#welcome to my no-eyebrow echo agenda. like why does he have them

[glassgob]

But Airbrush! What have you done with my landscape? Flooding the fields with this clone shape? Where is the country you died for?

[Image ID: Digital bust illustration of Echo from season one of Star Wars: The Bad Batch. He's framed by two simple illustrations of him in action. In the background it reads "come back as something organic or come back as something else" in Aurebesh. End ID.]

#star wars #the bad batch #tbb echo #tbb #if the aurebesh is wrong. just take me out #welcome to my no-eyebrow echo agenda. like why does he have them

[hidden-otaku-stuff]

Lockscreens (ch. 5)

tw: Pining, mentions of stripping (playful)

Word count: ~2.9k

Genre: Angst, fluff

All trigger warnings will be tagged and posted at the beginning of each chapter! This will have *manga spoilers*

Pairings: Bokuto x fem!reader, Kuroo x fem!reader

Summary: Nearly four years ago, Bokuto left the love of his life for volleyball. Despite all the time, he’s still very much in love with her. He comes home to a major surprise leaving him wondering…What happened while he was gone?

AN: There is an official Lockscreens Spotify playlist! Please feel free to give it a listen 💖

Masterlist | prev | next

ch. 5: Best Friends (19 weeks)

The blaring sound abruptly drew him out of his deep slumber. “What?” He muttered, rubbing his face.

“Kurooooo,” she whined. “I need your help.” He furiously blinked, trying to rub the sleep away.

“What’s up?”

“I have these super bad cravings, do you mind picking it up and getting it for me?” 

Kuroo sighed deeply. “This is what you decided to wake me up for?” He groaned, slapping a hand to his forehead.

“Please? I’d owe you one! And you’re awake already.”

“You owe me a lot more than just one, kitten,” he warned. “What on Earth are you craving right now?”

“I really want dark chocolate covered blueberries and a salmon onigiri. Oh! And maybe some meat buns.” An exclamation. “Maybe peaches too!” 

He blinked. “What?”

She let out a loud whine. “Kuroo! Don’t judge me! It’s what the baby wants, okay?”

“I’m not judging that’s just..super particular. Alright fine, I’ll pick it up and head over.”

“You’re literally the best! Love you~!” And with that, she hung up. The rush of blood filled his ears as those words echoed in his ears. He pinched his nose, breathing deeply. Glancing down at his phone, he looked at the time. 2:26 A.M. She really had such inconvenient timing. At this rate, he wasn’t going to get sleep until at least 4 A.M. His eyes glided down, looking at his lock-screen. A smile tugged at his lips at the familiar face. It was a photo of (Name) laughing, her navy peacoat draped over her shoulders and the collar of her dress pulled up. Kuroo had taken the photo when they went on their fancy dinner over a month ago.  

He sighed, wiping his face with a hand as he got up. The sooner he left, the sooner he’d be back in bed. With one last grumble, he slid into a pair of sweats and an old volleyball hoodie as he made his way out of his apartment.

****

“The doctor did tell you last week that your cravings were going to get worse,” Kuroo teased as she opened the door for him. He’d visited four different convenience stores to find everything on her list. She ignored him, snatching the plastic bag out of his hands. (Name) waddled over to her sofa, plopping down as she rummaged through the bag. She pulled out the meat bun and onigiri, holding one in each hand as she took savage bites out of them.

“Oh my god, this is incredible,” she moaned, eyes squeezing shut in pleasure. 

“Oh yes, please do that again, I just love hearing that,” Kuroo teased.

“Shut up rooster-head.” (Name) swallowed, pulling out the peach drink he got her. “Aw, Kuroo! You got me my favorite, you’re literally the best.” He shrugged, taking a seat beside her. He reached for the bag, only to have his hand smacked away. “No! Mine.”

“I literally brought it for you!” He argued. “Let me get my food, woman.” She pouted, before pushing the bag towards him. He laughed at the familiar sight.

It was post-practice during their third-year. Kuroo and Kenma were joining (Name) at her house for their weekly movie night. “Ooh, can we stop by the convenience store?”

“Didn’t you just eat?” Kuroo teased. She had eaten her second bento while they were taking a break during practice.

“So? If you guys are coming over to watch movies, we should have snacks!” She argued, stopping directly in front of the store. “Do you guys want anything?”

“I’m okay.” Kenma replied, barely glancing up. Kenma sat down on the bench as he continued playing on his DS.

“Suit yourself!” She grinned. “How about you, Kuroo?”

“I’ll go pick for myself, thank you.” They walked inside. “Knowing you, you’d pick something weird for me.” 

“Hey, don’t you trust me?”

“No.” 

She giggled, tapping his nose before skipping away. “You should! I practically raised you, y’know?”

“And why do you think that?”

“Well, I did save your ass in English,” she teased, squatting down to survey the snacks at the bottom row. 

“Yeah well, you needed help in science. It cancels there.” 

“Whatever,” she rolled her eyes. “You know you love me. And with love, comes trust!” 

His heart skipped a beat. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, dear.” She rolled her eyes at his term of endearment. Kuroo picked up a bag of chips, choosing some more snacks as they made their way down the aisle. “What’s on the agenda for movies?”

(Name) hummed, paying for her snacks as they made their way outside. “Depends! I’m open for whatever.” She tugged Kenma off the bench before skipping off in front of them. Kuroo and Kenma stood beside one another as they trailed behind. Kuroo’s soft smile was not missed by the younger boy as he observed the female, (h/c) hair blowing back as she skipped. She hummed a tune from (favorite song) as she unlocked the door, dropping the snacks onto the table as she gestured to the couch. “Make yourselves comfortable!”

“Don’t we always?” Kenma muttered, sliding onto the reclining seat as (Name) bustled around to clean up the couch a bit. Kuroo plopped down onto the couch, kicking his legs up onto the table. She smacked his legs to make them fall off, ignoring his cry of indignation. 

“I’ll be right back!” She ran upstairs towards her room. 

“When are you going to tell her?”

Kuroo jumped, looking at his male best friend. “Tell her what?”

“That you have a thing for her.”

Kuroo’s cheeks flushed red. “No I don’t!”

“Sure. You totally weren’t watching her with a dopey smile either.” Kenma rolled his eyes, aggressively using combo moves in order to defeat the boss. “You’ve been in love with her for years now, we all know.”

Kuroo blanched. “Does she?”

“Nah, she’s just as dumb as you are when it comes down to it.” 

“Why the hell am I coming down to Kenma saying that I’m dumb?” (Name) pouted, blankets bundled in her arms as she appeared at the doorway. Kuroo jumped, his blood freezing and heart clenching. “Not that I’m saying Kuroo isn’t, but I definitely am not!” 

“Yes you are.” 

Kuroo let out a high-pitched laugh, earning an odd look from (Name). Kenma just shook his head in distaste. “Is that all you heard?”

“Rude, Kenma! And yes, rooster-head, that’s all I heard.” She plopped down on the couch, spreading the blanket over their laps. Kuroo let out a sigh of relief as (Name) turned to Kenma, raising her brow. “So, pudding-pop, why am I dumb?”

“You’re just always dumb.” She leaned over to playfully shove him, causing Kenma to mess up. “(Name)!” He swore, glaring at the girl. Kuroo leaned down for the snack bag, only to have his hand smacked away by (Name). He glared at her as she rummaged through the bag, pulling out her own snacks before she handed him the bag.

“That’s your own fault, pudding-pop.” She laughed, before she leaned back against Kuroo. The captain’s heart lurched as he looked down. Her head was practically resting on his chest, her warmth seeping through his clothes to his heart. If loving someone felt like this, then he definitely didn’t mind.  

She glanced at the clock, finishing the last of the snacks and throwing the trash into the bag. “There’s no reason for you to go home; I’d feel terrible if you drove home this late.” She bit her lip. “Why don’t you sleep in my bed tonight?” Kuroo looked at her, his eyebrows raised. When they were in middle-school, it wasn’t uncommon for them to share a bed. But once they had gotten to high-school, they were forced out of the habit— mainly due to rising hormones and fear of what others would think of them.

“Are you sure?” He hesitated. “I don’t want to intrude.”

“Just get in there, you big dummy.” She rolled her eyes, making her way to the bathroom to brush her teeth. She paused, standing in the doorway. Her eyes sparkled slightly as she looked at him. “Thanks for coming, Kuroo. I appreciate it.” She mumbled. 

Kuroo grinned, “I’m just glad to be of service.” He stood up, brushing his pants as he slipped into her bedroom. Hazel eyes surveyed the room, it wasn’t that different from before. Her desk was neat and organized, there were medicinal posters up on her walls, and there were soft golden fairy-lights dangling along the side of the wall. He undressed, leaving him in his boxers as he slipped under the covers. The mattress was so soft, he’d have to ask her where she got it. The sound of running water turned off, and the clicks of light-switches caught his attention. He glanced at the glowing red numbers on her desk. It was already 4:40 A.M. Thank god it was the weekend tomorrow. The door opened, and she entered. 

“Ugh, I forgot how big you are,” she grimaced, crossing her arms as she looked at him. “Budge up, will ya?” She was dressed in an oversized t-shirt, black panties peeking out from under them. 

“And you’re hardly wearing clothes,” he taunted before scooting over.

“Oi, my house, my rules. If you’re gonna be weird about it, you’re more than welcome to sleep on the sofa.” He simply tsk’d in response, lifting the blanket up so that she could slide in beside him. “You say I’m hardly wearing anything, Kuroo you’re not even wearing a shirt!” She whined, her hand brushing against his chest. 

“It’s nothing you haven’t seen before,” he teased, blowing air onto her face. 

“Don’t be such a prick.” 

“Goodnight princess.” 

A hum in response as her breathing got heavier. “G’night, Tetsu.” His heart stuttered.

****

(Name) groaned as the light filtered into the room, falling onto her face. She felt so warm and comfortable. Her attention was drawn to a weight on her waist. (E/c) eyes blinked at the chest that it was pressed against. Pulling back slightly, she looked up to see Kuroo’s sleeping face, a pillow pressed against his head. She stifled a giggle, taking in how relaxed the male looked. A sudden urge hit her. Oh shit, gotta pee, her eyes widened. Wiggling out of his arms carefully, she waddled to the bathroom. She might be pregnant, but the gods help her because she absolutely refused to have any sort of accident. 

 As she returned to her room, she couldn’t help but lean against the bed-frame as she looked down at his peaceful face. 

“Kuroo, I don’t understand this,” she whined, burying her face in her palms. They’d been studying for hours now. 

“What don’t you understand?” 

“I keep getting the wrong answers.” With one hand, she shoved the book towards him, plopping her head onto the desk. “Can I just drop out of school and become a stripper?” 

“No,” a bemused smile crossed his face, “it’s your last year. This is literally just high-school chemistry, that I’m helping you with. There will be no stripping here!” 

She grunted into her arms. “You’re right, I doubt anyone would wanna see that anyways.” 

Kuroo shifted uncomfortably. “That’s not true.” 

(Name) lifted her face, freezing. He was so close. All she’d need to do is lean forward just a little bit. “Are you saying you would?” She breathed. 

“Maybe.” He licked his lips, eyes wide. “Or maybe not. Maybe I just don’t want my best friend putting herself out like that.” Hazel eyes darted down to her lips. She could practically feel his lips against hers. 

They sprung apart as the door suddenly crashed open, revealing Lev. “Senpai, I need help studying!” 

“You gotta be quiet when you’re studying, you dumbass,” Kuroo retorted, cheeks slightly red. “Otherwise you bother everyone like you always do.”

“Don’t be mean to the baby tree,” (Name) scolded, her cheeks also glowing. 

“Why are your faces red?” Lev cocked his head.

“It’s just hot in here,” (Name) stammered, sitting up straighter. “How can I help you study, Lev?” Lev plopped into the chair beside her, pushing his books towards her as he explained his issues. In the corner of her eyes, she surveyed Kuroo. Did they really almost kiss?    

She shook her head, making her way back to her kitchen. She couldn’t be catching feelings now. Not for her best friend while she’s pregnant with her boyfriend’s— ex-boyfriend’s?— baby. She didn’t even want to think about how they were also best friends with one another. Silently, she wondered if these were feelings that she’d always secretly suppressed. It’s not like she’d never had a crush on Kuroo before. She’d had one when they were still in middle school, and she’d always assumed those were just one of those things that happened. With a more aggressive shake of her head, (Name) stepped into the kitchen, taking things out to make pancakes. As she hummed a familiar tune, cracking eggs into a bowl, she jumped. Warm arms snaked around her waist, a chest meeting her back.  

“Well aren’t you cuddly this morning?” She chuckled, patting one of his arms affectionately. Kuroo just tightened his grip, burying his face into her shoulder. His breath warmed the back of her neck. 

“Sleepy,” he muttered. “I blame you.”

(Name)’s giggle filled the kitchen, sounding like a windchime swaying in the breeze. “You didn’t have to help.” He awkwardly shrugged, tightening his grip as he rubbed his face into her shoulder, dangerously close to her neck. Goose-bumps raced along her skin. She leaned back in his caress, closing her eyes. The warmth of his body swept through her. “Hey, Kuroo?” He hummed in response. “Do you wanna move in?”

“Huh?” He rubbed his face into her shoulder, hiding his burning cheeks. Hoping that she couldn’t feel it. “Move in?” 

“Yeah.” She hesitated. “I mean, you’re always over. And I feel bad calling you to come over late at night.” She took a deep breath. “It’s also kinda lonely, y’know? Like it’s basically just me here by myself after living here with Kou for so long.” 

“That’s the last of the boxes, babe!” 

“Finally!” Bokuto collapsed onto the couch, letting out a massive sigh. “That took so long.”

“That’s what happens when you move somewhere,” she giggled, perching herself beside him. (Name) looked affectionately around the house. After an entire day of moving things in, they’d unpacked (most) of their boxes. It was the end of their first year of college, and they’d decide to move off-campus into their own house for some privacy for the upcoming school-year. Excitement pulsed through her. She and Bokuto had just celebrated their first anniversary after years of friendship, and things had never been easier. Of course, the couple had their issues. Bokuto had issues balancing his school-work with club volleyball, and she’d been so overwhelmed with her classes and internship that it was difficult for them to find time together. But, it was all worth it in the end. Now, she’d fall asleep and wake up beside the love of her life every day. “Kou, what do you want for dinner?”

“I’m too lazy to eat,” Bokuto groaned, draping an arm over his eyes. She patted his arm.

“Too lazy to eat? I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say that,” (Name) teased, elbowing him slightly. “Ah well, if you’re too lazy, maybe I’ll go get dinner all by myself. Alone. In our new neighborhood.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief. 

She made a move to stand, only for arms to snake around her and throw her into the couch. (Name) giggled loudly, blinking up into golden pools as Bokuto hovered over her. He peppered kisses all around her face. “Let’s order in, and just spend our first night in our new home together, okay?” He murmured, brushing her hair away from her face as he drew her into a soft kiss. “Besides, I want to spend time with the love of my life in the place where we’ll raise our kids.” She gaped, tears welling up. His eyes were shut as he nudged her nose with his. 

“Kids?”

He flushed, pulling back. “Well yeah, I wanna have kids with you.” He pulled her hand up to his lips, kissing the promise ring that sat there. “I promised you forever, didn’t I?” Arms wrapped around his neck, dragging him down to her as she slotted her lips against his.

“God I love you,” she whispered in between kisses. 

“Y’know, this is a perfect time to break in that new bed,” he grinned.

“Kou!” She squealed, smacking his chest. Her eyelashes fluttered as she stared at him. Her heart had never felt so warm. 

