#just because i was saving space and trying to stick to the most confirmed facts (rabitha/taphael is confirmed to me. they destielded it)

[garbagequeer]

jughead's toxic little polycule ending explained

#no mentions of certain things like bonna not because i dont believe they are beautiful and true #just because i was saving space and trying to stick to the most confirmed facts (rabitha/taphael is confirmed to me. they destielded it) #but if you ask ME josie and veronica fucked in hollywood during the 67 years. and dilhead was real #riverdale #thing

[roydeezed]

One Piece-Chapter Round-Up(Chapter 1085)

Holy hell, my heart was in my throat the entirety of that chapter. There was such a sinister atmosphere engulfing the first part of this chapter. It really felt like stumbling upon something we shouldn’t have and the fact that we were so close to learning the truth was exhilarating. I don’t want to get into spoilers so I’ll put my more in-depth discussion below the cut. For now check out Franky and the cute turtles! It feels like forever since Franky’s been on one of these cover stories. To be honest I can’t remember the last one with him or Brook. But Franky’s defeated a crab trying to eat the baby turtles and is shepherding them to the sea. I swear that years after it ends people are going to find connections between these Cover Pages and details we haven’t found out. I say that because these baby turtles having to fend for themselves reminds me of how Franky had to fend for himself after being abandoned by his parents. I’m a freak about One Piece so I could go on about how I love Franky’s emotionality and how this reminds me of Tom taking care of a young Cutty Flam but let’s get to what we really should be talking about below the cut!

To save some time and space let’s just say I was very generous with the use of expletives during this entire first part because it was that harrowing. Right away we start off with Imu referring to themselves in the third person while talking in an older style of speech. They talk about how the D clan were their ancient enemy. Coba also says how Imu was the name of one of the 20 Kings. If Imu isn’t Lili, which I still consider a slight possibility, then the fact that Imu cursed her mistakes gives way to a pretty clear narrative. Imu was the one that killed Lili for her mistakes. And if I’m trusting the clues through the dialogue and trusting that cultural differences and translation haven’t obscure anything, then Imu is a child who was given Ope Ope No Mi surgery and has been alive since the Void Century. Imu being alive since the Void Century comes from their formal olden day speech and being young comes from the fact that they refer to themselves in the third person and that it would be along the lines of Oda’s comedy and the parallels we’ve seen so far. Though it could be that Imu thinks of themselves so highly that they refer to themselves in the third person, I’m sticking to Imu being a kid cause it’s hilarious. And finally Imu being given the surgery also suggests one more part of the narrative. That combined with the fact that Imu doesn’t directly condemn Lili, instead wondering at her motives, makes me believe that Lili was the one that sacrificed herself to give Imu eternal life in a show of fealty. At least that’s how I see it playing out. And I can definitely be wrong as last chapter I was speculating that Lili was actually Imu. 

As we see after Imu asks Cobra the question, Cobra admits that he knew he was probably going to die, as he was only holding on to a small sense of hope that was not gonna be the case.  It also seems like Lili was a secret co-conspirator to the D clan as Imu uses this moment to confirm that she indeed was a D. Now getting to the D’s. This gives us a lot of vital clues. But I think the most hope-affirming one is this: It’s not an inherited Name. Bear with me here. What does that mean? I think that the D is a chosen name. And the evidence in this chapter towards it is that there was a seemingly cute but mostly irrelevant flashback to Ace giving Sabo a D in his name. Sure, it was to show that he connected the dots but I think it’s for a deeper purpose. And the other piece of evidence backs that up. And that is that Imu didn’t know that Lili had a D in her name! Despite seeming to be comrades in arms! And the fact that Blackbeard was called a false D. And the stated fact that the D refers to the enemies of the Celestial Dragons. Do you understand? The D isn’t a family name. It’s a name that you take on when you oppose the Celestial Dragons. It’s been there all along! I literally stumbled across this while writing but I believe this wholeheartedly.

And speaking of the D itself. I’ve always been of the mind that it’s been meaning Dawn. Cause think about this. Raftel was actually Laughtale. That clears up any illusion that the D must stand a Japanese word. And then the DON sound effect from the drums of Liberation. Just as how “Laugh” was obscured by being “Raf”, so too, at least in my opinion, is the “Dawn” obscured by “DON”. And obviously Romance Dawn being the title of the first volume and chapter is a huge clue. Alongside that is the idea of passing dreams down being similar to waiting for the dawn to rise. It fits the theme. And not only that. But the sun and moon imagery. The moon, being the lunarians and the kozuki and the minks and many others, who watch over the world and wait as the sun-coded warriors of D, such as the Sun God Nika in Luffy, bring about the dawn. I had previously thought the Dragons and the Gorosei and Imu represented the Moon and the people descended from there, but seeing the hellish and demonic imagery of this chapter makes me believe they represent the darkness and Hell itself. And seeing as we haven’t yet ventured back into a Impel Down like arc, I can see an arc in the future where it utilizes that. 

A few asides before we move on. First of all, the way the Gorosei literally looked like giant demons with their barbed tails, Oni and Akuma like silhouettes makes me think the naming of the Devil Fruits is a misdirect. The dragons have already manipulated history to obscure the true name of the Gomu Gomu No Mi so why couldn’t they do something similar for Devil Fruits? Maybe these powers come from the sacred treasure of Marejois. Some sort of parallel to the apples in the Garden of Eden? Another thing is that thinking of the Lunarians also brought up some ideas. While they are Moon-Coded, their name literally derives from Luna, they also wield the fire of the suns. I wonder if they were the mech pilots of the giant robots that were on Egghead as they required a lot of energy. Or if they were used as energy sources like some Omelas type thing. It would certainly fit with what I think happened to Kuma and his people.

Anyways, I know it seems like this giant figure in the back crawling down the throne in the panel above is Imu but it’s actually one of the Gorosei. As you can see there are two silhouettes on either side, and when the five are shown again, the giant figure become the second one from the left in the panel below. Also we can see the snail capture the photograph that we eventually see in the newspaper.

I wonder if they have something to do with the Giant Shadows at the end of Thriller Bark. Finally, let’s move on to the end. Wapol finds out the truth and saves Vivi, who was captured by CP0. It seems they were carrying out Imu’s orders, who was not only motivated by whatever they saw in the frozen chambers but also their personal goals. 

That brings us to the end. Please let me know what you think of my theory that the D is a taken name because right now, that’s the only thing on my mind. Another thing I want to mention is that it reinforces the idea of inherited will and dreams. And spits in the face of fate and dynasties. Because Luffy chose the will of the D by following Shanks, not because he was Dragons son or Garps Grandson, those two oppose the Dragons their own way. It would also make sense why the Gum Gum Fruit chose him. He chose to oppose the order of the world by being kind. I’m still reeling from this chapter so I’ll end it here but I might reblog in the future if I have anything to add.

#op 1085 #one piece chapter 1085 #one piece 1085 #one piece #manga recap #manga discussion #manga #one piece spoilers

[fortuositywritings]

I Said No (Wanda x R): Pt 8

Summary: Did someone order a fluff stuffed pizza with extra cheese? 

Warnings: Language, also a bit of violence

The following day starts as most have the past week, only this time you are not dreading waking up early in the morning for a hike aka jogging at an incline with Nat. In fact, you wake up kind of pumped for it and decide to forego the usual coffee. Nat looks at you like you are crazy. You shrug. “Not all of us need caffeine to live, Natasha.”

But you do, you find out mid-hike.

“Fuck me!” you groan, dragging behind Nat.

“No, thanks. You’ve got Wanda for that,” Nat quips. When you don’t reply, she continues, “What? No comment?”

“I’m saving my energy. I don’t know how much longer I can do this. If I die here from exhaustion, hit me with a rock or something. Make it look like a cooler death,” you say. She laughs. “What happened to not needing coffee?”

“Caffeineless-Me is a delusional me. Don’t ever listen to her,” you huff.

Luckily, you smell coffee when you get back to the house. You hear voices in the kitchen and make a dramatic entrance. Clint, Pietro, and Sam’s conversation halts at your interruption. Finding Clint responsible for the coffee, you butter him up in exchange for the coffee cup he hands you. “You know, I told Laura, you were it. I said ‘Laura, you’ll never find another like this one. A king among simple men.’ True story.” Used to your antics, Clint ignores you but Pietro and Sam laugh.

You spend the afternoon at the arcade with Wanda, Pietro, and Peter. You in fact do beat Pietro at skeeball, rubbing your win in his face. He beats you at everything else. It’s hard to be a sore loser though when you are too busy having fun and entertaining Wanda. 

Wanda pulls you all into a photo booth. The group does their best to fit in what is meant to be a two person booth. Wanda ends up on your lap, you sitting next to Pietro, and Peter sticking his head into the frame. You shoo the boys out after the group photos, wanting a strip of you and Wanda. Despite the free space, Wanda stays seated on your lap, not that you mind it. The first two photos are silly. You kiss her cheek for the third and simply smile for the last one in which Wanda sports a blush looking at you. 

You ask Wanda if she is ready to go to the bookstore yet, not forgetting what you promised. She refrains from saying yes when a game calls her attention. She says you can leave after one more game. Wanda challenges you to Guitar Hero and the results are embarrassing. You stare at her score in shock. You refuse to believe it. “What? There is no way! How?” She giggles when you turn your face to her with your hands on your cheeks. “No wonder you’re so good with your hands.”

She blushes at your comment. “Do you play guitar?” You ask, but before she can confirm or deny, you stop her, “Wait, no. I don’t want to know. ‘Cause if you do, that’s too attractive and we can’t have that.”

“Why not?” She tilts her head to the side.

“Because it will ruin our dynamic, You see, we both bring certain things to the table. You bring in the kind hearted, easy on the eyes superhero thing to the table. Me, I bring in the funny, cute, one year away from graduating college kid thing. My two years playing the trumpet as a child could never match even the thought of you holding a guitar,” you explain.

Wanda looks at you curiously. She smiles cheekily, before saying, “I’ll have to play for you someday then.” She laughs when you groan saying she ruined it all and tugs you by the hand to where the prizes are. You both trade your tickets in for small inflatable sledge hammers that you immediately use against each other standing off to the side of the prizes booth. You feel the employee who helped you out stare at you both and feel like you are getting in trouble, so you stop hitting Wanda.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to stare,” the employee says. “The two of you just make a really cute couple.”

“Oh,” you say surprised, but you don’t correct him, unbeknownst to you, making Wanda suppress a smile. “Thanks.”

“Come on, you promised me a bookstore,” Wanda says, taking your hand and pulling you toward the exit. You spend an hour in the cute bookstore, which Wanda could have easily made two but she took pity on you, seeing you get a little restless walking around the store in circles. She leaves the store with two new books in hand that you had insisted on buying and a smile on her face as you hold the door open for her.

“I would say ‘I got you next time’ but I wouldn’t want to force you to actually read words on paper,” she jokes.

You roll your eyes at her playful remark. “No, we wouldn’t want that.” 

“So, how about we get some ice cream instead?” she offers, hoping to spend a little more time with you out in the town. Your ears perk up at those words. “Now we’re talking, Maximoff!”

“That reminds me. You still haven’t told me your last name.”

“And I’m not talking.” You mime zipping your lips and throwing away the key. Wanda jokes, “Well that’s a first. That was the only key, right?”

Wanda laughs when you roll your eyes and eagerly take the bag with her books out of her hand to carry it instead, replacing it with your own as you practically drag her to the ice cream shop. She tries not to react when halfway to the shop you interlace your fingers and smile at her, but her heart doesn’t get the message.

Tanya smiles when she sees you both back again at the shop. She raises an eyebrow, looking at your hands in question. You catch her look and shake your head in denial at Tanya while Wanda is busy looking at the flavors of ice cream. Tanya purses her lips disapprovingly and you nearly groan. Wanda turns to you and asks if you know what you want, unaware of the silent conversation that occurred before her. 

You tell her to order hers first. Although you see her eyeing the strawberry flavor for a good amount of time, she orders the cotton candy flavor. You look at her surprised. “What? Maybe I want to try something different.”

“Well, in that case, Tanya, I will have two scoops of the strawberry on a cone, please and thank you,” you order. Wanda gives you the same look you’d given her, so you decide to throw her words back at her. “What? Maybe I want to try something different.”

Wanda pays for your ice creams, which of course Tanya would not let slide without commentary. “She’s making you pay for the ice cream? It’s no wonder Y/N stays single. You would think she’d know how to treat a lady.” Tanya shakes her head at you, making you scoff. Wanda laughs but defends you. “She does. This is a small thank you for how well she’s actually done that.”

“Yeah, Tanya! You hear that? I treat people well,” you reiterate as you take your prepared cone from Tanya. “I even did as you said and took her to the fair.” As if it is so unbelievable, Tanya looks at Wanda for confirmation and looks nearly impressed when Wanda nods. You add to pick on Wanda, “All for her to dance with someone else for most of the night.”

This time she scoffs and you try to suppress your smile at how easy you could rile her up. “It was one song,” she defends herself. When she sees that you’re just pulling her leg, she huffs, “You’re annoying,” and goes to sit at the small table by the entrance. Tanya speaks up when you just stand there looking after Wanda with a smile. “Don’t leave her to eat alone now.”

Tanya’s voice startles you out of your trance and you make your way to sit across from Wanda. “It was two songs,” you say, continuing the banter. Wanda retorts before trying her ice cream, “Two. One. What’s the difference?”

“He got one more song with you than I did,” you shrug. You see her make a face of disappointment at the flavor she chose. She replies, “It could have been none with him if someone just asked earlier.”

“Noted. I will let someone know and pass on the message for you,” you tease, earning you a light kick under the table from Wanda while you start with your ice cream. You can only watch her struggle to eat her ice cream and look at yours longingly for so long, before you eventually just snatch hers from her hand. 

“Hey! I was eating that,” she complains. 

“Oh, is that what you were doing? That was a very sad attempt at best. Here, try again,” you say and hand her the rest of your strawberry ice cream. She tries to hand yours back. “I’m not going to take your cone. It’s not the one I ordered.”

You shove the rest of the ice cream you stole into your mouth and eat it as quickly as you can. Wanda stares at you in shock. You try not to make a face at the brain freeze you get. “Well, I just finished yours so now you have no choice.”

Wanda giggles. “You have a brain freeze, don’t you?”

Nothing gets past this woman. You try to deny it anyway. “Nope. Brain warm, actually.”

You don’t fail to make her laugh. She thanks you and you smile as she finishes the strawberry ice cream. You decide to head back to the arcade before the guys get worried. You are surprised they have yet to call or text to ask where you and Wanda were. Wanda says she wouldn’t be surprised if they did not even notice your absence. 

Someone spots you making your way out of the ice cream shop with Wanda and decides to approach you. “Well, well, well. Look who it is,” a loud voice taunts you, making you and Wanda turn your heads to see a guy your age and not so much taller than Wanda approach you. You know him as Abby’s (grocery store lady’s daughter) ex-boyfriend. 

You don’t try to delude yourself into thinking this exchange could be an exchange of simple pleasantries especially given your history and the condescending sneer he throws your way. You huff, mumbling under your breath, “Never move to a small town, Wanda.”

She gives you a questioning look but you ignore it as the ex-boyfriend stands before you both. You give him an obviously fake smile, acknowledging his presence. “Jack,” you say tiredly, not wanting to give anyone the impression you want to actually interact with him. He, on the other hand, has a bone to pick with you and does not plan to let you off easily. 

“Y/N, I see some things never change.” He laughs bitterly, giving Wanda the once over. Not appreciating this, you try to avert his attention back to you and speak in a more fed up tone. “What do you want?”

“What? I can’t say hi to your little girlfriend? You were always so eager to say hello to mine. What kind of person would I be if I didn’t show the same courtesy,” he says, scorn clear in his voice. You really do not have it in you to put up with him and the mess you made that you never dealt with, but you’ve had enough of this biting you in the ass at every corner in this town.

“Look, what I did wasn’t cool. I know, okay? I’m genuinely sorry for not taking your feelings into consideration or talking to you about it before and ignoring the whole thing after it happened. Alright? Can we just move on from this?” you ask, sincerely. Jack looks at you in shock as you await his answer, wanting nothing but to finally move past this mess. Wanda on her end is impressed by your ability to recognize a mistake and apologize. You can feel her looking at you and Jack notices it too, the act riling him up more than anything.

When Jack saw you, he finally found his chance to let everything he was holding back out and seeing you with someone else only assured him he was right about you being this asshole who just goes around stealing people’s girlfriends. He was not expecting an apology. Although it seems to be sincere, it still does not satisfy him and seeing the girl you’re with looking at you the way she is because of it just ticks him off.

So he doesn’t accept your apology. Instead, he turns to Wanda. “It’s a little late for apologies, L/N. Hey, sweetheart. Some advice, best go apologize to your boyfriend before it’s too late, ‘cause whatever you think this is,” he says waving between you and Wanda, “it’s not gonna last.”

Trying to form some semblance of a safety blanket against his fiery gaze, you pull Wanda to stand behind you. Now you’re feeling very irritated. You’re not going to hit him or anything of that nature. God knows you would only hurt yourself. You’ve always strayed away from getting into fights. Besides, why bruise your fists when you could bruise his ego?

“Hey, assface. What do you know about lasting? Last I heard you weren’t doing too well with that. Some advice for you,” you taunt him, using the same tone he did with Wanda, “when you are finally doing something right, which you’ll know since Abby’s not really a quiet one, give her neck a little squeeze and-” You snap smugly. “She can thank me later.”

The whole time you were talking, you could practically see steam coming out of his ears. It’s logical to stay clear when you see the signs of a volcano about to erupt, but when you are standing two feet away from the danger zone, it’s a little hard to avoid getting hurt. You see it coming but you are not quick enough to dodge it. Suddenly, your ass is on the sidewalk, vision impaired as your hand covers the left side of your face that is throbbing in pain. Wanda would say her vision is also impaired as all she sees is red. Not caring if anyone sees, she uses her magic to hold him by the throat, red wisps tightening around his neck. She sees the panic in his eyes but doesn’t ease up. 

“Don’t you ever lay a hand on her again. In fact, from now on you don’t talk to her unless she’s speaking to you. Don’t look at her unless she calls your name,” Wanda threatens him, her voice deadly calm, you would almost define it as soothing. Jack wouldn’t. “You know who I am, don’t you?” Jack nods to the best of his abilities, starting to feel light headed. “If you even think about touching her again, I’ll know.” 

She releases her magical hold. He coughs, bringing back oxygen into his lungs. Jack sees the red fade from the witch’s eyes but her stare still holds a fire. Not wanting to enrage the witch any further, he sprints away as soon as she says, “Leave.”

As soon as he is out of sight, Wanda turns to check on you. She finds you already on your feet but your hand is still over your face. She pries your hand away and sees the damage, a bruise already forming over your cheek. You flinch when she prods it gently. Wanda gives you a questioning look when you unexpectedly giggle.

“Sorry, it’s just. Nat always said my big mouth would get me into trouble like this one day. I was really hoping she would be wrong about this one,” you explain, looking away from her but still giggling. Wanda doesn’t find it funny. She gently takes your chin to face her. “It’s not your fault. He had no right to lay a finger on you.”

Wanda’s intense stare doesn’t waver. It’s almost demanding you to understand that what happened can’t be brushed off as a joke and it works. Your mind replays the events and you feel a lump in your throat. Wanda brushes a tear away from your cheek. You hadn’t been aware of the tears forming in your eyes. The sound of a car passing by snaps you out of your emotional state. You haven’t had a good cry in a long while, but like hell will you allow yourself to break down on the sidewalk in front of the ice cream shop where you used to work.

You chase away the tears and clear your throat. Today was a great day for the most part; you weren’t going to let this bump in your trail keep you from continuing on to have a great day and ending it on a good note. Your eyes are a vault of tears, and though you know one day that door is going to open and possibly drown you, today would not be that day. 

You pull away from Wanda’s touch but before she can say anything about it you hold that hand in yours. “Thank you. I’m lucky you were here.” You avoid cringing at how your voice breaks halfway through, evidence of the lump in your throat you cleared away. You manage a small smile instead. 

“I’m sorry you had to see me like that. I hope I didn’t frighten you,” Wanda says, suddenly embarrassed at her quick tempered reaction. This brings out a genuine giggle out of you. “Are you kidding me? Frighten me? The only scary thing about your reaction was how attractive I found it!” 

You can tell Wanda doesn’t believe you, searching your face for any sign that you may be lying and saying this just to humor her. “No, seriously. His pants were wet out of fear. My pants were wet in an entirely different way,” you press. She laughs with glowing red cheeks. As the color fades, you and she decide to head back to the arcade after you refused her offer of getting you something cold at the store to rest against your cheek.

Pietro and Peter didn’t notice you had left the arcade, but they do notice your bruised cheek quickly. After dismissing their concerns, you ask if they were ready to head back. They say they still have to trade their tickets in, so you let them go do that. It isn’t too long until you are back to the car.

It turns out you are the only one in the car with a license, but you’re not feeling up to driving back to the house. Peter looks nervous at the prospect of driving, barely having taken two lessons at school, so he isn’t going to drive. Wanda wants to sit by you, so she lets Peter sit up front. That leaves Pietro to drive.

Big mistake.

You make it home in one piece with your bruised cheek, a massive headache, and a date with the church on Sunday after promising God you would go if you make it back home alive. Pietro brakes hard when pulling up right behind Nat’s car. Luckily, he didn't hit her car. You didn’t need to survive Pietro’s wild car ride, just so Nat could kill you after. 

The twins are arguing. “God, Wanda. No one likes a backseat driver,” Pietro says as he puts the car in park and takes the key out of the ignition. Wanda yells, “No, but I’m sure we would all like to live to see past our 20’s and Peter past high school!”

At the mention of his name, Peter finally opens his eyes and loosens his tight grip on his seatbelt. “Oh, we’re here? I, um, have to go to the bathroom.” He excuses himself before basically ripping the door open and running into the house on shaky legs. Pietro also storms out of the car but more so in irritation from his sister.

“Are you okay?” Wanda asks you, taking off her seatbelt. You unbuckle yours and laugh to ease her concerns. “Yeah, just give me a moment. I don’t think my life is done flashing before my eyes yet.” 

