long-winded. The easiest way to circumvent the whole mess would be to adopt you into the family,” McDonald says, super nonchalant about flipping the world upside down. “That way Angus has an immediate next of kin that no one would question.”

He looks up when Taako doesn’t say anything and frowns at whatever Taako’s face must look like.

“You don’t have to use the surname if you don’t want to. It’s mostly just for the sake of paperwork.”

“I can’t,” Taako blurts.

“Of course. I wouldn’t insist that you change your family name if it’s important to you—”

“Not—not that, who gives a fuck about my family name,” Taako says too loudly. Angus shifts around for a second, like he might wake up, and Taako snaps his mouth closed so hard it hurts his teeth. In a whisper, because it’s all he can manage without giving into the urge to scream, Taako forces out, “I—I’m—I can’t.”

In the nightmare scenarios that still sometimes plague him in the middle of the night, when everyone else is asleep and he’s alone with the voice in his brain that fucking hates him, the choices always boiled down to either leaving Angus behind or taking him on the run. Both choices were fucking awful for a myriad of different reasons, and left Taako pacing his room tirelessly trying to think his way out of an unsolvable problem.

The idea that he could become a legal part of Angus’ family as simply as signing a piece of paper is so far-fetched and ridiculous that he can’t wrap his mind around it.

But bringing all his shit into Angus’ life? Signing up for this only to get snatched away the second the paperwork goes through and the militia finally finds him? Leaving his dirty laundry all over the front yard like the worst fucking house guest imaginable, and then peacing out to spend the rest of his long-ass fucking elf life in jail, while Angus was left to just…deal with that?

He couldn’t. He can’t. Every single option is bad. He shouldn’t have stayed. He should have known he would fall in love with that baby on day one. It’s really fucking stupid that he stayed.

“—aako. Taako.”

Taako jerks his head up. His ears are twitching and his hands are shaking and McDonald has probably been saying his name for awhile.

The man’s eyes are bright and steely. They look exactly like Angus’ do sometimes, when he wakes Taako up from a miserable meditation, when it’s just the two of them in a huge house surrounded by a crumbling garden.

“Tell me,” the man says sternly.

At a fucking complete loss, Taako just…does.

When he’s finished, McDonald looks at him really hard for what feels like a long time. Then he pulls a pair of reading glasses out of an inner pocket of his coat, poises the business end of a fountain pen against a fresh sheet of paper, and starts asking questions.

It’s a business-like, no-nonsense exchange. Taako is wiped out, emotionally he is the equivalent of a damp rag wrung out to dry, and he has no wherewithal left to lie or deny or deflect.

When they’re done, McDonald has filled three notebook pages of blocky handwriting, and Taako is swaying in his seat. He watches somewhat vacantly as McDonald nods to himself and rummages in his briefcase for a stone of farspeech.

“We won’t reach Neverwinter until morning. Get some sleep,” he says, and his voice is kindly again, the way it was before. Taako stares at him. “And don’t tell me elves don’t need it, please. I wasn’t born yesterday, and you nap twice as much as my grandson ever did.”

Well, it would be nice to get one last unnecessary snooze in as a free man, Taako supposes, and he doesn’t hesitate to climb into Angus’ bunk. It’s a familiar ritual. The kid squirms to accommodate him without fully waking. Taako tucks an arm around him and buries his nose in that riot of curly hair.

He hears McDonald say, “You’re not much more than a kid yourself, are you?” but that might have just been part of a dream.

He hears someone else say, “That can’t be broken or lost or taken away, it’s always going to be so important,” but Taako thinks that, whoever that was, they were very clearly wrong.

Taako wakes up to a six-year-old’s warm brown eyes. They’re crinkled at the corners in an urchin sort of way, and it’s the only tell Taako needs. His kid has been up to some mischief.

“Grandpa said you were tired and I should let you sleep,” Angus reports cheerfully. “He also said that there was a nice lady selling flowers a few cars down, and I ought to go buy a few!”

Ah. Taako glances down at the ruin of his hair. It looks like about a hundred snowberry blossoms were worked into the thick flaxen braid. It’s going to be an absolute pain to brush out later. He’ll probably find bits of plant in his hair for days. He loves it.

He risks a glance in McDonald’s direction.

The man looks amused by their whole general existence, which is fair. He also doesn't look like he's about to summon the guard to have Taako hauled into the brig, which is a fucking relief and a half.

“The world changed while you were asleep,” he says significantly. “Would you like to sign the papers now or with your pardon?”

Angus says, all in one breath, “You should sign the papers first! Grandpa says then you’ll be my family! I mean, you already are, so I’m not sure what the point is, but it must be important. Look at how official they are!”

Taako feels about four cups of coffee behind this conversation. He scoots off the bed, spilling into one of the chairs at the table, and folds his hands.

“Charlie. Buddy.”

“I stepped out for two minutes,” McDonald says defensively, “and I thought he was asleep!”

“That’s the oldest trick in the book,” Taako mutters. His heart is doing something really complicated and largely unnecessary, fucking backflipping in his chest, at Angus’ thoughtless ‘you already are.’ Like it was a given. What the fuck. “Can you go back to, uh—the world changing? A pardon? What’s up with that?”

“An old friend of mine is a cleric,” he says pushing a steaming cup in Taako’s direction. “Level nine, or thereabouts. She owed me a favor from when we were in school together, when I—well, that’s not important. What is important is that she was happy to cast Discern Location to find your old stage manager.”

Taako fumbles the cup, almost drops it. He sets it down hard.

“What the fuck? No, hold that thought. Angus, I love you. Get lost.”

He’s really banking on the kid being more stir-crazy than curious, and sure enough, Angus hops right off the bunk and sprints for the door.

“Okay, I’ll be in the dining car! You’re not s’posed to take food back with you, but I’m gonna see how many pastries I can fit in my pockets so you won’t be hungry when you sign the papers that make you my family! Love you, bye!”

“A three-hour carriage ride followed by six hours on a train was the worst fucking idea,” Taako says severely. “He’s gonna be on eleven when we roll up to Neverwinter. They might not let us in.”

“He’s just excited,” the old man says, with the tranquility of someone who isn’t going to have to child-wrangle all day long. “I told him I had good news for you.”

Taako is fidgeting, turning the cup of coffee around and around in his hands. It’s leaving a ring of condensation on the table.

“You found Sazed?” he asks, and hates how small his voice sounds.

“We did.”

“He probably hates me,” Taako mutters. “I ruined his life.”

McDonald takes the cup from him and sets it down on the other side of the table with a firm clunk.

“Pardon my language, but you didn’t ruin crud.” Taako mouths ‘crud’ in bewilderment, but McDonald isn’t finished. “I was suspicious of your story when you described the way those people died. Those aren’t the typical symptoms of deadly nightshade, and I’d never heard of a transmutation spell failing in that way before. So I looked into it. Or, I should say, I had a few friends look into it.”

“Are you in a cult?” Taako asks. He can’t help it. He’s one part genuinely curious and two parts hardwired to deflect any time someone tricks him into having a serious conversation. “We frown on cults in this family. Mysterious shadow organizations are never a good thing, no matter what greater-good shit they’re peddling.”

“I’m very rich and belong to very elite social circles,” McDonald says dryly. He’s unmoved by Taako’s general everything. “This whole thing took about three calls. I wish you would have told me about this five years ago, but I do understand why you didn’t.”

Taako doesn’t have a cup to fuck around with anymore. He stopped wearing jewelry when Angus was a baby and literally everything smaller than an apple was a choking hazard, and he never really got into the habit of it again, so he doesn’t have rings to twist around his fingers, either. He wrings his hands instead.

“If it wasn’t the elderberries,” he chokes out, and doesn’t make it any farther.

“It was arsenic,” McDonald says. His voice is kind again, but not so much so that it’s painful to hear. “Sazed was questioned within a Zone of Truth. He admitted to—okay,” he cuts himself off, putting a hand on Taako’s shoulder. “We’re done talking about it for now. Just take it easy.”

Taako doesn’t uncurl from his chair until the door rattles open and Angus’ voice fills the room. He’s found a dozen things to talk about in the ten minutes he’s been gone, and is very proud of himself for all the contraband pastries he managed to make off with. There’s a cheese danish wrapped very carefully in a napkin, only slightly squished, that he presents to Taako with a showy flourish that he really only could have picked up from too much time around one particular idiot.

Taako accepts the danish, and then hauls Angus up onto his lap, and then says, “Charlie, baby. Pass me that fancy pen.”

For the first time in almost eight years, Taako is cooking for an audience again. His hands are shaking, but as long as everyone else is politely pretending like they don’t notice, he can do himself the same favor.

I fed those people their death, but it wasn’t on me, he recites inwardly for the seven millionth time, a nervous mantra. My magic was good. My cooking was good. I was good. It wasn’t on me.

He looks up from the counter where all his tools are laid out and his ingredients are arranged. Ezra is bouncing in her seat, Boniface is lingering in the doorway like he doesn’t care but he also isn’t leaving, and Catherine’s eyes are wide and moonlike and younger than Taako has ever seen them. Angus has place of pride, a seat on the counter by the sink with the best view in the house.

“Okay,” he says. “What are the rules, pumpkin?”

“No swiping ingredients, no magic in the kitchen, and no taste-testing until you say it’s okay,” Angus rattles off promptly. “Autographs at the end of the show are three gold apiece, photos are ten, and the overall experience is absolutely priceless.”

Over the sweet sound of the rest of his audience groaning at him, Taako goes on blithely, “And what are we cooking today?”

“Macarons!”

“And who’s your dude?” Taako asks, pointing a whisk at him. Angus giggles, and Taako’s hands aren’t shaking anymore.

In a month, Angus is going off to a summer camp out past Rockport. It’s Caleb Cleveland-themed, and the whole thing sounds extremely nerdy and book-cluby, and Angus is desperately excited. He’s also desperately nervous about being away from his family for three whole weeks but he’s trying to keep that on the down-low. He’s very grown up at nearly ten years old.

Taako can respect that. He also bought the kid a stone of farspeech, because actually fuck that.