“Are you sure?” Kuroo pulled back, turning her so that she was facing him. “I don’t want to intrude.” 

She nodded. “Yeah. If anything, we can put a bed in the nursery for now and you can stay there so you have your own space.” (Name) offered him a small smile. “Is that okay?”  

“Well, if you insist,” Kuroo teased, tapping her nose. He grew serious. “I’d do anything for you, (Nickname).” 

She wrapped her arms around him. “You’re the best, Kuroo.”

Fun facts

💟 Kuroo sleeps with D.N.D. on except for notifications from Kenma and (Name).

💟 (Name) typically craves onigiri and meat buns. Other things she craves are her usual study-hangout-movie night snacks. 

💟 (Name) and Kenma both have a bad habit of staying up late. They usually call each other when they want company, but only Kuroo would actually get up and go visit one of them so late, so they’ll call him if they need something.

💟 Both Bokuto and Kuroo disagree about who introduced (Name) to her favourite peach drink. It was actually neither of them. Kenma introduced it to her during one of their movie nights. 

💟 Kenma had known that Kuroo was pining for (Name) for years. He was tired of hearing/seeing it and warned him that someone else would ask her out if he didn’t get a move on. Kenma also almost confessed to (Name) on Kuroo’s behalf

💟 The last time Kuroo and (Name) shared a bed was their first semester of high-school. When she told one of her girlfriends, they shamed her for it so she stopped letting Kuroo sleepover. 

💟 At training camp their first year, Kuroo forgot to pack a sleep shirt and wandered around Shinzen after curfew. (Name) was also out to get a drink of water and shrieked when she saw Kuroo because she thought he was a ghost.

💟 When Lev told the team about what he stumbled upon, he got his butt kicked by Yaku for cock-blocking. Lev was the only one on the team who didn’t realise the tension between (Name) and Kuroo. 

💟 Bokuto randomly surprised (Name) with the keys to their new house after enlisting Akaashi’s help to plan and organise everything. 

AN: Officially switched my update day to Thursdays! Please feel free to pop into my inbox if you have any questions, comments, or concerns 💞 I love interacting with you all!

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[diazevan]

I Hope I'm Ready (For Something New)

Happy holidays everyone!

This was written for the Irondad Fic Exchange. I loved writing this. Of course, I adored writing Irondad. However, exploring the dynamic between Tony and Michelle was a highlight!

I hope you enjoy it, @apawcalypse632-blog! 

Summary: 

“What is it?” Tony combs his fingers through Peter’s messy curls, “Is college work driving you crazy?” Peter doesn’t answer, “Spider-Man trouble? Need relationship advice?”

“I don’t know.” Peter cuts in, “All of them?”

“Ah, well, you see…I can help you there...work…”

“MJ’s pregnant.”

This is mostly fluff, but there is some angst.

Warnings: Description of Injury, Traumatic Cardiac Arrest, CPR.

Read on AO3 (it’s pretty long) or under the cut

Peter hates the rain.

Well, usually it doesn’t bother him, considering he is Spider-Man and has to survive every condition Mother Nature can possibly throw his way.

Right now, he isn’t Spider-Man. He is a college student, who stupidly forgot his raincoat and is struggling to survive the down-pour of the century in Tony’s old MIT hoodie.

So, yes, he hates the rain.

He pulls his paper grocery bag closer to his chest, attempting to shield it from further damage. “Ugh, crap...” He curses as he charges across the street, towards his apartment complex, neglecting to check for oncoming traffic.

A car stops abruptly, and honks, the driver starts to scream expletives without rolling down his window. Thanks to Peter’s heightened abilities, he hears every word.

Peter holds up his hand and skips over to the curb, “Sorry!”

In his defence, he does have a lot on his mind.

Peter hugs the grocery bag under his arm, he fumbles for his key card, “Come on, come on, come on.” He stutters, he pats down his sweatpants, “Ah.”

He pulls out his card, scans it, and hurries into the lobby. It’s warm and welcoming, the opposite of the storm outside.

Peter hurries to the elevator, blatantly ignoring two of his classmates from MIT.

It’s Friday night, they are already drunk. They’re all twenty-one now, and you know, the skies the limit and all that shit.

Peter didn’t have the patience to deal with drunk people. Not today.

Normally, on a night like this, he would be out patrolling or acting as a designated ‘sober friend ’ for his classmates. Sometimes, he did both. Everyone thought Peter was a super chill dude who didn’t drink but in reality, he can’t get drunk. Thank you mutated genetics, thank you very much.

Peter pulls his hood down, “Eh.” He brushes a hand through his matted wet hair. As much as he loves wearing Tony’s hoodies, they aren't exactly weather-proof.

They used to give him ‘street credibility ’ among his peers. Being the kid, who Iron Man took under his wing, did a lot for Peter, but as time passed by, that buzz died down.

Before, they treated Tony like a God. Now, they treat him like Peter’s Dad.

Peter doesn't wear Tony's hoodies for that smug reason. He wears them because they make him feel safe.

After everything that went down with Thanos, Peter likes keeping Tony close. So, moving out to Massachusetts hasn’t been easy, and Tony’s hand-me-downs ease Peter’s constant worry.

Peter runs across the corridor, to his apartment door. His teeth chatter, and he prays that Michelle remembered to turn on the heating. God knows Spider’s suck at thermoregulation.

“I’m back!” He lets out a tired sigh, as he relishes in the warmth.

Michelle paces over, she has changed out of her work clothes, into her oversized Havard sweatshirt that cuts off above her knees. She anxiously bites her nails as she studies him, “You got it?”

“Yeah.”

“Um…” Michelle stares at her feet. She sways back and forth. Peter’s never seen her at a loss for words like this before. Not since their first kiss. He understands why. He is potentially holding the key to their future in a torn and wet grocery bag, “Good.”

Peter places the bag on the small table by the door, he pulls off his hoodie, “Ew.” He tosses it to the floor, making a mental note to sort it out later.

Michelle walks over, now holding a blanket. She throws it around his shoulders, “Here.”

“Thank you.” Over the years, she has seen him pass out too many times to count because of his blatant lack of self-preservation. She’s grown accustomed to the downfalls of his abilities - including the inability to stay warm.

She bends down and grabs the bag, with a shaking hand.

Peter places a hand on her arm, “It will be alright.”

“I know.” She pulls out the Pregnancy Test and looks up at him.

Peter offers her a reassuring smile, knowing there is nothing either of them can say that hasn’t already been said. He leans up to press a kiss against her cheek, “I’ll wait here.”

She nods and rushes into the toilet, leaving Peter alone. He puts down the blanket and throws his Star Wars hoodie on.

The toilet flushes.

Peter jolts back, he yelps, “Crap...” He drums his fingers against his hip.

Michelle taps the door, “Come in.”

Peter’s stomach gives out. He isn’t ready. He scrapes his teeth across his lower lip. If he is this scared, he can’t imagine what Michelle is going through, “Hey....” He greets, as he cracks open the door.

Michelle is sat on the floor, with her back rested up against the bathtub. The test is balanced on the corner of the sink, “Hey…” She shuffles up, giving him some room, “It’s not ready yet.”

“Oh.” Peter sits beside her, she takes his hand.

They sit in silence and wait. They aren’t teenagers anymore, but sometimes it feels like they are.

Inherently having a baby isn’t terrible. They do want children but the timing sucks.

They have a plan and they’re pretty good at following it. It helps ease their anxieties and it works around Peter’s double life; they want to finish college, find a job, travel for a while, and then, maybe get married.

Kids are on the agenda, just further down. They're headstrong, if the test is positive, they can simply change their plans. That doesn’t make it any less terrifying.

Michelle squeezes his hand, “I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“If this is just me... “ She stutters, “Freaking out for no reason. I mean…” She smiles unsurely, “I’m like...sixty-seven percent sure I’m being stupid.”

“No, you’re not…” Peter shakes his head, “Don’t apologise…So, the other thirty-three percent?”

“I don’t know…” She sighs, “The plan…”

Peter scoffs a laugh, “I guess Tony’s right.”

Michelle raises an eyebrow, “About what?”

“Life’s too short to follow a plan.” Peter recites, doing his best Tony impression.

“Oh, I get it…” Michelle rolls her eyes, “He’s full of wisdom.”

“More like a collection of quotes that he stole from the internet.” Peter mocks, Michelle chuckles. She looks up at the sink, her face falls, “Is it ready?”

She nods. “Yeah.” She turns, her eyes misty, “I don’t want to look….”

“Me neither.”

“Not looking isn’t gonna change the outcome.”

Peter tightens his grip around her hand, “Want me to look first?”

“I got it.” She leans up and grabs it.

Peter can’t see it from where he is sitting, so he relies on her reaction.

Michelle’s breath catches and her eyes widen.

“MJ…?” Peter speaks with caution. She looks at him, wearing a small smile, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Peter leans forward, pressing his forehead against hers, “That’s….”

“Terrifying?”

“Um-hm.” He lets out a wet laugh, “Pretty, um, great too though.”

“Yeah…” She leans back, “It is.”

Peter deflates and leans his head against her shoulder. She keeps her eyes locked on the positive test in her hand, she shakes it, like she doesn’t believe it. She wraps her free arm around her front and barks out a laugh. Peter chuckles nervously, “What?”

She lays her head on his, “Screw the plan.”

“Screw the plan. ” Peter echoes, “You think we can do this?”

“Boh.”

Peter mindlessly pulls on the string of his hoodie, “Hm.”

“It’s too early to tell…”

“Yeah.” He agrees, “We’re gonna be parents…”

“That’s usually how this thing works, dork.” She teases, “You see when a woman and man love each other…”

“Shut up.”

“We should probably work out what to do next. You should tell Stark...first.”

“Huh?”

“He’s been through some shit,” She shrugs, “He’ll probably know...what to say.”

Michelle knows Peter too well. He does want to talk to Tony, he is the first person who came to mind, along with May. Tony is Peter’s confidant, and also, his dad, in every way besides blood, “Maybe...but..”

“You tell him everything and I know--”

“What?”

“You want to talk to him.” She chuckles, “I mean, he’s a good dad, so…”

“Oh, you’re complimenting him now?”

“Don’t tell him.”

“I won’t.” Peter hesitates for a second, “I love you.”

“Eh...how cliché…” She nudges his arm, “I’m messing with you, loser...I love you too.”

The front door opens.

Tony leans back in his chair and listens out. His forehead creases. He wasn’t expecting anyone.

He skips out of his office and heads down the stairs.

He is home alone. Morgan’s spending the day at her friend’s house, and Pepper’s got meetings until late afternoon. Tony was planning to spend his alone time watching shows that he needs to catch up on.

It’s Pepper, he tells himself. He knows that she wanted nothing more than to escape her strenuous workload, and knowing her, she wouldn’t call ahead. She loves to surprise him.

“Honey, you’re home early…” He stops at the bottom of the stairs, “Oh.”

It’s not Pepper. It’s Peter.

Worry tugs at Tony’s heartstrings. Right off the bat, Peter looks like he hasn’t slept in months. He’s wearing Michelle’s hoodie and there is no telling if he chose to put it on or if it was an accident.

“Yeah…” Peter waves mockingly, “I’m not Pepper.”

“Clearly.” Tony snorts, “I didn't know you were coming over this weekend. Keeping secrets from us now, hey?”

“Kinda.” He gestures back, “MJ needed to...pick some things up, and I.. need …”

“What’s wrong, Pete?” He asks, “I can tell you’ve got something on your mind.” Peter kicks his foot forward, he chews his lip, “Kid, what do you need?”

Peter manages a half-smile, “A hug.”

“Well, you see…” Tony moves over, “You’re lucky there, kid. Hugging happens to be one of my many specialities.”

He wastes no time, he pulls Peter into his open arms. Peter sniffles, as he lays his head against his shoulder. Tony rubs circles on his back and gently shushes him.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Tony eases, “Something’s got you all riled up. I would like to think that you travelled all the way here for a hug, kiddo, but I know that’s not true…”

Peter steps back, wiping his arm over his face. Tony keeps a firm hand on his shoulder, concern settles in the pit of his stomach.

“What is it?” Tony combs his fingers through Peter’s messy curls, “Is college work driving you crazy?” Peter doesn’t answer, “Spider-Man trouble? Need relationship advice?”

“I don’t know.” Peter cuts in, “All of them?”

“Ah, well, you see…I can help you there...work…”

“MJ’s pregnant.” Peter blurts, it sounds rehearsed and Tony can tell he’s been practising in front of a mirror, for days on end. He sounds prepared, but at the same time, his voice cracks in fear. Tony prays that fear is directed to the situation at hand, and not him, “Um, and we like have…”

Tony’s jaw drops, and he stares at his kid for a moment, as he blabbers. Tony holds his hand up, it’s too much input at once, he needs a moment.

Peter freezes.

Peter is the definition of a tired college student. Now, Tony’s finding out that in a few short months, this kid would be a dad. Peter’s going to be a dad. Perhaps it is Tony’s fault, that whenever he looks at Peter, he still sees that Bambi-eyed teenager from Queens, too stupidly determined to run away from a fight.

“Um, err, okay…” Tony feels like he is malfunctioning, “Well, um...You’re having a baby…” The words sound foreign, “But...you’re a... baby .”

Peter snickers, “Um…I’m what?”

“Oh...ah, nothing. So…” Tony claps his hands, “You’re serious? You two are...”

“Having a baby?” Peter finishes, “Yeah …Are you mad?”

Tony narrows his eyes, “What?” He reaches over to reassuringly squeeze Peter’s shoulder, “Oh come on, kid...” He says softly, realising how scared Peter is, “Of course, I’m not...You’re both adults, and well...you’re gonna make pretty fantastic parents.”

Peter swallows a lump in his throat, “Are you sure?”

“As sure as the sky is blue.”

Peter snorts as he leans his forehead against Tony’s collarbone, “You need to stop letting Morgs choose the movies you watch.”

“Ah, try stopping her.” Tony wraps a strong arm around Peter’s back, “Anyway, it was Jones who introduced her to those Barbie movies.”

“True,” Peter mutters quietly.

“So…” Tony starts, Peter leans back, “I can...help out...I’ve been through...something similar.”

“I thought…” Peter’s eyebrows knit together, “...Morgan was planned.”

“She was….” Tony nudges Peter’s chin up, “You weren’t.” Peter shakes his head and giggles, “You see, Spider-Babies, I have experience there. Fourteen-year-old superheroes are very similar to energetic toddlers.”

“Oh really?”

Tony is not joking. Following Morgan around when she was a toddler, was essentially the same as chasing after Peter when he is on patrol, “Yeah really .”

Peter playfully pushes Tony’s arm, “You’re going to be a grandpa.”

“Nonno.” Tony locks an arm around Peter's back and pulls him close.

“Huh?”

“My grandkids are going to call me ‘Nonno.’” Tony explains. His heart skips a beat. Grandkids.

“Ah,” Peter grins, “I like that.” Tony places a kiss on his head.

They are the same height, but to Tony, Peter is still so small. So young. Tony wants to spend the rest of his life protecting his children because he lived through the alternative when he lost Peter, and he never wants to go through that again. He knows now, he has to learn to let go. Sooner than he wants, but times change.

“MJ will be here soon,” Peter says, “Um, don’t be awkward.”

“Me?” Tony squeaks, placing a hand on his chest, “I’m never awkward.”

Peter moves away, hiding his ashamed expression.

Tony wishes Peter would have clarified that by soon, he meant a few seconds. He catches sight of Michelle outside. She walks up the path that leads down to the train station. She buries her hands in her pockets and skips up the porch steps.