Wanda giggles as you act out seeing your life replaying in your mind. “Okay, almost done. Exercise with Nat, board games, seeing you naked.” You laugh when she punches your arm. “Arcade, your brother almost killing us all, and finished. Wow, I lived a pretty good life.”

She shakes her head at your silliness, before practically pulling you out of the car. Most of everyone is in the living room when you come inside. You guess your bruise must be very noticeable, your cousin gasping upon seeing your face. She rushes to your side with the help of Clint and sees the damage.

“Y/N, what happened?” she asks, a motherly type of concern slipping into her tone.

“It’s not as bad as it looks, I promise.” You thank Nat when she sits you down and helps place an ice pack on your injury.

“It looks pretty bad, kid,” Clint says, not helping ease the concern on his wife’s or his best friend’s face. 

“You should have seen the other guy,” you say, acting like you actually did anything other than stare mouth agape as Wanda took care of Jack. The disbelief on everyone’s face when you said that, including Sam’s, was insulting. You scoff, “Okay, ouch. I could have taken care of business if Wanda wasn’t there, thank you very much.”

“So, Wanda was there?” Nat pries and you tell them everything. Laura thanks Wanda for doing what she did and Wanda, being of humble heart, claims it goes unsaid that she would do that for any of them and there was no need to thank her. Nat doesn’t say ‘I told you so’ but she tells you it’s time to learn self-defense as she wants you to quote unquote “be prepared next time god forbid something like this happens again”, which to you was another way of saying ‘I told you so’, 

Nat says she will personally see to giving you your first lesson tomorrow. Clint laughs at the thought and suddenly everyone is amped to watch Nat teach you some moves in the morning, inviting themselves to be your audience as if embarrassing yourself in front of Natasha was not going to be enough. Everyone leaves you alone to get ready to sleep after that. 

After changing into your pjs, you pull out your phone and scroll through your camera roll sitting on the couch. You have at least fifty or so new photos of just today. You smile as you watch the video you recorded of Wanda and Pietro playing Dance Dance Revolution. Watching them interact today, you are reminded of you and Laura and Nat and if their bond is anything like yours, you are happy that Wanda has someone like that in her life. 

Wanda comes downstairs to check up on you before turning in for the night. She hears you before she sees you, your giggles cutting through the air. She follows the sound, curious as to what has you in such spirits. When she is close enough, Wanda sees you are laughing at something playing on your phone. 

“What are you watching?” Wanda asks from behind you.

“Just some of the stuff I recorded today. Come look.” You invite her over.

Leaning over your shoulder, she finds out it is a video of her and her brother playing the dancing game at the arcade. She fails to see what you find so funny but as the video plays on, you kept zooming in and out of Wanda’s face as she pouts every time she missteps but the look of determination never wavering. 

You think it’s a cute video but you aren’t surprised when Wanda lunges for your phone in an attempt to take it and delete the video. You lean forward away from Wanda on time so that she cannot reach it. She groans, “Delete it.”

“Mmm, no.” You shake your head and laugh when Wanda wastes her energy to maneuver around the couch to take the phone away only for you to hide it behind your back away from Wanda’s hands. She looks down at you unimpressed. “Y/N, do you really think that’s going to work? I can take it with a wave of my hand.”

“Tsk tsk tsk. Always relying on your magic. Afraid you can’t get it without twirling your fingers?” you shoot back with a smirk. Your cockiness is short lived as you see Wanda sport the same look of determination she wore in the video you took. She surprises you by settling onto your lap, basically straddling you. She holds you by the shoulders. You nearly whimper when she leans into your ear and whispers, “I’ll show you twirling my fingers.”

She leans away from your ear and looks you right in the eye as one hand begins to wander down your chest. You hold your breath when she gets to your belly button. You should have known better, misreading the smirk on her face. It all takes a turn when she brings her other hand down and begins to tickle you. 

You try fighting her off with one hand, keeping the other with your phone behind your back, but she’s relentless. You flail around and you end up lying on the couch, Wanda still on top of you. You can’t help the tear that slips and you take that as your cue to beg her to stop. “Mercy! Mercy! Stop!”

Wanda eases up on the tickling, giving you time to catch your breath, but she makes no move to get off of you nor to actually take your phone away. She rests her hands on your stomach and watches you, amused when you wipe away your tear. 

“That wasn’t nice,” you breathe out. She chuckles. You stare at her as if it is your turn to gaze at her in wonder. She takes you by surprise again when she asks, “Can I kiss you?”

She’s kissed you before. Hell, you’ve done a lot more than that, so you’re wondering why she’s even asking at this point. At the confusion on your face, she explains, “I mean, can I kiss you just to kiss you?”

Finally understanding what she is asking, you sit up and give her your permission. “You can kiss me whenever you want. It doesn’t have to lead to anything.” She hesitates to move so as a show of faith you peck her lips, startling her. “See?”

Wanda smiles and leans forward to kiss you. It’s a slow but still rather chaste kiss. It takes your breath away and when she pulls back she giggles as your lips unconsciously chase after hers. She gives you what your lips were seeking for, pulling you further into her by your neck and tangling her hands in your hair. You are kissing slowly but then you’re not when you slip your hands under her shirt to grip her waist. You pull away and kiss down her neck. 

Wanda starts to feel hot. She doesn’t know when she started to grind onto you, but her hips are actively working to find some friction to relieve the feeling that’s bubbled up. You’re both wearing too many clothes, she thinks. She pushes you away and goes to take off her shirt, but when she had pushed you, you’d come to your senses. You stop her and pull her shirt back down. 

“As much as I’d like to, Clint and Nat seeing me in boxers haunts me to this day. I don’t want to imagine what they’d do if someone saw us less than decent on the couch,” you explain. 

“Oh,” she says, almost a little dejectedly, but Wanda understands. She honestly forgot they were in the living room, open for anyone to accidentally walk in on them. You crack a joke at her sounding so bummed. “Sorry if I gave the idea that I’d be comfortable putting it all out there for show. I don’t know what kind of things you and your ex-robo-boyfriend liked to do, but not everyone can be as free spirited.”

Knowing what comes next after a joke like that, you are quick to grab her wrists before she punches your arm. “Or as violent,” you add, laughing when she pouts at not getting her way. You wrap your arms around her before falling back to lie on the couch. Wanda stretches out her legs to get more comfortable, which is hard to do given your arms are still wrapped around her holding her arms down as well. 

“You’re the worst,” she mumbles into your neck. You laugh. “Hey, don’t start comparing me to your exes. It’s hard to compete with a lab-produced man. He’s probably over six feet tall and can do long division in a blink. Probably does the cheesy things you like, like serenading you and lipsyncs as the song actually plays from his mouth.”

Your arms loosen up as you speak, allowing Wanda to shift more so beside you. Wanda giggles at your rambling and throws an arm around your stomach. “He’s not an Alexa, Y/N.”

“Are you sure? Or you just never tried saying ‘Vision, play Summer by Calvin Harris’?” She bites your shoulder instead of swatting at you. “Ow. What kind of name is Vision anyway? I mean that can only mean he’s packing some serious stuff cause moaning out ‘Vision’ is just not it, you know? I mean, it’s better than ‘Brad’ but honestly most anything is better than Brad.” 

“Ugh!” Wanda lets out in frustration and a hint of embarrassment. Her face turns pink but she tries to hide it behind her hand. She says something else you don’t catch as it’s muffled by her palm. You grab her hand and move her arm back to its original position around you. “What was that?”

“I said ‘I don’t’,” Wanda repeats. 

“You don’t, what?” you ask. Wanda waits a second for you to catch up. “Wait, you and he never?” you ask. When she shakes her head, you are too bewildered by that possibility that you have to confirm. “Never ever?”

She rolls her eyes at you. “Sorry, it’s just that,” you pause. A thought that nearly shuts down your brain takes over and you have to ask, but you weren’t sure how, not knowing if she would want it brought up in case the answer was yes. “Wait! Were you? I didn’t, um.. Did I…”

“Did you, what?” Wanda cautiously asks, noting how hesitant you are to ask whatever it is you were trying to figure out. You clear your throat. “Was I your first?”

You don’t know what you hoped the answer to be. Yes? Being someone’s first can be a big deal and if you were hers, Wanda’s first time, you’d have to move to a mansion for the size of your ego. But another thought arises. Did you live up to her expectations? Her body language seemed to say yes, but maybe she’s just really good at lying. Did you actually disappoint? Wanda disrupts your thoughts by laughing… loudly. 

“Well, damn. A simple ‘no’ would’ve been sufficient,” you pout. Internally, you are a little relieved to not have been the first. When she leaves here, you’ll probably be brought up at an odd time or another in conversation. Three of the small group of Avengers will probably remember you as Wanda’s fling, but you wouldn’t be able to stand being seen as that goof that deflowered the second youngest member of the team. 

“Do not take this the wrong way, Y/N, but I’m glad you were not my first,” she says. Obviously, your response is “Ouch. I don’t know how there is any other way to take that.” She continues, “Because I got to enjoy myself with you. The first time for me was not fun. I didn’t even really like him, but I was tired of everyone comparing me to Pietro, who is as you say more of a ‘free spirit’, and I guess I wanted to prove I could be too.”

With one hand you run your fingers through her hair and with the other you rub her arm in comfort. “Well then in that case, I’m glad I wasn’t your first as well. Also, I enjoyed it too.” She giggles, making you smile in return. “Just sayin’.”

“What about you?” she asks. 

“My first time?” She nods. You hesitate to get into it and she gives you an out. “You don’t have to.”

“No, it’s only fair. My first was actually Skye,” you say. Wanda looks surprised. “I know. A lot of firsts with that one.”

“How did you meet?” Wanda keeps the conversation flowing after a heavy pause.

You chuckle remembering how it happened. “It all started with what Laura coined the great animal rescue,” you start. You tell her the beginning, the middle, and the end of your first and really only relationship. 

“Was she the girl in the picture you showed Peter?” Wanda knows the answer. Why does she do this to herself? Maybe to try to get it through her head that there is someone out there that knows you the way she does and maybe better. Of course, a straight yes or no is too much to ask from you. “Daisy Ridley? I wish! Could you imagine? Rey Skywalker?”

“Maybe Sam has a right to tease you. You are a nerd.” You scoff, “Excuse me. Anyone would be lucky to date ‘only the prettiest woman alive!’” you repeat Peter’s voice, trying to make his voice. Wanda laughs at your impersonation of the young hero.

You remove Wanda’s arm and get off the couch. She frowns. “Where are you going?”

“Getting us a blanket and pillows. It’s way late and although I can talk with you until the sun rises, I need to get some sleep before Nat kicks my ass tomorrow. I’ll be right back,” you say with a smile before turning to grab said items.

You come back, hand Wanda a big pillow you decide you would both use, and stretch the blanket out over her before getting under it and back to the way you were before. 

“Are you comfortable? Do you want the other pillow?” you ask her, which she really appreciates. Once she tells you she’s all good, you kiss her head and wish her sweet dreams.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” Wanda replies.

She can’t understand how Skye held so much of you and let you go. Holding you and talking through the night with you, she knows it’s going to hurt when she will have to do the same in a few days. She holds you tighter and closes her eyes, hoping to dream of you tonight.

“Does Vision come with WiFi?”

“Y/N, go to sleep,” Wanda mutters, though she tries not to laugh.

“Sorry, just wondering. Goodnight, Wanda.”

Did Vision have wifi? He doesn’t work like a router, does he? Could she have had a personal hotspot the entire time she was dating him? Wanda needs answers.

“I bet you’re thinking about it now too, huh?” 

“Y/N.”

“Sorry, sleeping now.”

____________________________________________________________________

@madamevirgo @marvels-writings @gayarchnemissis @myperfectlovestory @purplemeetsblue @magicallymaximoff @b0mbdotc0m @helloalycia @ironscarletwidowsoilder @cantcontroltheirfear @trikruismybitch @your-my-mission @imagine-reblog @fayhar @idek-5 @causeitswhatjesuswouldfreakingdo @bemyvitamin @musicinourlips @paumxmff @wandamaximoffsrings @yeetus-thyself @lostandsearching @when-wolves-howl @euphoriaszn2 @gingerbreadcookieforlife 

#wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you

[leviiattacks]

hi hi hi i really really really loved your jealous headcanon of levi and your teacher levi!!! i was wondering if i could maybe request something where you kinda mix the two(?) so like theres this event going on in school and the reader is very occupied and busy because shes paying attention to her students and then maybe she talks to some teachers about the event and then levi is just there secretly sulking cause he wants her attention too?? or idk you do you because your works are always soooooooo good thank you<3333

author note :: i did not stick to the prompt which was honestly an accident?/£/):7 but there is jealous levi and reader so i hope it workssss, it’s not that great and isn’t edited...but i hope you enjoy it :-( also thank you for the request you were very kind <3

for this to make more sense you’ll probably have to read my first ever teacher levi post which you can find here !!!!!

requests are always open :-)

word count :: 4.3k ???? longer than i expected ???? 

levi groans at the mention of sports day before turning to look at you dead in the eyes

he knows this is your doing, you’ve always been big on getting the children into sport and other extracurriculars

now see, he has no actual issue with sports day?? he’s pretty fit if he says so himself!!!

it’s just that he frankly does not have the effort to participate.

another part of him also feels frustrated seeing mike flock around you like an annoying bee

he’s asking all sorts of questions

“are we doing the three legged race again this year?”

“how about javelin?”

“HAHA...mike...”

levi takes one look at you and knows you’re trying to let him down softly, it is his favourite event after all.

“since last year’s fiasco and the way you nearly hit one of the sixth graders i think not.” you awkwardly chuckle patting his shoulder as if it’s any consolation

mike loves sports day, he’s competitive in all of the teacher only events and last year he even tripped you and levi up ON PURPOSE might you add

either way he still lost the teacher’s three legged race last year and ever since he’s been out to gain his title back.

levi remembers, he’s unsure if you do but he remembers vividly having to carry you on his back because you had sprained your ankle pretty badly after your collision with mike.

back then you and levi were still in the middle of your little math vs english debate meaning the whole walk to the infirmary was filled with bickering.

and when levi had placed you onto one of the beds you insisted you could treat yourself when you really couldn’t

the way that scenario ended had been with levi forcing you to place your foot onto his knee as he iced and tended to it

this year levi is not having any repeats of that. yes, he quite liked having some alone time with you, in fact it was one of the first times he stopped to wonder if he liked you.

BUT!!!! having you limp around the corridors wasn’t the best either and you were highly irritable until you were fully healed

“why don’t you actually try this year?” hange stifles a laugh, they’re stood to levi’s left and upon hearing their voice his shoulders sag. he knows he’s in for one hell of an earful

“i do try–”

“yeah whatever. anyway, you want a cupcake?” hange’s gesturing to the haphazardly iced buns in the four plastic containers in their hands

“these are for the bake sale!!” they add in enthusiastically.

levi’s about to shake his head, he’s already donated to the bake sale’s charity fund without paying for any of the baked goods. yes it is purely because he doesn’t trust hange to feed him anything edible

“they’re y/n’s batch :-)” hange’s wickedly grinning knowing they’ve hit their colleagues weakness

without another thought levi’s right hand dives into one of his pockets, fishing his wallet out. he places a few spare coins into hange’s palm

“wOAH, you’re pretty eager aren’t ya??”

their remark flies over levi’s head as he tries to pick out two of the most presentable cupcakes

“you’re so fond of y/n, why not try a little harder like i said?” hange’s thrown the bait in the river and levi completely falls for it. he turns ninety degrees completely forgetting about the cupcakes.

“i’m talking about sport’s day if it isn’t obvious.”

he faces hange directly. he scowls twisted in fake disgust and confusion all at once

“and why would i care about that?” he shoots back

“after walking in on the both of you touching each other up in the janitor’s closet i’m really surprised you’re — mMMPH—” levi’s shoved one of the cupcakes into hange’s mouth

“you’re gonna have to pay for that–”

levi smacks some more money into their palm to appease the issue

“when did you see that and have you told anyone else?” he’s seething right now, there’s no way he or you were unable to notice someone as loud as hange prance into the storage cupboard accidentally

“i haven’t told anyone but it has only been three days since i saw so who knowsss...”

“i’ll do anything for you to keep your mouth shut.” levi’s practically begging at this point

“i think you should buy a whole box of cupcakes as compensation. my eyes will never be the same again.”

levi hands over more than enough money, he’s probably handed over enough for two boxes just for extra measure

it’s not that he’s embarrassed of you or anything no, no, not at all. he just, this sounds so stupid but he isn’t sure what the two of you are????

you’ve kissed, A LOT but the only problem is that there’s never actually been confirmation of... something more? than that?

he’s simply horrible at asking, and seeing the way you’re talking to mike it’s almost getting to the stage of borderline flirting

he’s currently flexing one of his muscles and levi’s unsure if you’re actually gawking at them or feigning interest so mike can get bored and leave sooner

his bets are on you pretending for the sake of mike leaving until you reach out to squeeze his arm appreciatively

...

what is this feeling??

insecurity?? a low self esteem??? levi isn’t entirely sure what the emotion that surges through him at that moment is

but hange sure does, grinning at the scene playing out they shove moblit with their elbow

well, well, well levi getting jealous is certainly something new.

when levi knocks on the door of your classroom you assume he’s come to bother you and ask for the spreadsheet with grade averages and all that technical stuff

english and math grades need to be compared side by side and even though it’s your job to help with the data analysis you’re pretty bad at it so levi’s the one who USUALLY picks up the pieces and does it for the two of you

occasionally mike steps in and helps when levi’s got other stuff in the way

“oh levi!! mike told me he’d be doing this month’s spreadsheet?” you’ve poked your head out of the door to talk to him

levi’s eyes narrow at that because he hasn’t asked mike for help at all.

“i didn’t come here for the spreadsheet but i haven’t even told mike to assist me this month... i wonder why he’s so passionate.” he mumbles the last part under his breath

opening the door up you wave for him to come inside “what you here for then?” you ask, oOoh maybe he’s finished reading an inspector calls?? finally you can talk to someone about the twist at the end

“i’m taking part in sports day properly.” the statement is unexpected and ?? levi ?? take anything other than math seriously ??

“woah... i’m proud of you?? i’m glad you’re seeing it’s important to show the children physical activity is fun.” your smile brightens up the entire room and he begins to feel a little more confident

peering up at him your curiosity doesn’t go unnoticed and he clears his throat, he knows you’re expecting him to say something else

ok, ok, ok. he thinks he’s built enough courage up to ask you

“i’ve never got the chance to ask but would you like to go on a date?” on reflex levi screws his eyes shut, suddenly he’s convinced you’ll say no and reject him. why would you accept??

“sure!”

his eyes flutter open and he feels you grip at the sleeve of his shirt.

well? that went better than he expected?

“where do you want to go?” you ask

“doesn’t matter, but let’s go somewhere after sports day finishes up.”

“are you barely going to try like last year?” you’re munching away at a granola bar - it’s rather bland and makes your throat feel kinda scratchy

you’re midway through drinking some water to deal with the dryness but you nearly spit it out when levi responds

“no. i plan on winning every single teacher event.”

HE WANTS TO??? beat???? everyone???

“you’re planning on beating mike too?” you tilt your head to the side incredulously

levi purses his lips at the mention of his name

“why does that sound so absurd to you?”

“he’s um, very good at sport that’s all.”

“i am too.” levi’s adamant to prove his point to you

“fine, here’s a deal. win at least one teacher event and i’ll try and solve one of your funny math problems or whatever.”

“what kind of deal is that??”

“you’ll be able to see me struggle with numbers, for free!!”

“no. i have something better in mind.” levi bites his smile back, he can’t let you know the idea makes him feel

“and that would be?”

he takes a step forward decreasing the space between the two of you.

“how about you kiss me in front of everyone?”

your mouth falls open because oh wow....? you have no actual problem with the task you’re simply surprised that levi is willing to put the both of you out there like that. the spectacle is bound to raise some eyebrows

“deal?” he holds his hand out for you to shake

you nod your head. “it’s a pleasure doing business with you.”

and so your deal is sealed with a firm handshake.

the big day has ARRIVED!!!

all of the students are flooding in through the gates. some carry footballs, other basketballs. you’ve been here for less than ten minutes and had to save a ball from crashing right into an expensive window.

everyone’s wearing active gear, udo walks in with a ski mask on?? which is peculiar but it’s humorous so you don’t tell him off for it

you’ve chosen a comfortable olive green tracksuit, you don’t think you’re in the mood for ski masks like udo is

coincidentally levi happens to show up in the EXACT same type of tracksuit?? everything’s the same to the colour. you both stare at each other for a moment trying to figure out how exactly you managed that but give up, you guess you have similar tastes

the accidental coordinated outfits have a few of your students pointing and chuckling together

gabi and falco are laughing heartily and whispering god knows what about the two of you

“three legged race partner?” levi asks as he fills up some water bottles for the water stand

“oh? mike asked me to be his partner.”

levi doesn’t make it obvious that he’s jealous about it because what adult would be jealous over a three legged race??

but even if you can’t tell levi is pissed mike sure can

he’s walking past the two of you, hands shoved into his pockets when he spots you a few meters away. his eyes sparkle when he sees you. it’s at that moment he senses the dark piercing glare coming from your right.

you’ve yet to notice mike but levi’s seen him approaching from a mile away and he isn’t particularly happy about it.

the good thing about mike is that he knows not to mess with levi.

the two have known each other for years and by now mike knows messing with levi is a death wish in itself.

so when the poor physical ed teacher notices the way levi glowers at him he calls out your name to get your attention - he’s much too afraid to get anywhere near you

“Y/N!!”

whipping your head around you wave at your race partner, why does it look like he’s seen a ghost?? you shove that thought to the back of your mind, he’s probably just tired

“petra doesn’t have a partner and uhh... i think levi’s free. could you work with him instead?”

levi turns away to smile to himself. ah how the tables have turned!!!

“but i want to work with you? it’s always y/n and levi do this. y/n and levi do that!! i wanna try with someone else.”

what you’ve said is a lie. honestly you’d just like to see levi get worked up again

but levi doesn’t get the memo at all. it flies over his head and he huffs thinking if that’s what you want he doesn’t mind. he’ll just show you how he feels.