And while Angus is off having his first away-from-home adventure—since the girls think that Taako’s just going to be useless and mopey the whole time, and Boniface already threatened to bury him in a flowerbed the first time he whines about literally anything—Taako is going to go do something cool, too. There’s always some interesting jobs posted on Craig's List up in Neverwinter. He’ll be able to find something to occupy his time.

But for now, he’s gonna make some goddamn desserts.

“Come on, Ango,” Taako wheedles, “who’s your dude?”

“You, papa.”

I’m good, Taako reminds himself. He looks at his kid, who only deserves the best this piece of shit world has to offer, and thinks, I can be good.

#the adventure zone #taz balance #taako taaco #angus mcdonald #taz fic #my writing #better place #ladies i dunno but i gotta work in like 3 hours and i wrote this instead of sleeping

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hlcreators · 4 years

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With a camera in hand, Louis sets off on the road trip of his life to explore the most famous haunted houses of the UK. Things don't exactly go to plan.

End Game (54k)

Harry styles is the most feared man in London, notorious for always getting everything he wants. All of that changes when Louis comes around and opens his eyes to a new, beautiful side of the world.

Beneath These Sparkling Lights (Forever you’re mine) (5.1k)

"After years of being called a couple teasingly by both our families and friends alike, I know it was nerve wracking for the both of us when it finally actually happened. But for our entire lives we’ve always been HarryandLouis, never apart, whether we called ourselves best friends or best friends and fiancés or now best friends and husbands.” Harry’s smile is so gorgeous that Louis feels a little shake in his knees, “Through everything, the good, the sometimes weird, and the bad, I’m so glad it was you at my side. I know life is ugly sometimes, but you’re the beauty in the fight that is life, for me. My rose to my dagger."

Last Day Alive (42k)

Harry Styles was born to the leader of the Following - the organization that keeps their world peaceful and just. Without the Following, the world would only return to the ways of the Old Times and all of them would come to an untimely end. Or, so he thought, until he meets Louis, the leader of the Rebellion.

Gentle Autumn Rain (57k)

Louis Tomlinson moved to London with a big heart and a big dream. Harry Styles moved to London, fresh out of the police academy, with the hopes of helping as many people as he could in his eyes. When a deranged alpha forces their paths to cross, their ideas of what is meant to be will never be the same.

Down the Field (9k)

Louis, a pro football player of Chelsea, is forced to retire after a severe injury to his foot. After he recovers and is told the news that he'll never play professionally again, he decides to go coach at his old secondary school. Harry, the health teacher, loves to let him know how big of a fan he is.

I Promise (3.5k)

Harry has a promise to keep and a pair of arms to go home to.

[Loosely based on the drowning scene from Dunkirk's trailer. ]

I Chose You (13k)

When he wakes up, the room is much brighter than when he’d fallen asleep. He has to blink the sleep from his eyes and eventually he just tosses an arm over his face to try and ignore the brightness, but then he realizes that the bed has a decent sized dent in it that forms perfectly to his body and he’s comfortable. It’s – weird. He can’t remember leaving the blinds open, and it wouldn’t have made much sense for Zayn to have opened them, either, but he doesn’t think about it. Maybe he just hadn’t realized that he’d had such a nice bed when he’d fallen asleep.

After a moment, he groans and takes his arm away from his eyes and – wait. This is – this is not his hotel room. This is a bedroom.

[Or: Louis wakes up in another life.]

As We Are (48k)

Louis doesn't think much when he's asked to meet up with the alpha of the pack two hours from his own - he figures it's business as usual. But Harry Styles is anything but usual.

Written In The Stars (71k)

It was so different - the complete opposite of everything Louis had ever expected about finally being placed into the real world. Zayn defied every single thing he'd ever been told about vampires, about how he was supposed to be treated. This was nothing like what he'd expected.

[or: Zayn's the third oldest vampire in the world and found himself searching out the company of a human, so he took Louis as his keep. His maker Harry doesn't approve.]

Running (28k)

Louis was never ashamed of who he was - never had been never would be. But he never really was himself.

In The Heat of The Moment (36k)

The first thing that came to Zayn’s mind when he read Liam Payne’s file was that he was certainly, definitely going to die before he was thirty. The word they used in The Office for such a case was reckless; reckless meant that, perhaps, the person wasn’t at fault, but the universe and said person’s energy didn’t happen to match. That made terrible things happen to that person.

Liam Payne was a classic case of recklessness.

[or: A modern times AU where Zayn is a guardian angel and he's been sent down to protect the most reckless human he's ever met.]

#writer appreciation week #hljournal #1dsource #fics #author rec

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lady-divine-writes · 3 years

Text

Klaine Advent Drabble 2020 - “To Tree or Not to Tree” (Rated NC17)

Summary: When Blaine tells Kurt that they're going out to "get a tree", Kurt never imagined they'd be trekking up a freezing cold mountainside to chop one down. (2820 words)

Notes: A re-vamp for the @klaineadvent Drabble Challenge 2020 prompt 'farm'.

Read on AO3.

“Oh. My. God!” Kurt groans, hopping out of his SUV and sinking up to his ankles in snow. “I thought you were kidding about this!”

“Nope.” Blaine rounds to the hatch of Kurt’s Navigator and pops it. He unzips a duffel he brought with, one Kurt had hoped was filled with fun surprises like a picnic lunch that they could enjoy in the vehicle with the heater blasting before they braved the weather to get their Christmas tree from a quaint but upscale tree farm, the kind that smells strongly of cinnamon pine cones and which offers customers plastic flutes filled with sparkling cider as they pass over the threshold into an idyllic Winter Wonderland lit by twinkling white fairy lights beneath the cover of a gigantic canopy.

He’d dressed entirely in brands that Vogue recently featured in their center spread and had planned on snapping a few shots for the website - kill two birds with one stone. He’d even lent Blaine a few pieces he’d squirreled from The Vault. He could see the whole layout in his head. Behind his eyelids, the slideshow of images he had planned was fabulous.

But no.

Disturbingly, Blaine pulls out a wood-handled ax, along with a pair of safety goggles; thick, brown gloves; and some rope. He holds them up for Kurt to see. “Totally not kidding."

“Do we really have to cut down a tree?” Kurt asks, watching Blaine gear up, a one-man wrecking crew, leading Kurt to the conclusion that he should stay at the SUV and let Blaine go on this ridiculous errand alone.

“Yes, we do.” Rope looped over his arm and dangling across his chest, Blaine hoists his ax over one shoulder and begins the journey, carving a neat path up the slowly rising incline as Kurt follows behind, contemplating his options. He has the keys. He could definitely implement the stay behind and keep the heater company fantasy. But there is the small matter of he loves Blaine. He would be miserable and lonely waiting hours in the SUV without him. Besides, considering how well Blaine fills out those North Face pants and Carhartt jacket, Kurt sees how he can make this work in his favor. The new outdoorsman, who can go from big city to big country in the blink of an eye (courtesy of the right separates).

He’s not married to that headline, but he can hash it out as he goes.

“You do know there’s a Christmas tree farm right there,” Kurt points out, raising his voice to be heard over the howling wind. When Blaine peeks over his shoulder, Kurt throws out an arm in the direction that they came. Past the snow-covered asphalt lot, where Kurt’s SUV is currently one of five cars parked, stretch miles of evergreens, cut down and mounted onto wooden stands, waiting to be plucked, flocked, and paid for.

“Cutting down a tree has been a tradition in my family since before I was born,” Blaine says.

Kurt looks at him sideways. “I ... didn’t know that.”

“Yup."

"How did I not know that? We've been married for three years!"

Blaine turns a full circle as he walks and gives Kurt a wink. "I guess I'm just full of surprises."

"You're full of something," Kurt mumbles under his breath.

"It's a tradition," Blaine continues, unaware of his husband's grousing. "One I want to hand down to our children someday.”

“Can’t we get them a pony instead?”

“I recommend not stomping up this incline,” Blaine advises, changing the subject, “or you’re going to exhaust yourself. I’m not sure I can carry you and a tree back down this mountain.”

"Hmph. Not with that attitude, you can't."

It’s a crisp December day, almost too cold to bear. The difference in temperature between the city and where they ended up is so drastic, it’s hard to believe they’re still in the same state. A perfect day to sit by the fire while binge-watching Netflix, with a cup of hot cocoa beside a beautifully decorated Christmas tree. Kurt had everything he needed to make that happen, too, except the tree.

Kurt and Blaine had yet to have a day off together to pick one out.

So when Blaine came home, tossed Kurt a coat, and said, “Grab your keys! We’re getting a tree!” Kurt had been ecstatic! Until he discovered that Blaine’s idea of “getting a tree” wasn’t a simple matter of driving to a tree farm and picking out a decent six-foot Scotch Pine.

No.

Blaine had Kurt drive over an hour away from civilization to a place where there are no Starbucks, spotty WiFi, and no doors on the bathroom stalls.

The snow on the ground at this altitude is deep, becoming deeper as the slope of the mountain rises. And as breathtaking as the world looks from this elevation, Kurt hates everything about this. He hates the snow getting into his boots, soaking his three pairs of socks. He hates the wind that seems to purposefully sweep down the mountain straight into his face. Blaine walking ahead, right in front of him, does nothing to provide a barrier from the wind.

That’s because Blaine is loving this. And as a reward, the wind must be going right through him.

Blaine leads them deeper into woods that climb higher and higher. Even though the man who greeted them at the entrance, dressed in head-to-toe red flannel and brown corduroy, directed them up the mountain, saying this was the place locals preferred to get their trees, Blaine and Kurt don’t see anyone else past the tree line. The air gets thinner. The sunlight off the snow is brighter, blindingly bright, but it doesn’t offer Kurt or his rapidly chapping cheeks any warmth. He folds his arms over his chest and shoves his gloved hands underneath his armpits, but it doesn’t help thaw the tips of his fingers, which he can’t feel anymore.

“There are trees everywhere up here!” Kurt complains.

“Yeah! Isn’t it great!”

“Pick one! What are you doing?” Kurt gripes when they pass a swath of gorgeous trees and yet keep walking.

“I'm searching.”

“For what?”

“I’m looking for the perfect tree.”

“And what constitutes the perfect tree, in your opinion? Because from what I can see, we passed over two dozen perfect trees getting here!”