Peter rushes over, he opens the door, “Hey.”

“Hey, Tiger.” She kisses him. She steps off to the side and nervously fumbles with her fingers. She turns to Tony, and nods, “Stark.”

Tony’s mouth twitches into a smile, “Jones.” He steps ahead, pulling her into a hug.

“Oh.” She hiccups, bemused. Peter chuckles on the sidelines. It takes her a while but she moves her hands, folding them around Tony, “Hey…”

Even though Michelle and Peter are not married, Michelle and Tony’s relationship is what all ‘in-laws ’ should inspire to have. Essentially, they coexist to tease Peter, and they love every second of it. They were pushed to become closer, with everything that happens to Peter. Tony loves her, he’s more than grateful to have her in his life. He is glad that she’s the one that Peter fell in love with because they are good together, and that’s what is important.

Tony clears his throat, he steps back, “How are you?”

“Good.” She dots her eyes between the pair, “So, you know …”

“Yeah,” Tony nods, “I know.”

An invisible weight shifts off Michelle’s shoulders and she relaxes. Something warms spreads across Tony’s chest. He is the first person they’ve told. He can tell.

“Um,” Peter catches her hand, “We need to tell May...ugh, can….”

Michelle squeezes Peter’s hand, “Can you come with us?”

“Of course.”

Tony knocks on May’s door in his usual upbeat manner.

Peter and Michelle hover close by, whispering among themselves.

Tony knows how hard it’s been for them. He learnt that they've known for a month now and haven't told anyone besides the doctors. Even when you plan, having a child is scary. He panicked non-stop when Pepper was pregnant with Morgan.

May swings the door open, she welcomes him with a smile, “Tony?”

“Hey, Mrs. Parker.”

She pulls him down into a bone-crushing hug, “You should have told me you were coming over. I would have cooked something.”

“Oh….” What a shame ... “We can order in.”

May narrows her eyes, “What’s wrong?”

“Um, well…” He steps into the apartment, revealing the awkward couple.

Peter waves, “Hey, May.”

“Peter!” She exclaims overjoyed, “MJ…” She throws herself around the pair, “Hello.” She takes holds of their wrists and tugs them inside, “Come in, come in. Why didn’t you say you were coming?”

“We know you like surprises.” Peter kisses his aunt’s cheek and sits down on the couch beside Michelle.

Tony leans against the wall, May looks at him, knowingly. She’s not dumb, she knows something is up.

“What’s going on?” May asks, she settles in Happy’s armchair, “Something tells me this isn’t a normal visit.”

Peter falters, clearly overwhelmed by everything, “Um, May..you see, um...well….”

“I’m pregnant.” Michelle cuts in. Tony admires her bluntness, she cuts right to the point. Trying to get Peter to open up is like talking to a brick wall.

May sinks in the chair, “Oh.” Tony can’t read her, but her surprise is paramount, “You...you're having a baby?”

Peter nods, “...Yeah.”

“Wow.” May smiles, “That’s amazing…”

“We’ve got a plan.” Peter blurts, unable to hold anything back.

“Which is stupid…” Michelle says deadpan, “Because the last one failed.”

“Well, not everything’s perfect…” May reassures them, “But...so, what...have you…”

“We can finish college…” Michelle says, “Um, I’m not due until August anyways…”

“Then we want to move here.” Peter continues, these two finish each other’s sentences so effortlessly, it’s fucking adorable and painfully endearing, Tony’s heart can hardly take it. The kid turns, “Tony is that apartment by the Headquarters still ours if we….”

“It’s yours,” Tony tells him. No strings attached.

Peter has turned down that apartment a dozen times. He isn’t a fan of handouts, and Tony gets that. It wasn’t meant to be that. It was an idea. A thank you gift, for everything Peter does as Spider-Man. He isn’t on the payroll for his superhero duties. Even though it is technically a job. He thought being paid tainted what he does, and what he stands for. The suit is enough, for him.

Now, it’s about the baby. Peter’s thinking as logically as he can.

“Thank you.”

Tony waves his hand out, “Don’t sweat it.”

“I…” Peter sighs, “I guess being Spider-Man will take some thinking…”

“Yeah, kid.” Tony says gently, “We can sort that.”

“Well, we’re here…” May says, “Whenever you need us. You’re not alone in this.”

“Thank you.” The pair recite in unison.

May fumbles with her hands, “When do you both need to be back?”

“Um, tomorrow….”

“Oh.”

“Everything is…”

Tony skips forward and taps the back of the couch, “Chaotic?”

“We just wanted to tell you.” Peter admits, “Like...face-to-face.”

“That’s okay....” Tony ruffles Peter’s hair, “Dinner at mine tonight?”

“If that’s alright.”

“Always.”

Tony turns to May, “May?”

She is spaced, trying to understand what she’s learnt, “Um, sure.”

“Are you two planning to tell anyone else?” Tony asks.

“We’re meeting Ned and Betty for lunch.” Peter says, “We can tell the others tonight…”

Tony stifles a laugh, “Prepare yourselves for Morgan’s questions…”

Peter pales, “Oh, God.”

Michelle nudges Peter’s arm, “That’s your job.”

“What?!”

“So," Tony trails, "You need me to drop you off anywhere?”

“No thanks...” Peter points to the door, “They’re only down the street…Can Ned and Betty come tonight too?”

“Of course. We cook enough to feed an army.”

“Thanks.”

Michelle taps Peter’s leg and jumps up, “We should go.”

“Yeah.”

May gets up as the couple move to the door, “See you later.”

Tony watches them go, and it feels weird. They’re adults, they come and go as they please, but part of Tony doesn’t like seeing them leave.

May’s breath hitches. Tony turns to face her, “Hey…” He rushes to place a supporting hand on her shoulder. She dips her chin to her chest and blinks tears away, “May?”

“Tony….” She breathes sharply, “They’re having a baby.” She flaps her hands out in front of her, “Peter...is ...you know, our baby...and he is having a baby.” She shakes her head, “I’m not ready...and they seem to have it all…”

“May…” He guides her to the couch. They both fall onto it.

May hides behind her hands, “Sorry. God, I’m a mess.”

Tony snorts, “So am I.”

“They aren’t.”

“They are great..” Tony sighs, “But I think they’re more scared then they’re showing.”

“You know, Peter was six when Ben and I took him in…” May starts, “We never dealt with...this bit. Feels like I can’t help them…”

Tony gently nudged his foot against her leg, “Pep and I will deal with this. You take over in six years.”

May barks a quiet laugh, “Hm.”

“Or we just...try.”

May tucks her head on his shoulder, “Yeah.” Tony wraps an arm around her. May is like the older sister that he never had. Well, thanks to the blip, they’re the same age now, but still - she treats him like a little brother, and he’s got nothing against it. Since losing Natasha, he holds May a little closer, and loves her, knowing how easy it is to lose someone.

Tony reclines his head back, “This is selfish.”

“Huh?”

“We’re way too young to be grandparents!”

Tony stops himself, every day, from phoning Strange at some ridiculous hour in the morning to ask him if someone is messing with time. Time can’t go this quickly. It doesn’t make sense. Tony’s life used to move slowly.

He knows that he is an idiot. No one is messing with time. It’s him.

He is going to be a grandparent. He still can’t wrap his head around that. Even after five months. He’s gone through every possible emotion.

It’s been pretty morbid recently.

Michelle wants to be ahead on everything. She likes to be prepared, and she’s not a sugar coater, she says things how they are. She doesn’t do it in a harsh way, she’s gentle but straight to the point. Tony can tell that sometimes it hurts her to admit certain things. She knows that Peter being Spider-Man can be dangerous. She wants a plan for everything that could happen.

From life-altering injury to death.

Peter and Michelle are home for the weekend but they’re staying at May and Happy’s apartment.

Tony is reviewing one of Happy’s lengthy emergency plans, this one specifies what they'd do if Peter’s secret identity was revealed to the public, suddenly and accidentally. It includes scenario after scenario. They make his stomach turn. Happy did his research. Tony knew that all these schemes would work if they were ever in that situation.

A loud thump drags Tony out of his head. He leaves a sticky note next to the subsection he’s reading and hurries downstairs, “Please, please…” He prays that his stupid alpaca, Gerald, hasn’t managed to find a way out of his pen again. The last time was a mess. He stumbles to the kitchen window. Gerald is in his pen, minding his own business.

There’s a creak. It’s at the front door. It’s quiet but Tony’s on edge.

He runs over and pulls the door open. His heart sinks.

Peter is knelt on the porch steps, hugging his knees. He is leaning against the pillar, his head hangs lifelessly against his chest.

He’s in the suit. This happened on patrol.

Tony didn’t get an alert.

Peter isn’t wearing his mask. Tony can’t see it but that’s not important right now. Peter’s hurt. Like really fucking hurt. He’s covered in blood, there are multiple lacerations over his face and chest. He wheezes with every breath he takes.

Tony’s at a loss. Peter hasn’t been hurt like this in years.

“Peter!” Tony slides over on his knees, “Hey, hey, hey.....” He places a hand on his cheek, holding his head up for him, “Kid…”

Peter’s eyes are open but unfocused, “M’ster..” He leans his forehead against Tony’s collarbone.

“Alright, alright…” Tony cradles his head, “I’ve got you. Pete, talk to me.”

“T-ony…”

“Yeah, it’s me.” Peter grows heavy, “No, no...” He leans back. Peter’s eyes are shut, “Kid, open your eyes!”

“Boss, Peter is going into cardiac arrest.” Friday’s voice echoes from inside, “You need to perform need to cardiopulmonary resuscitation. A medical team is on its way."

“Shit, shit...” Tony scrambles. He moves Peter onto the porch, “Come back to me, kid.”

This isn’t happening. This can’t be fair. Everything was okay. Yes, they’re all having an existential crisis about the baby but that is a good kind of scary.

Tony knows how to do this. He’s trained. It’s a routine, but this is Peter. This is his kid.

With every rescue breath, a sob catches in his throat. “Pete?” Nothing, “Come on!”

One of Peter’s ribs cracks. Tony's stomach jumps into his throat. “Shit...” He carries on, “Please, kid, don’t do this...please” I can’t lose you. It will kill me this time, you hear me?

Tony spent hours reading protocol after protocol, all potential things that could happen to Peter. Reading them didn’t solve this, even if they were written for these situations. They didn’t reflect reality. Facts and figures don’t touch on emotion. They are just words.

This is happening. Right now.

Peter’s heart isn’t beating. He isn’t breathing.

Tony’s mind turns to the darkest of places. If Peter dies, what do they do?

Peter’s child will never know him.

How will Tony hold it together when he holds his grandchild? Knowing that their dad died in his arms. Twice.

“Peter!” Tony sobs desperately. Don’t go, don’t go, don’t go. “Fuck!”

This isn’t just about the baby.

Tony is scared. This is his kid. No matter what happens now. If he lives or if he dies. Peter is Tony’s kid.

“Peter…” Tony pleads, he brushes a hand back through Peter's sweat-ridden hair, “Please.”

Peter breathes.

Tony holds his hands up and watches to make sure it wasn’t a trick of the light, or in his head.

Peter’s chest rises and falls. Again and again.

“Hey…” Tony checks his pulse. It’s weak but it’s there. He takes his hand, “Hey, hey..” He eases, “I'm here, kiddo.”

Peter’s eyes wander around, he’s spaced. Unaware of what is happening. He catches Tony’s gaze, he squeezes his hand weakly, “T'ny?”

“Hey.” Tony keeps his voice quiet, “It’s me, kid…” He leans down to kiss his forehead, “It’s me.”

“I’m--” Peter’s face crumbles, he frantically darts his eyes around, “W’at…”

Tony shushes him, “You’re okay.” He loops his arms under Peter’s back and moves him onto his lap. Peter leans his head against his torso and curls into his hold, “You’re okay.” The Quinjet flies overhead. Peter winces at the sound. Tony pulls him closer, “I’ve got you, kid.”

“Hm…”

Tony bites on his lip, to hold back a cry. He doesn’t want to startle Peter. He leans down and presses his forehead against Peter’s.

He’s gonna be okay, he’s gonna be okay.

We’re going to be okay.

Tony won’t leave Peter’s side. Even if someone held a gun to his head.

Peter is asleep. They’re alone in a private hospital wing at the Headquarters.

Happy’s rushed off to pick May up from work. Tony had a quick call with Michelle, who’s on her way. Ned and Betty are close behind.

He’s trying to stay awake. He doesn’t want Peter to wake up alone.

The door clicks open.

It’s Michelle. She freezes, her red-rimmed eyes lock onto Peter. She looks like she’s on the edge of breaking.

“Hey, Jones.” Tony greets softly.

She jumps. She rests her hand against her small bump, and looks over, “Stark.”

Tony buckles. He rushes over and wraps his arms around her, protectively. Images of what could have happened flash through his mind. The unimaginable.

“Hey,” Michelle says gently. A tone she usually reserves for Morgan, “Hey…” She folds her hands around him, “We’re okay.”

“Yeah…” He leans back, “We’re...okay.”

She squeezes his arm, “How’s he doing?” She pokes his chest, “No sugarcoating, Stark.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

She walks over and sits beside Peter. She holds his hand, tight. Her knuckles turn pale. Tony used to roll his eyes at young love but these two, they are the real deal.

“So…” Tony sat opposite, “Um…” He can’t remember the details. It’s a blur, “I wasn’t really listening to the…” He reaches out and grabs Peter’s other hand, “You know…” Michelle extends her other arm over Peter’s chest and catches Tony’s wrist. “He took on that Rhino guy, it was...um, traumatic cardiac arrest but he’s healing. He’s got a few cracked ribs...that’s…”

“Not on you.” She cuts in. Up until that point, Tony thought that it was his fault. Even though the doctors told him he wasn’t. The assertiveness in Michelle’s voice makes him doubt that self-deprecation. He nods.

Silence grows between them. Michelle fiddles with Peter’s hand and keeps holding onto Tony’s.

Tony wishes he could go back in time to when they first met. Michelle’s distaste for him, in the beginning, seems laughable now. She wasn’t a fan of the whole billionaire thing but she outgrew that. Flash forward to now, and Tony couldn’t imagine his life without her in it. She is part of the jigsaw piece that completes Tony’s family.

It took a while, but he can read her. She is itching to ask something. He knows not to push her.

“The baby.” She mutters quietly, almost unsure.

Tony looks up, “The baby?”

Michelle shifts. Tears fill her eyes, “Are they going to be like him?”

Tony’s heart sinks. He’s already thought about that. He’s written a protocol for that. Code: Spider-Baby. Tony's kid being Spider-Man is hard enough, the idea that his grandchild could follow in the same footsteps is fucking terrifying, “You mean…”

“Spider-Man.”

“I--” His voice cracks. “Peter’s unique, Jones.” He squeezes their hands, “We know that. There’s no one else like him. There are the Inhumans, like Quake, and then there are people like Wanda, who were engineered. Peter was changed, his DNA...his genetics, mutated to make him Spider-Man. That’s part of who he is…” He falters, “And…”

Michelle lets go of Tony’s hand, and holds it against her bump, “Part of..."

“I think so, yeah.” Tony nods, “I can’t be certain.” Michelle sniffles. She wipes tears out of her eyes with the back of her hand, “Hey…”

“Uh…”

“I get it.” Tony admits, “I hate this. He does this because this is who he is…We can’t stop that.” He laughs falsely, “Trust me, I’ve...tried but this..” He stutters, “I don’t know if your kid is gonna go down the same road, but if they do, I’ve got some first-hand experience with...a certain Spider-Baby.”