“it’s okay. i’ll go with petra.” levi nonchalantly salutes at both you and mike as he walks backwards before turning around to locate the ginger in question

WHY DID HE GIVE IN SO EASILY???? YOU WERE JOKING?????

with your mouth open wide mike looks at you once and puts the pieces together

“guessing you wanted him to stick around?” you suddenly hear and god, you feel kinda bad

“oh no!!! i would love to be your partner.” looping your arm with his you smile up at him

whether or not mike believes you isn’t clear but he does return your smile.

there’s a few minutes till the three legged race starts, everyone’s running around. erwin’s knelt down to tie yours and mike’s legs together

as he’s doing so you can’t help but hear a high pitched windshieldy giggle leave petra and you visibly seem annoyed. that’s if your arms crossed over your chest and clenched jaw are anything to go by

levi hasn’t even said anything notably funny ???? what is she laughing at ????

he’s quite literally just standing there making awkward small talk with her

it goes something like this

“have you marked your exams yet?”

levi doesn’t realise she’s said anything till she taps his shoulder and he asks for her to repeat her question

“oh.” he thinks for a while. “no not yet. i’ve got better shit to do. i don’t see them till next week either way.”

and then she just starts laughing so hard that she has to hold her knees and when that isn’t enough she holds onto a nearby pole for support

you see where this is going

when her breathing gets even more uneven she reaches out to grab levi’s upper arm

YUP. you knew it. you can’t be mad at her really. no one knows you and levi are sort of a thing.

a thing? is that the term? well, whatever late night calls discussing books and a few heated kisses in private mean that’s what you are

levi stares at the hold she has on his arm and you expect him to shrug her off. instead he sees you look, smirks a little and waves all the while letting her hand stay there

and the icing on the cake is petra waving at you too and her eyes are much more expressive than she thinks they are

she’s internally laughing at you for sure.

ok, not a big deal, NOT a big deal!!!

this is just him getting back at you for before.

flipping your head back your sad expression probably catches mike’s attention because he seems to cave in

“want to make him jealous back?”

his suggestion is interesting but you catch yourself second guessing

“he’s doing that because he’s jealous.” you mumble shaking your leg to test the strength of erwin’s knot

“and? don’t let him win.” he glances at his shoulder gesturing for you to make the next move

nodding your head vigorously you throw your arm over mike’s shoulder but find he’s too tall to make that work so instead you settle on holding him by the side

it takes you a little to adjust to the close proximity but in the time it takes you to do that mike informs you of levi glaring at the two of you

“mind if i hold onto you here? we can coordinate our moves faster!!!” petra doesn’t even wait for levi to agree to what she says. she just flings one of her arms around his torso

again, he lets her just as last time.

this game of cat and mouse is getting tiring, maybe you should have kept your mouth shut when mike approached you.

“ON YOUR MARKS.”

your senses snap back to where you are. your grip on mike’s torso firms and he turns to nod at you.

you nod back.

you’ll win this.

“GET SET.”

“AND GO!”

okay, SO.

something in your game plan must have gone wrong but mike’s strength is something you’ve clearly underestimated. his first step is so powerful you don’t even have the time to start moving

you assume that’s how you collapse to the ground behind him and scrape your hands onto the cement of the track

so much for winning. all you’re doing is bleeding and hissing trying to cope with the stinging sensation

“mike?!?? not again??” hange groans and jogs over to the two of you untying the ropes at your legs.

“do we have to ban you from another event??? you’re too reckless sometimes.” hange smacks his chest and then hurriedly whispers “levi’s coming this way if you value your life you better bolt and use the first aid kit as an excuse.”

mike doesn’t even debate with himself, that’s his best bet at staying alive and so he dashes away as if he’s left the shower on at home for five hours unattended

some students are murmuring under their breaths and luckily for you the forever reliable gabi and falco have come to your rescue with bandages

“show me your hands.” levi’s hard voice interrupts all discussion. petra’s stood peering over his shoulder and you swear you catch her muffling a laugh

levi frowns. “you good?” he asks. you assume this answer will be the deciding factor regarding whether or not he makes this an issue with mike

“i’m great – trust me!! just a few scrapes.”

levi doesn’t look convinced but he let’s it go.

he helps you get up and takes the bandages from gabi thanking her.

“i’ll patch y/n up.” he tells hange pointedly and they agree. moblit at that moment happens to run over with a megaphone in hand.

“SHOWS OVER FOLKS!! WE’LL MOVE ON TO THE JUMP ROPE EVENT FOR NOW!!!”

“i’ll make him lose the one hundred meter sprint so badly he won’t know what hit him.” levi’s been grumbling the entire time he’s sat down to bandage your hands.

now that you’re both sat close to each other again murmurs of “matching tracksuits??” are back

“you don’t have to it was a mistake levi.”

levi shrugs eyes scanning his handiwork. “i want to. i’ve got to earn my kiss in front of a crowd anyway.”

gently letting go of your hand he looks out onto the track waiting to be called.

you’ve never seen levi give his full effort into sports day but even then you’re unsure if he’ll ever be able to beat mike.

honestly mike sure is fast and you recall one of the children referring to him with the nickname lightening bolt

and speak of the devil. a group of children walk past and are talking about the teacher’s race

“mr bolt’s gonna win for sure. you seen him run?? he could be an olympian!!!!” zofia’s gushing about him, she happens to be a big fan

the only nickname you’ve ever heard for levi is ursula – “ursula sure is evil for giving us that much work >:(” you had heard udo say once during class but after the earful he got from gabi he never used the name again, neither did anyone else

a few more minutes pass in a comfortable silence and levi’s called over to his lane. you’ve accepted the fact that there’s no changing his mind and he’s bound to compete now

“wait for me by the finish line.” he instructs and so you do. you go your separate paths. he to his lane (he’s in the lane two) and you to the finish line

petra’s already standing there waiting. her elbows are propped onto the railing peering out towards the contestants.

making your way to stand with her you see her sigh dreamily at levi in the distance

“hey, i know you don’t like levi a whole lot. you know your fued and all but do you think he’d say yes if i asked him out?”

well.

that sure is unexpected.

you fight the urge to scoff because you know you and levi are starting to drop more hints. is this her way of finding out the truth?

“me and levi don’t hate each other actually.”

“oh, well dislike.”

“we don’t dislike each other.”

“tolerate?” she takes her bottom lip in between her teeth trying to control her frustration

“petra. i like levi.” your confession knocks the wind out of her. you both silently exchange looks. she’s very clearly in disbelief.

the next time she speaks the previous playful lilt in her voice is long gone

“as soon as you noticed i liked him you just had to decide you liked him too. people like you make my skin crawl.”

?????????

why is she so bitter?.)/&£:

you can’t help liking levi and he likes you too,, so what now??

“he likes me back petra. can we be civil about this? i don’t like workplace drama. i had no idea you were into him.” you’re hoping that this will happen to shut her up but NO!!! it doesn’t she’s only more mouthy now

“prove it.” she points one of her manicured fingers into your chest and demands evidence she doesn’t even deserve to see

“what???”

“if he likes you back so much he should be able to show it.”

you know, if it were any day, any other time or any other person asking you this you would have out right refused, but given the circumstances and levi already waiting on you to kiss him in front of the entirety of the school you see no issue with having the last laugh in this argument

“fair enough.” you mutter and lean over to see hange announce the countdown

“ON YOUR MARKS.”

“GET SET.”

“AND GO!!!”

you swear you blink because GOD what on EARTH????? you don’t understand why previous to this levi balked at the thought of participating because he’s made it look so easy.

he’s not bolted he may as well have TELEPORTED to the finish line. mike is breaking out in a sweat far behind him and the boyish grin on levi’s face is enough to tell how he feels

gasps and applause can be heard from the children. zofia and udo are passionately arguing about some bet they’ve made - you make a mental note to tell them that making deals is fun as long as they don’t bet large amounts of money

levi’s jogging up to you completely ignoring petra’s presence

“told you i’d do it. i avenged you didn’t i?” you don’t think you’ve ever seen him smile so confidently in public 

you acknowledge what he’s said with a cartoon like thumbs up and then you’re staring at him unable to locate your courage

oh fuck it

you lean in hurriedly and steal a peck from him. he blinks and then scowls much to petra’s amusement. she has to think he’s about to curse you out but unbeknownst to her she’s read the situation wrong

“is that your idea of a kiss??”

and then he takes matters into his own hands – no literally into his own hands. he cups your face in his palms and captures your lips with his own. as you reciprocate petra can be heard choking on her saliva.

“OH well who would’ve guessed the english and math department had an alliance????? not me???” next is hange, they’re feigning shock even though they’ve known what the two of you have been up to this entire time

the whispers have now become full on shouts

“i KNEW it they were dating?!?!”

“MAN??? I HAD A CRUSH ON MR ACKERMAN WHAT NOW???”

gabi and falco are audibly cheering, you’re quite sure they realised what was up long ago

“DON’T BE UPSET BUT I THINK THIS IS WAYYY BETTER THAN PRIDE AND PREJUDICE!!!!” falco’s comment makes your heart rise in your chest

and you know what? you think so too.

as levi’s hand travels to the back of your neck pressing you further into him you come to the conclusion that maybe just maybe this is far better than pride and prejudice ever will be :-)

#i’m so sorry for making petra mean ?:!/):&: #levi #levi ackerman #aot #snk #attack on titan levi #attack on titan #aot fanfiction #levi headcanons #levi x reader #levi x y/n #levi scenario #levi fanfiction #levi fluff #fluff #aot fluff #leviiattacks #levi ackerman fanfic #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman headcanons #aot headcanons #aot imagines #levi ackerman imagine #teacher levi

[ellsbclls]

The Fire Escape

warnings ➛ A couple of swear words here and there, mentions of death, endgame spoilers, and a dash of far from home erasure.

word count ➛ 4.7K

synopsis ➛ After the events of End Game, Peter Parker takes a break from his crime fighting persona, but when Spider-Man is called to a mission in Sokovia, he realizes that you might not be ready to handle the life of an Avenger’s girlfriend. There’s a little bit of angst, but not enough to keep you up at night.

“Y/N… Earth to Y/N.”

Peter ropes you back to reality with a light squeeze of your hand, a simple gesture that you return two-fold. On normal dates, the competition would ignite almost immediately, squeezing each other’s hands back and forth, under varying degrees of pressure, until one of you cried uncle — but this is far from a normal date.

It had started innocently enough. Peter had begged Dr.Banner to let him leave his “internship” an hour early just so he could surprise you at work. You assumed — after some superb groveling on Peter’s part — that Bruce agreed, because the end of your shift was met with a parchment wrapped dozen of blushing roses, accompanied by your equally blushing boyfriend. The two of you were able to snag one of the emptier carts on the N train, and were accompanied by a small Greek woman who sent a warm smile when you nestled your head into Peter’s shoulder. The smile disappeared as soon as he started using the poles as his personal jungle gym, but your laugh made up for its loss as he offered his hand out, begging you to join him with a Gene Kelly-esque flair. He ushered you into one of your favorite ramen places during your stroll down Ditmars, pulling out your chair when you were given a table, pretending not to notice how you snuck a noodle or two from his bowl when he wasn’t looking. Your heart felt so warm, you’re surprised it didn’t melt.

So why does everything seem so off now? You and Peter are walking side by side down 37th avenue, he’s rambling excitedly about some new enhancement he made to his web slingers, the evening breeze is kissing your cheeks as it waltzes around the autumn foliage, and somehow, you feel like you’re in the eye of a hurricane.

“Where’d you go?” Peter tries to reel you back in once more and succeeds, craning his head to meet your gaze.

“Oh, just a quick jog.” you tease. There’s a thin edge underlying your sarcasm, and you wonder if he can hear it, too. You’re only a block away from your apartment, and the tiny voice in the back of your mind rationalizes that nothing could ruin your impromptu date night if you were tucked away in your home — because you always feel safe when you’re home. Yet, with no solid evidence to confirm or deny the thought, you’re in a race with the block to dig through your purse.

“Oh, well don’t forget to warm up.” he teases back. His caramel hues, once alight with a mirthful glint, start to descend into an uneasy resolve that only confirms your suspicions, but you’re too occupied by the whereabouts of your keys to notice. “Speaking of warm up, actually, there’s something I have to ask you.”

“Shoot.” you reply offhandedly.

“Well, I- I don’t know how to say this.” The tremor in his voice is subtle, but just present enough to pull you from your search.   “There’s- uh- there’s something going on in Sokovia, or at least what’s left of it. There’s a lot of feedback coming off the maps, like a… a hotplate of cosmic activity, so Captain wants the entire team there.”

There it is — that dark cloud that hung over your head this evening finally drenches you in a sharp, cold blanket of realization. Your heart stops, aches, and then crumbles to the pit of your stomach, waiting to be washed away by the waves of terror that crash upon your airways, and despite the wash cycle of emotions you’ve just endured, you feel far from clean. In fact, everything feels heavy — from the weight of your heart to your ragged breath — paralyzed by the idea that each thump, each exhale, brings you closer to the moment where Peter has to leave.

You started dating a year and a half ago, and two years have passed since half of the population was restored to its rightful plane of existence. Iron Man’s death left a massive hole in Peter’s morale, as well as a nagging doubt that he would never be able to take on the mantle he was left with. So, for the first time since he was bitten by that radioactive spider, he cowered in the face of adversity. Not only had he lost a mentor, he had lost his friend — and when Tony Stark sacrificed his life, he was under the impression that the heroes he saved would continue to protect the world, but sometimes Peter wonders if that still reigns true. If Mr.Stark knew just how easily the team had crumbled, how easily he had crumbled, would he still leave? Three and a half years later and Peter still can’t find the answer.

Meanwhile, when it seemed like the world needed him most, Spiderman slipped into obscurity. Now he only makes an appearance when the newscast is a little too bleak to ignore, and even then, he usually sticks to the rogue bank heist or back alley mugging.

You try not to pry, knowing that each time you ask about his brief hiatus is like poking an open wound, and, albeit selfishly, you relish in the fact that your boyfriend isn’t throwing himself in harm's way. However, now seems like a better time than ever for an interrogation, seeing as this is not only the first Avengers mission he’s attended in your relationship, but the first mission to ever span past the Hudson.

No obstacle prior has conjured a looming sense of dread and anxiety as palpable as the one you’re toting now. You can already feel it bubbling in your chest, like a cauldron of endless toils, expelling a hazy fog that makes your head spin.

“Hey, hey, hey, don’t give out on me now.” You don’t realize that your knees buckled beneath you until Peter comes to your rescue, and you silently wish that all of his heroic excursions could be this simple. The warmth of his hand bleeds past your winter coat and business casual blouse as it settles against the small of your back, and your body betrays you as it melts into his touch. “Contrary to popular belief, I’m actually not CPR certified.”

“I- I’m sorry.” Your mouth is bone dry, and you can barely muster a laugh convincing enough to counter his attempt at humor, so you don’t. You opt on settling your gaze upon the entrance of your building, just over Peter’s shoulder, and trying to ground yourself enough to stand without his help.

Peter’s hand still lingers on your form when you shuffle away from him, moving from the small of your back to the curve of your elbow. He can tell that you’re shaken, he expected that much from the get go, so he doesn’t leave your side, encroaching on the space you so obviously seek.  

“I don’t know- I don’t…” You muster just enough courage to counter his gaze, and a tiny frown creases between your brows, confusion riddling every other feature. “What exactly are you asking me?”

He pauses, searching for the answer himself. “Well, I guess- I just wanna know how you’re feeling.”

You chalk it up to your sudden sense of irritability, but his question just pisses you off. How dare he throw out a semblance of hope, a faulty impression, that you’d have any choice in this matter. You climb the three steps up to the front door, dolled up in dismay, and still try to find purchase in the illusion that you have any control in the matter. Maybe that’s what pushes you over the deep end, your once honeyed voice now curdled by venom — the hopelessness of it all. “Oh, I’m fine! I’m amazing, Peter. After the way you buttered me up all evening, how could I possibly be upset?”

“Y/N, that’s not fair-” Peter’s visibly taken aback, his features mimicking your own. You can see the cogs turning in his head, formulating some way to diffuse this situation before it really begins, but now that the gates are opened, it’s too late for you to hold anything back.

“Why not? Cause it’s the truth?” You cut him off, freshly manicured nails digging into your palms in an attempt to keep your tone even. “Let me tell you what’s not fair — You don’t even know how long you’re gonna be gone, do you?”

You’re met with a mutual silence, which confirms just how equally unaware you both are.

“Exactly.” At this point, your nerves are getting the best of you. Whether you lay all of your feelings out to him tonight or not, a sickening thought will remain — Peter is going to leave, and there’s a chance he won’t come back. So you persist, your hues boring into his own with each word. “You don’t know what it’s like to sit in our bed and wonder if you’re gonna be in it the next morning. You don’t know how terrifying it is to watch the news and pray to god that you’re not a part of it. You’re never going to be in my shoes when it comes to all of this, and I pray to god that you never have to be because I never want you to feel this way. That’s what’s not fair.” You wish your voice hadn’t grown weaker with each blow, you wish you could utter your last few thoughts with an unwavering certainty, but you know you can’t — not when a sob threatens to bubble up from the back of your throat. “That you can just decide to swing across the globe and put your life in danger while I sit at home and worry about you, and the worst part is that it only makes me love you more.”

“Y/N, do you think this is easy for me?” he’s never raised his voice at you, especially not like this, but it looks like tonight is a series of firsts for the both of you. “I haven’t been on a mission with the Avengers since high school, since —” Since Mr.Stark died. You know.

It’s not like he didn’t try to say it, he did, but the name just felt so foreign on his tongue. After years of inactivity, the threat of unearthing all those memories, all those bright eyed, bushy tailed endeavors, was almost as bad as remembering that he was gone — or even worse, not remembering them at all. But where could he retreat to now? He’s stuck between a rock and a hard place, forced to choose between the thought of losing Mr.Stark, or the thought of losing you. His thoughts are raw and earnest as he tries to placate the latter. “I don’t want to leave you. It terrifies me to think of all the things that could happen to you while I’m gone —”

“Obviously it doesn’t scare you enough, because you’re still going!” You punch the last two words, as if you’re suddenly trying to talk to him from across the street.

“I don’t have a choice, Y/N! I don’t-”

Your argument skids to a screeching halt, rivaling the groan of the metal door that guards your apartment complex, and with it appears Ms.Nunez — the single mother that lives a floor below you, whose ability to juggle her graveyard shifts at the hospital with her two rambunctious toddlers is almost as impeccable as her timing.

She appears to be in a rush as she skirts past you, but not enough to stop her from sending Peter an all too knowing look — one that screams “what did you do to that poor girl?”, with only the view of your red, puffy eyes and guarded stance to back up her assumption.

And with an opportunity so golden laying at your feet, who are you to ignore it? You catch the door before it hits the frame and slip into the yellowed entryway, barreling up the stairwell before he can question her weighted stare. You leave Peter no choice but to slip past Ms.Nunez in your pursuit, without so much as a goodbye, but a few choice words still sit on the back of his tongue, waiting to be swallowed.

Normally, the five stories of stairs leaves you winded by the third, but you chalk your superhuman stamina up to adrenaline. Luckily for you, you’re able to reach the last flight of stairs as Peter climbs up the first. Unluckily for you, you seem to forget that your boyfriend actually does have superhuman stamina, and you swear to fucking god that he’s flying up the stairwell by the time you shut the door behind you.

The door slams twice more after that, one loud bang to signal Peter’s entrance and one to punctuate it. His voice pierces through the apartment, firm and unyielding. “This conversation isn’t over, Y/N.”

He has no idea where you’ve run off to, ruling out the kitchen once he drapes his jacket over the center island. All he can hear is your voice, muffled behind one of the walls, calling out to him with little emotion to spare. “Oh, yes it is. I’m over it. It’s over.”

“Well, that’s mature.” He mutters under his breath, not expecting you to hear him, let alone respond.

“Oh, I’m so glad you think so!” You chuckle dryly, ”‘Cause your judgment of maturity is oh so rational and not at all fucking batshit.” And he thought he had enhanced hearing.

“You know what? You’re right.” He scoffs, letting the slam of the bathroom door punctuate his final words. “I’m over this, too.”

🕷 🕷 🕷

“Y/N?” Peter calls out, but to no avail. It’s on nights like these where he wishes you weren’t fighting, knowing fully well that you would command him to the bed with a downward pointing finger and the best glare you could muster. You’ve always loved the way his hair curled into soft, chestnut waves, so you didn’t mind weaving through his damp tresses before he went to sleep. You would make up some excuse about how the process helped give his curls definition, and he would always end up way too tired and relaxed to call you out on it.

You’re nowhere to be found, though. Your comforter is still as haphazard as it was this morning, and the kitchen is void of your late night snack ravaging. The only sign of your presence is found in the open window next to you bed, and way the curtains float against the evening breeze, leaving him to ponder your whereabouts at a breakneck speed. 

A million visions of paranoia screen through his mind all at once, but he’s quick to dismiss them, oddly familiar with the prospect of losing someone, and all the fretting that comes with it.

And you know better than to wander the streets of the city so late at night — but with all of the venom being spewed throughout the apartment, Peter wouldn’t be surprised if you needed a small reprieve. Even for just a quick trip to the corner market. He’s well aware of the eagle eye you sport in the moonlit streets, as well as the switchblade that sits in the side pocket of your bag, but he knows better than anyone that you have to expect the unexpected in these streets.

He pulls out his phone, ready to shoot you a quick text when the bars of the fire escape let out a metallic groan. Despite your apartment’s... adequate amenities, you’d never had a problem with the fire escape. The finicky oven? Maybe, but never the fire escape.

Even without his spidey senses tingling, he has no choice but to poke his head through the window pane, and to his surprise, he ends up killing two birds with one stone.

“I didn’t know you were out here.” Peter balances on the window sill, crouching in a near feline stance as he surveys your position — bundled between the metal grates of the fire escape and your downy comforter. Your lips are parted in a tiny “o”, eyelids blanketing your hues, and with the street lights flickering to life across the seam of thirty-eighth avenue, you’re nothing short of angelic — features now outlined in a seraphic, dewy haze.

If he wasn’t feeling guilty beforehand, the sight before him guarantees he is now.