“When you see the perfect tree, you’ll know the perfect tree.”

Kurt has no idea what the heck that means but decides not to ask for clarification in an effort to get them off this frickin’ mountain and home quicker. Home equals warmth, comfort, and not succumbing to hypothermia. “Well, what about this one?” Kurt asks, pointing to a tree on his right.

“Ooo! That’s a good one!” Blaine says.

“Really?” Kurt asks, surprised that he got it right on the first try. Maybe he has a knack for this, like his knack for fashion. He does have an eye for aesthetics. “So this is the perfect tree?”

“Nope.”

Kurt stumbles. "Oh." He did not expect that answer. Eager to prevail, he points out another one. “This one?”

“No.”

“O-kay, what about this one?”

“Not quite, but good try.”

Kurt would throw his hands up in frustration, but his arms are locked in place, hugging his chest.

“How did you become the tree authority?”

“Years of practice.”

“If you’re the one with the tree picking knowledge, what am I doing here that I couldn’t do at home where we have eggnog and cable?”

“You get to marvel in awe at my magnificent strength and skill.”

“I can’t help but remind you that I could be marveling at your strength and skill at home while you hold me up against the wall in our bedroom and make love to me.”

“True. But seeing as we did that all of last night and Mr. Mulroney has the night shift tonight, I thought it would be nice if we let the poor man sleep.”

“The walls in our apartment are thin, aren’t they?”

“They really are.”

They pass through a tight cluster of trees and enter a small clearing, coming upon a scene right out of a Hallmark Channel movie. God rays shine through the foliage overhead, lighting a single tree in the center. In the quiet of this enclosed glade, Kurt can’t hear the whistling wind, and he immediately begins to feel warmer. All they need now are cartoon animals bringing them presents and an angelic choir singing carols and they’ll be starring in their own Christmas special.

It would be ideal, Kurt thinks, considering he’s a motherless child and he’s standing beside an elf. He puts a pin in it, with a plan to write up a treatment as soon as they get back to their apartment.

Provided he doesn’t lose any of his fingers before then.

Blaine tosses the rope aside. He walks reverently up to the center tree and stops in front of it. He opens his arms wide, ax clutched in his right fist. “Here,” he declares. “Here it is.”

Kurt looks at the tree in front of them, then at all the identical trees surrounding it. “Here what is?”

“Our perfect tree.”

“And what makes this tree any different from the sixty or more trees we passed hiking up here?”

“This one’s fuller, more symmetrical, with an almost pyramid top.” When Kurt doesn’t immediately agree, Blaine motions to the tree more vehemently, trying to get his point across. “It’s just more … more tree than those other trees. More Christmas …” Blaine turns to his husband standing off to the side behind him, arms crossed, head tilted. Blaine sighs. “You obviously don’t know your Christmas trees. If you can’t see why this one’s superior, I don’t know how to explain it to you.”

Kurt shakes his head. “Sorry.”

“You’ll see the difference when it’s up in our apartment.” Blaine grips his ax with both hands and gets into position. “Okay! Stand back!”

“You don’t need to tell me twice. I love you, Blaine, but I have no intention of getting anywhere near you and that instrument of death.”

Kurt takes a step back, then three more as Blaine hoists the ax behind him. Kurt fishes his iPhone out of his pocket, preparing to document what is either going to be the sexiest thing Blaine has ever done, or evidence for the investigators who might try to pin Blaine's grisly death on him. Either way, watching Blaine attempt to chop down a tree might actually be worth wet socks and a nightmare case of the flu.

Kurt holds up his phone with the camera app accessed, ready to film as Blaine takes his first swing, which, surprisingly, buries the blade a respectable depth into the wood. But it’s the pullback that gets Kurt, the way Blaine locks his feet in the snow, bends at the knees, and dislodges the ax. Kurt can’t see Blaine’s back through his coat, but he imagines the play of his muscles, the rise and fall of his shoulders, the cut of his delts showing through as they strain with effort. Kurt has seen Blaine naked over a hundred times, has watched the man make love to him in videos they’ve made. He envisions everything going on beneath Blaine’s clothes as he swings that ax … and the frigid air around him doesn't feel quite as cold anymore.

“Mmmm …” Kurt hits record and focuses his camera on his husband’s assets. After a minute of chopping, Blaine realizes Kurt has stopped commenting. He lowers his ax and takes a breather, catching the tail end of his husband's complimentary hum.

“Mmmm what?” Blaine turns, curious to see what Kurt has been doing that’s kept him quiet this whole time. He raises an eyebrow when he sees the phone in Kurt’s hands. “Are you ... recording me?”

“Maybe,” Kurt says, biting his lower lip. “You know, now that I get a good look at it, you did find the best tree on the mountain. And watching you cut it down is becoming a massive turn on. You being all lumberjack-ish is kind of hot.”

Blaine grins, leveling the ax over his shoulder. “Only kind of?”

“Well, yeah.” Kurt switches off his camera app and puts his phone back in his pocket, seeing a make-out break forthcoming. “The walk up the mountain took a lot out of me.”

Blaine leans his ax against the trunk of a tree and saunters up to his husband. “Well then … perhaps I can put something in you.”

Kurt snorts. “Okay, that’s cheesy as hell ... but I wish you would."

With a suggestive smile on his frosty lips, Blaine wraps one arm around Kurt’s waist and pulls him closer, his other hand reaching between them to fondle the bulge growing in the front of Kurt’s jeans. He tugs at the buttons of Kurt’s fly, and Kurt knows Blaine has more on his mind than kissing. He shoots an anxious look around their private nook. “What? Here?”

“Why not? We’re alone. There’s no one else around. No one will see us or hear us. You can scream all you want.”

“When you put it like that, it sounds like we're in a horror movie!"

"Is that your only objection?"

"No. I'm objecting because it’s freezing!”

“Come on …” Blaine takes off his gloves and begins unbuttoning Kurt’s wet coat, starting at the middle and working down. “I’m not going to strip us naked or anything. Besides, you’ll warm up in no time. You know what they say about body heat …”

“This reminds me of one of those bad amateur porn videos on the Internet. The ones that try to have a storyline, but the acting is so awful it turns into a comedy?”

“As a professional actor, I think I take offense to that.” Blaine nuzzles past Kurt’s icy jaw and into the warm skin of his neck. “What videos are you watching anyway?”

“I can show you. Maybe we can … you know … watch one or two … when we get home …” Kurt stutters, shivering when Blaine’s cold lips connect with his flesh, then melting beneath the heat of his husband’s tongue. Blaine walks Kurt backward, away from their half-chopped pine to the shelter of a different tree, moving them a safe distance on the off chance the poor thing decides to finish itself off without their help.

“Oh, God! Kurt!” Blaine moans, warming his hands by wedging them between the soft skin of Kurt’s groin and his growing erection.

“Blaine,” Kurt murmurs as his husband sucks a mark into the sensitive skin of his collarbone, “I just … I just want you to know that … if we freeze to death … or get eaten by a bear … I’m blaming you entirely.”

Blaine grabs Kurt’s trembling hands and brings them to the zipper of his pants. “Fair enough.”

***

“Welp. That was less than memorable,” Kurt grumbles, trying to re-button his jeans with numb fingers. “I hope that doesn’t become part of the tradition.”

“For the ninth time, I slipped!” an embarrassed Blaine says, teeth chattering, rushing to help Kurt do up his now useless coat. “I didn’t mean for us to take a nose dive into the snow!”

“Who would have thunk that fucking on ice would be dangerous!?" Kurt says sarcastically. "Christ! I must look like a wet French poodle!"

"That's ... oddly specific."

In an attempt to salvage the look he had going, Kurt tries combing his fingers through his hair but hits resistance. “Ugh! I think I’ve got sap in my hair.” He tugs and tugs, abandoning his attempts with a huff after he manages to get his fingers free … along with a sizeable chunk of hair.

��Fucking on ice,” Blaine repeats with a chuckle. “That sounds like an X-rated skating show.”

Kurt glares at his husband, unamused. “Yeah. Hilarious. Can we go back to getting our perfect tree now, Grizzly Adams?”

“I don’t know …” Blaine looks at the tree they’d been fucking against before his enthusiastic thrusting caused them to slip and take a header into the snow. “I think I like this one now.” He pats the trunk, shaking loose a minor avalanche from the branches that contains more needles than snow.

Kurt steps back, making a face as he judges the less than spectacular tree. “Why?”

“We had sex on it. That makes it ours.”

“This isn’t a department store, Blaine. I don’t think you break it, you buy it applies here.”

“I think this falls more under the guidelines of I licked it, now it’s mine.”

“I understand the sentiment, but this one’s got a dent in it.” Kurt snickers. “A dent shaped like your ass.”

“That’s a good thing,” Blaine says, walking off to retrieve his ax. “We’ll know which side to face toward the wall.”

#klaine advent 2020 #klaine advent: farm #klaine fanfiction #klaine fic #klaine

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lyssismagical · 4 years

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sweetheart, you look a little tired

Febufluff Day 19, 20, 21, & 22 – Safe and Sound, Butterflies, First Kiss, & Love at First Sight

Read on AO3

Peter’s eyes are drifting shut, swaying on his own two feet behind the cash register. He’s already been benched from actually making anything, so he’s stuck on taking orders.

“Parker!” one of his coworker’s shout from somewhere behind him. He jerks awake, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he yawns.

“Sorry, man. I’m awake, I’m good,” Peter says quickly, turning his attention to the next customer in line and taking their order. Thankfully, it’s a slow day at the café so he doesn’t feel as bad for not being a model employee.

As soon as the customer is through, another coworker of his, Betty, touches his shoulder and pushes a drink into his hand.

“Who’s this for?” Peter asks, looking over the cup for any name.

“For you, dumbass. A few extra shots of espresso to get you through the shift. On the house.”

Peter stares dumbly down at the coffee for a good few moments, not understanding, before he offers Betty a tired smile. “Thanks.”

She shrugs, turning back to her job. “Finish your shift and get some real sleep before your next one, alright?”

Nodding, Peter turns back to the cash register, sipping at his coffee. He’s never really liked coffee, especially now that all it does is remind him of the people he’s lost. His parents used to drink coffee practically religiously, and he remembers Sunday mornings would always smell like coffee and pancakes with his aunt and uncle. But he supposes now he doesn’t really have a choice but to get over it if he’s going to keep his head on his shoulders.