“I’m not…” Peter mumbles. Michelle and Tony look at him. His eyes are still closed but he’s slowly coming to, “Spider-Baby.”

“Of course you’re not, kid.”

He so is.

Peter and Michelle’s bedroom at the Lakehouse is a shadow of what it used to be. With the baby coming in a few short weeks, Tony knew it was time for a change. Peter and Michelle designed it first, then he got to work. They stayed over whenever they felt like it, and Tony wanted them to feel welcome at all times.

This was their second home. No matter what.

Morgan already claims that her future niece or nephew is her best friend, so she must see them as much as possible.

The Star Wars wallpaper is the only thing that has gone unchanged. All the old furniture is gone. The gifts from the baby shower are all scattered by the window, ready to be used.

“What’s that?” Pepper is sat on the couch, getting her shoes on. She’s on her way out to collect Morgan from her best friend's house.

He holds out the parcel that’s just arrived, “I think..” He tears it open, “Ah, yes.” He takes out Iron Man and Spider-Man plushies, “These.”

Pepper grins, “They’re amazing.”

“I’ll put these upstairs…” He smiles, “And then the rooms done.”

“Wow.” Pepper leans her chin on her arm, “The next time they sleep in that room, the baby will be here.”

Tony chuckles. That’s a scary thought, “Yeah…” He kisses her forehead and heads upstairs, “See you later.”

He heads into the bedroom. He places the soft toys in the corner of the bedside crib, he steps back to admire his work. He is pulled from the moment when his phone rings. He digs his hand into his pocket to retrieve it.

It’s Peter. Perfect timing.

“Hey, kid!” Tony exclaims, “Guess..”

“Tony!”

Tony snaps into fight or flight mode, “What’s going on?” He heads downstairs, ready to jump into a suit and fly over.

“Sorry…Um, I’m trying to…” He’s not talking to Tony. Michelle’s voice is muffled in the background, “Yeah…” There’s a loud bang, “Ow.” Peter squeals, “No, I’m fine. I walked into the wall…” Tony debates whether he should interrupt or not, “Yeah, I’ve got the bag.”

The bag? Holy Shit.

“Peter. Is the…”

“Yeah…” Peter answers. The question doesn’t need finishing. The baby’s coming, “We’re on our way out...um, can you like...get everyone?” He stops to take a breath, “May’s not picking up and--”

“Don’t worry, kid.” Tony interrupts, “I’m on it. You concentrate on getting there, we’ll meet you.”

“Thank you…” Peter hums, “Love you.”

“Love you, Pete.” Tony smiles, “See you soon.” He hangs up and hurries downstairs, “Pepper!”

Her eyes widen in alarm, “What?”

Tony wraps an arm around the banister, “Baby Parker’s making an early appearance. “

Pepper jumps up, “The baby’s coming now?”

Two weeks early. It was always a possibility, “Just like Morgan.”

“Shit, um…”

“I’m gonna get hold of May, and make sure Happy’s gets her there. You..”

Pepper runs over and plants a kiss on his cheek, “I’ll collect Madam Secretary and we’ll meet you there.”

“Alright…”

The waiting area at the Headquarters Infirmary is desolate. There’s not a living soul in sight.

Tony and Rhodey are alone.

Tony leans his weight on a pillar, he’s messaged Peter and is waiting for a response. Rhodey is busy staring him down, with a knowing smirk, “What?” Tony whines.

Rhodey shrugs, “Nothing.”

“Tony!” Peter shouts. He runs around the corner and skids to an abrupt halt, “Hey…” He pulls Tony into a hug, “Wow.” He’s out of breath. It takes a lot for Peter to get like this. Well, this is ‘a lot.’

“Kid…” Tony pats his back, “You good?”

Peter clings to Tony’s arms and leans back, “I think so.” He turns, “Hey, Rhodey.”

Rhodey nudges his bicep, “Hey, Pete.”

“Um..” Peter leans his head down, he takes a deep breath and points back, “I better get back.”

Tony taps his shoulder, “We’ll be here, Pete.”

“Thank you…” Peter dashes away.

Rhodey snorts, “Oh…” He places a hand on Tony’s shoulder, “He’s totally going to pass out.”

Tony rolls his eyes, “No, he won’t.”

“You did.”

Tony’s jaw drops. He playfully pushes his friend away, “Not this again.” He groans, “I slipped over.”

“You keep telling yourself that, Tones.” Rhodey laughs, “I have to say the kid’s got some guts, I mean at least he doesn’t look like he’s going to throw up.”

“I hate you.”

“Love you too.”

Eight hours go by, slowly. Still no baby.

May’s in the room with Michelle and Peter, so Tony hasn’t seen her all day.

Everyone is dotted around the waiting lounge. Ned is sat nearby, with his back rested against one of the couches. Betty is tucked against his side, snoring on his shoulder. Morgan is scrawled across the floor, with her head rested on Ned’s hip.

Rhodey is in an armchair, fast asleep. He’s holding a half-finished cup of cold coffee in his hand, that’s a disaster waiting to happen. Tony can’t wait.

Pepper is tucked up on the couch next to Tony.

He's the only one still awake.

Footsteps echo close to the room.

Tony sits up.

It might be Happy. He left after noticing a nurse wasn’t wearing his identification badge.

Peter walks in. Dead on his feet, “Tony?” He holds a hand in front of his mouth and yawns.

“Hey, kiddo.” Tony smiles, he holds his hands up and gestures to everyone in the room, “You see this bunch of lightweights?”

“Yeah.” Peter laughs, “I can’t blame them.” He stretches his hands up over his head, “You not sleeping?

Tony jumps onto his feet, and closes the distance between them, “I’ll sleep when you do. How’s everything?”

“Okay.” Peter sighs, “Um, midwives think it’s gonna be a long night.”

He moves and tucks his face against Tony’s chest, “How are you holding up?” Tony asks, with a laugh.

“I’m good.” Peter mutters, “I came to get…” He holds out a hand, and points to the vending machines, “Some water.”

“Oh.” Tony pats his back, “You wait here. I’ll get a few bottles.”

Peter came and left.

Tony is now more awake than ever. Everyone is still asleep. Even Happy - who came back in, promised Tony he’d stay awake, and then fell asleep within five minutes.

Tony paces around, muttering quietly under his breath as he rubs his hands together, nervously. Having children and being minutes away from being a grandfather has made him soft. He ended up taking Rhodey’s coffee cup out of his hands, saving him from that embarrassment.

A crash comes from outside the room.

Tony jumps out his skin, “Jesus.”

“Shit.” Peter curses, “Ow.” He stumbles into the room, almost pulling the door off its hinges, he nurses his wrist in his hand. He might be Spider-Man but he is constantly running into walls.

The room stirs. Ned sleepily leans up, “What…”

“Oh…” Peter holds onto the doorframe, “I’m gonna puke.”

Tony runs over. They’re here. The baby’s here, “You good?”

Peter catches his wrists, “It’s a boy.”

Tony’s eyes fill with tears, and he smiles. A boy.

The room erupts in excited mumbles and celebrations.

“I knew it!” Morgan shouts. Suddenly wide awake. She drums her hands against Ned’s arm, “I told you.”

“A boy?” Tony sniffles, “That’s…”

Peter pulls on his arm, “Come on.” He guides him out, down the corridor, and into a room.

Michelle is sat up, cradling her son. Tony can’t see his face, it’s covered by her hand. He’s wearing the small knitted Spider-Man hat that Rhodey bought. May is in the chair, watching them with misty-eyes.

“Hey.” Tony coos quietly.

Michelle looks up, she smiles, “Hey, Stark.”

Tony darts his eyes between Michelle and Peter. He stops, to focus on the baby.

The last few months feel like a dream. Like it wasn’t real. It is now.

Peter pushes him forward, and they approach the side of the bed.

Tony leans over to see. His grandson is perfect. He looks like both Peter and Michelle, but he has Peter’s eyes without a doubt. Tony would know those puppy dog eyes anywhere.

“Wow.” Tony grins, “Can’t believe you two managed to pull this off.”

Peter crosses his arms, “Shut up.”

“You can talk, Tiger….” Michelle mocks, “You threw up.”

Tony turns on his heel, Peter holds his hands up in the air, “What…”

“You’re never gonna live that down,” Tony tells him.

“Never,” May giggles.

“Hey, Stark...” Michelle moves, “You wanna hold him?”

Tony’s heart flutters, “Of course.” He crouches down, with Michelle’s help he guides his grandson into his arms.

He’s awake but isn’t crying. His big brown eyes dart around. Taking everything in that they can.

Tony bounces him, “Hey…”

Peter holds out a finger, his son grasps it, “Benjamin.”

Tony looks at May, with glazed eyes. She smiles.

“Hey there, Ben.” Tony bops his nose, “I’m your Nonno.”

Everything clouds Tony’s mind.

A series of ‘what ifs ’ and ‘buts .’

Thanos took Peter away. Michelle and May too. They were gone, for five long years. It could have gone differently. Ben wouldn’t exist if Tony hadn’t discovered time travel when he did. So many little things happened to make this day a possibility. Tony’s only just met Ben and the world would be an empty place without him.

Ben notices Tony’s bright red prosthetic arm, he stares at it with wide curious eyes. Tony chuckles.

This is his life. He loves it and he wouldn’t change a thing, “Welcome to the world, kid.”

Shortly after everyone met Ben, Michelle fell asleep.

Peter took Ben onto the balcony, to see the outside world.

Tony steps out and tip-toes over, “Hey, Pete.” Ben is fast asleep, curled against his dad’s chest, “Well done, you’re a natural.”

“Yeah?”

“Morgan hardly slept...” Tony snorts, “We had to hold her under the fan in the kitchen.”

Peter grins, “If Ben’s anything like I was...he’ll sleep most of the time.”

“Like you were?” Tony raises an eyebrow, “You still do. You’re either out there being Spider-Man or sleeping on the couch.”

“That’s an exaggeration.”

Tony shakes his head, “It really isn’t.”

Peter laughs. It fades. He studies Ben, fear etches over his face.

His life is different now. A good different but Tony knows how scary that can be.

Tony plants a kiss on Peter’s temple, “You’ve got this sorted, kid.”

Peter’s mouth twist into a smirk, he looks at Tony with narrowed eyes, “Kid?” He chuckles, he motions his head towards Ben.

Tony rolls his eyes, “I’m not letting it drop, kid. ”

“Okay, okay...” Peter rubs a thumb across Ben’s cheek as he carefully bounces him.

“You’ll always be my kid.”

Peter leans his head against Tony’s shoulder, “I know.”

#tony stark #peter parker #irondad & spideyson #irondad #spideychelle #michelle jones #irondad fanfiction #peter and tony #peter x michelle #tony and mj's dymanic was my favourite to write! #irondad fic exchange

[ghosthunthq]

Familiarity

For: @samantha-girlscout

From: @frenchcirce

The lovely Sam asked for something fun and fluffy, if possible about minor characters. I hope I won’t disappoint with this little story about a blooming friendship (or more hehehe). I’m rusty and it shows, but I did my best!

“Welcome to Shibuya Psychic Research… Oh Masako! What a surprise, we were not expecting you!”

Masako watched with hidden amusement Mai’s expression change from her perfunctory professional smile to wide, surprised eyes to a happy welcoming grin in less than two seconds.

The girl really was an open book.

“Good evening,” she greeted back in cool politeness, eyeing intently the door Mai was still holding half-closed. “May I come in?”

“Ah sorry, of course!”

Mai had the decency to look ashamed while opening the door in full and making way for Masako to step in.

“But what brings you here exactly?” Mai asked with furrowed brows. “Because if you’re here to see Naru–”

Masako shot her an annoyed glance. Was that a proper way to welcome visitors?

“What do you think I came for?” she interrupted, determined to mirror Mai’s level of rudeness. “Work of course.”

“Ah, but–”

Masako ignored Mai to greet Yasuhara, who was coming back to his desk with several folders in hand. He stopped and saluted politely, and Masako shot Mai a significant glance. At least someone here had manners.

“Yasuhara-san. Good evening.”

“Hara-san,” the young man answered.

“Hara-san,” echoed a sharp voice behind her.

Naru.

Masako smiled despite herself. She turned to greet him back, but Naru passed her without stopping, his features set in this focused look he only sported when he was absorbed with this work.

“Mai, get ready, we should be on our way already.”

The smile on her lips fell as suddenly as it had appeared, and Masako thought it wiser to hide her treacherous mouth behind her kimono sleeve.

She regretted stopping by the office already. It was obvious Naru had other plans and would only see her presence as a bother.

“Geez Naru, we’re not even a minute late!” Mai scolded.

Naru put his coat on with a little more determination than necessary and glared at his assistant. Mai didn’t flinch, too used to being the aim of his death stares.

“Plus Masako is here for a case, it may be important, you know?”

That made Naru pause.

Mai let out a triumphant huff and Masako tried to ignore the pang of disappointment in her stomach.

Work. Of course. She only existed in his eyes through work..

“Is it an urgent matter, Hara-san?”

Even the way he was addressing her was ever mindful of putting a respectable distance between them. The very professional Hara-san.

She despised the honorifics in his mouth.

Masako bit her lip, tempted to lie and say the case needed his immediate attention. But the bitter reminder that deceiving Naru had proven to be a poor choice, always, made her reconsider.

She shook her head. “No, it can wait.”

The flicker of interest in Naru’s gaze died immediately and Masako could only watch him forget her presence altogether. He went back to glaring at Mai who took too long to get ready, and Mai, of course, was glaring right back at him while haphazardly throwing things into her purse and berating him for his lack of manners.

The situation was nothing out of the ordinary, really. If anything it should have been comical, the way those two were arguing. But Masako caught herself clenching her jaw.

Surprised by the surge of jealousy she forced her muscles to relax, grateful for the secrecy her sleeve was providing.

She had thought she was over it, over him.

Yet the intimate, almost fond way Naru called Mai, just Mai, had made her yearn for the level of closeness those two were sharing.

Why couldn’t she just be Masako?

Masako willed herself to smother the embers of longing in her heart. It was just a stupid name, it was no reason to feel inadequate and lonely. She knew where Naru’s affections lay, and she had made peace with the situation a long time ago.

She couldn’t let herself get troubled over this.

She schooled her features and allowed her sleeve to drop, revealing her best neutral expression. Thankfully Mai and Naru were too busy bickering to notice her discomfort.

She took a steadying breath, her mind racing to find a dignified way to make her exit. Whatever she had to say about her case could wait until she recovered.

“I see my timing is most inconvenient,” she started, satisfied by the firmness of her voice. “Maybe–”

“On the contrary, your timing is perfect Hara-san.”

Masako bristled, startled. Yasuhara. She had almost forgotten his presence.

“I was about to have a cup of tea and some company would be appreciated, if you don’t mind staying.”

Masako turned her head slowly to face him, slightly panicking.

Did he notice her little display of jealousy?

She found him smiling politely like usual, his penetrative gaze unreadable behind his spectacles.She narrowed her eyes, trying to gauge his intentions.

His intervention did spare her the embarrassment of leaving like the unwanted guest she was, but Yasuhara was known for having his own agenda. What exactly did he want her for?

She hesitated a moment, but the option he was offering was less mortifying than being shooed out so she gave her assent with a graceful nod.

“That would be my pleasure,” she muttered

Yasuhara grinned widely, his gaze leaving her for Mai. Who had stopped putting her coat on to look between Yasuhara and Masako, an insufferable knowing smirk blooming onto her lips. Masako refrained an exasperated roll of her eyes. For someone supposedly so instinctive her friend could be quite oblivious.