“Yeah, that was kind of the point.” you murmur. You don’t bother to open your eyes, not even when the iron beams start to squeak under Peter’s weight. “Can I help you with something? I’m pretty sure this thing has a weight limit, and this is a weighted blanket.”

You’re met with silence, and you hate to admit it, but you’d take his silent presence over your self-induced isolation any day. Despite the fact that you only moved in together four months prior, your body has grown accustomed to his presence, subconsciously weaving it into your daily routine. There were nights when you would splay out like a starfish in your childhood bedroom, waiting restlessly for the gentle wrap of his knuckles at the window pane, and that same restlessness bleeds into nights in your shared apartment,  which then bleeds into now. Sure, you can trick your body into sleeping, but rest seems to be boroughs and islands away when Peter’s not there to wish you a good night.

A terse silence settles between the two of you, and you blink up at Peter, expecting him to break it since you surely wouldn’t.

“Why here?” Peter exceeds your expectations with his query. His gaze is fixed on Manhattan’s skyline — even from the tippy top of the complex, he can still make out the jagged glittering, crust of the city’s bustling core — and it’s then he finds the answer to his very own question.

“I used to sneak onto the fire escape at my parents place, too.” you reminisce, the corners of your lips curling into a bittersweet grin. “The apartment walls were thin, and whenever they would fight, or talk shit about something I did that day, I would just sit on the fire escape until I fell asleep.”

“How?” He breaks yet another lengthy pause, and you fight the urge to chuckle at his candor, settling with a lazy grin. “I mean, no offense, but Astoria isn’t exactly a library.”

“Yeah, but inside, I knew exactly what they were saying, how they were feeling — it was all in the air. At least out here everything just… blends together. It’s kind of peaceful in a way.”

Your voice is so timid and gentle as you recall your childhood, reflecting on moments that seem lifetimes away despite the handful of years in between. Peter’s gaze is transfixed on your profile, skating down the slope of your nose and skirting the curves of your lips until he realizes just how small you are. He tends to hold you on a pedestal, a habit he’s retained since the very beginning of your relationship, so sometimes it still baffles him to know that you can be anything but perfect — that you too can be human, and make human mistakes.

“How come I’ve never seen you out here before?” He feels like a little kid, question after question slipping past his lips before he even has the chance to filter them.

“‘Cause I haven’t had a reason to hide since I moved in with you.”

And just when he thought he couldn’t feel even guiltier, he’s soon overflowing with it. It kills him to know that you felt the need to escape, and you’ll never admit it after tonight, but he was the one who pushed you toward it.

“I’m sorry.” Peter blurts out, not expecting you to say —

“I’m sorry.”

You furrow your brows, cutting him off before he can even open his mouth to protest. “I’m just so used to my Peter. Sometimes it’s hard to remember that I’m sharing him with the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.”

“Hey, hey — look at me.” His thumb traces the spot right under your eye, using his pinky to nudge the curve of your jaw upward, toward his gaze — heavy and drenched in a type of resoluteness that leaves your mouth bone dry. “It may not always seem like it, but trust me when I tell you that you’re always going to be my top priority.”

“Peter, you’re being dramatic.” You sigh, finding it hard to believe that your life could take any precedence over the safety of mankind itself.

“No, I’m being honest.” His voice, his gaze, they leave no room for protest. You feel a little awkward being the center of their attention, and so it’s a relief when they shift to the city’s skyline once more. “Look over there, you know what that is?”

“Central Park?”

“Mhm, good girl.” Crimson blooms across the valley of your cheeks at his choice of nickname, no matter how innocently he uttered it, but your attention still remains undivided. “I figured out that I can get home quicker if I cut through it.”

You quirk a brow, and he doesn’t need to ask to know exactly what you’re thinking — So what if he hasn’t figured out which trains he needs to board in order to make a dent in his homebound commute? It’s the thought that counts.

“Sometimes like to just stop for a second and watch some of the people in the park, but not in, like, a creepy way? You know what I mean?” A subtle hint of embarrassment tinges his features, but dissolves once he notices your understanding nod.  “Is there a word for that?”

“Yeah, it’s called people watching.” You snickered, trying to imagine your boyfriend and his attempts at roasting the New York natives. “MJ and I do it all the time.”

“No, but with less… shit talking.” He counters.

Ouch.

“Oh…” You’re stumped, unsure of where he’s heading and, quite frankly, a little humbled by his read. “Hmm… Carry on?”

“Well,” Peter lets his hand rest palm forward on his knee, fingers gently curled, and you’re well acquainted with the gesture. Almost instinctively, you hover your hand above his own, digits clumsily dancing with one another as he speaks, and for a fleeting second, everything is back to normal. “It’s just… mind-blowing sometimes. There’s so much life there, all at once. All of these people are just living their lives, making their way home, falling in love, falling out of love, buying overpriced hotdogs from the street vendors — The other day I saw this mom fishing her two toddlers out of that fountain on Terrace road and honestly, if they don’t end up with superpowers, I’ll be shocked.” He can tell he’s drifted wildly off track by the way you nod, slowly and unsure, as to not offend him and his train of thought. “The point is… I used to protect all of that, and it used to make me so happy.”

“You still do,” You murmur, not one to discredit the risks he does take in the name of New York. Just because his enemies aren’t held to the same caliber as, say, Thanos, doesn’t mean they aren’t worthwhile. “All that matters is that you’re doing what you can.”

You hesitantly intertwine your fingers with his, in just a delicate enough hold to let him reject it if he so chooses. Your lips softly quirk upward when he only tightens the grip.

“Thank you.” He offers a comforting smile, one that barely reaches his eyes, and you can tell that he has more to say. So, you squeeze his hand, silently urging him to continue. “Well, I just- after Mr.Stark… passed away… it was really hard to remember why I started doing all of it in the first place. Like- I hate saying this, but why do we keep protecting all of these strangers when all the people we do know just keep getting hurt?” He winces at his own words, so far removed from such bitterness that he can barely believe he once thought such selfish things. “But then- then I get to see all of the people that I’ve been protecting, and suddenly it all makes sense again. All I want to do is make sure people are safe, and happy, and hopefully… Hopefully, when we’re older, and we have kids that jump in the fountains at Central Park, someone like me will be watching… and they’ll feel the exact same way.”

When we’re older, When we have kids... Those promises of marriage, of a loving family, of a future — they bounce off your eardrums like a mantra. Soon, you can’t even imagine thinking about anything but Peter’s words, and how much you love him right now, and how you’ll love him until your heart can’t possibly take it anymore. You can read what he’s trying to portray loud and clear — He loves you, he can see a future with you, and if there’s ever a doubt in your mind that his feelings may have changed, you can look out into the world and find pieces of his heart in every passing face.

“I haven’t been doing everything I can to make sure that’s possible, though.” He breaches your lovesick trance, reminding you that there’s still a thread of discord dangling between you. One that you can see rapidly disappearing with each passing second. “I have to go on this mission, Y/N. I wanna start helping people again. I wanna do right by him.”

“I know.” You whisper, conceding to the fact that you will always want what’s best for him, even if you aren’t a fan of the circumstances. “It doesn’t make it any less sucky.”

“C’mere.” He can barely pat his thighs before you’re crawling toward him. He passes a warm hand under your thigh once you straddle his waist, scooping you further into his lap, and uses his free hand to encompass the nape of your neck. You feel like you could melt, being cradled between his strong, toned  arms, and the feeling only intensifies when his lips seek out yours. His lips are soft, and warm, and taste like listerine, and you couldn’t ask for anything more perfectly suited for you.    

“I love you.” He murmurs against your lips, without a trace of uncertainty. His thumb wipes the corner of your mouth, and he continues to plant a series of sweet, soft butterfly kisses over every patch of skin he can get his lips on — your cheeks, your nose, your temple.

He’s so wrapped up in his gentle ministrations that he barely hears you return the sentiment, eyes fluttering to a close as you breathe out, “I love you.”

“Please come inside,'' he whispers against your forehead, punctuating his plea with a chaste kiss.

You pretend to entertain the thought, tapping your index finger against your chin, before shaking your head with a waggish simper. Fortunately for you, it doesn’t take long for him to take the bait, and he disappears through the window. You can just barely make out the harmony of wild rustling and hushed obscenities coming from your room before Peter is returning to your makeshift bed, clad in the cheesy “The Floor is Lava!” hoodie you snagged from a street vendor during your trip to Pompeii the summer beforehand.

“I’m not gonna lie to you, Y/N,” Peter’s voice is tight, shuffling his knees across the fretted ground as he crawls into your lap. It takes him all of three seconds to make himself comfortable, collapsing between your thighs, and you seize the opportunity to weave your fingers through his soft, chestnut locks. “I don’t think I can make this a recurring thing. I can already feel the scoliosis forming.”

“You’re such a drama queen,” you scoff, only to be met with a scandalized set of caramel hues. “I think you can make it through the night without any permanent damage to your spine.” With droopy eyes, your body starts to hum with the tell-tale signs of sleep, and your voice drips with drowsiness as you murmur, “And I wanna savor as many nights with you as I can.”

“I know,” he whispers back, the aftertaste of guilt intermingling with the abashment that follows your sleepy confession. ”I know. I’m right here, babe.”

And he swore, in that very moment, that nothing would change that.

#peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker oneshot #peter parker x reader #this plot is not the same plot i started with #[tiktok vc] what happened to the original plot of the movie? #but i hope that everyone enjoys? im a little nervous since it's my first one but #please be gentle and most importantly ENJOY #dear god i hope this shows up in the tags #mine

[thisisawonderfulusername]

let's save the world

season two, episode eight

five hargreeves x reader

summary: you have one final idea to get back to twenty-nineteen: finding yourselves

warnings: cursing

word count: 2.6k

a/n: this took for fucking ever but i'm not even gonna apologize at this point because i'm ninety percent sure it will happen again. sorry in advanced. just be glad i did it, alright? anyways, please enjoy episode eight, i loved writing it, i don't know why i put it off for so long

“we were that close.” you whisper to yourself as you go up the stairs, “so close.”

the door to one of the rooms slams behind you as you quickly look through the cabinets, before finding a bottle of whiskey. the only thing you need right now.

you twist the cap off, tossing it to the side as you sit on the couch with a heavy sigh.

you can hear luther speaking as he presumably follows five up the steps, but you don’t focus too much on what he’s saying. something about making a new plan, which almost makes you laugh. no other plan would ever work, if this one didn’t. his family would never let that happen.

the door opens once again as five enters, slamming it shut and locking it before luther can come in behind him. “five!” the big man shouts outside of the door, knocking on it, “come to what?” a sigh follows shortly after, and you hear his steps recede, apparently giving up.

you look to five, holding the bottle out, “want some?”

when he takes it, you expect him to take a drink, not find the cap and twist it back on, “what are you doing?” he questions.

“what are you doing?” you shoot the question back, reaching for the bottle, “if you didn’t want any, you didn’t have to take it.”

he looks at you incredulously, holding it out of your reach, “we still have an apocalypse to stop! you can’t just be sitting in here drinking!”

at that, you let out a loud laugh, yet nothing about this is funny. “you’re kidding, right?” you raise an eyebrow, sinking into the cushions, “i’m done with that.”

setting the booze on the coffee table, his eyebrows furrow at you, “what do you mean? you can’t be done with it. we don’t have much time!”

“don’t you get it, five?” you lean forward as you look up at him, “we can’t stop this. no matter how hard we try, we’ll never be able to. there’s always something that gets in the way when we get seconds away from actually doing it. let’s face it, the world is against us, and this apocalypse is happening.” you sound defeated, and you hate hearing it. you never wanted to give up, to let the world get the best of you. it tried to before, and you persevered. but none of that matters anymore, because soon enough, you'll be nuked and your existence won't have mattered.

he’s shaking his head in disbelief, “no. no, it isn’t. you’re supposed to be the one helping me, y/n! we can still do it.”

“and what’s your plan this time? do you even have one?” you can feel the tears brimming your eyes, and you hate feeling this weak in front of him, but there was no stopping it now.

“i do.” he states, “but i need you to help me.”

sitting on the couch next to you, turned in your direction, he gently guides your eyes to his, his hand resting on your cheek. "i can't do this without you. i can't save the world if i don't have you to help me."

a tear escapes and you quickly wipe it away, sniffling as you gather yourself before you break down completely. "fine." you breathe.

-

you were currently in the kitchen, chugging down as much water as you could from a pitcher before passing it along to five. This plan was so, so stupid. he began to drink from it as well, and luther, who had been napping on the couch, entered.

“five, what…” he glances between the two of you, you putting baby powder anywhere on your body you deemed necessary, and to him, taking in a breath as he flipped the top closed on the pitcher. “are you guys okay?” he questions in confusion.

“we need to be hydrated.” he breathes out, and you hand him the baby powder once you were finished.

if it was possible, luther’s confusion grew, “what’s with the baby powder?”

“it’ll help with the itching.” you state, giving no further explanation.

“what itching? there’s itching? what the hell is going on here?” as five puts some of the powder in his pants, realization dawns on his face, “you do have a plan.”

grabbing his blazer, five sighs, “well, it’s a desperation move, but… since our brain-dead siblings are incapable of meeting a simple deadline, well- we have no choice.”

“no choice about what?” you follow him into the living room, flipping the watch you stole from the formerly sleeping man- since he no longer needed it- open.

“we have to find ourselves.”

luther is so stunned, trying to process it, that he doesn’t speak. “we just arrived in dallas fifteen minutes ago.” you state, closing the watch and sticking it back in your pocket.

“should i be worried about you guys?” luther finally asks, his eyebrows furrowing at the two of you.

“luther, if you recall,” five speaks as he begins to stretch, “we were sent to nineteen sixty-three on a job by the commission to make sure the president was assassinated.”

“oh!” luther starts to understand, “so, wait, your old self is out there.”

“precisely.”

“what, just walking around dallas?”

“walking around dallas with a briefcase that can get us home.” you tell him with a smile. now, if this plan didn’t work, you were truly screwed. of course, the older looking versions of yourselves won’t give up the briefcase so easily, but you know for a fact you can do it. and with that briefcase, there wouldn’t be a time limit. you could gather all of the siblings together and finally be rid of the apocalypse. maybe, just maybe, it will be the last that you have to deal with.

“oh, my god.” luther’s hands come together in front of him, “you are geniuses.”

“however, there are two significant problems with this plan.” five tells him, you nodding along, “problem number one: we are two trained assassins, arguably the most dangerous assassins in the space-time continuum. If we know ourselves, we’re not going to react kindly to bumping into us.”

you knew it sounded like you were giving yourselves a pat on the back, but he wouldn’t be saying it if it wasn’t true. and it definitely was.

“problem number two,” he paces, “this is the real fly in the ointment here: you’re not supposed to exist in close proximity to yourself in the same timeline. the side effects can be disastrous.”

luther seems as if he’s trying to process all of this, “side effects? what sort of side effects?”

“well, according to commission handbook chapter twenty-seven, subsection three-b, the seven stages in paradox psychosis are…”

“stage one: denial.” you begin counting off on your fingers,

“two: itching.” five looks to his brother,

“three: extreme thirst and urination,”

“four: excessive gas,”

“five: acute paranoia,”

“six: uncontrolled perspiration,”

“and seven:” you pause for a moment, dropping your hands, “homicidal rage.”

“homicidal rage?” luther questions, to which both of you confirm, “jeez, i don’t know. this maybe isn’t such a good idea.”

five begins to pace again, throwing his arms to the side, “it’s a hail mary. but what choice do we got, luther?”

leaning against the door frame, the large man shrugs, “i don’t know, you already seem a bit squirrely if i’m being honest.”

“listen luther, we’re gonna need you to help us get through this one, alright?” you stand in front of him, “we need… a spotter.”

“a spotter?”

“yeah,” you breathe out.

his eyebrows furrow, “what is that, like a wingman?”

“in case the paradox psychosis gets too severe,” five strides over, “we need you to help us stay on task, alright? so whatever happens, whatever we say, we need to get that briefcase. okay?”

“okay,” luther breathes.

“okay.” your shoulders relax.

both you and five turn and make your way to the steps, and you barely realize that luther is still at the doorway, staring in front of him. “luther, come on!”

“right.”

-

there’s an irish jig playing as you enter the bar, and chatter fills the air between the people inside, sitting at tables and at the stools along the bar countertop. you look around, skimming over all of the people, until you see them. or- you and five. it’s weird, seeing the older looking woman who sat next to the older looking five. you barely recognized them, since you had been looking at your thirteen year old selves for a while now.

“there we are.” five has spotted them as well. sitting at the bar, the briefcase on the raised wood that acted as a footrest between the two older versions of you.

“why don’t we just grab the briefcase and run?” luther asks.

“luther, we would never let that happen.” you tell him, looking up at him for a second, “we’re trained to guard those briefcases with our lives.”

“right.”

“plus, it’s the inherent paradox where this gets tricky.” five adds in. “we’re endangering our existence just being in the same room with ourselves.”

“huh? what do you mean?”

you roll your eyes, “luther, keep up. if our old selves don’t travel back to twenty-nineteen like we’re supposed to, the whole thing unravels itself. we cease to exist. got it?”

“i… got it.” he doesn’t seem to, but you decide not to try to explain further and confuse him even more.

“so our best chance is to talk with them, to reason with them.” five rolls his shoulders back, “they’ll understand. trust me. i know us better than… better than i know us.” the sentence is confusing, but the point gets across.

as five reaches up to scratch his neck, luther is quick to point it out, “that’s stage two of paradox psychosis.” he whispers urgently.

“no, i didn’t.” five states, “i didn’t itch my neck.”

“denial is stage one.” the large man points out.

“let’s stay on task, shall we?” you wave towards the two of you sitting at the bar, and as you’re about to step forward, luther reaches his hand out to stop you.

“wait!” you look at him in a mix of confusion and annoyance, “maybe i should go first.”

“why?” five asks him, also confused.

“well, you’ll freak them out.” he motions at the two of you, “bumping into your own tiny doppelganger? they’ll lose their shit.” he looks to the older versions of you, “just, let me break the ice.”

five glances around, sighing, “okay.”

“okay.” luther breathes out slowly, and you watch as he approaches the two older yous. you’re not sure if you can trust him one hundred percent.

as he begins to speak, the two of you very quickly get confused and on guard. meanwhile, you unconsciously grab hold of five’s hand to approach. “nope! don’t freak out. no freak-outs. alright.”

as the large man slowly steps to the side, you see yourself- your old self- tense up at the sight of younger looking you. “hey there, stranger.” your five speaks up, and the two older yous are almost shaking in their shoes from the shock and confusion.

you swear you see fear in your own eyes. it’s a look you remember seeing when you first landed back in twenty-nineteen and looked in the mirror at the you that had gotten stuck in the apocalypse. the you that was stuck alone for years until the commission brought you back to five. it was jarring to you as well, at first.

you remember staring into your own eyes. the little girl who had held five’s hand as he discovered the full extent of his powers, until it disappeared from her grasp and she was left in a smoldering, crumbling world.

-

the five of you had gotten a table, and you sat across from your older self, gaze unwavering. out of the corner of your eye, you could see the two fives glaring at each other.

“well, isn’t this nice?” luther breaks the silent tension, “the five of us, together like this.”

“no.” all four of you speak in unison, and luther is clearly uncomfortable, almost squirming in his seat.

the old five doesn’t look away from himself as he begins to speak, “somebody explain to me how it is i’m having a pint of guinness with my younger self.”

“older, actually.” the five sitting next to you states, “i’m you, just fourteen days older.”

“i have pubic hair smarter than you.” the other you says coldly, her fingers laced together on the table in front of her, “how’s that possible?”

“i can explain,” the younger seeming boy responds, “you see, one hour from now, on the grassy knoll, before the president is killed, you break your contract with the commission.” he leans forward slightly, “i already know you’re thinking about it. all those years in the apocalypse, we never stopped worrying about our family. well today, you’re going to do something about it.” he sits up straighter.

“today, you are going to attempt to time travel back to twenty-nineteen. however, you are going to screw up the jump, and end up in this twip of a body.” he points to himself with his two thumbs. “trapped forever, small, pubescent.”

“okay.” the older one finally breaks his stare, shaking in his seat, “even if i was to believe you, what am i supposed to do, not jump?”

“no, no.” you break away from the eyes of yourself, “we need you to jump. if you don’t jump, we cease to exist.” you motion between yourself and your five, “what we need is for you to jump correctly.”

“i’m listening.”

“the first time through, i got the calculation wrong. that’s how we ended up in these bodies.” five begins to explain, “but now, i know the correct calculation.”

the other is almost on the edge of his seat in anticipation, “what is it?”

“he’ll tell you.” you tell him, causing his gaze to turn to you instead, “in exchange for the briefcase you’re holding under the table.”

“yeah, yeah.” luther speaks up from where he’s sitting, “so now, you go back to twenty-nineteen, as planned, but this time with the right math, so you remain a full grown man. in exchange for that briefcase that you no longer need.” he points to the space between the older yous where it rests, a smile on his face.

“timeline restored, paradox resolved.” five speaks, “everyone goes on, existing happily ever after.”

the older you finally breaks her silence, “that’s quite a bit to take in.”

everyone’s heads turn towards her, “what do you think?” five asks, glancing between the two of them.

“i think,” older five says, “i need to piss.” he promptly states, standing from his seat and grabbing the briefcase, heading in the direction of the bathrooms. older you quickly looks between all of you, before also standing up and heading in that direction as well. you have a feeling that they’ll be discussing the situation at hand.

once they disappear down the hall where the bathrooms are, luther breaks the short silence that fell between the three of you. “well, besides the flop sweat, i think that went pretty well, right?” you had barely noticed, but there was, in fact, beads of sweat on your face, and you grabbed one of the napkins to wipe it away while luther patted one to five’s face.

“no, there’s something…” five fidgets in his seat, “something doesn’t feel right about this.”

luther is confused, which you’ve noticed happens a lot. “what… what do you mean?”

agreeing with five’s sentiment, you shake your head, “i don’t trust them.”

“but… they’re you.” he states in confusion.

“exactly.” the two of you speak in unison.

“well… i’m going to go to the bathroom too… maybe talk to him?” it’s more of a question as he stands up before quickly scurrying away.