He’s currently working two part-time jobs. One at the coffee shop he’s at now, and another at a nearby restaurant where he’s a waiter. He also picks up odd jobs as often as he can, the extra cash helping to keep their heads above water.

The amount of work he does is already a lot, he barely has any downtime. Especially since he’s a single dad. His daughter is his pride and joy, the light of his life, but it’s tough, he can’t lie.

She’s three, and she’s everything, but between his two jobs and the odd jobs he has to pick up and singlehandedly taking care of a toddler? It’s taking its toll on his health.

He wouldn’t trade it for the world though. He loves her with everything he’s got, even if it means working eighteen-hour days or if it means staying up all night at her bedside when she swears there’s a monster under her bed.

“Excuse me?”

Peter jerks, eyes flying open as a flush immediately fills his cheeks. He quickly takes a gulp of his coffee and turns to the customer.

“I am so sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to, uh… What can I get for you?”

Peter tries his best for a smile as he looks up at the man, and holy fucking shit.

Harley Keener is leaning against the counter nonchalantly, a charming smile adorning his face. He’s holding his wallet, which is surprisingly old and worn, and is looking at Peter with raised eyebrows.

“Your number?” Harley says, smiling a little brighter and dimples show in his tan skin.

Peter, visibly flustered, fumbles for his own coffee cup anxiously, nearly knocking it over. “I, uh, I’m-”

“Kidding, darling, unless you want to.” Harley winks obnoxiously, licking his bottom lip. “I could actually go for a large black coffee. Thanks, love.”

Knowing he must look as red as a tomato, Peter rings up the price. “That’s, uh, three dollars.”

He pops open his wallet and pulls out a bill. “Keep the change, darling.”

And then there’s a one-hundred-dollar bill in Peter’s hand.

“I can’t- I can’t take this. It’s a three-dollar coffee.”

Harley’s smile falls a little bit, and he looks at Peter with confusion sparkling in his brown eyes. “You know who I am, right?”

Nodding, Peter tries to hand back the money. “Yeah, I don’t know anybody who doesn’t know you.”

“So, you have to realize I don’t need the money. I always give generous tips.”

“Generous is like twenty percent, not three thousand percent,” Peter says. He doesn’t mean to be angry, but it feels like a dig at Peter, not as a kind gesture. It makes Peter feel like he’s not working hard enough, like he’s failing his daughter if he needs to get charity from a rich man who throws around his money.

Harley shrugs and doesn’t take back the money. “Split it with your coworkers. I don’t want to carry around change.”

Peter tries his best to look polite despite being exhausted and upset and wanting nothing more than to pick up his daughter from kindergarten and take her home for a movie night.

“Large black coffee,” Peter tells Betty over his shoulder. “Is that all?”

“Yep, that would be wonderful, darling.”

As much as Peter wishes he was angry at the pet names, he can’t be. Harley Keener, son of Tony Stark, one of the most famous billionaires ever, is really hot. Tan with a mess of purposefully wild light brown curls and a wonderful smile that makes little dimples in his cheeks, and the prettiest brown eyes he’s ever seen.

Betty passes Harley the coffee over the counter with a knowing smile.

Harley sees it at the same time Peter does.

He’s too much of a coward so here’s his number.

“You’ve got a nice wingman back there,” Harley says, grinning at Peter. “I’ll call you, beautiful.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Peter doesn’t bother telling him he hasn’t had the money to pay his phone bill in a little over six months.

* “Daddy!” His daughter exclaims, racing across the schoolyard to him. As soon as she reaches him, he scoops her up into his arms, pressing a long kiss to her forehead.

“Hi, baby, I missed you loads,” Peter says, smiling at her. He ignores the tiredness that hangs from his very bones and his aching joints and focuses on the unfiltered joy in his daughter’s eyes.

June Parker was born when Peter was only eighteen. He wasn’t ready to have a child, but MJ and he decided that they could do anything so long as they had each other.

And then there were complications with the birth.

Peter doesn’t remember much from that night, one of the longest nights of his life, all he remembered is the doctors refusing to give him the baby when he was allowed into the nursery. He remembers the worry that almost had his knees giving out. They sat him down in one of the chairs and broke the news. And he sat there, and he cried until he thought his chest would cave.

And then they were tucking his baby into his arms.

“I missed you more!” she exclaims before launching into a detailed explanation of her school day.

He walks them home, a good seven blocks away from the elementary school, but it’s not like he has the spare cash to pay for a car, insurance and gas.

Eventually, they do make it home to their little apartment building, and Peter’s never been happier to peel off his sneakers and fall onto the couch, June immediately curling up against his chest.

“Do you work tonigh’?” June asks, a pout tugging at her mouth.

“Nope, got the night off, honey.” Peter doesn’t tell her that it’s because he looked dead on his feet last night and was forced to take a sick day to get some real sleep. Instead, he grins down at her, and lifts his eyebrows. “You know what that means?”

“Movie night!” she squeals, sliding off the couch and racing for the kitchen and their poorly stocked cupboards.

Peter laughs and drags himself to his feet. “Dinner first, June.”

He scoops her back up, sitting her down on the counter. “What do you want to eat?”

She pretends to think really hard for a few seconds like she hasn’t already made up her mind. “Mac and cheese!”

Shaking his head in amusement, he presses a kiss to her forehead. “Mac and cheese, it is then, baby.”

* He doesn’t sleep well again, instead making some decent money by reviewing and editing essays online and making sure June sleeps soundly despite the noise of the city, louder than ever.

And then he’s up early as ever to walk June to school and then head to the café for his shift.

“Wow, you look like you were hit by a bus,” Betty says. Not in a mean way, she��s one of the only friends he’s got. “You weren’t working last night, were you?”

“Not at the restaurant,” he says. He doesn’t need to say that he was working anyways. He doesn’t like sleeping anyway.

As soon as he takes up his position at the cash register, Harley Keener walks in.

He’s dressed immaculately as always, but there’s a frown on his face as he walks in.

“Black coffee again?” Peter says when he reaches the counter.

Harley falters for a second, eyes losing the spark of anger before it comes back with intensity. “I texted you last night. Like six times. And I called you too. Tony thought I was losing my mind over a guy at a café.”

Peter winces, opening his mouth to apologize, but there’s a bit of shame burning his chest. He doesn’t want to tell the billionaire’s heir that he’s too broke to pay for his phone bill, that’s why he couldn’t text back.

“If you didn’t like me, you could’ve at least been honest,” Harley says, genuine hurt flooding his eyes.

“I don’t even know you,” Peter says instead. But he does know that Harley’s pretty and he has hints of a southern accent from before he got adopted as Tony Stark’s kid. He does know that it’s been three years since MJ, that if he wants to get back in the game, he’s allowed to.

“You could’ve gotten to know me if you had answered your phone,” Harley counters easily, eyebrows lifting. He leans forward, closer to Peter, voice low. “Can I take you out for dinner, darling?”

Peter swallows thickly, mind blanking. All he manages is a slow nod, trying not to stare too blatantly. Harley’s so close to him that Peter can smell the expensive cologne on him.

Harley smiles, leaning back. It’s less of a cocky, arrogant, rich boy smile, and more the most genuine smile Peter’s seen, dimples showing and the corners of his eyes creasing.

“Perfect. I’ll text you?”

This is where Peter should’ve said something. Where he should’ve admitted that he didn’t have a phone plan anymore and that he doesn’t even know where his phone went, probably lost in their apartment somewhere.

Instead, Betty’s sliding a coffee across the counter to Harley who puts down a bunch of coins.

“Three dollars and sixty cents,” Harley says proudly. He’s grinning as he takes his drink. “Your twenty percent like you asked for.”

Before Peter has the time to say anything, Harley’s out the door.

* The rest of Peter’s day is busy enough to keep his mind occupied and away from thoughts of Harley. He works at the café, gets June home from school, helps her with her kindergarten homework, welcomes June’s babysitter, Ned, works at the restaurant, and gets home with just enough time to shower and get an hour or two of sleep before he’s taking June back to school.

He only realizes his mistake when Betty skips over to him. “How was your date?”

“Oh shit,” he says, jaw dropping. He stood up Harley fucking Keener. He runs a hand through his hair and leans back against the counter.

Betty’s expression falls, eyebrows crinkling. “What happened?”

“I just- I was working till three and I just- I forgot.”

As if on cue, Harley walks into the café, nonchalant, uncaring, sunglasses perched on his nose.

“Harley, look, I’m sorry-”

“Large black coffee, thanks,” Harley says, dropping three dollar bills on the table.

There’s a second where all Peter does is stare dumbly, speechless before he gets his head back. “I’m sorry, Harley. I swear I have a good explanation for this. It’s just-”

Harley shrugs. “You know I acted like I was a stupid teenager. I went home and I gushed to Tony about the cute boy at the café who was good at math and who got all flustered when I flirted with you and didn’t trip head over heels just because I’m Tony’s kid. And then yesterday, I went home and I wouldn’t shut up about how I got a date. And then you never picked up your phone. You never answered my calls. You totally stood me up.”

“I couldn’t pay for my phone plan,” Peter blurts, shame rolling in his stomach. “I should’ve told you sooner, I just- I didn’t know how. I wanted to go on that date, but I- I worked all night and I- I don’t have a phone plan anymore, so I couldn’t.”

And like someone flipped a switch, Harley’s smiling in relief, tugging his sunglasses off his face.

“In that case, when does your shift end?”

“You forgive me? Just like that?”

Harley shrugs, grinning brightly. “Course I do, wasn’t your fault. Plus, I really do like you, Peter.”

“I’ve got plans after my shift.”

“Like what?”

Peter tips his head to the side. “Before you really decide that you like me, you should know I have a daughter. I pick her up from school after my shift.”

And instead of confusion or disgust or anger or anything, Harley’s smile widens. “I know it doesn’t sound like a perfect date, but I would love to tag along.”

Peter can’t help the little smile that creeps onto his face. “I mean, yeah, sure, if you really want to. I get off my shift at two.”