“I’ll let you enjoy some quality time together, you lucky ones–” Mai smiled, the teasing light in her eyes soon disappearing as she remembered the actual reason why she was heading out “–while I do Naru’s biding. Can you believe it? He is using me as his henchman to carry his heavy stuff!”

“And I pay you for it, so you have no ground for complaining,” the young man tersely countered, his hand tapping the door handle impatiently.

Mai stuck out her tongue at him but obediently followed nonetheless when he kept the door open for her.

“Yeah, yeah I know. See you later guys! ” she waved.

“Yasuhara, you can close the office when you’re finished, I won’t come back.”

“Understood boss. See you tomorrow, Taniyama-san!”

After a brief nod en lieu of a goodbye Naru shut the door, leaving Masako alone with Yasuhara in a silent office.

Masako realized with a start it was the first time she had to deal with Yasuhara without Mai or the SPR extras around. It was somehow unnerving.

The awkward atmosphere drew for a few moments before Yasuhara dispelled it with a practiced host smile.

“Please take a seat Hara-san. I’ll be back immediately.”

He then disappeared in the little kitchen, the sound of of clattering cups soon filling the void Mai’s chatter had left.

Masako let herself drop on the nearest sofa with a tired sigh.  

She shouldn’t have come.

It had been a mistake using this case as an excuse to see Naru. She should have just called, but she had been looking forward to chatting with Mai, too.

Mai. If only she hadn’t shown this stupidly genuine smile when she had recognized her at the door. If only she could hate Mai and blame her for the heartache.

Of course she couldn’t.

Because of the happy way she called her Masako. That was what had started their friendship, the unaffected way Mai was treating her, calling her by her first name. Like she had done with Naru.

“If only she wasn’t so familiar,” she sighed out loud.

“I suppose you’re talking about Taniyama-san?”

Masako almost gasped. How come she hadn’t heard Yasuhara approaching? She was starting to believe he was making a point catching her off guard.

The young man was standing right in front of her, a tray in hand and a slightly amused smile on the lips. He didn’t wait for her to confirm and carefully put their two mugs on the table.

“Speaking of whom, she’s the one who made the tea, so it is safe drinking.”

Masako took the cup wordlessly, trying to hide her blush with the motion. She hoped he hadn’t hear the resentment in her voice.

“She does act too familiar,” she defended meekly.

Yasuhara sat on the couch, putting the empty tray next to him.

“It is what makes her so easy to befriend–”

Or to love, Masako thought wryly. But didn’t dare say it out loud.

“–Let’s say that’s part of her charm.”

Yasuhara’s voice was even and light, but Masako could swear there was something in the undertone. Something deeper and darker.

It was as if…

Oh. Oh.

She put her cup back on the table, her full attention now on him. It was time to ask about something that had bothered her for quite some time, and to confirm her little theory.

“Is that why you keep calling her by her family name? To avoid falling pry to her charm?”

The question was asked in a mundane manner, but the atmosphere shifted as soon as the words left her mouth.

She watched Yasuhara’s reaction closely. His easy going smile tightened and his back straightened imperceptibly in a rare display of discomfort.

Touché.

He recovered at an impressive speed though, flashing a playful grin.

“Would you believe it if I told you it is out of pure politeness?”

Masako arched doubtful eyebrows.

“No.”

The unexpected bluntness of the answer had Yasuhara laughing out loud. He sighed in mock defeat and looked at Masako with something akin to appreciation.

“I figured.”

Masako should have felt relieved. She had the upper hand in their conversation since she had confirmed what she suspected about Yasuhara’s inclinations. However it was sympathy instead of triumph that was creeping into her chest.

Funny how sharing a similar pain could make you feel closer to someone.

In the meanwhile Yasuhara had engrossed himself in the thoughtful contemplation of his mug. It was the one Mai, Ayako and Masako had bought him right before Naru had left.

“You know,” he mused with a half-smile, “you’re the first one to ever ask.”

His gaze was unexpectedly honest behind his glasses, and Masako’s scruples about having wrangled this secret out of him vanished at the sight. How lonely must he have been, bearing the weight of his feelings by himself?

“That doesn’t surprise me,” she said softly, ‘they’re all idiots.”

That earned a chuckle from Yasuhara, and his lips turned into a boyish grin which spoke of mischief.

“How dare you call big boss an idiot!”

Masako couldn’t help a laugh at the mock offence. If felt good to make fun of Naru after this disastrous evening.

“He deserves it,” she huffed. “He and Mai are two peas in a pod in that regard.”

The memory of Mai teasing them about having tea together had Masako wrinkle her nose in distaste. There should be a limit to obliviousness! Poor Yasuhara.

“And the rest of them are no better,” she resumed after a thoughtful pause, “You never denied you liked Mai but you never made any fuss about it, so people just assumed your feelings weren’t deep. That was actually a really clever way to hide it, provided you didn’t give her special treatment calling her Taniyama-san, of course.”

Yasuhara raised falsely scandalized eyebrows.

“That’s a flawed argument, I call you Hara-san too.”

Masako pressed her lips together in displeasure. Everyone was putting her at a distance with these stupid honorifics. It made her feel left out somehow.

“You do,” she admitted, ignoring the sting of the comment. “You give almost everyone else a nickname though, even your elders. As you junior and your closest colleague it would be normal you called Mai by her given name. Especially since everyone but you does.”

Yasuhara put his hands up in surrender.

“I can’t hide anything from you, Hara-san. You’re far too observant.”

Masako shook her head, a wry smile on her mouth.

“No, I’m just another victim of Mai’s familiarity. I tried to keep my distance from her the same way. And now I call her Mai and can’t help thinking of her as a friend,” she grumbled. “How am I supposed to compete against someone like her?”

Yasuhara took a sip from his mug and leaned into the couch.

“You think you have it bad?” he asked in a joking tone. “I was doomed from the start! Having big boss as an opponent was terrible, he put my good looks and intellect to shame!”

Masako put her finger on her chin, falsely pensive.

“You’re right, I can at least console myself thinking I’m the more beautiful of the two. You don’t have such a luxury I’m afraid…”

Yasuhara made a face and clutched his heart as if mortally wounded.

“Hara-san, have some mercy!”

Masako couldn’t help but laugh at the theatrics. It reminded her of the Yoshimi’s case, when Yasuhara had raised everyone’s spirit just by joking with Bou-san. Making fun of himself for the sake of others.

“It’s better to admit the hard truth,” she deadpanned. “By the way,” her tone softened, “I owe you some thanks for today.”

A flash of understanding passed in Yasuhara’s gaze. Masako wondered if today’s scene had been painful for him, too.

The man really had a good heart, it was a shame he got it broken.

Did Mai even know what she was missing?

“Not at all. Actually, I’ve wanted to talk with you for quite a while. I never got the chance to ask before today, I figured it was now or never.”

“I-Is that so?”

Masako couldn’t determine if Yasuhara was trying to spare her feelings or if he was sincere, but she appreciated he made it look like he really wanted to get know her better. She had had enough of feeling unwanted for the day.

“Thank you for asking then.” She let a sincere, grateful smile brighten her lips. “I’m glad I stayed.”

Yasuhara’s eyes widened like he just realized something, and his own mouth split into a hearty grin before letting a hearty laugh out.

“I’m grateful you accepted my invitation,” he said. “I should have done this a lot earlier. It really cheered me up and I feel up to some competition after all,” he muttered.

He ignored Masako’s questioning stare and flashed his best charming smile.

“What about we do this again some other time Hara-san…”

He hesitated a second.

“Or do you mind if I call you Masako?”

Masako nodded wordlessly, ignoring the blush the use of her name was putting on her cheeks.

Masako.

A word that started a friendship.

And for some reason she didn’t mind the familiarity in his mouth.

#Ghost Hunt #GHW2019 #Masako Hara #Yasuhara Osamu #Oliver Davis #Mai Taniyama #Samantha-GirlScout #frenchcirce #submission

[taehyungiestummy]

Lucky -- Chapter Twenty

Masterlist     Previous      Next

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3418

         “It’s nice to be alone with my honey,” Hansung smiles as we sit down on a bench in the shade of a tree. “All the dance practices, and school like lessons, and eating, we are with our roommates.”

         “Hansung, we shower at the same time, so we are alone every day,” I shove his shoulder. “I could be reading right now, but I didn’t want you to be all pouty.”

         “How has sleeping with Jidwi been?” He looks up at the cloudless sky; fingers messing with any part of his clothes. “You’ve been sleeping straight through the nights by his side, so that must mean something.”

         I reach out, placing my hands on his to stop his fidgeting. “He’s fine. Gives me my space, makes sure I have enough blanket, doesn’t give kisses like you do, and there’s no cuddles. So, he’s fine, but he’s not you. I miss you.”

         Hansung looks down, a tender smile on his lips. “I miss you at night too. Sunwoo is nothing like you. I have to hold my pillow to my chest and pretend it’s you. It sucks, but I do what I can.”

         “Just power through it,” I lean closer to him. “I mean, once we graduate from Hwarang, you’re going to marry me as quickly as possible. It’s that right?”

         “You’re actually gonna let me marry you? After all the talk of not wanting to because of status, my grandfather, and whatever else. What changed you mind? Did you finally realize that I am the best for you?”

         “Why are you questioning it?” I pout, scrunching my eyebrows together. “Do you not want to marry me anymore? It’s oaky if you’ve changed your mind. I can ask my father to set me up with someone once we get out of here. The only reason he hasn’t is because I am content with being free to go on adventures. After this though, I don’t know how I will feel about adventures.”

         “No,” he cups my face in his hands. “No, no. My mind was made up years ago. You’re the one for me. I just, don’t want something to happen to me, and you’re left alone. It will be an adventure. Our life together will be an adventure.”

         “So, we’re okay?” I search his face for something that even I don’t know.

         “We are great,” he presses his lips to my nose. “Sorry if I freaked you out. You are still my favorite person, Ara.”

         “As are you,” I giggle, leaning away from Hansung. “I wonder what the other boys are doing.”

         “BanRyu was studying, Sooho won’t stop asking him for his memories. Jidwi is in bed feeling ill, Yeowool is off somewhere doing whatever it is he does to stay pretty. And Sunwoo was picking flowers last I saw him. Everyone has their own agenda for our break.”

         “It seems like it,” I nibble on my bottom lip. “Master Wihwa has been gone for some time now, and I miss him in a weird way. I can’t help but feel like something is happening that he doesn’t like. That something is going to be changing around here that will throw off the balance.”

         “He does what he can to keep the Hwarang safe.”

         “I don’t think it’s a matter of our safety,” I look over at the covered walkway. “More like, someone is going to disrupt our way of life here.”

         In the next moment, I notice Ahro fast walking in our direction. She looks off in a way that I have rarely seen her.

         “You get feelings like this all the time,” Hansung places a hand on my thigh. “We’ll have to wait and see if you are right.”

         “Hold on,” I brush Hansung’s hand off me, standing up with a leap. “I’ll be right back, I have to check on Ahro,” I glance down at my favorite person before rushing off to Ahro’s side.

         From a distance, her eyes look puffy as if she was crying just moments ago. The closer I get, the more that observation seems correct as I see the redness around her eyes. The fast pace of her walk like she wants to run away from whatever has broken her.

         “Ahro,” I call out, my hand resting on her shoulder.

         The two of us stop walking, facing one another in a second. Ahro’s tear stained cheeks breaking my heart.

         “Who did this to you?” I ball my free hand into a fist.

         Ahro shakes her head, wiping tears off her cheeks.

         “If it was Jidwi, I swear, he has another thing coming.” I set my jaw in anger. “No one does this to my best friend and gets away with it.”

         “No,” she chokes out. “Brother…lie…I just want to be alone,” she sniffles. “To figure everything out.”

         I take a deep breath to relax, “Don’t go too far. I am here to help when you get back, okay?”

         She nods, patting the hand I have on her shoulder. “Thank you.”

         “We’ll be okay. Tough girls are made to be pushed, and we have the energy to push back,” I tenderly smile.

         Ahro is rushing away in the next second, tears threatening to spill once again. Her strength to hold back the waterfall of tears slowly breaking.

         I shuffle back to Hansung, carefully sitting down between his legs.

         Ahro’s words echo in my mind as I try to piece together the little that she was able to get out to me. The fact that she couldn’t even stand to talk to me about it feels like a punch to the gut. She is hurt more than any other time that I have seen her.

         “Everything okay, honey?” Hansung wraps his arms around my middle, pulling me back into his chest.

         “No,” I sigh, closing my eyes to help process everything. “Not for Ahro, and the same is true for Sunwoo. Actually, that’s probably not even his name.”

         “What are you talking about?”

         “Ahro’s brother isn’t that boy who claims to be. There is something deeper going on, and Ahro is heartbroken. She doesn’t even know what she wants him to be. Brother or not, but either way, it will hurt her. I mean, they didn’t look anything alike, so it makes sense. But, how could she not trust him?”

         “Then who is he?”

         “Ahro couldn’t get anything out other than to tell me he was lying,” I wiggle into Hansung’s chest. “She’ll tell me when she is ready, so I just have to wait.”

         “What about Sunwoo? You could just ask him.”

         “I am going to give that boy the cold shoulder for a little while. It’s their drama, but I do hate that he hurt my best friend. She like him, wanted to be close to him, but he lied for whatever reason that we may never understand. I can’t believe this happening. This place is crazy.”

         “You need a nap,” Hansung runs a hand through my hair. “Just, relax, and know everything will work out. I am sure of that.”

         “Easy for you to say,” I barely smile. “You don’t have anything to worry about.”

         “Oh, I do, but I don’t let it run my life. Trust me, my life isn’t always big smiles and good memories. It all will work out in the end, though. You trust me, don’t you.”

         “Of course I trust you, Hansungie. I trust you more than anything.”

         “Then we can face this problem head on.”

         “At least Hwarang is helping us reach new heights.”

********

         I sigh, walking into the medical office as my feet are on fire. The chances of Ahro being here after how I saw her yesterday is small, but I’m sure that I can figure out what cream is used on my feet and apply it. The tricky part will be wrapping them back up as good as her, but I can always get Hansung to help me.

         “Ara, what brings you here?” Ahro spins around from her shelf of medical supplies.

         “I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” I mess with the ends of my sleeves. “I need cream for my feet, so that’s why I’m here.”

         “Sit down,” she motions at the cot in the room. “I’ll fix you right up.”

         “Are you okay?” I take as seat on the cot, slipping my boots off slowly as to reduce the pain that shoots through me like lightning. “The boys have been a bit off since you ran out. Well, just two of my new roommates, really. All of them are weird in their own way, so who am I to judge.”

         Ahro kneels in front of me, carefully removing the bandages. “How are you? Boy troubles calming down or staying the same?”

         “I think that Hansung and I are set, but it might just be because we are all happy from the thanksgiving dance we are practicing. Or the fact that I actually feel safe in welcomed since moving rooms. Either way, we have been acting way too close.” I hiss as the cream Ahro is rubbing on me hits a raw patch.

         “Sorry, sorry,” Ahro grimaces as she dabs at the area with a cloth. “Take a deep breath and try to focus on something else.”

         “Sooho won’t stop asking about his lost memories,” I take a deep breath to push the pain away. “Yeowool really likes being pretty with me, but I hate being like a doll. He can sit around fanning himself if he wants, but I like to go out and get a little dirty. Then BanRyu hasn’t been a complete ass. Sometimes I wonder what is going on in his head.”

         “I never thought I’d hear you say that,” she stands up, walking over to her shelf. “What about…” She trails off, but I know who she wants to bring up.