“they’re planning something.” you state, leaning back in your seat as you scratch the back of your neck.

nodding, five takes a drink from his glass, “we have to be ready for whatever it is. we’re dangerous.”

“very.”

-

taglists

main: @horrorklaus @megasimpleplan4ever

tua: @rasberrymay @noodlextrash @atomicpillar @malfovs @andreasworlsboring101​ @lunylovelovegood

five taglist: @anapocalypseinmymind @five-hargreeves-official @insatiable-ivy @coffee-e-addict @xplrreylo @fandomfreakff @colie-babi @flowertoty @avovada @badwolf00593

let’s save the world: @aspiringwriter1 @thetrashypanda423 @lilacs-lavender @wow-lookit-all-the-fandoms @ohmyitsfaith @xplrreylo @fandomfreakff @onedollarduck @sleepygal124 @faith-quake @stripedchickens @youcandalekmyballs @pettyjayy @libidinexx @bts-chub @theoriginalkat @flowertoty @whenyouwantdeath @ot7purple @purblerain @megasimpleplan4ever @whenyouregrungeaff @dumdumsun @malfovs @hxney-lemcn @frnks-stuff @imwaytootires @avovada @badwolf00593 @dumdumsun @zero2461

#tua #the umbrella academy #umbrella academy #five #five hargreeves #number five #tua x reader #the umbrella academy x reader #umbrella academy x reader #five x reader #five hargreeves x reader #number five x reader

[booksarelife-stuff]

Dancin’ is a Dangerous Thing

James Potter/Lily Evans Potter (jily)

The moments in which James Potter and Lily Evans danced with each other. Pure fluff. 

Word Count: 2,556

Read on AO3

The first time Lily Evans danced with James Potter, it was a complete accident. 

It was fifth year, Gryffindors had not only won the Quidditch Cup, but the House Cup as well. The music is loud and blaring some wizarding band that Lily thinks is trying way too hard to be Queen. 

She’s tipsy, but not drunk. Her fingertips are tingling and she knows her face is flushed. She just finished her second firewhiskey of the night before Mary pulled her to the part of the common room where most of the other Gryffindors were dancing. 

She’s passed from partner to partner. She remembers Sirius at one point, watching him trying to teach Peter how to swing his hips. She laughed hysterically before Marlene pulled her back in.

She was sweaty when she spun right into James’s chest, almost knocking him over. He grabbed on to her to save himself from falling, his hands on her back, Lily’s face in his chest. 

“Oof,” Lily said. 

“A bit drunk there, Evans?” James asked as Lily pulled away.  She was so close he could hear him over the music. 

“Nope,” she said, stumbling. He snorted just as a new song started. This time it was Killer Queen. 

“I love this song!” she yelled. Lily would deny that she was the one to grab James’s hand and pull him in to dance, but all she could remember was the warmth of his hand in hers and how she laughed when he twirled her. 

The second time started with a question. 

“Do wizards even have their own dances?” Mary asked, scrunching her nose. All the sixth year Gryffindor’s had snagged a table in the common room and were quietly doing their work until Sirius asked a question about Muggle traditions for his Muggle studies class. 

“Nah,” James said from beside Peter. His feet were kicked up on the table as he leaned back in his chair. Alice had been doodling on his shoes, which Lily was sure James knew, but didn’t tell her to stop. 

“I mean, we have the same,” Sirius said with a shrug, “Just use them in different places.”

“These pureblood boys had to take dancing lessons,” Marlene said, smugly.  Sirius scoffed. 

“Yeah, so we could dance with whatever cousin Mummy and Daddy picked out for us,” he said. 

Lily blanched at that. 

“Mum made me do it to get out my energy,” James said. “Never worked. I would just waltz around until I broke something.”

The table laughed. 

“Lily, don’t you know how to waltz?” Mary asked. Lily sighed and nodded. 

“We learned in primary school for some reason,” Lily said. “Like anyone one of us in Cokesworth was going to need that knowledge.”

“Show me,” James said, his bright hazel eyes meeting hers. Lily raised an eyebrow at him. 

“What?” she asked, feeling the heat of a challenge from him. He smirked at her, a hand reaching up to his hair to mess it up. 

“You said no one from Cokesworth was going to need that knowledge,” he said. “So I’m asking you to show me.”

She knew what James was doing. It was plain as day. It was either a challenge or an excuse to dance with her, but frankly, she really didn’t care which it was, based on the way the butterflies erupted in her stomach. 

“I need a partner,” she said, sticking her hand out towards him. 

“You’re on,” he said, closing his book and dropping his feet to the ground. 

The warmth of his hand made her whole body tingle and she hoped her face wasn’t bright red as she felt his other hand appear on the small of her back, the starting position. Lily wondered when he got so tall, as she would have to crane her neck up to look at him. She decided to stare at the knot of his tie that was peeking out from his gray jumper. 

Marlene started humming, and they started off clumsily, but it was fine. 

“So, um, bad time to tell you Evans,” James started, glancing down at their first. “I’m bloody rubbish at dancing.”

He stepped on her foot and punched him in the arm. 

~~~

The third time they danced, Lily realized she was in bloody love with the bloke. 

Seventh year had brought a lot of surprises to Lily, including James as the head boy. It seemed since he walked into the prefect compartment on the very first day on the train, he was all she could think about. 

But they were just friends, she reminded herself every time he would playfully knock her shoulder during patrols, or stay up past midnight talking. 

When Petunia’s wedding invitation arrived at breakfast, Lily didn’t want to go, but an accompanying letter from her mother confirmed that Lily had no choice in the matter, but she could bring a date. 

When she asked James to go, her palms were sweating and her heart was jumping in her throat, but he had said yes, like it wasn’t a big deal. 

Petunia's wedding was on New Year’s eve, going into the new year. Lily had been in a bad mood as a result of her family bossing her around to get the wedding all ready. 

But when James arrived, everything seemed to change for Lily. He was dressed in nice muggle clothes and Lily could tell that he had tried to manage his hair. She hugged him tightly. 

He charmed her whole family in minutes, besides Petunia. Whether because he was a freak like Lily or because he had brown skin, Petunia glared at him constantly, her mouth pinched in a sour expression. 

Lily wanted to apologise for even bringing him into the situation but he wouldn’t hear of it. She instead, grabbing his hand, lacing her fingers with his, and didn’t let go of it once. 

During the ceremony, Lily could only focus on James’s hand in hers. He had always been fidgety, normally bouncing his leg, up and down, but he instead used Lily’s hand. Either drawing circles on the back of her hand with his thumb or just playing with her fingers. Lily didn’t mind it one bit and she realized that she let him do it forever. 

At the reception, Petunia and Vernon cut the cake before quickly going to their first dance. James leaned over from his spot next to her. 

“I thought Muggles smashed the cake into each other’s faces,” he whispered. Lily nodded. 

“Yeah, sometimes, but I highly doubt Petunia would go for that. Especially with how much her dress cost,” Lily replied. James pouted a little. 

“I came to see cake smashing,” he said. “I was going to write a whole paper on it for Muggle Studies.”

Lily laughed, causing a few people to give her some nastly looks because Petunia and Vernon were still doing their dance. 

“I’ll gladly smash some cake in your face,” she said. James squeezed her hand. 

“Save it for the wedding, Lils,” he whispered. 

If Lily’s heart could have leaped out of her chest, it would have in that moment. 

When James pulled out to the dance floor, she knew that she was in trouble, especially when a slow dance came on. She couldn’t help herself as she got closer to him, their bodies touching. 

“I don’t want to step on your feet,” he said, his hazel eyes sparkling as he looked down at her. 

“I don’t care, James,” she replied. “I wore closed toe shoes for a reason.”

He chuckled, Lily feeling his chest move. 

“Sorry I’m a horrid dancer,” he replied. “I practiced with Mum yesterday and I about broke her toes.”

“You practiced with your Mum?” Lily asked, feeling like the whole world stopped. 

“Yeah,” he replied. “I didn’t want to make you look like a bloody fool out here.”

She loved him, every doubt leaving her body. She stopped their lazy swaying and pulled away to look up at him, smiling like a fool. James, who had no idea what Lily was thinking, smiled a little confused. 

“Evans?” he asked. “Everything alright?”

“I bloody love you,” she replied. His eyes widened for a second, but they quickly closed as Lily pulled him into the best kiss of both of their lives. 

~~~

James’s hands were sweating profusely the next time they danced. 

Their small little cottage in the village of Godric’s Hollow was slowly becoming more like home to them, despite the random boxes that still linger two weeks after they moved in together. 

It had been a learning experience for both of them, despite the fact that they practically stayed with each other every night since they graduated Hogwarts some six months ago. 

Lily was a bit messy, rivaling James’s need for clear space. Lily walked through the house on light feet, but James seemed to make as much noise as possible, despite his efforts to be quieter. But all in all, they were happy and adjusting to each other. 

James did a once over of their house again, making sure things were in place. He used his mirror to talk to Sirius and Remus, basically nervously rambling until Remus looked James in the eye and told him he needed to calm down. 

But when the fireplace turned bright green, James quickly stuffed the mirror under the couch cushions and waited for Lily to emerge. 

He smiled widely at her when she stepped through. Her robes were covered in stains and she had a smear of something on her face. She immediately sat her bag down and started taking off her robes. 

“You would not believe what happened today!” she said, barely looking at James, who was smiling like a fool. 

“Was it that Cormic fellow?” James asked. Lily gave him a look, expressing her exasperation. 

“I have no idea how he even got this internship!” she said, her robes finding the ground. “He tried to put mercury in a pepper up potion. Literal poison James!”

Lily stepped forward, hugging James tightly. He squeezed her. 

“And when I put a gram of extra valerian root to increase the time of a pain relief potion, I have to write a whole report to justify it so I don’t get fired. I’m sick of it!”

“It’s absolutely not fair love,” James replied as Lily buried her face into his chest. He ran a hand through her hair. “Why don’t you go unwind in a bath, and I’ll take care of dinner, yeah?”

Lily nodded against his chest. Once she was up the stairs, it was go time. 

James quickly went to the kitchen, and lifted the spells that were keeping the smell contained. He knew if Lily smelled his Mum’s special curry when she first got home, she would be suspicious. The treacle tarts, Lily’s favorite, were kept warm in the oven. 

James quietly transformed their living room, dimming the lighting and starting their fireplace instead. He turned their coffee table into a dining room table, and shrunk the couch, placing it on the mantle for it to return to its normal size later. 

Lily was never long for baths, as she hated getting pruney, but he was adjusting the candles on the table when Lily descended down the stairs. 

“James?” she asked, causing him to jump. Lily was standing on the bottom step, nothing but her dressing gown on, which was tied tightly around her waist. 

James felt a lump in his throat as he took her in. She was so gorgeous and even though James had explored every part of her body, he still felt giddy. 

“I thought a romantic evening would be nice,” he said, gesturing around. Lily smiled. 

James went to the stairs and offered her his arm. 

“What is on the menu tonight?” Lily asked, leaning her head on his shoulder for a moment. 

“Euphemia’s special curry and rice, along with a treacle tart dessert,” James said. 

Lily beamed at him as he pulled out her chair. 

It wasn’t until the plates were empty and her dad’s old record player was playing an Elton John record. 

Just as Your Song by Elton John started, James finally mustered up the courage to start speaking. 

“It’s weird how we’ve been together for less than a year,” James said. Lily hummed in question. 

“Why?” she asked, snuggling up to his chest as they swayed back and forth. 

“It feels like we’ve been together forever,” he said. Lily thought quietly for a second. 

“Yeah, I feel that way too,” she said. “It’s weird. How we went from barely standing each other to missing you every second we’re apart.”

“Still can’t believe we thought we could live apart,” he said. Lily laughed again. 

“Won’t happen ever again, that I’m sure of,” she said. James' heart fluttered happily and the weight of the ring in his pocket seemed a thousand times lighter. 

“Living together forever, then?” he asked softly. 

“I plan on it,” she said, confidently. 

James released her. She looked up with questions in her eyes, but they quickly got the answers as James got on one knee. 

“I plan on forever too,” he said, looking at Lily who’s eyes were filled with tears. “We’re not even 19 yet, but Merlin Lily, I can’t wait. I can’t wait to start the rest of our lives together. I just know that you are the only person for me.”

He pulled the ring out of his pocket. It was a family one, but one that his mother had brought from her own family in India. Euphemia had insisted that this was the right for Lily. It was a simple opal ring, with an intricate band.

“Will you marry me?” he asked. 