“Perfect!” Harley exclaims. He grabs the coffee Betty left him on the counter. He turns away from Peter who expects him to head out, but he sits at the closest table to the counter.

“You do realize there’s still six hours until two, right?” Peter calls out.

“I have wonderful entertainment,” Harley replies, resting his chin in his hand and simply staring at Peter from across the room.

* They walk all the way from the café to the elementary school, joking and flirting and teasing each other, knocking shoulders and playfully pushing each other.

It’s fun. Peter hasn’t had fun in a really long time.

“Daddy!” June exclaims, racing towards them. She stops short when she sees Harley. She squints up at him for a moment before shrugging and lifting her arms for Peter to pick her up.

“How was school, baby?”

“Good! Miss A gave me a sticker for cleaning up!” she says, smiling brightly, little hands curling into Peter’s shirt.

Peter smiles proudly and kisses her forehead. “June, this is Harley, a friend of mine. Harley, this is my daughter June.”

June’s face scrunches up. “Daddy doesn’t have any friends.”

“Oh my god,” Harley says, trying to stifle his laughter. “Well, he does now. It’s nice to meet you, June.”

She giggles, hiding her face shyly in Peter’s chest, wide brown eyes looking Harley over as though she’s the one protecting Peter.

“Back to mine?” Peter offers. “As much as I’d love a regular afternoon hanging out, I’ve got a shift at the restaurant tonight, so I’ve gotta get dinner started early. You’re welcome to hang out.”

“You work two jobs?” Harley asks, tipping his head to the side, curls flopping across his forehead. “And look after your kid?”

It’s not said with any judgement, just curiosity with a splash of worry.

“Yeah. June’s mom passed away during childbirth,” Peter explains quietly, pressing a kiss to June’s forehead. “Just me and her now, so I’m trying my best.”

The grief is still there, but it doesn’t hurt so much anymore. He knew MJ for nearly six years, dated her for two years. He was going to propose after June was born, he didn’t want MJ to think he was only proposing because she was pregnant. He had to sell the ring not long after June was born to pay for diapers and other supplies, so he doesn’t even have it anymore.

“I’m sorry,” Harley murmurs, gently taking Peter’s hand and intertwining their fingers.

Peter offers a smile and points in the direction they have to walk. “You prepared for a seven-block walk?”

“You walk this every day?” Harley’s eyes go wide, jaw dropping. “Carrying her? Oh my god, no wonder you’re so fit!”

June giggles lifting her head to look at Harley. “Daddy’s so strong.”

“He sure is,” he agrees, grinning. “You want me to take her?”

Normally, Peter wouldn’t have agreed to give his kid over to anyone, but Harley’s been incredibly sweet and understanding over the past three days. So, he lets Harley take June and swing her up onto his shoulders, not even wincing when June grabs his curls, giggling brightly.

“Look, Daddy! I’m so tall!” she exclaims, little legs accidentally kicking Harley in the chest, but he just smiles, and holds onto her ankles.

“You sure are, baby, be grateful. This is probably the only time you’ll ever feel tall if you inherited my genes,” Peter laughs.

They walk the seven walks together, Harley never once complaining about June on his shoulders or having to walk so long, chatting about everything and anything. Harley’s more down to earth than Peter would’ve expected for Tony Stark’s son. He talks about his mom and his sister back in Tennessee, about how Tony adopted him when he was eleven so Harley could have the best opportunities he could.

And Peter talks about his own family. His mom and dad, and their plane crash, his aunt and uncle, and their car crash. About how he was living with MJ to finish his high school education when she got pregnant and he lost her too.

Harley’s sympathetic, but not in a pitying way, not in a way that Peter feels judged or uncomfortable. And it’s nice. Peter’s spent the past three years only really talking to a toddler and coworkers.

It’s just nice to have a friend.

June pulls out her colouring books when they get home, immediately racing off to the living room to turn on Paw Patrol and colour.

Harley sits up on the counter in the kitchen as Peter pulls open the fridge, sighing and rubbing his eyes when he realizes it’s pretty much empty.

“You wanna order in?” Harley offers, already pulling out his phone and wallet. “I can pay.”

“I’m not your charity case,” Peter says. He knows Harley’s only being nice, but it stings to think that June could be with someone like Harley, not living off boxed mac and cheese, and cheap snacks.

Harley lifts his hands in surrender. “I’m not saying you are. This is a date, right? I’ll cover dinner this time. You can get the next one.”

Lifting his eyebrows, Peter bites back a smile, butterflies filling his stomach. “Already planning a second date, Keener? A little presumptuous of you, isn’t it?”

Harley reaches out to grab Peter’s waist, pulling him into the spot between his legs, grinning carelessly. “Only if you want to, of course.”

“Let’s get through this one first before we start making new plans, hm?” Peter replies, a smile touching his face.

Sure, there’s a headache growing behind his eyes, one that’s been there for as long as he can remember. Sure, he’s exhausted and his feet hurt and he has another shift at the restaurant that night. Sure, he’s only known Harley for three days. Sure, Peter doesn’t feel good enough to be with someone like Harley.

But Harley’s looking at him like he hung the stars, grinning brightly like he wouldn’t want to be anywhere but here with Peter.

So, Peter leans in and presses a kiss to Harley’s lips. It’s been three years since he’s kissed anybody, but Harley doesn’t seem to mind because his hands lift to cradle Peter’s face, kissing back enthusiastically.

Until, “Daddy! Look!”

Peter pulls away, unable to stop the smile from spreading across his face and laughing at the terrible timing.

“Yeah, honey?” Peter calls out, turning to the kitchen door just as June barrels in, coloring book in hand.

“Lookie!” She says, giving him the book. It’s a picture of Sky from Paw Patrol, messily scribbled in with every color in the rainbow.

“It looks great, baby. Way better than anything I could do,” Peter laughs. “You want pizza tonight?”

She lights up, bouncing on her feet. “Yes please! Thank you, Mister Harley!”

Harley grins down at her, ruffling her hair. “Course, kiddo. Anything for you.”

And Peter believes him. In the hour or so that Harley’s known June, he’s been nothing but a picture-perfect guy to both Peter and June.

June shouts a quick thank you and then she races back through to the living room, leaving the two boys alone.

“Thanks for everything,” Peter murmurs, leaning into Harley’s chest. “You’ve been a really nice guy, so thank you for that.”

“You’re thanking me for being a decent human being?” Harley asks. But then he laughs and kisses Peter’s cheek. “Course, darling. I really do like you, I wasn’t lying earlier.”

“I really like you too, not for your money or for the title, but I like you.”

Something about Harley’s demeanor relaxes infinitesimally. “Thanks. Most people hear my name and they just want the minute of fame from knowing me, I guess.”

“Well, most people look at me and see somebody who’s not worth the trouble, so thank you for overlooking the fact that my life is a mess right now.”

Harley smiles, dimples showing in his cheeks, and runs his thumb over Peter’s cheekbone softly. “If you’d let me, could I pay for your phone bill. I wanna be able to text you and call you. This would be for me, not for you, obviously.”

Peter laughs, kissing Harley again. “For you, of course.”

* Peter gets home from the restaurant to find Harley still in his apartment with Ned. Harley had offered to babysit, but was understanding when Peter said he wasn’t sure if he trusted Harley alone with his daughter and Ned was already on his way.

Peter had expected Harley to head home after Peter left, but from the looks of it, Harley had hung out with Ned and June all night.

“Didn’t think you’d stay,” Peter admits, dropping onto the couch beside Harley. “You have a good night?”

“We watched a Barbie movie and ate way too much pizza. June told me all about school and you and everything.”

Ned leans over the back of the couch, yawning. “Gonna head home, Pete. Do you work tomorrow too?”

“Nah, took the weekend off, had some plans. Bye, Ned. Goodnight.”

“Night, Pete. Night, Harley.”

Ned heads out, and Harley immediately turns to Peter with a knowing grin. “Plans?”

“Yeah, you promised me a second date, didn’t you?”

“Me, you, and June should go to a park. Have a cute little picnic, fly some kites.”

Peter can’t help but smile. For their second date, Harley includes June without a second thought. It’s the sweetest thing in the world. Peter can’t help but slide into the space beside Harley, curling into Harley’s warmth, and kiss him sweetly.

“Sounds wonderful.”

“This is probably going to sound insane, and it’s too late for anything I say to be taken seriously, but do you believe in love at first sight?”

Peter thinks carefully, remembering the first time he saw MJ at school and the way his heart almost beat out of his chest, remembering seeing Harley three days prior at the café and the way he thought he was going to die on the spot.

“I think so, yeah,” Peter says, voice quiet. “Do you?”

“Saw you, falling asleep at the counter, and I swear to you, darling, I just knew. I know I was a bit of a jerk to you, but I just- Falling that quickly, never happened to me before, and I panicked a little bit.”

“Don’t wanna drop that word yet,” Peter says, shaking his head.

“Me neither, but I just know I really like you, darling.”

“I really like you too.”

Peter snuggles up closer to Harley, draping his legs over Harley’s lap and wrapping his arms around his neck.

“Comfy?” Harley asks, pressing a kiss to Peter’s temple.

“Mm, yeah.”

“Good. You’re safe and sound with me, darling.”

#lyss writes #febufluff #parkner #parkner fic #parley #harley keener/peter parker #harley/peter #harley keener #harley x peter #dad peter parker #coffee shop au #peter parker

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elysivns · 4 years

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HELLO HELLO ! my name is rion ( she / her ) and i’m playing hermes, god of transitions, travelers, and thieves, and aengus, god of youth, summer, and fatal love *. i’ve got a lot of thoughts about both of them but i’m going to try and keep these intros decently short and just give the basics ! i’d absolutely love to plot with you so if you’re interested please give this a like or shoot me a message on di/scord ( low level movie mobster#9518 ) ---- just give me a heads up who you are if you do so !

* there are a heck ton of domains for both of these two but i’m picking three each to focus on to tailor their characterization a bit and also to avoid the slight bit of overlap that occurs between them ( what can i say, i have a soft spot for tricksters ). also there are ! conflicting things in a lot of places in general so we’re just running with what i have access to and makes a cohesive character.

anyway, getting on with this, we’re starting stuff off with aengus cause i have his ready and i’m gonna try and get hermes up asap !