         “Jidwi and Sunwoo? Both seem distant. Jidwi seems to be thinking of something or someone. I know a boy in love, and that might just be him. Then Sunwoo just seems sad. To top it off, something is off. A bad event is coming up, and I just want everyone to be okay.”

         “How do you know?” Ahro is back in front of me, expertly wrapping my feet back up. “Did you have a dream?”

         “No, not a dream. I just have a feeling,” I shrug. “Someone is going to disrupt life here, and then it may all go to hell.”

         “You don’t know who?” Ahro stands up once again, walking over to the shelf to put the bandages away.

         I slowly slip my feet into my boots. “All I get are feelings. I don’t know exactly what is going to happen. If I did, maybe then people would stop calling me lucky and respect me.”

         “Did you have a have a feeling,” she takes a shuddering breath, “that Sunwoo. That he wasn’t my brother?”

         I look up to see Ahro looking at me with tears welling up in her eyes. “You look nothing alike, and he didn’t know your mother was mute, so, it wasn’t much of a feeling, really. More of a looking at the facts.”

         “Of course,” she forcefully shakes her head. “I’m such an idiot.”

         “Ahro, you know that’s not true. There must be a reason. One you can’t understand at this time. Hansung told me that worrying will get you nowhere, and you just have to let it all work out. It will all work out in the end. At least, that is what he thinks.”

         “Why would he lie? He played with my emotions! I like him, and wanted to believe my brother was back to cheer me up. But that was not worth some boy lying to me!”

         “I know, I know,” I stand up, taking a step towards my friend. “But, he was doing his best. He really cares for you, and he’s beating himself up over hurting you. All he’s ever wanted to do is protect you. Even if those feelings just started, that is his main goal right now.”

         Ahro breaks our gaze, tears rolling down her cheeks. “Jidwi is trying to make a move, and at least I know he’s not lying to me. Or maybe he is. How can I trust anyone?”

         “Don’t do anything rash,” I run a few fingers through my hair. “Both of us need to think everything through so we don’t make a big decision with our emotions. You can always trust me, I promise you.”

         “Do your feet feel okay?” Ahro looks up; the conversation from moments ago now dropped.

         “Much better, thank you,” I slightly smile, shifting around on my feet. “I’ll see you around, Ahro. If you need me, just come and find me. I’m always here. Kind of against my will, but here nonetheless.”

         Her mouth twitches with the hint of a smile, “I know. Just, right now, I need some time alone to think. To think about what was just said. To trust that you know what you are talking about.”

         I nod, words will no longer be of help. Then I turn on my heel and exit the way I came.

         Oh Ahro, my friend through thick and thin. This isn’t the same grief as losing your mother. That we could prove as fact, and I was there with you through that healing process. I never had a mother, so I felt like a piece of me had broken when she left as well. I felt like nothing could be any worse. Then we grew up. I felt the pain of having to push away feelings for the only boy who understands me, and you always had the hope that your only brother was out there somewhere and that he would come back. That your family would be pieced back together. Now, it seems like even more cracks have appeared, and that must hurt more than anything else. I can only say that I understand pain, but I will never understand this pain. I am so sorry, Ahro. What did either of us do to deserve this?

********

         “Whoa,” Hansung’s eyes widen as the Princess of Silla walks onto the balcony across from the one that Sooho, Yeowool, Hansung, and I are relaxing on.

         I roll my eyes, fanning myself with Yeowool’s hand fan. I may hate the title of Hwarang Princess, but I will defend my title against anyone who thinks they can dismiss it.

         Princess Sookmyung, the complete opposite of me. Her long dark brown hair lies flat, held up by a royal clip. The pools of her eyes a solid brown, and her smooth skin makes her look more like a doll. She’s thin, as she was sent away because of some illness, and hasn’t done much in years. She was trained like a knight, but I doubt she’ll ever use her training. Her husband is the only thing for sure in her life, even if it’s to her brother, the faceless king. In some regards, I pity her.

         “I’ve never seen a princess before,” Hansung has a look of awe on his face as he turns to look Yeowool and my way.

         “Hurt,” I scoff.

         “You’re a different princess,” Yeowool runs his index finger over my cheek.

         “Why is she here?” Sooho asks, no longer looking out at the princess.

         “To ruin my only girl thing here,” I grumble, tossing the fan at Yeowool.

         “Yeowool chuckles, “Oh Ara, no need to be jealous. She’s here to be wed, of course.”

         Hansung and Sooho’s faces fall into looks of confusion as they look back at the princess.

         “She is at the perfect age for marriage.”

          “Great,” I sigh as I see how much attention Hansung is giving the royal girl. A pang of hurt shooting through my heart. “Why else would the doll come to the Hwarang house? Ruining my life.”

         “It is filled with top, eligible, young masters,” Yeowool pats my shoulder in comfort. “She’s looking for a spouse.”

         “Her mother probably wants her to marry the king, to keep bone states and whatnot,” I bite my bottom lip. “I hate it. I hate the cursed system.”

         “She is not my type,” Sooho folds his arms over his stomach, looking back at us.

         “And your type is me?” I tease, seeing Hansung whip around to look at us again. “Flattery won’t cheer me up.”

         “The Hwarang Princess,” Hansung winks at me. “Better than the one born royal.”

         “Of course you’re my type, Ara,” Sooho tenderly smiles. “A special girl in this sea of boys, and different than that princess. She’s not like her mother at all. Why is a woman so cold? She does not smile.”

         “She has no reason to be cold with the life she was born into,” I can feel my face tighten in anger.

         “What are you even talking about, Sooho?” Yeowool confusingly looks at the boy.

         “Her mother is colder, is she not?” Hansung’s eyebrows are knit together.

         “She’s the devil,” I apologetically shrug at Sooho. “Sorry, but my life has been hell because of bone rank and such. If they would just do away if that ruined system, everyone’s life would be so much freer.”

         “No need to worry about it,” Sooho waves my words of hatred off.

         “I am jealous of her outfit,” I shake my head. “Stupid, I know, but I like how it’s a brighter version of ours in a way. Not quite, but close to it. And, of course, it’s a dress.”

         “Do you think she’ll want to talk to you?” Hansung has perked up.

         “She’ll probably want to dual Ara for top spot as female,” Yeowool picks up his fan to use. “Both beautiful in their own way, and talented with weapons.”

         “Thank you, Yeowool,” I slightly smile, leaning into the pretty boy. “I’d rather not take down the princess though.”

         “Confident that you’d be able t beat her in a sword fight?” Sooho grins.

         “I’m good at sword wielding, archery, and knives,” I catch the princess walking away from the balcony. “You boys don’t know how good I am. Mainly because you never let me show you.”

         “I know,” Hansung sits up straighter. “I’ve been on adventures with you.”

         “Is that code for something?” Yeowool fans my face.

         I shove off the boy, a chuckle bursting past my lips. “No, not at all. It’s just the word I use to say I’m going out and exploring. Hansungie has accompanied me many times. He’s also had to carry me back home several times after I hurt myself.”

         “That’s cute,” Sooho tenderly smiles. “Why can’t a date with me be an adventure?”

         “Because she’s-” Hansung starts before I cut him off.

         “I don’t want to ruin our friendship,” I stand up, reaching for the sky to stretch my back. “It’s all for the best, as we are both in Hwarang.”

         “She’s smart, don’t forget it,” Yeowool pokes my side with his fan.

         I swat at the fan. “That’s what happens when you are stuck inside for years. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go write a letter to my father, and clear my head. Too much is happening in a short time, and it’s not going to slow down.”

         “This was your feelings,” Hansung points at me.

         “Feeling?” Sooho curiously looks at me. “What does that mean?”

         I shrug, “I just had a feeling that something was going to change around here, and those feelings have never been about something good. Then, the princess shows up for no reason, and I can only assume that life here is going to get a little crazy until she leaves. If she ever leaves,” I place a hand on my hip. “There were things happening that I thought of strange, so it’s not like my feeling wasn’t base on some sort of fact.”

         “Life around here isn’t easy, anyways,” Yeowool says.

         “I agree,” Hansung lets out breath.

         “All you boys know is easy,” I chuckle. “We have barely done anything yet, other than the chores, and you already make it seem like we have been here for years.”

         “Ara’s right,” Sooho places his hands on his knees as he leans forward. “We need to pull ourselves together and be ready for whatever comes our way.”

         “Her feeling already came true, though,” Yeowool rolls his eyes. “The princess showed up.”

         “She hasn’t done anything yet,” I turn on my heel. “I’ll see you boys later than. Don’t do anything stupid without me!”

**** ++++ **** ++++ **** ++++ **** ++++ **** 

Hope you enjoyed reading! A bit of a filler chapter, but there were still a lot of important things said! There may be another chapter before the end of the month, but we’ll see! Please, as always, let me know what you thought!

#Hwarang fanfcition #Hwarang imagine #Hwarang x OC #Hwarang #Hansung x OC #Hansung imagine #Sooho x OC #Sooho imagine #Yeowool x OC #Yeowool imagine #Sunwoo x OC #Sunwoo imagine #Sammaekjong x OC #Sammaekjong imagine #My OC

[omgkatsudonplease]

Are you open to more YP!LWJ requests? Found it in AO3 and you’re amazing! Can we read about LXC and JC meeting LWJ especially if he’s with the newly reincarnated!WWX. Also what happened to LWR? Is he LJY’s GREAT UNCLE??? Thanks so much for writing this verse 💕

thank you!! lqr actually got killed, which is why lxc is so intent on catching lwj – so he can face justice for (allegedly) killing lqr.

“Lanling! I haven’t been here in a while!” declares Wei Wuxian as their boat pulls up to the dock leading up to Koi Towers. Next to him, Lan Wangji sits stiffly in his purple Yunmeng Jiang robes, his long hair pulled into a severe half-bun.

“You haven’t been to most places in a while,” Jiang Cheng remarks, as the juniors jump out of the boat to help moor it to the dock. They all pile out after them, just in time to be greeted by Jiang Yanli standing on the banks underneath a gilded canopy. Her hair is crafted into the latest fashionable style in Lanling, and her robes are a delicate mix of Yunmeng purple and Lanling gold. She is every bit the immaculate Regent Sect Leader, an vision of untouchability.

Wei Wuxian rushes into her embrace easily. “Shijie!” he shouts, spinning her around in delighted circles. “It’s been forever! I missed you!”

“Did you really?” Jiang Yanli remarks, a little drily. “You were dead, remember.”

“I could miss you while dead, too,” Wei Wuxian retorts, pouting. Quickly remembering his manners, he lets her go and kneels before her. Next to him, Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes before bowing to his sister.

“Jie, good to see you again,” he says. Jiang Yanli nods, before gesturing for them to follow her back to the palace. The servants scramble to maintain the canopy above her head as she walks.

Jin Rulan joins her by her side, still looking pale from his ordeal in Yunmeng. “Did you find anything out about the body parts, A-Ling?” Jiang Yanli asks.

Jin Rulan startles, looking back at Wei Wuxian with wide eyes. Jiang Cheng shakes his head, making a throat-slicing gesture. Jin Rulan pales further.

“N-nothing,” he manages. “We’re, uh, working on it.”

“Poor soul,” says Jiang Yanli. “His family must be so worried.”

“His?” asks Wei Wuxian.

Jiang Yanli shrugs. “I hesitate to consider the possibility of it being otherwise,” she replies.

Wei Wuxian has to admit, she has a point. Women being found in pieces tend to lead to much more hysteria among the people.

They mount the steps leading up to Koi Towers, where Jin Guangyao, his shijie’s brother-in-law and right hand man, greets them with a broad smile. “Refreshments are ready in the foyer,” he says, bowing to them. “Welcome back to Lanling, Sect Leader Jiang, Senior Wei. It is an honour to see the reunited Twin Heroes of Yunmeng here again.”

“The honour is ours,” says Jiang Cheng, as servants hand them all cups of tea and carry out platters of snacks. The juniors pile their plates with nuts and seeds before running off to Jin Rulan’s room. Wei Wuxian watches them go, before he notices that the hall had gone a little silent.

Turning back, he sees that Jin Guangyao is staring incredulously at Lan Wangji, as if trying to parse out who he might be in that database of faces he keeps in his head. “This is Jiang Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says immediately, slinging an arm around Lan Wangji’s shoulders. “He’s my guest.”

“Your guest,” echoes Jin Guangyao. “I had no idea there was such a Yunmeng disciple as Jiang Zhan.”

“He’s pretty new,” replies Wei Wuxian, clapping Lan Wangji on the back. “But he has so much potential. We brought him here so he could experience some new cultures.”

Jin Guangyao hums thoughtfully, but makes more comment on it as he helps the servants refill the teacups.

The other guests begin to pour in later on as the day progresses. Wei Wuxian keeps an eye out for a familiar glimpse of white headbands and whiter robes, but the delegation from Gusu seem to be absent entirely.

“Do you think they’ll come?” he asks Jiang Cheng, who shrugs as well.

“Pretty sure Sect Leader Lan accepted the invitation, but who knows.” Jiang Cheng cranes his head, peering through the crowd. “Maybe Jingyi managed to get a message to him.”

“I kept an eye on him and I’m pretty sure he hasn’t sent any word to Gusu,” says Wei Wuxian. “And even if he had, wouldn’t that encourage Lan Xichen to show up?”

“We thought punctuality was a Lan trait, and yet here we are,” replies Jiang Cheng, folding his hands behind his back as he smiles and nods at some passing maidens. Wei Wuxian rolls his eyes, before turning back to where Lan Wangji is standing slightly off to the side, looking extremely awkward in his purple robes.

“Think I did a good job?” Wei Wuxian wonders, gesturing to Lan Wangji’s ensemble. Jiang Cheng snorts.

“Could’ve been worse,” he replies. “At least he looks somewhat like a disciple.”

“Ye of little faith,” sighs Wei Wuxian. “Does shijie know about our little ruse?”

“You didn’t tell her?” wonders Jiang Cheng.

“I thought --” begins Wei Wuxian, but then cuts off immediately at Jiang Cheng’s unamused eyebrow. “Right. Well. I better mention something, then.”

He starts walking away, searching through the crowd for his shijie. However, because he isn’t watching his step, he immediately bumps into someone.

“Oh heavens, please excuse --” the apology withers on his lips when he sees white robes, embroidered in Gusu Lan cloud blue. He looks up, and the steely gaze of Lan Xichen bears down on him in reply. “Sect Leader Lan,” he remarks.

“Wei Wuxian,” replies Lan Xichen, his smile a dagger all on its own. “We meet again.”

“I thought you’d never show,” admits Wei Wuxian, rubbing the nape of his neck. “The road wasn’t too weary for you, I hope? You look tired.”

“Thank you, but it was uneventful,” replies Lan Xichen sunnily. “My congratulations for returning from the dead, by the way. A remarkable feat.”

Wei Wuxian bows. “The idea was someone else’s,” he replies.

“And to have the body of someone not too dissimilar from your own,” continues Lan Xichen, thoughtfully. “Almost serendipitous, I would imagine.”

“Perhaps,” replies Wei Wuxian. “But again, the idea was someone else’s.”

“I can imagine.” Lan Xichen’s voice turns flat. “I am under the impression my brother is in attendance tonight.”

So Jingyi did mention something. Wei Wuxian has half a mind to make the boy copy some lines upside-down, Gusu-style.

“Have you had any success in finding him?” asks Wei Wuxian, even as a familiar hand comes to tug at his sleeve.