Lily nodded, words failing her. She practically tackled him to the ground with kisses. 

~~~

Lily’s eyes opened up. She couldn’t identify the source of what woke her up, but as she turned over on her other side, there was no James besides her. It took a second before she heard the creak in the floorboard, coming from Harry’s room. 

She got up, knowing that Harry normally slept through the night with no problem at his age of a year and a half. The last time he woke up in the middle of the night, he was sick. Lily slipped on her slippers and walked down the hallway. 

Standing in front of the window was James’s silhouette, swaying back and forth. She could see Harry on his hip.

“You just wanted someone to cuddle, did you Harry?” she heard James whisper. Lily smiled widely.

James started humming as he rocked Harry back and forth. He pressed kisses to the top of Harry’s head.

Lily stepped forward, the wood creaking beneath her. James turned around. 

“Did we wake you?” James whispered to her as she crossed the room to him. 

“Probably,” she whispered, a smile on her lips. “But it’s fine.”

She wrapped her arms around the side of James that wasn’t holding Harry. She rested her head against his chest, coming face to face with wide green eyes. She joined in on their swaying. 

“Hi Harry,” she whispered, taking the hand that wasn’t wrapped around James to pat Harry’s back. His eyes started to flutter close. 

“He really just wanted to snuggle, huh?” she asked. 

She felt James chuckled. 

“And dance with us,” he said.

#James Potter/Lily Evans #James Potter #Lily Evans Potter #Lily Evans #Harry Potter #Marauders #marauders era #dancing #fluff #no voldemort because I said so #inspired by taylor swift like always #jily

[thedistrictsleepsalonetonight]

Cupid is stupid (Or Weiss asks a lot of questions and finds love in all the softer places)

Falling in love, Weiss discovers, rather inconveniently in the middle of a fight, is a lot like wielding a weapon.  

There’s the push and the pull, the drawing blood and taking of it. Weiss is rather inclined to think of it as a violent, bloody dance — the way she’s almost constantly tripping over her own feet trying to follow her partner when she has no idea what her next move will be. Then, of course, there’s the fact that whoever she’s dancing with is equally as clumsy as she happens to be, which Ruby definitely is.

“Thank me later,” she quips, after she’s done saving the idiot’s ass for the millionth time in her life. And then it hits her right in the chest, not a Grimm’s blow, not a weapon, and worse that Cinder’s fiery spear that had impaled her a couple days ago — this is affection. Not the kind she feels for Yang or Blake or any of their other friends, it’s the kind that turns her inside out whenever she so much as sees a malevolent force heading towards Ruby. The kind that automatically reaches out to touch Ruby when she’s near, that draws her eyes, unbidden to search her out in a fight.

Ruby catches her a while later, holding onto her hand as she hangs off a moving train, and Weiss can do nothing other than blink back at her — at her bright eyes, and her hair whipping around in the wind. She then proceeds to whisk them both to between two train carriages, in a flurry of red. When Weiss tries to step away, to catch her breath, she finds she’s stuck to the ground, or more accurately, entangled with Ruby. They’ve got their arms wrapped tight around each other, and with every movement, strands of Ruby’s hair land onto her face. Weiss doesn’t know it then, but all of her molecules have indeed just been rearranged. She has a feeling that stupid thing in her chest has been put back together to form Ruby’s name instead.

*****

It’s almost offensive how easily she feels the cold when she’s supposed to be the Ice-Queen. Yang would say something stupid about her not having a thick skin because she grew up in the literal lap of luxury (and she would be right, but that’s beside the point) and Blake would probably punch her in her arm, but thankfully, nobody’s noticed yet. So she stands in the corner of the porch, looking out at the rapidly falling snow outside the creepy house.

“You’re cold,” Ruby murmurs when she sidles up to her.

Of course. Of course Ruby sees. “Everyone’s cold,” Weiss says back.

Ruby shrugs, gently reaches for her hands, her eyes on Weiss’ the entire time. Is this okay, she seems to be asking, and Weiss, helpless, can only nod.  

Ruby covers Weiss’ hands with her own, raises it to her face and like it’s a secret, breathes warm air into their cupped palms. She’s no longer looking right at Weiss, instead focusing her attention onto their hands, and Weiss, like any other time she’s lucky enough to get to stare at Ruby freely, takes this opportunity to do so. The cold in her bones has instead been replaced with warmth — Ruby warmth, the particular shade that she can only find around Ruby — and even the tremendous crash of Qrow and Jaune breaking down the door registers to her as though coming from far, far away.  

Ruby blows one last gust of warm air into their hands before they make their way inside. She doesn’t let go, though. Weiss realizes she didn’t want her to, anyways.

*****

There are around ten people in the house besides the three people who actually live there, and not enough beds. It’s a logistical nightmare.

“Or,” Nora says, smirking in a very wink-wink-nudge-nudge way while she side-eyes Ren, “it’s an opportunity.”

Ren colors, fiddles with his collar until he’s sunk half into it. They’re all polite enough to look away; the sight of Ren, embarrassed is physically painful to witness.

“We’ll — we’ll manage, won’t we?” Ruby pipes up, smiling brightly, and Weiss sees them all smile back in reflex. Sometimes she wonders if she’s the only one Ruby can twist around her little finger — other times she is reminded that she just has that effect on people. Why else would they follow her to the ends of the planet? When Ruby talks, people believe.  

(When Ruby talks, Weiss physically feels her heart careening out of control, skidding into a blind curve with no idea what lying ahead. On and on and on, like Ruby’s running up ahead and Weiss follows, with just her voice for company)  

They end up cramped in two rooms — Maria gets the bed in the guest room, in honor of her being practically a fossil, a fact that gets Yang’s ears boxed when she says it aloud. Oscar, Jaune, Nora and Ren plant mattresses on the free space on the floor and are snoring in fifteen minutes. Qrow claims he won’t sleep much, and finds a rocking chair that he pulls close to the window, and he sits there, swigging rum ominously every once in a while. The rest of them decide to concede the couch in the living room to Ruby, who looks the most exhausted. And when Weiss gets up because she can’t sleep, she sees Blake and Yang snoozing next to each other, their hands loosely held close to Blake’s chest.

“Can’t sleep either, huh?” she hears from somewhere beside her when she goes out to the porch, and whirls around, only to see Terra sitting in the corner. Adrian is perched on her lap, watching the soft snow drizzling outside.

Weiss smiles at her, feeling a little awkward about the entire thing. Shrugs. “Shouldn’t he be.... asleep?” A quick glance at the clock confirms her suspicions. It’s almost one.

Terra chuckles. “He conked out at seven. He wakes up in the middle of the night at least once. This — this helps him go back to sleep. Plus,” she pauses to bend a little and deposit a tiny kiss on top of his tiny head, “it’s one of the few minutes I get to spend with him in the day.”

Weiss thinks of her own childhood, of nightmares and staying up all night terrified, because there was no way, absolutely no way she was allowed to wake her parents up for any reason besides imminent death. The Schnee estate was vast, confusing and filled with entirely too many showpieces no one would ever use, full of winding staircases that lead nowhere close to comfort.  

This house is tiny and full of love. Every dent on the couch talks of tickle fights and places someone was so happy that they bounced their way into almost breaking it; the lower parts of the walls are scribbled over with crayons and blue hearts and stick figures of smiling people. She thinks back to dinner when Oscar and Nora burned whatever pie abomination they were supposed to be baking and then they’d all crammed into that tiny space to try to salvage it, and Weiss could’ve sworn even the tiny gaps between them were overflowing with love.

(This is a house someone would want to walk into at the end of the day. A place of shelter. A home)

“Jaune did mention you, you know?” Terra says, after a while, and Weiss is startled out of her train of thought. “In his letters to Saphron when you kids were at Beacon. He was particularly effusive in his description of you.”

“Oh dear lord,” she says, burying her face in her hands because that phase of her life seems so far, far away now. “I’m so glad he got over it. Not before singing an awful made-up song on his guitar, though.”

Terra laughs, softly, and Weiss notices that Adrian’s fallen asleep against her chest, his head resting on the arm she’s moved awkwardly to brace him.  

“Saph worries about him,” Terra says. “He makes sure to text her updates, but she can tell when he’s left a lot out. He’ll text her something like roadtrip and she knows to translate it to we’re on the run and have no idea where our next meal is coming from. He’s her only brother and kinda the baby of the family. And she.... she frets.”

“And when she worries, you worry,” Weiss completes.

When Terra looks up at her next, it is with all of her emotions plain on her face to see. Weiss reads consternation, affection, helpless desperation and blinding, blinding love before she bites at her lip and wipes it clean. Nods.

Weiss goes back inside a couple of minutes after they do, Adrian’s head hanging off his mother’s shoulder as they make their way to his room. When she walks in, she catches a glimpse of Qrow, snoring with a blanket now thrown across his torso, and movement off the corner of her eye. Oscar gives her a boyish grin, holds up a finger to his lips, before he disappears back to the guest room. She climbs over Yang and Blake, and finds her way, inexplicably, to Ruby’s side.

At some point in the night, Ruby had apparently kicked off her sheets and they now lay half-thrown over her legs. Weiss kneels at her head, looks on. At her impossibly young features, and her mouth that has fallen open, and the few strands of hair that are strewn across her forehead. Weiss wants to kiss the spot where they meet, wants to kiss the tiny freckle just beside her nose, her snoring mouth. She flushes, and balls her hands up into tight, wanting fists.  

When the urge passes (passes in a way that thirst in the desert passes, always there beneath the surface, just pushed back down enough so one can concentrate on more important things), she pulls the sheets up over her body, and tucks the ends, carefully over her shoulders. Her fingers wander, unprompted, to Ruby’s face, where they trace the path of her hair, and brush it away. Once. Twice.

And Ruby stirs beneath her hand, and then is staring at her, wide-eyed. There is no fanfare to how she wakes up, no protracted sigh or stretching. Weiss guesses it’s a product of their on-the-run lives — when there is no time to breathe, one gets used to waking and sleeping easily. In the end there they are, with Weiss kneeling next to Ruby, their faces shrouded in moonlight, staring at each other.

“I’m sorry I woke you up,” she whispers, after a beat. Her hand is still resting on Ruby’s face. When she moves to bring it back, Ruby stirs. Her hand comes up to cover Weiss’, keeping it there.

“It’s okay,” Ruby whispers back, still holding her goddamned hand close to her face. Weiss can feel her breath tripping all over itself, like it’s not sure what to do in such close proximity. It’s almost intimate, she imagines, the both of them with their heads huddled together. If she leaned forward a smidge, their foreheads would touch. A head tilt — and here the thought makes her feel hot all over — and they would be kissing.

(The distance suddenly feels almost awfully unbearable to her)

Ruby’s still staring up at her, her eyes still wide and serious. When it all becomes too much, Weiss moves her hand to cover her eyes.

Ruby’s lips curve up in a sleepy smile. “What?”

“Stop,” she says, flustered, “stop looking at me.”

“But I like looking at you,” Ruby tells her, sounding amused and Weiss is one hundred percent sure she is going to die tonight.

(She doesn’t mean it she doesn’t mean it she doesn’t mean it she doesn’t — then — she means it in a different way than what you’re hoping for so shut up shut up shut up)

“Shut up,” she says, finally, then adds. “Dunce.”

Ruby giggles, then her mouth stretches open into the hugest yawn ever. Weiss laughs, boops her nose, because she simply must.

“Sleep, okay?” she says, one last time. Then, without thinking too much about it, she leans down and presses her lips to Ruby’s forehead.

She’s not sure, but Ruby looks a little like she’s blushing. She blinks a few times, then says: “Now I will.”

Weiss’ mattress is just below the couch. Five minutes after she lies down on it, she feels Ruby’s hand travel down and rest on her head. It is to the continuous motion of her hand through Weiss’ hair that sleep finally takes her when it does.

*****

Winter is all angles and bones. Not just physically, but also in the way she carries herself. She is sharp edges and words that cut easily. Weiss knows it’s not just her — the Schnee family tends to make knives out of people and then set them upon the rest of the world to hurt and maim. Weiss knows that better than anyone else, knows that some blades draw blood unwillingly.  

Also knows that Winter is trying her very best to change.

But her posture is still ramrod straight, refusal to relax written into every single one of her cells. They’ve all split up after their celebration for their newest promotion to Huntsmen and Huntresses: Yang and Blake having disappeared on a trip to explore the city, Ren, Nora and Jaune off to gorge on Atlesian delicacies, and they’d left Oscar practicing sparring with Ruby. Winter had dropped in to invite her out to a celebratory dinner at Atlas’ finest dining establishment, and so here they were, sitting awkwardly in front of each other, eating whatever was on their plates.

Weiss wonders if Winter would die of shock if she dared to reach over and steal one of the dumplings on her plate. The Weiss of two years ago wouldn’t even have entertained the thought.  

Today, she thinks about it maybe five seconds before picking one up and shoving it into her mouth.

Winter’s eyebrows are arched. “You know Father would disapprove of the declination of your table manners.”

“Good thing I don’t care, then,” she replies, flippantly. “Do you?”

Winter rolls her eyes, takes a sip of her wine. “You’re my sister, Weiss. You could take half my liver and I’d only call you a boob. Or something equivalent.”

That’s how Winter Schnee loves. In casual gestures, in standing behind Weiss, ready to sacrifice herself at a moment’s notice. It is not the unwavering, adoring devotion of Yang and Ruby — Yang wouldn’t even entertain the thought of a potential hurt coming her sister’s way, jumping into action to save her before she even asks. Winter, however, needs to make sure Weiss can take care of herself, only hanging back in case things get too dire.

She smacks her hand with the chopsticks when Weiss reaches for another one. “I offered up a liver, you go looking for my heart? Behave, Weiss.”

It makes her laugh.

And it’s this foreign.... ease, for lack of a better word, that has Weiss’ tongue loose enough for her to shoot Hey, Winter, you ever been in love before an hour later, when they’re walking back to the military complex.

Her sister seems to be choking on thin air — she coughs and squawks and makes all sorts of undignified noises, before smacking Weiss on her head to make her stop laughing.

“I’m sorry,” Weiss says, when that hysterical bout is over. “Just wanted to see the look on your face. You don’t, you don’t have to answer that if it’s too personal.”

“Imbecile,” Winter mutters, but she turns to face her anyway. They’re almost at the building that has their apartment, and they stop almost simultaneously, standing in front of each other and trying very hard to avoid looking into each other’s eyes.

Winter hesitates, then speaks again. “Really want to know?”

Oh. Wow. Okay. “Yes,” she nods, trying to look casual about the whole thing.

“Once,” Winter tells her, running her hands through her perfectly coiffed hair in a very uncharacteristic move. “Before I joined the military.”

“And what happened?” Weiss asks, after a prolonged pause.

Winter’s smile is both sad and amused. “Father found out about her. What do you think?”

And she doesn’t know if it’s the easily dropped pronoun, or the way she can still read the utter loneliness in her sister’s eyes, but Weiss finds herself taking a step forward and wrapping Winter up in a hug.  

(Winter is all angles and bones)

And stiff limbs. “What,” her sister says, hesitantly, “Weiss, what are you doing?”

“Hugging you.”

“We don’t do that,” comes the prim response.

“We also don’t steal food off of each other's plates, Winter,” she replies, easily, still acutely conscious of the way Winter is just pressed against her stiffly. “As far as major changes go, I personally wouldn’t mind seeing a lot more of this.”

Winter’s arms come up, finally and hang loosely off her shoulders. As far as hugs go, it’s not the most comfortable one.  

(As far as hugs go, it’s one of the best Weiss has ever had)

And that’s' the moment, she becomes aware of movement from somewhere up high. Winter’s back is facing the building, so she’s in the perfect position to tilt her head up and see—

(What in God’s name?)

Oscar, Jaune, Nora, Ruby, Blake and Yang and crammed into the same window, peeking out at them, and appear to be giggling furiously. Ren, thankfully, seems to have enough dignity to not stoop to the level of these utter pains in her ass.

“What the—”

“Weiss?” Winter asks, still awkwardly hugging her. “Something wrong?”

She laughs. “Depends on what you define as wrong,” she says, and disentangles, so Winter can turn around and see for herself.

“Oh dear.”

A chorus comes sailing from above. “Hi, Officer Winter!” they all say, and then disperse, laughing madly. Only Ruby remains in the end, waving at them shyly.  

Winter, to her utter surprise (and really, it shouldn’t have been. If the evening had taught her anything, it was that she didn’t give her sister enough credit), waves back. When she turns back to Weiss, she’s even smiling a little.

“I like that one,” she tells her, eyes glinting with what Weiss can only define as mirth.

“Everyone likes her,” Weiss replies, shrugging.

“Do you?” Winter’s eyebrows are raised, and Weiss cannot help dropping her gaze, bringing a hand up to rub at the back of her neck. Winter’s hand falls on her hair, ruffles it up a little.  

Her parting words are Be careful, you boob. Weiss pretends not to understand.

*****

Blake and Yang are easy to figure out. Even Weiss, who has a general tendency of being clueless in these matters, can see the way Blake kind of — withers, when Yang isn’t around. There’s a light in her eyes that’s only visible when Yang’s close to her, a subtle confidence in her shoulders that says Yeah, I’m good now. Blake and Yang carry their love in their bodies, always moulding themselves to the other’s relative position. Weiss is sure even they don’t realize it yet, the way they always seem to come together when they’re in the same room, this unconscious meeting of opposite poles that ends in relief. They’re tangled hands, arms resting around shoulders, feet nudging each other, eventually leading up to secret smiles in team meetings.  

Sometimes, Weiss is sick of the whole thing.

Oftentimes, Weiss wants them to be happy so, so much that she fights the urge to push them into a room together for two hours.

“They’ll be back soon, you know?” she tells Blake, who hasn’t moved from the window since they finally made contact with the rest of the team. Blake whirls around, relaxes, then accepts the coffee Weiss is holding out to her.

“Thanks,” Blake says. “I just—”

“I know, I know. You worry.”

“I just,” she says, tugs at her hair with her free hand, “I just, I don’t know how anyone does it. Stay away, I mean, I — it’s like I can’t breathe properly when I don’t see her.”

And Weiss has done it once, a long time ago, although the magnitude of her feelings wasn’t known to her back then. Back when her father had locked her up in an ivory tower and she had no idea what Blake or Yang or Ruby were doing, if they were even alright. But she still stayed up all night, wondering if Ruby was okay, if she had eaten, if she was thinking about Weiss.

She imagines having to leave Ruby for a moment now, and the melancholy that washes over her almost brings her to her knees.

“Some hypocrite you are,” she says, teasing Blake gently, “with all the find yourself schtick you gave Nora earlier.”

She laughs, and Weiss finds herself hoping it’s taken her mind off of Yang for at least a little while.

“I like your brother,” she says, then. “He’s adorable.”

“Can you say that to him, please?” Weiss begs her. “And can I please be in the room when you do so?”

There’s another moment of levity. “Hey,” she starts, frowning a little. “Do you know where he is right now? Haven’t seen either him or my mother after the whole Grimm debacle.”

“I last saw him with Ruby,” Blake says. “I think he’s.... quite taken to her, actually.”

Weiss sighs. “Of course.”

(Ruby is the pied piper, after all. Everyone would follow her to the ends of the planet)

(Weiss? Weiss would walk with her beyond it)

Blake grins at her.

“What?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she says, mischievously. “Seems he’s not the only Schnee who’s quite taken with her.”

(Blake deserves the massive bump running headlong into the glyph Weiss conjures up in the next second. No doubts about that)

*****

The end of the world comes after the night before the end of the world.

Like a protracted moment of utter calm before the cacophony starts, they all comes together, and eventually split up to the places that give them the most peace. Weiss takes a tour of the house once. Her mother’s sleeping on a chair next to Whitley’s bed; Weiss covers her with a blanket before she moves on. Jaune and Oscar are sitting guard over Penny, next to Ren, who has squeezed himself in beside Nora. Yang smiles at her warmly when she comes upon her and Blake in another room. Blake’s fallen asleep with her head resting on Yang’s lap. She wanders around for a little while more, until she finally comes upon Ruby in her bedroom.

“Why is it,” Weiss says, “that most of the time I meet you, I have to tell you to go to sleep?”

Ruby turns, smiles at her, but the smile is fractured in places. Weiss takes a step forward, closer.

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

“Nothing, nothing, I,” Ruby takes a deep breath, looks around. “I can’t believe you lived here.”

Weiss lets her change the topic. “What’s so unbelievable about that?”

“Just doesn’t look like you, that’s all.”

“That’s because I don’t exactly belong here.”

“Where do you belong then?” Ruby asks, looking right at her.

With you. “With all of you,” she says. It’s true. “Blake and Yang. And Jaune and Nora and Ren and Oscar. And even — that stupid alcoholic uncle of yours. And—”

“—and?” she asks, a lopsided grin on her face.

“And you.”

Ruby sighs, steps forward so they’re in each other’s personal space.  

“Weiss,” she says once, quietly.

Weiss closes her eyes, takes a step forward of her own, blindly, feeling Ruby’s steadying hands on her shoulders, her back, her hair. She feels a hand carefully moving against the scrunchie holding her hair together.

“Can I?”

She nods, feels her hair pulls free. Ruby helps detangle it, the braid, and ends with tender hands, smiles.

“I like your hair,” she says, then makes a soft sound in her throat, urgent, wanting. “Weiss.”

“Yes, Ruby?”

“Weiss, Weiss, Weiss,” Ruby says, again, and now her forehead is tipped against Weiss’.

“What, darling?” Weiss murmurs, and feels Ruby’s shuddering breath in response. There’s a small, desperate kiss pressed to her hair, then her forehead, and amusingly enough, her nose.

“Weiss, I have to tell you—”

“—wait!” she says, not moving. It’s not like she could. A Grimm could be standing in the room right now and it couldn’t draw her away from Ruby. She touches Ruby’s cheek gently, feels Ruby sigh and sink into her palm. “Please — please don’t say what you’re about to.”

(A part of her, the stupid, hopeful part knows what it is and craves it, dreads it, mourns it already)

“And what am I about to say?” Ruby asks, her eyes burning with something Weiss can’t find the words to define.

“Something incriminating, I fear.”

“You fear?”

“Yes. But I also — I hope.”

“Then let me say it,” Ruby implores. She removes her arms from around Weiss, grabs her hands and raises them to her lips. Kisses her knuckles carefully. “Weiss, you know already. You must know.”

“I do, sweetheart, I do,” she says, resting her head against Ruby’s collarbone. The two of them have been circling each other in some dance that Weiss hasn’t been able to pin down yet, have been hurtling, at alarming speeds towards unknown cliffs, and the same way that Ruby has to know that Weiss would split herself end to end for her, that if cut into pieces, Weiss would bleed for her happily, Weiss knows.

(All love is violence. She knows that better than anyone)

“Tell me,” she starts, “tell me when there is peace.”

“But there will never be peace!” Ruby says, and her voice cracks. Weiss raises her hand blindly to press at her cheek and feels the warm moisture sticking there.

She rises on her toes so they’re level again. “There will be.” Weiss would make sure of it. For Yang and Blake, who need time to get their fledgling love off the ground. For Ren and Nora and Jaune who have lost too many friends already. For Oscar, who deserves a chance to grow up and for Qrow, who deserves a chance to feel young again. For Penny and Maria and Pietro and her mother and Whitley and Winter.  

For the girl she loves.

For Ruby.

When they kiss, Weiss thinks she’s shattering into a million pieces, like she would never be the same again, even if reformed into someone who resembles Weiss Schnee on the surface. How could she, with the memory of the movement of Ruby’s lips now imprinted on hers, her fingers tracking indelible marks through her hair — tomorrow, she will remember, a week later, she will remember, if somehow, she couldn’t see Ruby for another thirty years, her skin would remind her, every day.

*****

The end of the world comes before the day after the end of the world.

Weiss wakes up in the woods, empty handed. She wakes up, and thinks of Ren and Nora and Oscar, hopes they got to safety. Of her mom and Whitley and Winter. She thinks of Jaune who tried carrying her to the door. Of Yang who fell infinite miles into the void before Blake fell an equal distance to her knees, of finding Gambol Shroud and trying her very best to gather her courage to honor her teammates best.

Weiss wakes up in the woods, stumbles to her feet, looks around. There’s water to be searched for, and sustenance to be gathered. She’s got a long journey ahead of her, after all.  

Ruby’s waiting for her.

#rwby #weiss x ruby #whiterose #rwby fanfiction #i have a feeling this is just the start of a lifelong obsession with rwby and writing whiterose fanfic but eh #i simply had to attempt to give weiss schnee some form of happiness - she is my absolute fav character from any media ever #also if you're a regular reader (I'm sorry if you are :P) and you find a metaphor i've repeated no you didn't.....pls #there's only a number of finite ways you can write about falling in love okay? i've checked #anyways - im not sure if its my best attempt at anything but here goes #happy reading!

[my-writings-and-musings]

Could you do Drift and Ravage for the oxygen loss prompt?

I absolutely can do Ravage, our dear kitty deserves the love! Drift can be found in part six below!

Part One: Here!

Part Two: Here!

Part Three: Here!

Part Four: Here!

Part Five: Here!

Part Six: Here!

Part Seven: Here!

Part Eight: Here!

Part Nine: Here!

Part Ten: Here!

Part Eleven: Here!

Part Twelve: Here!

Part Thirteen: You're Here!

Ravage

·The tale of how you even became friends with the reclusive and understandably untrusting felicon is as long as it is convoluted, but a good synopsis is that the two of you simply get one another. It doesn't hurt that you always gave him ample personal space and respected his boundaries, and the fact you don't mind meeting up in the vents is a plus for him. Bots are absolutely baffled by your relationship, so avoiding public spaces has become his preferred activity to enjoy with you, if only to be free of the gossip. Equally eager to have peace and quiet, you'd long since found ways to make his favorite spots in the vents into ideal hangouts.

·Unfortunately, today is one of the rare days he has to be away from your side and amongst the crew. On the Bridge there's some kind of trouble, requiring all the commanding officers to be present while it's sorted out, and he refuses to leave Megatron there alone. Primus knows his old friend gets blamed for everything that goes wrong eventually... Yet he's far from focused as the diagnostic scans reveal a confounding bug in the ship's programming. As worrying as it should be, his thoughts drift repeatedly to you, and how much he'd rather be somewhere far less open and bright. Hopefully this will all end soon, and the two of you can curl up somewhere to relax, with his larger body naturally fitting around yours as if made to do so...