AENGUS : god of youth, summer, and fatal love ---- gifted with the power of chronokenesis ---- notable epithets : the young son, expert in arms, of the many exploits, the fair ---- notable objects : the great and the little fury ( twin swords ), a golden harp, a white horse

the dagda, king of the gods, and boann, a river goddess, were both already married when their son was conceived, but the dagda devised a plan to hide him. the sun stood still in the sky for nine months while boann was pregnant, meaning that aengus was born in only a single day. however, his mother’s husband accepted him upon discovering the boy, and raised him as his own. aengus only met his biological father when he sought him out after learning that the dagda had divided his lands among his children, but not included aengus. a trick was played, similar to the one his father had before, dealing with time: he simply asked to stay in one of the kingdoms for a day and a night. the trick was that the language lacked indefinite articles, so his request covered all days and nights to come. time had always been a malleable thing for him anyway. the dagda said yes without realizing what he was agreeing to, and aengus was granted his kingdom.

embodiment of youth as he is, aengus is not always the wisest and has been prone to rash choices. for example, the time he killed lug’s personal poet for lying. perhaps understandable, if lug wasn’t himself the god of oaths, justice, and truth, and therefor the poet likely was not speaking incorrectly when he claimed that aengus’s half brother, caermaid, was having an affair with one of lug’s wives. perhaps it’s better explained by the fact that aengus’s own relationship with his half siblings, including caermaid, had been somewhat rocky since he gained possession of part of the land that had been intended for them, and that he was trying to mend it in the best way that a young man with a sword knows how.

young love does not often last, but it seems to be cursed in aengus’s case. perhaps the child born to a union that should not have been is now stuck to play out the motions of fatal love. the first was etain. he had won her for his half brother, midir, but fallen in love with her himself. then midir’s wife, fuamnach, discovered etain’s involvement with midir and turned her into a fly. all was not lost though, for aengus discovered a way, in the stillness of the night, to bring her back for a moment. he’d stretch those moments out as best he could. yet, it was only a matter of time until fuamnach discovered this and, presumably still upset by her husband’s intended affair, chased the fly away, never to be seen again. distraught and heartbroken, aengus took revenge on fuamnach, killing her for what she had done.

etain was the first, but would not be the last. most notably there was caer, the woman he saw in his dreams and searched for years to find her. there was a trick that was meant to be played to keep her from him longer, she had been transformed into a swan. yet, by changing himself into one as well, he was able to find his love and fly her home, on which journey he sang a song that accidentally put anyone who heard it to sleep for three days. however, she did not have the same gift he did, to be unaffected by time, and so once again he lost a love.

aengus isn’t so much on the side of mortals, as he is against the idea of a world without them. he’s previously found love with them, which kept him happy for a time, and he hopes maybe he can find that again, but he is also keenly aware of the fact that he is not the only one who finds them to be a good distraction. whether they are loved or causing trouble, the existence of mortals has kept his half siblings busy enough not to try to reclaim his swindled kingdom, nor come after him for other slights. aengus is youthful, and he is childish, and prefers to keep them as the center of attention, rather than have to face what he’s done in the past. for this reason, though he’s fighting for humanity, he might not always fight for the end, as a war is quite a good distraction in itself.

aengus didn’t so much descend to earth 129 years ago, so much as he finally decided to become involved. aengus’s kingdom, the one swindled from his father and half siblings, has always existed on earth, as was the river his mother inhabited. he started letting himself be seen consistently and interacting more with mortals, as he used to do in the centuries before. he hasn’t bothered to change his name for them, though most assume he’s just angus.

aengus’s power stems from the fact that time has never passed for him the same way it has for others, even other immortals. days and nights, months and years, they were all malleable things and had been since he was born. whether this is similar to what his father did in dragging out a single day, or conflating a single night with all nights that ever were, or even rewinding the time of a particular person just enough to speak with them again ( as he does with diarmuid ), time is not so consequential to the eternal youth.

#ungodly:intro

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toloveawarlord · 4 years

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Ch. 5

Characters: Sophia, Fenrir, Kyle, and Luka

Pairing: Sophia Emerson x Fenrir Godspeed

Tagging: @plumpblueberry

“Ain’t the records office closed at this hour?” Fenrir asked, refusing to leave the newest member alone. He cast a glance at the large clock that’s hand moved ever closer to the morning hour of three. Meetings could run extremely late, and as such, on more than one occasion had an officer been sent to retrieve a worker if Blanc weren’t present.

Sophia stuffed her hand into the bag barely clinging to her shoulder, shuffling around the contents until the cool brass ring touched her fingers. “We keep patient records here and have to be able to access them at any time. Only a select few have these.” The door blocking their path easily bypassed with the ring of keys.

The crystals flickered ominously before lighting the room. A layer dust sat upon the lids of the boxes of labeled files stacked too high for their weight. The doctor winded around them, finding the stack that held what she needed. Sliding them down one by one, placing them carefully on the ground, pale blue eyes widened at the hand swiping across the top, sending dust specks up into the air. “Don’t—” Sophia gave a sigh, giving up on the warning since it hardly mattered.

“Do ya not like dust?” A question asked by someone so innocent.

How different the two of them were.

Biting the inside of her lip, Sophia shook her head. “It’s nothing.” It would be careless of her to leave the hidden notes here now. There were many places available to keep them safe. The meaty file tucked close to her chest; she asked the Ace of Spades to put the boxes back in order.

She absently wondered how long he would continue to tag along. Long nights were more common than well-rested ones in her line of work. The time of night didn’t show on his features, a bright smile on his lips when their gazes met as they silently left the Civic Center. “Shouldn’t you be returning to headquarters?”

“Shouldn’t you? You work there now too!” Fenrir clapped his hand on her shoulder as if he were the sole member of her welcoming party. His demeanor friendly and emotions openly worn on his features. A genuinely honest man, just as… he had been.

The ache in her chest impossibly tight.

“It would be waste of valuable time. I have a loft in town.” Dwelling on memories of time that would never be returned to her would only cause more pain. Instead, Sophia intended to focus on this strange case. Her steps quieter than the boots of the army boy strolling beside her without a care. He seemed to latch onto her quickly but held no ill intent.

Simply, he was curious about her.

What better way to glean information than visit her home?

Fenrir stretched out his hand in front of her, stopping the doctor from climbing the final stair to the entrance of the loft. A quick hop over it to the landing, he bent slightly, fingers tracing over the broken frame. “Someone didn’t have a key.” His gun tugged from the holster as he pushed open the door.

The entire apartment had been ransacked but the Ace found no one still inside. He returned to the office space with a frown on his features. “You should check to see if anything is missing. I’ll find a soldier to report this to headquarters.”

“Do not report this.”

The crease between his brows deepened, not understanding their newest member at all. Her home had been broken into, trashed, and she stood there as if it were a natural occurrence. A civilian would be shaken up by this. “We need to find the culprit. You ain’t safe here.”

Sophia set the file she’d taken from the Civic Center on the messy desk, tapping her finger against it. “Nothing is missing. This is what they were after.” It made perfect sense, and the picture was getting ever so clearer to her. The mess simply a countermeasure to make it seem like a random break in.

“How can ya know that?”

How indeed. She didn’t want to prematurely bring up a hunch, so she fed small details. “This case is about drugs. Whoever is behind the production must be keeping tabs on the armies. They stole my notes from the clinic and must have known I kept copies.” Glossing over the how, Sophia began to stack the papers scattered across the desk. “Can you clean up the living room?”

“And they came here to find ‘em.” For the time being, it appeared that Fenrir wasn’t going to dig deeply into the missing details. Scratching the back of his neck, he gave a nod. “You got it.” He retreated like a scolded puppy.

Sophia holed up in the office. The state of it not as concerning as the single sheet of paper holding her findings for the patient. Something about the symptoms reminded her of something but it escaped her as to what. The tiredness falling over her required a strong cup of coffee.

She paused on her way to the kitchen, finding the Ace of Spades snoozing away on her couch. He’d done a decent job at cleaning and then made himself at home. What a strange man. He could sleep soundly in a stranger’s home, as if they were close friends or lovers.

She needed to distance herself from him.

******

The following morning, Fenrir passed her off to the Jack of Spades with a bright grin and pat on the shoulder. With a hungover Kyle, the three took a carriage into Black Territory. The wheels rumbled over the dirt road, tossing the carriage roughly whenever it hit a stray rock.

“And he ate an entire bag of that candy for breakfast. It’s like he can’t survive without sugar at every meal,” Kyle complained, rubbing his temples as if it would soothe his splitting headache. His distaste for sweets never changing.

Sophia crossed her legs, previously uninterested in the conversation between Luka and Kyle tossed the other doctor a pointed glare. “At least he’ll have a functioning liver by the time he’s thirty-five.” He’d likely drink himself to death.

Kyle muttered a ‘shut up’ before slumping against the side of the carriage to rest a bit more. Left alone together, Luka shifted uncomfortably. He didn’t understand the relationship between the two doctors nor her relationship with his friend. He couldn’t recall ever meeting her in school.

“We had a few classes together in medical school.”

“Oh. You were there at the same time?” His quizzical gaze shifting between the two of them, trying to puzzle out the age difference.

Sophia turned her gaze out the window, watching the scenery pass them by. “I’m twenty-seven. Kyle started medical school at a much younger age than me, but I had training at home from a relative that was a doctor.” She’d been born with the purpose of becoming a doctor, although the intension wasn’t to heal.

Luka was silent for a moment, mulling over the information and trying to make sense of it. “I don’t remember you at the boarding school, but Ed – the Jack of Hearts – he said—” His comment lost at the annoyed expression that crossed the doctor’s features.

“Whatever Edgar said should be regarded with caution. He enjoys entertaining himself at the expense of anyone else that crosses his path.” And he was quite dangerous. As a Clemence, surely, he’d heard the rumors floating around about the Bright family. Most of the time, it was written off as simply hearsay, but her own family had plenty of evidence to prove otherwise.

“He’s not a bad person.”