“Senior Wei,” mumbles Lan Wangji, playing to the script Wei Wuxian had jotted down for him, “I find I am in need of some assistance --”

“Wangji.” Lan Xichen’s eyes harden immediately. Wei Wuxian looks at him in mock alarm.

“Wangji? Who are you calling Wangji?” he demands, even as Lan Wangji startles at the sight of Lan Xichen’s scowl. “This is Jiang Zhan, my new disciple.”

“Wei Wuxian, I cannot believe you’d think I would forget how my brother looks,” snaps Lan Xichen. “Even after all these years, he still has not quite remembered how to portray anything besides bored disdain on his that pretty face of his.”

“He’s not the only person who forgets that,” Wei Wuxian insists. “Plenty of people forget to smile whilst in public. It doesn’t make all of them your brother.”

“Perhaps not, but your friend does bear a remarkable resemblance,” retorts Lan Xichen. Wei Wuxian is distinctly aware of Lan Wangji’s hands shaking against his arm. “You have allowed your feelings for my brother to cloud you from the wrongs he has committed. Eyes so blinded cannot mete justice.”

“Justice should not serve only the agenda of the powerful,” retorts Wei Wuxian.

“How can you be so sympathetic to the man who murdered you?” demands Lan Xichen, his brows furrowing. Wei Wuxian opens his mouth to reply, but is stalled by a firm grasp against his wrist.

“My apologies,” says Lan Wangji coolly, “but I must borrow Senior Wei for this urgent matter. Please excuse us, Sect Leader Lan.”

“Wangji,” hisses Lan Xichen. “When will your madness end? When will you return to Gusu?”

Lan Wangji looks him dead in the eye. “I do not understand to whom you are referring,” he says coldly, before spinning on his heels and dragging Wei Wuxian out of the room.

Once in the hallway, Wei Wuxian opens his mouth, but Lan Wangji immediately holds up a finger to silence him.

“I am returning to our room,” he says. “I find I cannot... continue this further.”

“I’m sorry,” Wei Wuxian mumbles, hanging his head. “I had thought --”

“Not all wounds can be healed so quickly,” replies Lan Wangji, before taking Wei Wuxian’s hand and kissing it. “You know where to find me.”

Wei Wuxian watches him vanish into the shadows with a lump heavy in his throat.

#魔道祖师 #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #yiling patriarch lwj au #lily's dabbles #red envelope ficlets #anonymous #ask

[ruensroad]

DickTiger | Witch!AU

I’ve been horribly out of practice with writing lately and I’m hopping on my old OTP’s for some inspiration. I adore these two and I’m glad to see they’ve got a following. :)

HAPPY VALENTINES <3

Under the cut, babes!

Tiger is just closing shop when Dick Grayson walks into his store. It’s not an earth-shattering moment, or anything out of the ordinary, even if the man is the sort of beautiful that makes him double take. But there’s something about the way his heart seems to stutter that makes him pause and take notice.

Dick is in a jacket and jeans, a gray tee-shirt with BPD printed on the front, and Tiger takes in his bright eyes and darker skin in a preliminary assessment of ethnicity, which lends greatly to magic. And he has no doubt Dick has magic. It’s muted and small, not a large gift, but still there, brightening his soul, until Dick is quite possibly the brightest thing in his whole shop.

He slowly puts down his broom and ignores the all too knowing gazes of his familiars from where they’re lazing in the last remnants of sunlight on the floor to greet him.

“Maakhaam mo pa kheyr,” he says in welcome. “How may I help you?”

“Helena sent me,” is the first thing Dick says, all smiles and laughing eyes. “She says you’re the best.”

“I am,” Tiger tells him and it’s not even a boast. He knows his strengths and what his magic can do, and depending on what is needed, he truly is the best at healing magic this side of Bludhaven.

His serious tone only gets him a chuckle as Dick’s blue, blue gaze flickers this way and that, taking in all the odds and ends of his magic shop. After a moment, his eyes alight on Tiger again and only get more excited, like Tiger is just as wondrous as the rest of it.

Tiger raises an eyebrow at that, waiting, and Dick laughs, realizing that he’s been staring, and begins to explain, “Sorry, I need -”

“I know what you need,” Tiger cuts him off and takes his hand, not quite realizing it sounds like some pick up line until both his black cats huff in their signature laughs and Dick’s cheeks turn scarlet. Undeterred, Tiger just cups the man’s fingers, as though to raise them to his lips, and reaches out with his magic. A playful, curious energy touches his in return and Tiger draws it in, parsing through what all it tells him. After a moment of quiet, he has the answers he needs.

“You’re looking for love,” he says dryly, gently letting Dick’s fingers slide away from his own. “Richard John Grayson, age twenty-four, police officer, innate Romani magic. You go by Dick,” he adds with a bit of a furrowed brow. “Though I’m not sure why you would shorten a great name. Powerful ruler, if my translation is correct.”

Dick breaths out slow and deep, as though he’d been holding it in. “Well, fuck,” he whispers, cheeks still rosy, and touches the Sara e Kali pendant dangling from his neck, “that was sexy.”

Tiger snorts at that. “You’re also an idiot,” he says, more lightly, and silently enjoys the pout he gets. “I do not do ‘love spells’ here,” he continues, getting to business before those lips drive him to distraction. “I do not believe in influencing anyone against their will with my abilities. I can, however, offer a scrying, or a calming stone to settle you.”

Dick nods quickly. “I don’t want any love spell,” he promises. “I’m lonely, but not that lonely.” He makes a disgusted face as though to further his view on the matter. “Helena said you offer some… hm, reassurance? That’s how she put it, I’m not sure what she meant.”

“I can do that,” Tiger nods, knowing what Helena must’ve been getting at, though her angling is becoming clear to him now. Sure, she may have sent Dick here with that as a true motive, but she’s also a terrible matchmaker and he can’t deny Dick Grayson appeals to him in all the ways he is cautious to allow, and he knows, from that touch, that the attraction is mutual. And since Helena always has a double agenda...

Remind me to send Helena a long message when this is over, he tells his familiars, who just huff their little cat laughs again. He sighs and gestures Dick to follow him to a side room.

Dick goes happily enough, taking in everything with the delight of a child at the North Pole, perhaps, or in a candy store. “Your shop is amazing.”

“Thank you,” Tiger says and waves a hand over a locked box that clicks open once it feels his magic. Inside lay a pile of earthen stones and gems and he takes Dick’s hand again, drawing the man’s magic into himself before feeling through the rocks and setting a few aside. As he goes, he tells Dick what they are, and why his magic is calling for them. Abalone, for protection and healing; Amethyst, for calmness and soothing; Carnelian, for confidence; Labradorite to enhance magic and curiosity.

He puts them in a small velvet bag and hands them over, pleased to see, if only in some dark corner of himself he can allow to be pleased, that Dick is blushing again from where their hands are touching. There’s something… electric about touching the man, and Tiger indulges in further contact just long enough to explain the way to meditate with each stone before letting go. Or at least, he tries to, but then he feels Dick’s fingers squeeze his and their eyes meet and his magic sings and he finds he just can’t muster up the strength to let go just yet.

He hides the pure, naked need under a calm professional attitude, disguising it all as business. He leads Dick to his scrying pool, a basin of the purest spring water with two slowly swimming koi within, and starts tracing a finger through the water, focusing.

“You seek love,” he murmurs. “Let’s see if I can give you some reassurance that you are not alone.”

Dick makes a soft noise, but seems stunned quiet as Tiger pulls Dick’s magic into the water, like his body is a conduit from lightning bolt to ground. He certainly feels it, given the way the playful energy crackles through his veins. He’s never felt such a reaction before and nearly loses focus, only managing it with a stern thought: that whoever is in Dick’s future had better be worthy of him. The man is bisexual, he knows it through the magic, can feel his likes and dislikes, his needs and wants, where he falters, where he soars. He’s good man, Tiger can feel it, and hates the way his attraction only grows.

To say he’s surprised to see his own reflection in the scrying pool is a bit of an understatement. He blinks, tries again, then nearly splashes the vision he sees right out of existence, knowing that if he were less than what he was, he’d be blushing. Even so, his ears start to burn in warning and, with a thick swallow he forces himself to calmly wave the visage away. But even as it ripples out of focus, it still burns in his mind, and he can feel the phantom kisses already, an echo of Dick’s laugh in his ears, and wonders how he could possibly have this.

“What is it?” Dick asks, bringing him out of his reverie. They’re still holding hands and Dick’s magic is still dancing around his own and Tiger feels a little lost as he shakes his head in wonder.

“It would seem there is someone in your immediate future,” he tells him, and has to smile a little at the way Dick immediately perks up. “A man. A fellow witch.”

Dick takes this in with a glowing smile, his aura humming with energy. “Does he make me happy?” is what he asks, and Tiger nods, a bit dumbly, still seeing Dick’s luminesant grin in his mind’s eye.

Oh yes, he makes - will make - Dick Grayson very happy. How, he’s not so sure. He’s never really made anyone happy in such a way. He’d never been allowed to love the way his heart cries for. In Afghanistan, it was a death sentence to love another man. As a spy, love was a commodity that only complicated things beyond all reason. And though he’d left the spy life behind after the death of his partner, to focus on healing instead of killing, he’d been hesitant to touch that side of himself that he was born with, even though he was freely exploring his other Allah-given gifts.

He frowns, then sighs at himself. “He’s new to this,” warns Dick. “He’s… never allowed himself to love a man. Has never known the kind of love you crave. He will make you happy, but only if you work on him. Make him better. Be understanding and patient.”

“Of course,” Dick says as easy as breathing, as though there were no other way to do it, and Tiger feels his heart clench almost painfully as pure want grips him. Not a physical want, he’s felt that before. Easily remedied with meditation and training. But this… this is a bullet to the heart, shards of glass in his soul, but a good pain. A longing pain. One that, should it be lost, would be devastating.

Tiger breathes this in, breathes out. Forces himself to calm. Then he takes Dick’s hand and gives into the urge to kiss the young man’s fingers. He meets his eyes over the knuckles, smiling easily as Dick’s cheeks go back to dark red.

“Well then,” he says lowly, “it would seem I owe Helena one.”

Dick blinks, then his eyes widen, and the grin that overtakes his face is like being in freefall. Exhilarating and terrifying all at once.

“Really?” he asks, excited, gripping his bag of stones to his chest. “You and me?”

“Yes,” Tiger says, kissing those fingers again. His lips tingle as Dick’s magic dances over his skin. “If… well, if you’d want me.”

“Are you serious right now,” Dick huffs. “I mean, holy Adonis? Have you seen you. Yes! My magic has been going crazy since the moment you touched me and, honestly, if my heart keeps stopping you’re going to have to resurrect me.”

He’s laughing now and his eyes are practically crescents, his smile is so wide. “Please, be mine,” he says in a rush, fingers squeezing Tiger’s in a silent plea. “Especially if I make you happy as well.”

Tiger can’t deny that truth, remembering his own quiet, fond smile in the vision, and nods. “One day, yes.”

“Then yes,” Dick says, decided, and leans up to kiss Tiger’s bearded cheek. The tingles migrate from his lips to the spot and he shivers. “Can we get started on that ‘one day’ tonight?”

He looks so eager that there’s really nothing for it but to say yes. Within minutes, Dick’s talked him into his jacket and into dinner, and as Tiger leaves the store, arm in arm with a happily chattering witch, he looks back at his all-knowing cats, and sighs at their amused faces.

I’m still sending Helena a very long note, he tells them, which they huff at. But… remind me to send flowers along.

He can hear their laughter long into the night. But hearing Dick’s own laugh and settling into the awing knowledge that he has the power to make this man happy… well. It’s more than worth it.

#ruenwrites #i will go down with this ship #dicktiger #dick grayson #tiger king of kandahar #magic au #lays down and cries #i just love them so much #let them be married and happy

[azure7539arts]

Prompt Fill #2

For the 007 Games’s Bond Girls Day and prompt table 009, trope reversal, which can be found here.

► Other fills for the 009 Prompt Table: (1)

Warning: None. Other than a bit of sloppy humor and possible boredom ahead. And a slightly strange format.

-Short fill under the cut-

The day shines grey but clear, and Chef Eve Moneypenny is once again out to continue her mission of refreshing people's everyday meals with homemade dishes that are easy, quick to make, and packed with healthy nutrition. However, this time, she is much, much closer to home.

Chef Moneypenny, how are you feeling?

"Oh, I'm feeling great," Eve says, smiling brightly as she continues her brisk walk down the road, the asphalt still wet from a recent drizzle. "It's good to be back in England again after a long time being away." She seems to contemplate something before saying, "Our meeting today is actually going to be with a friend of mine, who is looking to impress his partner with a nice, homecooked dinner." 

She winks, heading down along the slope.

*

Eve is standing in front of a door in what appears to be a condominium. The number on the door is blurred out, and she presses the doorbell.

It does not take long for the door to open, revealing a slightly older blond man, probably in his forties, with a muscular build. 

"Hey," Eve greets with a grin. 

Said man smiles, seeming pleased. Until he turns toward the cameraman, staring dead into the screen.

*

Mr James appears to be a bit uncomfortable with being filmed, but it's entirely normal to be nervous, so don't worry, sir. So what are your ideas for tonight's dinner plan, Mr James?

James's eyebrows flex, but eventually, his lips twitch upward into a smile awkward enough to crack. "Something simple," he says, arms crossed, a hint of smugness in his tone as his reply as essentially a repeat of the show's very own agenda.

Suddenly, James jerks a little before inching away from Eve.

"Something Asian-themed," he murmured, smiling more now, abrupt all charms and fluidly, a touch of ironic pain and restraint. "Something... hot and hearty."

"And I have just the menu in mind for you," Eve announces, nudging James in the ribcage. "Simple and quick and a four-course meal to suit your fancy, too." For the first time, James seems pleased. "Excellent."

*

The market is rather crowded.

"So the menu I'm thinking about right now—" Eve begins, "—is we start of with a fresh green papaya salad, followed by fried wontons with a soy sauce dipping as the appetizer. Our entrée will be a rustic mussels and shrimps in Thai spicy broth served with rice, and mango Panna Cotta for dessert."

She turns to their guest. "Come on." Eve gestures him to follow her.

*

They are in the process of buying mangoes.

"Please tell you at least know how to pick out good ingredients for good food, what with all the ridiculously luxurious food you ate before," Eve deadpans, possible half-joking.

When she receives a long, silent stare, she sucks in a breath, rolls her eyes, and turns away.

Chef Moneypenny is nothing but wise enough to pick her battles.

*

"So the first thing we're going to do," Chef Moneypenny is rolling up her sleeves to prepare for cooking, "is to make the Panna Cotta first so it has time to set in the fridge."

While James doesn't seem to know much about grocery shopping, it soon becomes apparent that he can handle a knife extremely well.

So is your partner the one who usually does the cooking, James?

James's eyes flick over sharply, but his expression mellows out and another smile unfurled on his lips, same as before. "Sometimes, only when he's not too busy."

Oh. Do you usually help him with the cutting and chopping then? You seem very familiar with this part.

"You can call it a special, acquired talent." 

His smile seems to turn a little cryptic then, but the edge disappears in a flash.

*

Chef is showing her friend how to cook.

"No, James, no! I told you not to do exactly just that!"

"No, no. You're supposed to wrap them like this—... No!"

"Gentle, gentle, gentle... Ugh, you ruin it."

"You do realize you don't see this dish served like this in any decent restaurant you go to right? Yeah."

*

35 minutes later, the Panna Cotta is already sitting in the fridge, its first layer setting. The papaya is peeled, finely cut into thin strip; the rice only has a few more minutes until it's cooked; and the wontons are wrapped and waiting to be fried.