·A teasing look from Megatron makes him realize he had allowed his dreamy thoughts to color his face with a ridiculous expression of lovestruck bliss. Pinning back his ears and flushing hot as a star, he can only be grateful no one else seemed to notice. Just as he's debating whether or not to sneak away, there's a commotion amongst the more tech savvy bots. They claim to have found the source of the programming bug; which isn't a bug at all, but a virus. Claws fully unsheathing in preparation for combat, his sense of dread grows exponentially as he puts together what is being said, realizing that something very bad is moments away. Lights flicker in confirmation of his fear. In moments the ship is flashing out a hundred or so alarms, signaling that it is more or less helpless against whatever may happen next.

·You're the first thing he thinks about as countless terrible scenarios begin to play in his mind. Between his hypersensitive hearing and smell he's nearly choked on the panic and fear growing through the Lost Light, but all he wants to focus on is you. A human has precious little in the way of defense, and with every system keeping the ship stable, there's nothing to protect you. The solution is obvious; he has to find you before something else does. When the ground quakes and an incoming transmission threatens the crew he doesn't stick around to hear the enemy gloat. A brief explanation to Megatron is all he offers before taking off, and though he doesn't stick around to see it, his old friend gives him a nod of understanding.

·Distant sounds of metallic warping and the scent of soldering tell him the ship is being breached, but also make it incredibly difficult to pinpoint your location. He's memorized every identifiable feature of yours for moments like this, but the chaos turns the air into a smog of panic, so that it's only the uniqueness of your scent that allows him to find a trail. Faster than most vehicle modes and far more limber, he's an unstoppable blur through the hallways. A path to your shared quarters forms effortlessly in his mind as he passes down the levels.

·Far from your partner, you're still recovering from the bang that shook the entire room you'd been so comfortably set up in. Dazed on the ground, you get your feet beneath you before thoughts return, and the first one is for Ravage. Unfamiliar with space travel, you feel compelled to fear the worst; what if he was too close to whatever just went wrong? Capable as he is, the Felicon isn't immortal. Dead communication lines cement the need for worry in your dizzy head. Careless to the considerable tumble you just endured, you try to think of the best possible response for both your sakes. If he's able to so much as crawl, Ravage will be headed for you, so the best thing to do is make yourself as easy to find as possible. Shallow as that plan may be, it's at least a starting point, and you won't have to go far.

·A trail of claw marks through the hallways marks a tireless and acrobatic flight of barely disguised panic. Ravage takes every possible vent into his olfactory receptors for even the tiniest whiff of you. It's a scent he falls asleep with every night, the familiar yet so unusual mammalian musk soothing him as he curled about your tiny body... Now he's panicking over every tiny whiff, if only because he can't tell if you're really okay. Foreign smells tell of an encroaching enemy spilling into the Lost Light, and from the overpowering rush it appears their numbers are considerable. Some even appear to be moving through the lower levels just a floor or two below... Hulking footsteps that are not Cybertronian register in his sensitive ears, moving with such little grace he can feel them through the floor in his perceptive paws. Anger helps him swallow down some fear. If they want to get between him and his partner, then it's their death wish.

·Finding little to be working reliably, you open the door to your room just wide enough to let you through only after multiple attempts prove unsuccessful. A lifeless but somehow noisy hallway greets you. The sounds of combat are close, or at least, you presume what you're hearing to be combat. Perhaps you hit your head harder than you thought, because thinking through what's going on is far more difficult than it should be. Holding onto the wall for support, you try desperately to think of a plan. Ravage could be anywhere, and with no way to reach him, it's impossible to plan a meet up or even attempt to learn of his status. Yet... these dire thoughts don't invoke the panic they should. It's growing impossible to even stand on your own, and without meaning to you start to lean more of your body against the wall...

·Ravage inevitably is faced with a foe he cannot evade, and for your sake, he charges forward. There's a group of them, all gathered in the only hallway that will take him quickly to your location. He can feel the heat of energy weapons simmering in the air by the time he's upon them. With the element of surprise he's able to unleash incredible damage in his first attack, claws and fangs tearing through protective armor to kill one and severely wound another before they even realize they're being attacked. Bounding between their hulking forms, he faces the one disadvantage he's always endured through combat; his enemies far outscale him. Though his need to protect as well as survive turns him into a living blender, a well placed and simply lucky strike makes painful contact with his back, cracking the armor and bringing forth a spattering of energon.

·Recovering with the aid of his own anger to fuel the final attacks, he fights on with the wound agonizing him all the while, sinking his fangs in deep to take care of the final enemy. It isn't until the last body thunders to the floor that his legs temporarily give way. He's in need of medical attention, but he doesn't dare slow down, or even get a moment of rest. Shaking legs push defiantly to get him upright, and for once he's able to be grateful to have four. The ragged pace he resumes with is only as fast as it is because he knows he's close, as your scent is now clear despite the warring smells of blood and a million other unpleasant odors. Even if all he can do is collapse by your side and keep you company, it will be enough...

·Time seems to stand still when he sees you slumped over by the doorway to the room you two share. Though you're without injuries and the iron rich smell of human blood is undetectable, he knows something is very wrong, and though every motion hurts he bounds to your side. Crying out your name, he gently nudges you with a careful muzzle. Warmth and the rythym of your heart quell his greatest fears just before you open your eyes. Not quite awake, you can only be relieved to see him again, far too out of it to be afraid. At his insistence to move you express a desire to rest instead. No amount of encouragement can seem to make you realize the danger, and thus he's forced to make the decision to move you himself, even if he's in bad shape himself. Clearly, you need more help than he can give.

·You go along as best you can when he insists you ride on his back, and it's only your considerable experience doing so in the past that makes it possible now. He tries to think through the pain, but has little luck imagining what could possibly have done this to you, and his efforts to do so are hampered further as he begins to limp forward. Between energon loss and exhaustion and fear he knows things are looking grim. It tears at him more aggressively than any wound ever could, particularly as he feels you growing weaker against him, and all he can do is beg for you to hold on. You want to, but with his body so close and the rocking of his steps, how can you resist the urge to sleep? Surely everything will be fine when you wake... It's too much for him to endure when you slip into unconsciousness, and his legs give out beneath him. Failure burns in his spark as he tries in vain to keep going, his inability to save you haunting his exhausted body as footsteps draw near.

·It's by fortune he has rarely experienced that you're happened upon by a group of bots led by Megatron. He forces himself to stay awake for your sake, refusing to let anyone separate you so long as you need care. The blur of the medical bay brings comfort only briefly, as when he's informed of the reason behind your struggle he's nearly torn apart by guilt. Seeing you with your oxygen mask confirms his failure to protect the one he holds dearest to his spark. Withdrawing from the world, he allows himself to be patched up before curling himself around your tiny body, all but shielding you from the universe so intent on hurting you both.

·The warmth of his frame so frequently is your first sensation upon waking that you don't realize something is off at first. It isn't until you feel the mask on your face that you remember what happened, but by then Ravage is gently tapping his muzzle against you to confirm everything feels alright. Without promoting, he gives a quick rundown of what led up to this moment. You're wide eyed as he explains the ship's atmospheric shutdown, particularly when he gets to the part where he tried to carry you to safety... The apathy as he recounts it all, however, is far from fitting. Laying a gentle hand on a paw, you ask if something happened that bothered him, and receive confirmation from his silent expression of sadness.

·Initially, he can't bring himself to say what's wrong. On the surface he knows his actions were reasonable, but in his spark... he's so afraid of how his own inability to save you nearly resulted in tragedy. Just the thought of losing you is terrifying enough, but having nearly faced it has rocked him to his core, and he sits in silence under the weight of those emotions. Mercifully, you can read him well enough to not need words. Ravage has always withdrawn when upset, and few things agonize him more than failure.

·Gently as you can, you encourage him to come close, pulling his helm as near to your lap as possible. The sadness in his optics nearly breaks your heart, but you're confident as you speak, thanking him for what he did to save you and insisting you wouldn't be here without him. When he briefly tries to protest, you point out that he likely wouldn't be injured had it not been for you, and he quickly replies that you're worth any scars. When you retort that you feel the same way about him, a small amount of weight appears to leave his shoulders. He recalls that the best part of loving you has always been the freedom to exist as he is, free of pressure, and that he can't be a failure in your eyes so long as he tries. It's simply easy to forget that sometimes... Allowing himself a purr, he uses his tail to most effectively wrap you in his protective body, intent on keeping the both of you safe and warm for some much needed rest. So long as you have each other, there's nothing that can't be overcome.

#transformers #maccadam #mtmte #more than meets the eye #lostlight #lost light #ll #idw #tf #my writing #my asks #anon #requests #human reader #self insert #ravage #ravage x reader #prompts #headcannons #transformers imagine

[robininthelabyrinth]

For the prompts! Wen Qing/Jiang Cheng, accidental marriage that still has to be honoured for political reasons.

Wen Qing was a proud woman, talented and arrogant in it – but all of her medical skills didn’t help defend her when she refused to raise a sword in the Wen sect’s war of aggression. She’d been offered a post as the head of a supervisory office, with assurances that she could offer her medical services to prisoners of war as well as Wen cultivators, but it hadn’t taken her long to realize that her prisoners of war were being sent to the Fire Palace and then back to her, her medical assistance being used to prolong their pain rather than end it.

She “carelessly” permitted a break-out of the most grievously wounded and, out of shame for having failed, resigned her post. Instead, she went to join battlefields, offering what care she could to whoever she saw on the basis that she couldn’t be sure if those cultivators in different colors weren’t secretly Wen spies.

It was not a position that made her very popular.

She was still surnamed Wen and Wen Ruohan had once prized her talents in peacetime; no matter how much disgrace she was in, it wasn’t enough to lead to her immediate execution, or that of her loyal subordinates. She was safe enough from that, and from the base physical abuse that other women in the Wen battle camps faced –

But not safe from everything.

The attack on the Jiang sect had been brutal; she hadn’t known about it in advance and had rushed over as soon as she could to preserve what lives she could, even though Wen Chao and Wang Lingjiao laughed at her frenzy as pointless – the order had been to wipe them out.

She smiled in the face of their mockery and sent her subordinates to help “clean up” instead, smuggling as many of those still living as she could out of the Lotus Pier in boats filled with corpses. Wen Ning was especially good at it, since Wen Chao seemed incapable of remembering either his name or his face for more than a handful of moments at any given time, and seemed to generally assume that someone had given him proper orders to do…something.

It only worked in the spaces where no one was paying attention, though. There wasn’t anything she could do when the guards brought back Jiang Cheng to be the star entertainment in Wen Chao’s celebration of his victory. She couldn’t save him.

She couldn’t even save herself.

“Qing-jie,” Wen Chao called, laughing; Wang Lingjiao at his side was positively cackling, tears in her eyes. “We found you a husband to match you, Qing-jie – look at him, a perfect fit for you: beautiful and useless! Say ‘thank you, Wen-gongzi’.”

Jiang Cheng might be beautiful, underneath the tears and the blood that covered him, the ruin of his chest and back, the bruises that stained his flesh, but his eyes were empty and dull – as dead as the golden core inside of him that was no more. That wasn’t something her medicine could fix, even if Wen Chao would be inclined to let her try.

“Thank you, Wen-gongzi,” Wen Qing said politely. “Do you want me to take him out of your sight?”

That would have been too easy.

Her subordinates had all been sent away; she was alone, outnumbered and helpless, and with Wen Zhuliu standing close by, his eyes a little too intense as he stared at her, she didn’t dare protest – not even when they wrapped her in a banner of red silk and had Wang Lingjiao stick pins in her hair, a mockery of a bride’s wear, or when they made her kneel down in front of them and bow three times: to the Jiang ancestral shrine and to Wen Chao as representative of her ancestors, to the heavens and to the earth, to Jiang Cheng…

He was barely conscious for the process, which wasn’t a surprise – the discipline whip was not a toy to be played with lightly – but he was aware enough to flinch away from her when they were thrown into a room together, a cheap storage room with nothing but a bed inside, the door locked behind them.

“I’m not going to touch you,” she said to him. “Don’t worry. I wouldn’t do that.”

He looked at her dully. “Do you have a choice? They’ll check.”

It was Wen Qing’s turn to flinch. It would be just like Wang Lingjiao’s vile bitterness – this entire thing stunk of her plotting – to get some grannies to come in later to confirm that Wen Qing had, in fact, lost her purity. That was the goal of this, surely, in addition to humiliating her for having been better liked by Wen Ruohan than the useless Wen Chao had ever been, son or not – after something like this, she would never be able to marry anyone else.

Her husband would be beautiful, but useless, and he’d hate her for doing this to him in the bargain.

She closed her eyes and felt the tears drip down her face. “I’ve been helping people escape, where I can. There’s not much I can do, just little things, but – some people have lived that would have otherwise died. That’s worth something, isn’t it..?”

She shook her head when she realized she was trying to talk him into agreeing to it. She wanted to live, yes, but…at this cost?

“I won’t –”

“Just do it,” he said, cutting her off. “I’m useless now. If you can help even a few people live…that’s more than I can do.”

He was as much of a virgin as she was, and they fumbled together through it, neither of their bodies cooperating to make the process easier – he was in pain and in mourning, she was revolted by the idea of the rape she was committing, but in the end they managed it.

Wang Lingjiao came the next morning with the grannies, triumphant smile on her face, and of course she laughed at Wen Qing, pretending as if it had all been a joke that Wen Qing had taken far too seriously – but now that she’d gone ahead and lost her purity, well, what could be done..?

“Is there anything else you want?” Wen Qing asked coolly, not letting the vile things pouring out of Wang Lingjiao’s mouth touch her. When it came to questions of purity, at least she had bowed to the heavens and earth before touching her husband – Wang Lingjiao couldn’t even say that much.

Perhaps Wang Lingjiao sensed her barely-hidden disdain, and realized the cause for it, because she bristled and ordered Wen Qing to accompany her for the day, treating her like a maid in the guise of giving her ‘marital advice’ – and in the end the only good thing that came out of it was that Wen Qing had a very good alibi when her husband mysteriously disappeared.

Wang Lingjiao slapped her a few times on the basis that she must have forgotten to lock the door, but even hypocrites like them couldn’t concoct any way for this to actually be Wen Qing’s fault.

She went back to her room later that evening, and found her brother had come back at some point.

“Did you..?” she started, then stopped, because of course he had. Her little brother was good at saving people. “Thank you.”

He shrugged, averting his eyes. “Jiejie, they said –”

“A joke,” she said firmly, rolling her eyes. “You know Wen Chao’s sense of humor. So I did a bit of bowing, so what? It’s not like it counts if you don’t mean it.”

Wen Ning looked relieved, then glanced from side to side, his shoulders hunching. “Jiejie…do you think you can come away with me for a little while?”

“Where to?”

“Back to Yiling,” he said. “There’s a patient there that could use your help.”

Wen Qing repressed a sigh at how obvious her little brother was – he wasn’t born to be a spy. But she found a reason to make some excuses (Wang Lingjiao was pouting over her plan not being funny anymore, and convinced everyone to agree as long as it meant Wen Qing would leave) and she went to Yiling, where Wei Wuxian waited.

Where he asked her to –

Well, at least her husband wouldn’t be useless anymore, she argued to herself, and pretended that what she was doing wasn’t every bit as much a violation as what she had done to him in that spare room.

He probably wouldn’t forgive her, if he knew – but he wouldn’t know.

He would go his way, she would go hers, and they wouldn’t meet again.

She thought that way for a long time.

Long enough to run to Wei Wuxian, who owed her a favor, to rescue her brother – long enough to follow him back to the Burial Mounds – long enough to expect a siege.

She hid behind a tree when she saw the flash of purple that was Jiang Cheng walking up the mountain.

“Jiang Cheng,” Wei Wuxian said in greeting – he looked calm, but she could tell he was nervous. “You’re here about the Wen remnants, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Jiang Cheng said, and he looked irritated. “I’m here to bring you back to Yunmeng.”

“I’m not going –”

“Without them, yes, I figured,” Jiang Cheng snapped. “The entire cultivation world knows that by now, I think. I told them you were acting under my orders.”

Wei Wuxian’s jaw dropped. “You did what?! Jiang Cheng! The whole point of doing it without telling you was so that you could avoid being blamed for it!”

“Maybe you should have told me what you were planning first,” Jiang Cheng said snidely. “Then we could have coordinated better. Are you going to get moving or not?”

“Wen Ning can’t be moved yet,” Wei Wuxian said automatically, then frowned. “You really told everyone that you permitted my actions? What – is the Jin sect upset?”

Jiang Cheng just gave him a look.

“Of course they’re upset,” Wei Wuxian answered his own question. “But…you’re here, and you want to bring everyone back to the Lotus Pier. You – convinced Jin Guangshan to drop his claim?”

Jiang Cheng nodded.

“How?”

“I told him that we discovered that he’d accidentally kidnapped my wife,” Jiang Cheng said.

Wen Qing covered her face with her hands, stifling a yell in her throat. He couldn’t be serious!

“Your – wife?” Wei Wuxian said blankly. “You…married?”

Nothing they’d encountered so far had stumped him – not her request, not the Jin sect, not the Burial Mounds – but apparently the thought of Jiang Cheng having tied the knot was all it took to break him.

“To who?!”

“Wen Qing,” Jiang Cheng said. “She’s here, isn’t she?”

Wen Qing made a face, gathered her courage, and walked out from behind the tree.

“Sandu Shengshou,” she said politely. He nodded back at her in a way that would be all regal and dignified except for the way his cheeks flushed pink at the sight of her.

Which was better than she expected, honestly – she wouldn’t have held it against him to pull out his sword and stab her.

“…Jiang Cheng, you can’t do that,” Wei Wuxian exclaimed. “You can’t just say you’re married to someone! Wen Qing has a reputation to think about, what if she wants to get married someday –”

“She’s already married,” Jiang Cheng said flatly. “To me.”

“Jiang Cheng!”

“You don’t have to honor it,” Wen Qing said before Wei Wuxian could say too much. “It was under duress; no one would hold you to it.”

“I hold myself to it,” Jiang Cheng said, crossing his arms in what was probably meant to be impressive but came off as defensive. “We bowed to the heavens and earth together. I’m not going to – it counts. At least to me, it counts.”

He hesitated, even as Wei Wuxian’s head swiveled between the two of them faster than an open window in a thunderstorm, his mouth gaping open like a fish.

“I mean – I’m not going to demand anything from you,” Jiang Cheng continued, ducking his head. “Just, you know, politically, I thought – if you wanted –”

Wen Qing can’t quite keep herself from smiling. Her husband was even more charming when he was being extremely awkward and ill-footed than he was when he was being impressive.

“I’d be happy to go back to Yunmeng with you,” she said, and he smiled – he was rather attractive when he smiled, actually. Wen Chao hadn’t been wrong when he’d called him beautiful. “But only after Wei-gongzi finishes with my brother.”

“What is he doing with your brother?” Jiang Cheng asked.

There was a little bit of a fuss after that, what with Wen Ning taking that moment to wake up as a fierce corpse and just barely recover his consciousness – Wen Qing secretly suspected he’d waited for the most dramatic moment to do so, and if this one hadn’t been dramatic enough, he would’ve waited longer – but in the end it all worked out.

The Lotus Pier was a much better place to rest than the Burial Mound, no matter what Wei Wuxian’s grandiose plans for a home there had been; Jiang Cheng arranged for rooms for all of them near the main family home and told his disciples to keep an eye out for anyone who even thought to make trouble.

Wen Ning was shown to a room not far from Wei Wuxian’s.

Wen Qing –

Jiang Cheng stared at the hallway in front of him, body stiff and cheeks bright red. “My sister’s room is on the right,” he said. “She’s currently staying at Koi Tower, and I don’t believe she’s coming back – an engagement is in the works between her and the Jin sect heir, and anyway even if she was, she wouldn’t mind you taking it for a while.”

“Mm,” Wen Qing said. “And which one’s yours?”

Jiang Cheng was adorable when he started stuttering about how he really wasn’t going to pressure her into –

“I meant to sleep,” she clarified and poked him. “Besides, given what happened between us, I would understand entirely if you’re not attracted to me –”

“You’re extremely pretty and I like you a lot but I don’t know how to deal with that!” he yowled.

“We can date,” Wen Qing decided, not even pretending not to smile. “Take it slow – get to know each other.”

That plan lasted exactly one shichen.

(Wen Qing wasn’t sure how they’d started kissing, but Jiang Cheng had valiantly asked her if she was sure when about half their clothing was off, which was very noble of him but also extremely getting in the way of what she currently wanted, so she’d justified it with a half-assed excuse about needing to make sure they’d be compatible as marriage partners and he’d found the argument convincing. To no one’s surprise, sex was much better without the duress and one party being half-dead from torture.)

Afterwards, though, when he was running his fingers through her hair, she felt the slight stirring of her conscience. If they were going to be married – originally forced and politically convenient as the marriage might be – was it really acceptable to go into it with lies?

“…I know why Wei Wuxian didn’t tell you about coming to help me,” she said, and Jiang Cheng’s fingers stopped. “And about why he hasn’t been helping you here. I’ll talk to him tomorrow and tell him he needs to tell you about it. You should know in advance that you’re probably going to be very angry when you hear it.”

“I’m just happy to know that there is a secret reason,” Jiang Cheng confessed, his voice low. “I thought – never mind.”

Wen Qing didn’t need to know all of Jiang Cheng’s history to know what it probably was: he’d thought the problem was with him; that somehow, through some failing, he’d driven Wei Wuxian away.

“I’ll talk to him tomorrow,” she said. “He’ll tell you, or I will. We’ll all have a great big fight about it and then we can decide what we’re going to do next.”

“I like how practical you are,” Jiang Cheng said. “It’s one of my favorite things about you.”

Wen Qing squinted at him. “You barely know anything about me. How can you have a favorite?”

“I know lots of things. I like the way you pretend that you don’t want to strangle people when you think they’re being stupid –”

“You’re not allowed to like that!”

Maybe this marriage had a chance of working out after all.

#mdzs #wen qing #jiang cheng #wei wuxian #my fic #my fics #dub-con #forced marriage #Anonymous

[refinedbuffoonery]

Looking Through A Window (5)

macriley married undercover au

masterlist.

Admittedly, this is kind of a filler/transition chapter, but I have big plans for this story, and I’m really excited for y’all to read what happens next. Expect an update every weekend this month! 

*****

The nightmare sinks its claws deeper as Mac tries to dislodge it. He knows it’s a dream, and Mac tosses and turns as he grapples for control of his mind. 

The images in his mind persist. He's back in the Sandbox, but this time Bozer is with him, and Bozer's dying from a bullet wound before Mac can carry him to safety. Mac's had the dream a million times, and it always ends the same way. 

I know you won’t let me die, Bozer says. But seconds later, his eyes turn glassy when his soul leaves his body. 

Mac’s throat closes, cutting off his oxygen supply, and for a moment he thinks he’s going to follow Bozer into the afterlife. 

It’s just a dream. He’s just lucid enough to remind himself of that. Wake up, Mac commands his body. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up. 

The nightmare won’t let him. 

Suddenly a different set of claws grip Mac’s shoulders, and the voice ordering him to wake up isn’t his own. He tries to jerk away, but the claws dig in. 

Not claws, Mac realizes. Hands. Slender ones, with long fingers. Nails biting into his skin through his worn t-shirt. 

He knows those hands. 

“Wake up,” Riley hisses, and it’s enough to finally yank Mac from his dream. Mac’s eyes snap open, automatically scanning his surroundings. The bedroom is pitch black, but Mac can just make out Riley kneeling above him, her tired face twisted in concern. Her hands are on Mac’s shoulders, but not pinning him to the bed like he first thought. Her touch is light, and her thumbs make gentle sweeps across his collarbones. Mac’s own hands find Riley’s forearms, but he doesn’t push her away, nor does she lay back down. “You okay?” she asks. 

Mac tries to play it off. “Yeah, bad dream. That’s all.” It’s a bit of an exaggeration, considering that he’s drenched in sweat and the final and most disturbing seconds of the dream are lingering longer than the rest. He knows it’s not real, but Mac can’t quite shake the sick feeling. 

Riley exhales, and Mac finds himself mirroring her breathing automatically. Sliding a hand down to her wrist, he presses two fingers into her skin, feeling the steady thrum of her pulse. It’s faster than he expects. 

Almost as if in explanation, Riley says, “You scared the shit out of the dog, not to mention me.” 

Mac winces, feeling guilty. “Sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize.” Slowly, Riley releases him and lays back down, leaving plenty of space between them. Mac misses her touch the instant she lets go. “Want to talk about it?” 

That throat-closing feeling returns as Mac contemplates what to tell her. Part of him wants to share, but a bigger part hesitates when the explanation dies on his tongue. “Not really,” he finally says. 

“Okay.” Riley says, pausing. “You’re wide awake right now, aren’t you?” 