“I never said he was,” Sophia replied, the first to rise from the bench seat when the carriage came to a stop. Stepping down onto the dirt road, pale blue eyes scanned the small cottage. “He’s only at the mercy of his family obligations, like most of the old families in Red Territory.” That didn’t excuse the way he toyed with others, but she understood all too well what those obligations could make one do. She gave no time for the younger officer to reply, instead walking ahead to their destination.

There was little around the house but weeds. Paint peeling away from the wood, showing how little it was cared for. Kyle rapped his knuckles against the door, rubbing his tired face with his other hand. He only perked up when it swung open, Alex’s wife questioning their sudden appearance. “We’d like to ask Alex a few follow up questions.”

The woman hugged the door close, warily eyeing all three army officers. Her gaze settled on Sophia. “You’re that doctor from the clinic. I-I didn’t know you were in the Black Army.”

“I was not when I treated your husband. May I see him for a follow up exam?” The woman’s hesitation evident as her eyes were focused on Luka, likely eyeing the large sword strapped to his back. “They’ll wait here, if you’re more comfortable.”

“I guess that would be alright—”

Although neither Kyle nor Luka looked pleased with the plan of her going in alone, Sophia went anyways with a suggestion of the woman explaining to Kyle how her husband has been. They could interview both of them that way.

She followed the given directions, up the creaky staircase and down the short hall to the last room on the left. The cold doorknob taking a bit of jiggling to access the bedroom. He was in worse condition than she expected. The shell of a man stretched out on the small cot. “Mr. Marshall, I’m doctor Emerson. I treated you at the clinic in Central Quarter.”

He was little more than a skeleton. “I remember.” His voice hoarse and barely above a whisper. With her help, bony hands icy cold in hers, Alex managed to sit up on the edge. “My legs have completely stopped working.”

Partial paralysis. Not unheard of after drug abuse.

Sophia crouched down, testing his reflexes to confirm. “How long have you not had feeling?” He should have come in immediately, but she refrained from saying so. The deterioration of his body too severe to have resulted from the previous overdose. He was likely still dosing every now and then.

“A few weeks.” He paused for a moment before speaking again. “But doc, you didn’t come here for a checkup. Being in the army, I’m gonna guess you are here about the drugs.”

Unusually honest.

“Yes. We’re investigating a dangerous drug affecting the whole of Cradle. You are the only user who hadn’t died.” It wouldn’t be much longer until he joined that statistic. Whatever he’d taken, it was infecting his muscles and nervous system.

“It’s like being able to see the world without a filter.”

Sophia tilted her head in confusion. “Excuse me?”

“Taking Wonderland. It opens up the truth of the world to be revealed. I saw so many beautiful things that are hidden.”

Hallucinations.

Rising to her feet, Sophia resisted the urge to dispel his fantasies. It wouldn’t do any good to shatter the dying man’s delusion. “Where do you get it from?” Even in this poor state, he should be able to remember the location.

“Oh, the red door —”

BANG! BANG!

A rain of bullets pierced through the window next to the bed.

Sophia ducked down, reaching out to jerk Alex down into the floor with her. Warm blood coated her hands. Multiple bullets embedded into his chest and one perfectly drilled through his skull. The biggest lead they had was dead before she’d even had a chance to save him. Out of habit, she pressed two fingers against his neck for a pulse, finding none.

As quickly as it had started, it ended. An eerie silence set in. Only the wind lamented the passing of the troubled man.

“Sophia!” Kyle shouted from downstairs, cursing to himself.

“I’m fine. Alex is dead.”

“So is his wife. I’ve only got a graze. The Jack of Spades went after the culprits.”

Culprits? Multiple?

Sophia glanced around. All of the stray bullets were lodged deeply into the walls or floor, none easy to access for examination. She knelt beside the deceased, taking out a scalpel from her bag to remove one single bullet. Although it was covered in blood, the blue tip still showed through. A signature too unique to ignore.

A white flower starkly contrasted the destroyed room. It couldn’t be more than a day old as it didn’t have any wilt to it. Sophia folded it into a handkerchief and carefully placed it into her medical bag. It was becoming far too clear to her.

“Someone doesn’t want us investigating,” Luka said, meeting the two the doctors out in front of the house. He clutched his shoulder with a crimson hand, out of breath and pale. He hadn’t been able to detain any of the shooters.

“None of the other houses were targeted of any known overdose victims,” Kyle added.

“That’s because none of them were alive to give up the dealer. Alex and his wife were threats.” Not quite the truth but all of it that she was willing to give. Taking out a pen, she scribed some numbers on a torn piece of paper.

Golden eyes swept over her again, looking for any possible injury. “Are you sure that you aren’t injured?”

Her head nodded in response. “Yes, I’m sure. Give this to Edgar. He’ll know what it means.” Sophia held out the scrap until Kyle reluctantly accepted it. It would mean absolutely nothing to anyone except the Jack of Hearts. There was absolutely no need to check herself for injuries.

“How can you possibly know that?”

Sophia tugged the door to the carriage open, mulling over what her steps should be. Putting together all the evidence to present to Ray, she supposed. It would be best to do it sooner rather than later, but privately, nonetheless. Pale blue irises were void of much emotion when they turned back on her two companions.

“They weren’t aiming for me.”

#ikemen revolution #ikerev #fenrir godspeed #kyle ash #luka clemence #sophia emerson #ikemen revolution fanfiction #etched in blood #soon we will get into the mafia part of this story #just more angst to come

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angelic-holland · 4 years

Text

TMO Epilogue

“Love, that is the only thing that can occupy and fill eternity. In the infinite, the inexhaustible is requisite.” - Victor Hugo

Warnings: fluff and mild angst

Word Count: 3.1k

Summary: You and Tom attempt to navigate your shocking revelation.

A/N: wowie! thank you all for the love and interest in this series! I’ll be posting the alternate epilogue soon but I hope you all enjoy this one <3

The Birth

“Good job, love, keep pushing, oh my god, okay, I think I see the head,” Tom says, pulling away from your hand.

You let out a shrill cry, pushing with all of your strength, “you think?”

You start to panic, feeling overwhelmed as your body feels like it’s getting torn up from the inside out.

“That’s it love! You got it! He’s, oh my god, he’s here,” Tom shouts, looking up at you with wide eyes as you finally push your baby out, small cries filling your guest bedroom.

“Oh my god,” you sigh, your head falling back onto the pillow and your eyes closing shut as Tom cuts the umbilical cord, swaddling your child in a blanket as he continues to cry.

“He looks just like you,” Tom says as your knees fall shut and Tom brings the baby over to you.

You force your eyes back open, smiling as Tom sits next to you, holding your kid in his arms.

“Tom, oh god we don’t even have a name for him yet,” you whine as you take him into your arms, a part of you, 50% of your DNA, a beautiful child that is yours, yet you haven’t even come up with a name for him yet. Your mind starts to race with intruding thoughts, that you’re going to be a bad mother. That going through with the pregnancy was a horrible idea. Even your mother probably had a name for you before she gave birth to you.

“It’s okay, he won’t even remember today, what do you think we should name him?” Tom asks, slowly wiping your forehead with a towel.

“Trevor,” you reply. The name comes out of nowhere, you aren’t even sure you said it until Tom repeats the name twice.

“The name we came up with when we first met,” Tom smiles, “it’s perfect.”

“Hi Trevor, I’m your mommy, and this is your daddy, and we love you so much my sweet boy,” you smile, feeling tears well in your eyes.

You finally felt like you things were falling into place, even though you had worries, that you might fall into the same rut your mother fell into, that Tom is 10 times the man your father is, and he would be there for you in a way your father never was.

Looking down at Trevor with Tom’s arm around your shoulder, you feel like your life is just beginning.

***

9 Months Old

Tom and you are sitting on opposite ends of the living room, you with Trevor’s soft blue blanket, Tom holding onto Trevor as his legs begin to kick up.

You’ve been waiting for this day for a month or so, Trevor’s first steps.

“Come on Trev, you got this,” you praise, watching as Trevor gets solid footing on one foot, his hands reaching out in front of him to pick himself up.

“Should I let go? I don’t want him to fall on his face,” Tom worries, his eyebrows turning in.

You nod, “doing so great sweetie,” you praise Trevor, “come to mommy!”

Tom let’s go of Trevor, letting him begin to walk on his own.

“Mom-ma!” Trevor shouts, feet padding along the carpet, hands reaching out toward you.

The space is small and Trevor gets to you in no time, both of you falling into a fit of giggles as he crawls into your lap, tugging at your shirt.

“Do you want to try walking over to daddy now?” you laugh, helping Trevor stand up again.

“Dadda!” Trevor shouts, clapping his hands together as he begins to walk toward Tom.

You both watch in glee as Trevor continues to walk across the room toward Tom, clapping happily when he got to him and Tom snugly wrapped his arms around him, pulling him into his chest.

“Next step, swimming,” Tom chuckles, both of you grinning as Trevor gets up and starts moving around the living room again.

“If the ocean tide doesn’t wash us all away by then,” you murmur, knowing Tom nor Trevor can hear you. You say it in a joking tone, but you can’t help but feel the smallest part of yourself wonder how life would be different if it was actually Tom that you killed.

***

3 Years Old

“What are we supposed to do, Tom? We’re wanted by the FBI,” you say with a low voice, trying not to wake up Trevor.

He’s sleeping soundly with his blanket curled in his fist, the first day on his big kid bed, one that’s still low on the ground but with only a bed rail instead of four sides like his old crib.

“You’re the one who tried to kill me!” Tom shouts as you shut Trevor’s door quietly, scolding Tom for being so loud.

“Why do you think I tried to, Tom?!” You shout back, stalking down the hallway toward your bedroom.

“I don’t know,” Tom groans, his hand running across his face in frustration as you sit on the bed and he follows.

“I knew something was wrong the moment we got back to Idaho. It wasn’t confirmed until I booked a room at the hotel across from my place and I saw the agents setting up shop in my house.”

“So you should have told me! We could have run away together!”

“Why are we talking about this now?” You grumble, turning away from him.

“Because this is the first time we have had a chance to talk, to really talk since Trevor was born. And every time, every single time I attempt to talk to you about it, you ignore me, you change the subject.”

“Why do you think I change the subject Tom?” you cry, feeling his arms wrap around you from behind, pulling you tight into his chest as you sob.