Chef Moneypenny is working with James on the entrée.

James, how are you feeling about this so far? Is cooking easier than you think, or just as difficult as how you imagine it to be?

"Depends." James leers at Eve, who unashamedly flashes him her smirk. "Although when you are cooking with a Michelin-starred chef, she's already doing most of the hard work." He shrugs when Eve nods with a hum.

*

We are out in the hallway just around the corner from where James's place is. A younger man just walks up to the door, takes out the key, and opens it. 

"Hmm, something smells good," the man, his hair a mop of tousled dark curls, says. 

"Welcome home." It is James, pulling in husband in and closing the door behind him, chancing a nod toward Eve over the younger man's shoulder. "I have dinner on."

"Oh!" Their voices now become nothing but a faint echo. "Really?"

"Really."

* You seem to have enjoyed it immensely, Chef. It is drizzling again, but only lightly now.

"Of course." Eve grins, hands in her jacket's pockets. "Helping a friend out is always good, especially when it involves good food and actually training some new tricks into him."

*

[BLOOPER 1] 

“Really, Eve? Do you really have to record this?” 

The hushed conversation comes from the kitchen.

“Just smile for the camera, James. Or I’m going home, yeah?”

Pause.

“Fine. But just you wait, one day you’ll need my help.”  

“Yes. Just don’t hold your breath, darling.”

[BLOOPER 2] 

"Did you get all of it?" Eve asks, and Lin, her cameraman, nodded.

"Why didn't you stay a little longer though?" he asks, lowering the camera down from his shoulder. "To meet your friend's husband, and, I don't know, take a bit of credit for that nice menu?"

Eve's snickers are gleeful, wicked and loud in the quiet street. "Don't worry, we've got all the blackmailing materials we need."

-

End.

#My writing #007 games #007 fest #00Q #eve moneypenny #point tag #this has been a weird weird fill

[colorful-alien]

http://archiveofourown.org/works/10771929/chapters/23890662

Summary: Death can change a man, how he sees the world and its people, yet he can do nothing for he's no longer part of it. But death is not always so permanent as one has been made to believe, neither is one's predetermined fate.

Especially in the presence of Gods.

Chapter 1: This is not the end    

"...Amen," Athelstan trailed off as he finished the prayer. He felt the looming present before he even saw him among the shadows. But there was no fear only that of peace so he turned with a slight smile at the other. The boatmaker. His end.

"Floki."

"Priest."

The gleam of murderous intent glowed in the viking's coal smeard eyes, glowed like that of the candles surrouding them. The purpouse was clear yet Athelstan felt no need to fight, there was only acceptence and he was ready to meet his end so to begin his beginning.

With the present of his God, whom covered him in warmth and safety, the re-newed Christain turned back to his makeshift cross. "Lord, recive my soul," armed stretched out and head lifted towards the heavens. Athelstan closed his eyes for the final time.

They would meet again, he assured himself, not in their afterlives but as long as Ragnar Lothbrok lived Athelstan would watch him and guide him in the likes of angels.

It does not matter where I go, what matters to me is where you're going.

A roar of wrath broke the silence and an axe swong swiftly and quickly through the air. It all ended and turned eternally black at the sound of a body hitting the ground with a thud.

-

The final grains of dirt fell upon the grave, covering the once vessel of a beloved while the rain cried from above. A shovel plummet into the ground before the man slumped down beside it with a stick in hand, eyes wet with tears to come and chest heavy with unsolvable sorrow.

The christian grave was almost finished, made by supportive and loving hands of a pagan. A heathen in the eyes of the christain faith. Only it's grave mark was momentary absent but the cross was moments away from being made.

But unknown to the grief stricken pagan, a foreign yet known God looked on with approval at the empathetic act of another's religion and wishes.

Such an action was to be rewarded.

As the pagan's lips parted with purpose to speak to the kindred spirit who no longer could hear his words, the heavily being reached out, setting the words on course to be carried to the intended's ears.

-

 "I never knew what a martyr was,"

Eyes open as if waking from heavy sleep. White. At first he flinched harsly and threw up his hands in an attempt to protect his eyes from such overwhelming brightness... yet no pain came. Slowly they dropped and he took in the sight before him.

There was nothing but endless heavenly light, it shone brightly and surrounded him, engulfed him completely. It should leave the observer blind yet he was only left with a feeling of utter bliss.

 "I still don't."

In the distance he heard muffled sounds but they were nothing to the deafening present of the God before him. This was not heaven, he was somewhere else.. In between.. waiting. How such knowledge was bestowed upon him, he did not know. Yet he did not despair at his current placement for he was not alone, his lord, his God was embracing him at this very moment with his grace.

Nothing more could he wish or desire.

Then shadows move over him, above him, leaving trails of coldness where it touches him. The cold is shocking and biting compared to the warm and peaceful caress from his savior. It should leave him shivering but instead it was welcoming and filled him with comfort as from an old friend. He lifted his head high and watched them move through his lord's being. Angling their shapes to gracefully fly passed and around him, to circle him like prey. Their sleek and shiney black feathers contrasting starkly against the whiteness and the beady eyes were wise and knowing.

Odin.

Laughter spilles out of him and it clang joyfully through the air while his eyes grew misty with tears. Beloved gods, one time or another he could feel in his soul that he've abandoned both yet they seem to have never abandoned him in return.

 "You're a brave man Athelstan..."

The muffled sounds in the background broke through and formed words but only one registered.. Athelstan.

His soul is as an empty chamber being filled, bringing him back to who he was... is. It all flooding in like a broken dam, reminding him. Athelstan. His chosen name. He blinked rapidly as if to clear any fog from his sight and in the process lets his tears roll freely down his smiling cheeks.

His lord shines brighter and the ravens caws and beat their wings faster as he fully understand the deep root of his happiness, devotion and love for the gods that surround him. The familiar sounds return to a muffled state and his mind drifted away from it's purpose and towards the Gods.

The blissfulness and loving light shined upon him are the peaceful days of him praying and working to paint words of God into beautiful images. The sharp coldness of the ravens' wings are the comfort of home in the Northlands, where winter is harsh but the crisp air fills his lungs with new refreshing life and the comfort of being pulled back inside by rough and gentle hands which are toasty warm from the heat of the fire.

Clasping togther his hand as to pray Athelstan was unable to keep himself from gazing in awe "My lord," was the breathless words that exhaled from his lips, the very first sound made from him of what felt like years "Odin," Two Gods whom he loved deeply and which he struggled to choice between now stood before him in their godlike glory.

One he choice to no longer acknowledge for that of his later God before meeting his final end.

"I- I'm unworthy of your present," he confessed with guilt and flicked his eyes away in shame but wherever he looked, the black birds were there and were not interested in being ignored. A big raven finally flew at his face causing him to move away in shock before looking up with wide eyes in surprise. It circled above him, his eyes followed as it flew and it's calming movment was as a balm for his guilt. The ever present light of God remain upon him and graced him still with heavinly bliss.

He was forgiven, and eternal peace was within his grasp.

Eyelids dropping, he slowly fell into an adrift. Any questions upon his mind for the Gods fell silent, for time was nothing in this place...

 "Aah Athelstan, I hope you can hear me Athelstan..."

Those sounds again. Coming through the mist of his mind, scratching to get in and be heard even among powerful beings. These were not the words of his Gods..

 "And I'm not just talking to myself."

There was a tug, something inside was feeling a pull. An emotional pull for something he did not know or understand yet yearned to follow. Athelstan's eyes flutter open, the Gods were still around him but he could now hear the noises more closely and clearly. Hear the words being spoken.

 "What?.... Do you think I went too far with Floki?"

There was an echo of a bitter chuckle that followed, filling his ears and making Athelstan's chest tighten in discomfort at hearing such a tone.

 "Can you actually believe, that he thought I would let him lead without my having an agenda?"

Athelstan started glancing around himself in hope of finding the location or direction that this voice was coming from. This voice with such bitterness. But he saw only light and the dark birds within the big vast of emty space that went on endlessly with no end in sight, at least none his mortal eyes could see or even imagen.

 "If I was him, I would worry less about the Gods and more about the.. fury of a patient man. And as well you know, I can be very patient."

There was a sharp throb in Athelstan's tempel and he lifted up a palm to soothe the discomfort only for it to diminish but the voice now groaned and coughed with it's own pain. Athelstan's eyebrows knitted together in confusion and questions formed in his mind.

Who's voice was this? Why did it fill him with such longing, ache and devotion? Such love and need to follow. Why did it feel as if he knew this voice? Someone or something that was immensely important to him. Yet he could not place it? And that in itself felt like a betrayal of trust for forgetting in the first place!

Emotions were rallying inside and he knew not which to feel. The Gods could not hold him, for he was drifting away from them now nor could they soothe his turmoil to reaching whatever was calling him.

Athelstan was slowly floating downwards until his feet meet with the ground. He had not notice before that he'd been extended up into the middle of the air until his soles stood firmly upon something solid once again.

"I wish you were here,"

Body turned cold and Athelstan could hear his own heart beating loudly in his ears, so loud that it felt as if he'd lose his hearing. This voice, he knew this voice. Eyes grew wide and his breath stutter as he spoke the name of his beloved friend "Ragnar," feet started moving, the pull making him walk forward to- what he did not know but he needed to go there.

 "Paris is everything you told me it would be.... And I'm bound and determined to conquer it."

-

Ragnar grew silent after that but the pull inside Athelstan was ever present in both heart and soul, and it encouraged him to keep on walking and to never stop. Luckily he never grew tired or hungry, his feet did not become sore or blistered and time did not effect him for he did not feel it moving.

The Gods thought did not shine nor fly around him as strongly and they weren't as close either but instead behind him a few steps away. Following and watching Athelstan at a distance. He could still feel the warmth of God's holiness and Odin's welcoming cold at his back. Yet he was determined to carry on towards Ragnar and held faith that they would not abandon him for the Gods should know of his devotion to the pagan and that of the bond between them.

While his lord's light remains behind him, it started to dimm before him and the path grew darker for ever step he took.

The ravens flew passed him and into the darkness and soon Athelstan started feeling the breeze against his cheeks, the air around him foggy while it rained and the ground soft with grass. It was night and he realized he was in a forest he have never seen or could not recall visiting.

The pull was stronger than ever before and Athelstan could see a figure on it's hands and knees, groaning and crawling in the distance. It's head turned towards him when he walked through the mist and drizzle. It was Ragnar, who looked sickly and pale with harsh shivers running through the man's body and sweat coating his face.

And Athelstan's cross hung around his neck, swinging with each movement the viking took.

Joy inside Athelstan grew larger and a gentle smile spread across his face at the sight of his friend. When Athelstan came close he offered out a hand for the norseman to take and Ragnar with a smile of his own reached out to take the offered hand. They did not speak for it was not needed, they'll be together once again, side by side.

But before their hands could ever touch Athelstan felt the suddenly present of the Gods appearing behind him, causing both of their actions to come to a halt.

They both watched as Ragnar's lifted hand started dripping blood and a pool of the same red substance appeared underneath the viking, causing Ragnar to then snatched his hand back in shock before curling in on himself upon the ground while shaking and shivering.

Athelstan then felt himself starting to mindlessly walk backwards although he did not wish to move away yet his feet moved against his will. He was being taken back by the Gods. He could do nothing but helplessly be pulled back through the mist and into the light while Ragnar watched him go with a look of anguish and a shaky whisper that called out to him.

"Don't abandon me."

-

In a blink of an eye, Athelstan no longer stood in the living world with Ragnar but instead was back in the vast empty space, only he could feel something was very diffrent this time around. Something in the very air which he knew must be coming from the celestial beings. For what else could be causing it? It was tense with purpose and Athelstan could almost hear the crackling of power around him, it made him instinctively move into a fighting position like Ragnar drilled into him.

Thought his stand didn't last long once he turned to glance around him and eyes landed on a shape a few steps away. Body slacked in shock and he was left speechless. The figure had an uncanny resemblance to Jesus Christ himself, God's son who died for all their sins. Only his face was obscured by the bright light of God that showered down from up above, bathing his son in his grace.

Nothing could have made him tear his gaze away from God's son, he barely even registered the flock of black birds flashing by but what they left in their wake did managed to break the spell and get Athelstan's attention away from Christ. A man, an old looking man with a long white/grey braided beard that reminded Athelstan of the Norsemen. Dressed in dark clothing and a wide-brimmed hat, the man held a tall cane and upon the shoulders were two big ravens that cawed from their seats. And he wore an eyepatch- No, this was not a man but a god.

It was Odin!

Athelstan's eyes flicker between them in wonder and slight disbelief. Previously he had merely felt Odin's present like that of his lord but now faced with the All-father he knew not what to say or do, the same went about God's son. Was this the Odin whom Ragnar had told him the viking had often seen? For the description was very similar to what he've been told by his friend.

Before he could even regain his ability to speak both took a step forward, their steps causing a sharp spike of power in the air and suddenly it grew unbearably bright and the cawing from the ravens turned deafening.

It was unbearable!

Hand flew up and Athelstan griped at his chest in agony as he suddenly felt his heart beating, only it drummed beneath his ribcase without mercy. The intense pain brought him down to his knees and forced him to bend over and making his face almost touched the ground, had he not caught himself with the opposite hand. Although it prove pointless when next it felt as if his head was being crack open forcing him to use the hand holding him up to palm at the newest source of pain.

"Please the pain- Agh!"

Amidst the whitness, red broke through and filled his vision and Athelstan could feel it dripping off him. A puddle had been forming around him in similiar fashion to what he witness happen to Ragnar. He didn't know when it had started but it looked as if a whole person had been drained for the purpous of painting him and the ground in blood. It spread out infront of him and it felt as if he was sinking into it, either that or the blood was rising. He struggled to gain balance and stand up, for his body was like a rock thrown into the ocean, bound to sink.

Finally he slumped to his side, he didn't have the strenght nor the power to stand. The pain was still pulsing through him unmercifully. Warm liquid sloshed around him as Athelstan lifted his head up in hope to see, to understand why he was in such pain and bading in blood but the world around him was a blur of bright white and dark red. Barely making out the two figures a few feet away and the shadows of ravens above were mere black smears without true forms.

There was deep chanting and heavy drums growing in the distance while a cane repeatedly hit the ground, metal clanging from each 'thub' upon the ground. And amist it there was choirs of hymns with voices as light and high as angels' singing.

Then the liquid around Athelstan started to drain away and lessen in amounth, drawing him to look upon the blood which to his shock was moving back to him. He watched as trails of red on his arm retreated from whens it came, leaving no trace of the blood ever begin there. It was as if his body was calling it to itself until there was nothing remaining, no stain nor drops left behind.

And along it the spliting pain upon Athelstan's scalp disappeared just like the blood but in exchange his heart picked up and began beating harsher than previously. Felt as if it was trying to tear itself through bone and flesh, and from beneath breast.

Now it was Athelstan's turn to curl in on himself as Ragnar had done.

The last thing the former-monk did was cry out in agony as his eyes and ears pulsed with pain from the overpowering Gods that never seem to end.

Snapping awake with a loud and desperate gasp for air, hand flying to clung at his chest as Athelstan wrestled to take a breath.

(If you wish to continue reading, please go to link above~)

#my first fanfic #vikings #athelstan #athelnar #Ragnar Lothbrok #AO3 #Fanfiction #My ffs #my fanfiction #Resurrected by God(s) #I'm so sorry it's so LONG! #slow burn #slow to update #resurection #fix it fic #Princess Judith #Kwenthrith #Alfred #Magnus #aethelwulf #Aethelred #king ecbert