“Shhh, it’s okay, we don’t have to-,”

“You tried to kill me first. You think I- you think I didn’t stay up night after night trying to come up with some way to keep you safe, make sure you didn’t suffer that didn’t end with me killing you?”

“I never meant to hurt you, y/n, to try to kill you. That day, you have to understand, it was the worst day of my life.”

“It wasn’t by chance, you know, loving you,” you reply, turning your head to kiss Tom’s cheek, “it was both the best and worst decision I’ve ever made.”

“What do you mean?”Tom asks, furrowing his eyebrows as you turn in his lap, resting your head against his chest so you can feel the rise and fall of his heartbeat.

“Do you think I-, when I met you, I knew I shouldn’t have done anything. I know I shouldn’t have let myself get caught up in any feelings. I fucking knew this but I chose to fall for you anyway,”

“Why would you chose to fall for me of all people?” Tom asks, feeling himself fumble with the idea of all the reasons why you should love someone else.

“You- you treated me not like I was some fragile broken girl, not like I needed to be fixed or put in place. You treated me, you still treat me with respect and dignity and that’s all I’ve ever asked for.”

“That’s just being a decent human…” Tom trails off.

“Shhh, ‘m not finished!” You kiss his nose as he falls back against the bed and takes you with him, “and the way you talked to Harry, about Harry, I know we’re both bad people and have done horrible, inexcusable things no matter the reasons we try to dig up, but the way you talked to him, I was sure that you’re not just a decent human, you’re an amazing one.”

“You don’t need to boost my ego, it’s just, I thought that we had things figured out, in the lake on the way back from Boston. I thought that no matter what happened when we got back from there, we would be together.”

“The FBI, I knew they were onto us after the fire… But when I talked to Jake one day, in this small coffee shop bakery thing, this guy was looking at us, I knew he knew exactly who we were. I was honestly surprised we lasted so long before they tracked us down completely. Before they found our places and were going to arrest us.”

“So why didn’t you tell me?” Tom pleads, cupping your cheeks and rubbing his nose against yours, a small gesture he does to calm himself down from time to time.

“For my entire life I was never able to trust anyone. I was always alone in this world. Alone when my parents treated me as a burden, alone when I got caught up with Jake and that mess. When I met you, for the first time in my life I wasn’t alone.”

“Y/N, why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because! For the first time I wasn’t alone. Do you know how fucking terrifying that was for me? My entire life I went thinking I was always going to be alone, that I’d never be able to find someone who loved me, who I could love back. And you come along and change my entire mindset.”

“I did that?”

You swallow thickly and nod, “you did that. God, Tom, I love you so much I was terrified by it.”

“I love you,” Tom replies, “I love you, I love you.”

You smile softly at Tom’s repetition, knowing it makes him feel safe, makes him feel whole, and in return, it makes you feel safe.

“But you aren’t terrified by it anymore?” Tom asks, brushing a strand of hair from your eyes.

“No, it’s… It’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me… Other than Trevor,” you pick your head up to listen to the gentle snores of your child as Tom grins.

“When do you think it’s too early to teach him how to swim?” Tom chuckles, holding you tight to his chest as you begin to fall asleep.

“The water right outside our back door probably means we should teach him now,” you mumble sleepily.

“Now?” Tom says, the skin of his knuckles brushing up and down your back, “I think it’s a little late for that.”

“Shhh,” you squeeze your eyes shut, “we need to get him swim trunks.”

“How about Scooby doo ones?”

***

6 Years Old

The best part about going into hiding as a fugitive, nobody was looking for a mom with a child. Trevor was the best thing that has ever happened to you. He looked so much like Tom when he was born, it was insane. He had his eyes, his nose, his uniquely large ears. When he was born, in the bathtub of the house you bought, Tom cradled him in his arms and neither of you really thought of names before that moment. The moment when you rested your head on Tom’s shoulder and he held your child in his arms for the first time. The name came to you easily, as you remembered the first few days you and Tom spent together. You remembered Tom’s smooth midwestern accent, his alias.

“Trevor,” you whisper, one hand cupping the back of your baby’s head as he cooed.

“Trevor, Trevor Samuel Johnston, has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?” Tom says later that night as you fall asleep to the sound of ocean waves.

“Sounds perfect.”

You bought this place after you found out the FBI was tracking you and Tom. Inconspicuous, creaking blue shutters and an eggshell colored exterior, a porch with a rocking chair. It was tucked away amongst other houses that all looked the same but slightly unique in the small village in the Marshall Islands. Nobody questioned the three of you, one small happy family starting their life here.

Tom is out grocery shopping while Trevor does his morning newspaper run, ending back up at your house.

You press the cool glass of the pressed flower into your palm as you wait for Trevor to come riding back down the cobblestone path.

“Mom! What kinda flower is that?” Trevor shouts, waving at you as he tosses his bike to the side.

He holds out his hands and you let him cup the flower in his hand for a moment. He took in the dark purple that curled along the curve of each petal, the pinkish red as it neared the core, turning to a light greenish yellow.

“It’s called a black hollyhock.”

“What’s it mean?”

“It’s about taking a situation in which you feel powerless, and letting the energy of the flower transform you.”

“It’s pretty,” he smiles, handing it back to you.

“Come on in, let’s get you something to cool down, how was the newspaper run today?” you press the cool glass into your palm, flipping it over a few times.

“It was good, can I have an ice pop?” He asks excitedly as you run your hands through his curly brown hair.

That was something you missed about Tom, ever since that night he kept his head shaved. He was gorgeous either way, but you understood why he needed to keep his head shaved.

It helped him feel safe, your names were still on the FBI’s most wanted list, any second they could show up at your doorstep, arresting both you and Tom.

So if Tom wanted to shave his hair, hell, you’d let him shave it.

“Of course, what kind?” you ask, following Trevor into the house.

“Blue raspberry! Duh! Our favorite!” Trevor laughs, holding his arms up when you reach the kitchen counter.

You lift him up, nodding, “our favorite.”

His legs swing out in front of him as you search the freezer for two ice pops, tearing both of them open for the two of you.

“Cheers!” Trevor laughs, tapping his ice pop against yours.

“Cheers,” you laugh along, finding comfort in the blue food dye that stains both of your lips as you wait for Tom to come home.

***

8 Years Old

“What’s all this?” You giggle, squeezing Tom’s hand as he pushes open the sliding back door of your house.

“A date,” Tom says, picking up the picnic basket from the porch after he dragged you outside.

“But Trevor-,”

“Trevor is asleep, plus, I got the baby monitor out of the attic and if anything happens, if he wakes up,” he shakes the picnic basket, indicating that the other part of the baby monitor is inside of it.

“Date night,” you grin.

“Been wanting to do this for years,” Tom chuckles, guiding you down to your private beachfront, “so, I’ve got sparkling cider,” he says, pulling out a big beach towel, the one you always lay on while Tom and Trevor swim.

You take a seat next to Tom, shrugging off your cover up and tightening your bikini top.

“My favorite,” you smile, and it’s genuine. You didn’t keep alcohol in the house, it was a small argument and an issue after Trevor was first born, but you knew what Tom needed. He needed a place where he didn’t have to think of alcohol and the thing that took his family away from him. You could give him that, god, if there was one thing you could give Tom, it would be a safe space.

Tom pours both of you a glass, letting you rest your head on his shoulder.

“What’s this?” you ask, peeking at the fruit tucked away next to the baby monitor.

“Papaya,” Tom smiles, “your high school, uh, was it English?”

“History teacher.”

“History teacher said this place has the best papayas, ‘fraid we’ve been running around like crazy trying to start a life here for us, to make us as inconspicuous as possible, that we never got the chance to have the one thing that made you buy this home in the first place.”

“Thank you,” you mumble as Tom starts to cut open the papaya.

He feeds you the first piece, raising an eyebrow as your eyes crinkle and your face scrunches up.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Tom asks, sitting up and bringing you with him.

“Mrs. Meade was so wrong about papaya being good,” you shake your head, placing the fruit down.

“No way,” Tom grabs a piece, wanting to try it for himself.

When he swallows his piece he coughs, clutching his chest as you rub his back.

“Told ya.”

“Mhm,” Tom groans, pulling you up.

“Where’re we going?” You ask, turning back to the baby monitor, “Trevor is-,”

“Trevor is fine,” Tom assures you, squeezing your hand three times.

“One second,” you say, breaking away from him and grabbing your glass, finishing off the sparkling cider.

“What’s that for?” Tom asks, pulling off his T-shirt and throwing it back on the towel.

“Papaya was incredibly disappointing,” you laugh, handing him his glass so he can wash away the taste as well.

You don’t shiver as you step into the water, it’s warm and inviting as Tom follows you out.

“I’ll never get over how great this ocean is,” you laugh, splashing around at the very clear water as Tom pulls you into his arms.

“It is pretty great huh?” Tom rubs his nose against yours, letting you rest your forehead against his shoulder as he holds you tightly to him, drifting further out to sea.

“How’d you know?” You murmur, “how’d you always know?”

“I know you better than you know yourself,” Tom replies, he knows what you’re talking about, neither of you need to voice it, “you’re the one person I know more than myself. You let me know you more than I know myself. Thank you.”

“Thank you.”

You’re grateful for him, for always being one step ahead of you, for choosing to be by your side after everything that’s happened.

Tom pulls you in for a papaya and sparkling cider flavored kiss, something you haven’t stopped thinking about since the cold lake in Utah almost nine years ago. You’re grateful that the rather repugnant fruit taste is almost disappeared from your taste buds.

“I love you,” he murmurs, keeping his lips against yours.

“I love you,” you reply, holding him tight in the warm water, the moonlight rippling off the waves.

“I love you,” Tom repeats, pulling you tight into his arms like he wishes he did that night almost nine years ago. Both of you wonder what your life would be like if he kept you safe all that time ago instead of pushing you away. But looking back on it, with one happy, healthy boy and the love of your life you wouldn’t have changed any of the moments leading up to get you to where you are right now.

***

Taglist: @gioandreolli @honeymoonparker @itsjusttor @averyfosterthoughts @worldoftom @angelhaz11 @rebekkah4766 @murdermornings

#tom holland #tom holland imagines #tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff

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