This, at least, he can admit easily. “Yep.” 

There’s another long pause, filled only with the soft sound of their exhales. Just when he’s about to tell Riley to stop worrying about him and go back to sleep, she says, “Come here.” 

Mac stills. That weird tension still lingers between him and Riley, causing awkward silences and stilted conversations. So this…this is unexpected. 

He shouldn't. He really shouldn't. But, her voice is soft and reassuring, and who is he to turn down a free opportunity to cuddle with the woman he loves? Even if it might be a mistake. 

As soon as Mac scoots across the bed, Riley pulls him into her side, guiding his head to rest on her non-injured shoulder. Riley’s side of the bed isn’t nearly as warm as his, but her body is soft and Mac likes how they fit together. Mac can’t help but sigh in contentment as Riley lightly scratches his scalp, and he lets an arm settle over her waist. They’ve fallen asleep together plenty of times over the years, but she’s never held him. Not like this. His heart pounds at the intimacy of it all. 

But as Mac slowly starts to relax, the pulse in his ear doesn’t slow like it should. Because it’s not his heartbeat he’s hearing. 

It’s hers.

Does that mean…?

“So,” Riley says, breaking the silence. “It’s later.” 

The realization feels like a slap to the face. That’s why her heart is beating so fast. Not because of their close proximity, but because it’s later and there’s still that unresolved thing hanging between them. Mac’s fleeting hope that Riley’s racing pulse meant something else is nothing more than a fantasy in his head. 

Swallowing his disappointment, Mac starts, “Riley, I really am sorry—” She cuts him off. 

“Stop. You don’t need to apologize again. I forgave you the first time.” Her fingers sweep behind his ear, making him shiver slightly. “It’s my turn.” Riley takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry for not listening to you. Like, really listening. Your concerns are legit, and I shouldn’t have brushed them aside and followed Matty blindly.” 

Oh. 

“I hate this situation just as much as you do, and I’m sorry if I made you feel otherwise.” Her voice catches slightly. “Also, I lied to you this morning, in the car. I knew I needed to apologize. I just didn’t know how to say it yet.” 

Pointedly ignoring the intimacy of the gesture, Mac brushes his thumb over her ribs in a way he hopes is reassuring. “It’s okay.” 

Riley tenses beneath him, and Mac freezes instantly. “It’s not, but thanks for saying that anyway,” she murmurs, relaxing again. Her fingers resume their path through his hair, catching on the occasional tangle. 

Mac doesn’t know how to reassure her that it really is okay. So instead he confesses, “Sometimes I hate this job.” 

She’s quiet for a few long seconds before responding. “Me too.” 

It’s weird voicing it aloud. They’re all painfully aware of the downsides to the job, but rarely does anyone directly mention it. Maybe Riley is on a similar page as him after all. 

Mac questions, “Are we doing the right thing? Playing along and letting innocent people get hurt just so we can take down the whole organization at once?” He needs to know her answer…needs confirmation that this whole op isn’t just one massive wrong choice. 

“I think the good we do outweighs the bad,” Riley says after a few moments. “At least that’s what I tell myself so I can sleep at night.” She shifts, and for a brief, exhilarating moment, their hips press together before she pushes her knee uncomfortably into his thigh. Mac squirms, trying and failing to find a good position, ultimately taking a chance by slotting his leg between hers. Riley inhales sharply, but she doesn’t push him away. Mac tries not to read into it. Lying like this is intimate and intense and yet so easy. So right.

Mac pushes the heady feeling aside, ignoring the way it crackles in the background, threatening to consume him. They need to have this conversation, without distraction. Even welcome ones. 

“Riley, we helped them kill people,” he says, and Riley’s hand stills in his hair. 

“We can’t save everyone, Mac." 

The thrumming in his body stops so quickly Riley might as well have dumped a bucket of ice water on him. 

His heart cracks as she softly repeats, "We just can't." Like maybe she's breaking her own heart too by saying it. 

He wants to kiss her chest—to press his lips to her heart in an attempt to soothe the ache there. 

Mac understands all too well. It’s not the countless lives they have saved that stick with him, but the few they couldn’t. Zoe, the researcher who drowned in the Arctic to save her students. Jill, who fell victim to one of Murdoc’s murderous games. Charlie, who sacrificed himself so Mac wouldn’t have to choose between saving his friend and saving hundreds of innocent people. Lasky, the nuclear plant engineer who was just doing his job. Mac’s father. His aunt. Jack. 

Riley clears her throat. "So, yeah. I think we are doing the right thing. It just sucks.” 

Mac agrees, even though he can hardly admit it to himself. But there’s still one thing he doesn’t understand. “I don’t get how Matty seemed so okay with all of this,” he says. 

“Come on, Mac. You know Matty hates this just as much as we do. She wouldn’t ask us to play along if she didn’t think it was necessary.” Riley’s fingers resume their steady, sweeping path through his hair, and Mac takes comfort in the gesture. 

He sighs. “You sound like Jack.” 

“I learned from the best. Don’t tell him I said that,” Riley warns, but Mac can hear the smile in her voice. 

He tilts his face toward the ceiling, imagining Jack looking down at them from whatever afterlife he found himself in. “You hear that, old man? She admitted to learning something from you.” 

Riley snorts, giving Mac’s hair a sharp tug. “Oh shut up.” She means it to be playful, but it sends a bolt of desire through his body. 

It’s too much, with her hand in his hair and their bodies intertwined, and the intimacy may very well burn Mac alive. Every nerve in his body goes on high alert, and his grip on Riley’s rib cage tightens automatically. 

“Sleep,” she murmurs, clearly mistaking the tension in his body as coming from somewhere—anywhere—else. Riley is one of the smartest, most perceptive people Mac knows, and yet she has no idea how he feels about her. Maybe that’s a good thing, he reasons. It’s easier that way. Less complicated. 

Although full-on front-to-front cuddling isn’t not complicated. 

It doesn't take long for the gentle pressure of Riley's fingers to win out, and Mac melts into her touch, letting his body grow heavy. Sleep beckons, and his eyelids flutter shut of their own accord as Riley wraps her free arm around his back, pulling him closer. Again, he thinks she feels like safety. 

In his last moments of consciousness, Mac mumbles, “I like this,” before drifting back to sleep.

*****

For the first time, Riley is already out of bed when Mac wakes, and he’s positive it has something to do with the fact that he’s still on her side of the bed. 

Cuddling with her was a mistake. Even if it led to the best sleep he’s had in a long time. 

Burying his face in Riley’s pillow, Mac takes a deep breath. It smells like her. He hears the front door open and close, and then Riley’s muffled voice fills the apartment. Mac can’t quite pick up what she’s saying, but he thinks she’s on the phone rather than talking to Harley. 

Suddenly getting up seems like a daunting task. 

Not caring if it makes him a coward, Mac stays in bed, taking the opportunity to study the bedroom decor. This is day nine of the op, and before now Mac never bothered to appreciate the work someone put into setting up the safe house. It’s too modern and minimalist for his taste, but he has to admit it looks nice. The bedroom walls are a soft light gray, with a handful of paintings of different sizes and framed photos of him, Riley, and Harley scattered throughout. More of the photos Bozer took are in the hallway, but Mac’s never given those more than a cursory glance. 

Across from the bed sits the single, expensive-looking dresser, with overstuffed drawers that don’t quite shut all the way. One of Riley’s drawers is completely open, and the t-shirt she wore to bed last night hangs haphazardly over the edge. 

Mac’s eyes catch on the photo sitting on top of the dresser, beside the plant he keeps forgetting to water. It’s one of the wedding photos, and it’s the only photo Mac has really paid attention to, since he stares at it every day while getting dressed. The photo is of Riley and him slow dancing, and she’s looking at him like he hung the moon. And he’s looking at her the exact same way. 

More than anything, Mac wishes it was real. 

The bedroom door creaks open, and Mac cranes his neck to see Harley’s fluffy head peek through. She doesn’t enter. Instead, Harley watches him cautiously, almost like she wasn’t expecting him to be awake and is now unsure what to do. 

Mac pats the mattress. “It’s okay. Come on.” When she doesn’t move, he adds, “I’m sorry I scared you last night.” His apology must be enough, because Harley jumps on the bed with him. She stands between his outstretched legs as Mac rakes his hands through her fur, scratching her butt the way she likes. “How about I get you a new toy to make up for it?” he asks. Tail wagging, Harley licks his face in approval, and Mac laughs. “I’ll take that as a yes.” 

Riley raises her voice—she’s complaining about something, although Mac still can’t determine what—and both Mac and Harley turn their attention to the sound. 

Harley looks back at him, and Mac starts to think that he wasn’t far off the other day when he noticed Harley playing protector. He smiles softly. “Go check on her.” 

Harley jumps off the bed immediately, surprising Mac when she glances back at him on her way out the door. 

Still smiling, Mac gets up to start his day.

By the time he emerges from the bedroom, Riley is playing fetch with Harley in the living room while she’s on the phone. Surprised the call has lasted this long, Mac raises his brow, silently asking who she’s talking to, and Riley holds up a finger. One second. 

While he’s waiting, Mac wanders into the kitchen in search of breakfast. 

Riley’s next throw ricochets off the wall, and the tennis ball hits Mac’s thigh. “What do you mean he’s not in the database?” she shrieks. “Bozer, practically every criminal in the world is in that database.” 

Mac freezes midway through unwrapping a muffin. 

Riley pinches her nose. “Then run the sketch through the DMV database. The guy who tailed me has to exist somewhere.” 

He swallows. “Tailed?” 

“Hang on, Boze. Mac just walked in.” Exasperated, Riley moves her phone away from her face. “I took Harley for a walk while you were still asleep, and some guy tailed me. Don’t worry, I lost him long before returning to the apartment.” 

Mac bristles. Riley had been in danger, and he was asleep. Why didn’t she tell him where she was going? He tries not to think about all the bad things that could’ve happened. “You think this guy is part of the Patriots?” 

Shrugging, Riley says, “That makes the most sense. But it’s hard to know for sure when we don’t have personnel records.” 

That’s just one of many problems with this op—no official list of known members of the Patriots. Mac and Riley have no choice but to learn about people the old-fashioned way. 

Pinning her phone between her cheek and her shoulder, Riley retrieves the tennis ball from under the couch, her voice muffled as she asks, “Got anything, Boze?” A few seconds later, she groans, but Mac can’t tell whether it’s because of Bozer’s answer or the amount of hair now stuck to the visibly soggy tennis ball in her hands. He makes a mental note to vacuum again. “Thanks for trying,” she says before hanging up. 

Treading carefully, Mac asks, “Well?” He doesn’t need to be a genius to know that she’s still rattled, no matter how much she tries to downplay it. 

“His name is Peter Morrison, and he has three speeding tickets. That’s it.” Still holding the tennis ball, Riley’s shoulders slump as she sits on the arm of the couch. Confused why she stopped playing, Harley stands between Riley’s legs and whines, nosing Riley’s hand in an attempt to get her to throw the ball again. 

When Riley doesn’t oblige her, Mac asks, “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?” Riley says, but her voice is tight and she bristles when he moves closer. He knows she’s lying—they’ve both been lying a lot recently—but what Mac doesn’t understand is why. He knows why he’s lying, but why does Riley still feel the need to hide how she’s feeling from him? 

It’s like the intimacy of last night never happened. 

Mac takes the wet, hairy tennis ball from her hands and throws it for Harley. “Do you want a hug or help kicking someone’s ass?” The question earns him a small smile, one that makes Mac’s heart flutter in his chest. 

“I was thinking more along the lines of punching someone in the face, but I suppose we can kick them too,” she quips. Mac laughs, and the corners of Riley’s eyes crinkle as her smile widens. 

“Sounds like a plan.” Harley brings the ball back and drops it at Mac’s feet. “Last throw,” he tells her, knowing full well it won’t be. Turning his attention back to Riley, he asks, “How’s your shoulder?”

Absent-mindedly, Riley’s fingers trace the outline of a bruise peeking out from beneath her tank top. “It hurts. You grabbed it in your sleep last night, and I almost screamed.” 

Mac grimaces. “Sorry.” He wants to ask about last night and make sure they’re okay, but the words refuse to form. “I’m going to call Conrad and make him explain, okay?” 

“Okay.” Riley nods. For a second, it seems like she wants to say something more, but she ultimately doesn’t. Honoring her implicit request for space, Mac briefly squeezes her arm as he walks away. The gesture is a promise: I’m here.

*****

“This is unacceptable,” Mac growls at Ethan, later that day. After giving Conrad an earful over the phone, apparently Mac made a big enough fuss to warrant a visit from the leader of the Patriots himself. They meet in public—neutral ground—at a park not unlike the one across the street from Mac and Riley’s apartment. It feels wrong to use the term safe house, since it’s not as safe as they thought. 

“I’m sorry you feel that way, James,” Ethan placates. “It’s simply standard business procedure. I’m sure you researched us before formally offering your services.” 

Mac barely stops himself from making a face. Oh they researched the Patriots, all right. “Of course we did.” He really should do a better job of holding his snark at bay, but Mac lets it tint his words anyway. “But we didn’t invade individual members’ privacy or threaten anyone’s personal safety.” 

“My employee did not and would not have hurt your wife. She was never in danger, I can assure you.” 

“And how was she supposed to know that?” He’s borderline yelling, but Mac is too pissed to care. The more Ethan tries to convince him the situation is okay, the more Mac wishes they were closer to the playground so he could strangle Ethan with the chain from the swings. He snarls, “Explain that to me.” 

Ethan, it seems, is at a rare loss for words. Mac waits, forcing the other man to fill the silence. “I suppose she wouldn’t have,” Ethan finally admits, although he shows no sign of backing down. 

Mac stands. “Don’t let this happen again.” He starts to walk away, content with having the last word, but Mac stops dead in his tracks when Ethan calls after him. 

“If you won’t comply with the way we do things, then I guess we’ll just have to find someone else.” 

Mac spins on his heel. “That’s bullshit,” he spits. “You need us. You won’t find anyone better, at least not that you can afford, and we both know it. Your organization is small potatoes right now, but with our support, the Patriots could join the big leagues. So it’s up to you to decide whether you’re content with throwing your money at a pipe dream or if you want to actually accomplish something.” Ethan is taller than him, but Mac manages to look down at him anyway—something he learned from Matty. “The choice is yours. Let me know when you’ve made it.” 

Without waiting for a response, Mac shoves his hands in his pockets and walks away, praying he didn’t just ruin the whole op.

.

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[mooshs-crack-headcanons]

Hello if the request is still open. Could I get headcanons that if dante has a daughter how would she get along with dante, vergil and nero (post dmc5)? Thanks!

Hello! Just a heads up for the future! This was a very different type of request for me to write and next time I get a request like this in the future I'm not going to accept it! But I really hope you liked this one anyway!

Well, it's kind of a given that either way that she's going to be one; be a devil hybrid and going with the tread I'd say that she would hold the family trait silver hair, and two; have Sparda's blood through her veins which in turn makes her a dignified badass. 

I would say that most likely that her mother would be a human making her a quarter demon just like Nero, and for the sake of this request I'm going to have her age be around Nero's. 

His daughter would most likely work at the office, since you know 'family business' and all and would work on phone duty while her father's out on jobs and take in small jobs on her own just to try and keep the electric and water from getting shit off (dad just has a talent for not paying bills after all) 

I'd say despite being the overgrown man child Dante is, he'd be a good dad. He's fun and super easy to hang around, but he can get awkward as hell when certain topics come up; ex dating/love advice, and if his s/o, Lady, or Trish is around he'll most likely push it off on them to deal with. 

He does go on quite a few jobs that last him over a few days quite often, so I can see him taking her to Fredi's out to eat and have some quality father-daughter time. He also likes to take her on jobs (that he knows for a fact aren't world saving) with him and hunting together is another bonding exercise. 

All of the awkward bad dad jokes. All of them. 

He likes telling her stories about her grandmother and all of her teachings she taught him and Vergil, because he knows she would've been proud of the fine woman his daughters become like he knows he is. 

Dante has told his daughter quite a few stories about Vergil over the years, nothing too specific in his death or ever mentioning his corruption at Mallet Island, but enough for her to know that her uncle was a stubborn asshole who lost himself in lust for power. So when it came time to meet him after he and her father returned from hell was...weird. She knew that her father and him were twins but seeing it in person was off putting, even if a normal person couldn't tell by just glancing at them, she can tell that even if one has clearly aged more than the other that they're still if fact identical deep down. 

Vergil deep down feels really guilty after every he'd down up to the ending of 5 and he's made an attempt (keyword: attempt) to get a connection going with his family again, he made amends with his brother (though still sharing the rivalry) and is trying to get into his son's life, so of course he's going to try his best to at least get to know his niece but given this is Vergil and communication isn't exactly his strongest suit so it's going to take quite some time. 

Vergil himself originally thought as V that Nero was Dante's son, so seeing his daughter for the first time isn't that shocking to him. What is shocking to him is how...nice she treats him. With her being Dante's spawn he would've expected her to be more - how would he put it? More like Dante's spawn? (Vergil please stop calling children spawn) But no, she's more calm and collective and even brings up a conversation about Blake's work with him from time to time and it completely baffles him to no end but deep down he really appreciates it.

Like most things, Vergil finds hunting to be where he feels his best so it's no surprise that in his 'connection attempts' that he goes on jobs with his niece. Going on jobs with Vergil is very different then going on jobs with Dante, she quickly comes to realize. On jobs with her father, they'd tend to stick together as a team and he'd show off all of his stylish skills just to show her that: "Her old man still got it." Vergil on the other hand tends to like going on jobs alone, and even the first few times when he has 'agreed' to let his niece tag along at first he always keeps his distance to do his own thing but he doesn't travel far enough so that he can still see what she's doing, she has the blood of Sparda after all so she should be able to impress him. But after they've bonding for a bit Vergil doesn't travel off as far, far enough so that both of them have their own proper battle space but close to where if need be he can quickly trick over if the chance if she is about to have a fatal call with a demon and he can come to her rescue. But from what he's learned about his niece is that she's learned what Dante has taught her by heart and is very skillful at what she does so instead they can have friendly banter with one another during these missions. Vergil is very proud of his niece. 

Even though the thought confused the ever loving hell out of him that the old man somehow, Nero and Dante's daughter were friends before they found out they were cousins, they knew they were somehow related with Sanctus' confirmation to Nero during 4 but they never knew how far it went. At that time no one but Dante knew, and Lady would joke about Nero just being a kid that Dante forgot about or something but of course with Dante being Dante he chilled it out saying if he had another kid he would know about it and saying nothing about it further. 

Nero would hang around the shop for a good while after the events of 4, still feeling lost and confused about how his whole life was a lie with the Order and wanting to get stronger with his inner demon to protect the most important person left in his life at that point; Kyrie. Speaking of which, Kyrie would also tag along to the shop feeling confused and lost as the brainwashing of the Order slowly would fade away as she grieved for her brother's life. I'd say this is where Dante's daughter would pitch in and try to help out the both of them the best that she can whether it be by training for hours with Nero or being a big emotional support and a shoulder to cry on first Kyrie, which all earns Nero's respect. 

Because of that respect, during 5 she actually spent the whole game in Fortuna with Kyrie and the kids. Deep down she was so upset and angry at herself that her father's somewhere lost in that fucking tree Redgrave after seeing his defeat first hand when she went with Nero (who at the time she was visiting after Kyrie called her about Nero's lost arm) and that 'mysterious bastard' V. For the whole month she spent beating herself up over it, she knew her father wasn't dead; he defeated three demon overlords in his lifetime! Three! But seeing him actually fall to an enemy...terrified her. She'd wished to go back to Redgrave the agreed time but Nero asked her to watch Kyrie and the kids in his place and she just...couldn't refuse. 

Nero's easy to make flustered and embarrassed and it's hilarious if you just make simple jokes about how dorky he gets around Kyrie like how he does that scratch/rubbing at his nose thing with a big dumbass grin on his face. Both Dante's daughter and Nico both enjoy flustering the shit out of him, and because of that Nico and her are good friends (and once she leaves Nico makes it very clear to Nero that his cousin is hot, which again gets Nero's goat) 

Nero and Vergil of course still have a very rocky relationship even after 5 (which again understandable when your parent yanks off your arm and all) so since him and his cousin have a good relationship, he tends to go to her for advice, after all she's had her entire life with her dad and he's only had a dad for the last few months tops. 

Either way this family might be hella dysfunctional, but I'd say she'd wouldn't rather have it any other way. 

If you like what you read please consider reblogging! It means the world for writers and artists!

#devil may cry #devil may cry x reader #mine #dante sparda #vergil sparda #nero sparda #devil may cry headcanons

[g0dspeeed]

Burning Love

Request from @leoncharme 

What was supposed to be a relaxing day, turned into one of the strangest visits to Viktor’s clinic that V has ever had.

Hot grease sizzled deliciously in the large wok, the rich smell of savory noodles and synth meat churning V’s stomach even more. She stood near the food stall patiently, her eyes flitting through recent texts sent by practically every fixer in the city.

Ugh, I don’t need another fuckin’ car, she muttered as her eyes scoured all the vehicle offers made in the past few hours. Most were too tempting, too shiny, and V needed way too many eddies to make it happen anytime soon.

Deleting the final offer, V turned to take in the sight before her. The sun was high above the metropolis, caressing the Night City skyline in a golden light and warming the busy streets below. It was an easy heat, bearable, and a strong breeze cooled her off as it sifted through her hair.

Days like these were rare. Aside from the car offers, her inbox was light. There were no pressing contracts, no urgent phone calls from a fixer who needed a person shot, kidnapped, or rescued. No reminders to visit a drop box. No street races. No street fights to prepare for any time soon. Just a preem day for V to relax, eat a hot meal, and spend it with whomever she chose.

Which reminded her.

“Hey, double my order,” she requested.

The vendor nodded, and a smile tugged innocently at V’s lips.

When her noodles were ready, V paid the vendor and started towards her HELLA with a spring in her step.

Today’s gonna be a good one, she thought, allowing that bit of optimism to finally sink in. It’ll be-

A pause.

V barely heard it.

There.

Again, there it was.

The second time there was no mistaking the sound.

A high pitch yelp had caught her attention, followed by a low, pained moan. The source was near, but how close V couldn’t tell. She listened some more, but nothing stood out amongst the traffic.

Part of her thought to ignore it, both the sound and that damned intuition in her gut that said that something was wrong. Agony on the streets of Night City was as common as graffiti and a systemic issue far too big for V to remedy on her own, despite her impulsive need to save nearly everyone she comes across. V helped when she was able and often when she was barely so. Just her nature. Or more so a savior complex.

After lingering for a few more moments V decided to move on. Her noodles were getting cold after all.

Just as her hand pulled on the car’s handle, the sound ruptured again in a louder, more alarming pitch.

This time V quickly whipped around to scan the area with her optics. A tinted blue swept her vision, focus fleeting from object to object in view. It was there, resting against a bench that she spotted him. A clearly distressed man in a white and pink striped shirt was hunched over, sweat glistening on his forehead above a pair of violet visors. A gold chain dangled from his neck, catching a sun beam.

V stepped closer, but right before she could ask him what the hell his problem was, her voice caught in her throat.

Cupping his crotch, the man was naked from the waist down save for a pair of black tennis shoes.

V gasped.

Unfortunately, the stranger heard her. The man turned around and spotted the frozen merc, something like relief laxing his tense expression.

“Hey!” he cried.

He shuffled forward.

V shuffled back.

Her eyes tried to look at anything but what was in his hands. Anything at all.

“Hey, you!” he cried again. “I got to get to a ripper…”

The man’s whole body was trembling, and his voice was overflowing of desperation. She slowly allowed her eyes to fall upon his sweaty face as he panted, seeing his throat bob with each swallow.

Her pity outran her common sense.

“Alright,” V replied, discomfort heavy in her tone and eyes trying their best to look up towards the clouds.

“Great!” he heaved.

V’s brain was still trying to register her predicament, let alone the fact that she agreed to let this half-naked stranger into her car.

“Why’re we standing here?” the man stammered. “To the car! Now!”

A cry left him with enough volume to snap V to her senses.

Quickly, she slid into the driver’s seat. The lunch was placed in the back while her brain was trying to conjure up the fastest way to the nearest ripperdoc.

Though she knew exactly what ripperdoc was the closest, she hesitated. She hated this for him, hated that this weird-ass situation was what she was going to bring to his doorstep. V tried to think of any other clinic that was nearby, anyone at all who was available on such short notice. The reality was, however, that this was an emergency. Any moment the guy’s crotch could set her car ablaze, and ultimately her first option was the best.

When the passenger door slammed shut, dread had already started to climb up from her stomach into her tightening throat.

“Ugh,” groaned the man as their vehicle picked up speed. “Satisfaction guaranteed, they said…”

Ah, she thought. Of course.

V asked if he was referring to the Mr. Stud implant, the provocative ad flashing in her brain. When he confirmed her guess, she hummed in validation. He thanked her for her professionalism, for not being too judgey, given the circumstances. That was the most cordiality her newfound client provided, however, because for the rest of their short ride there was more screaming, moaning, and the demand that she mow down a class of children and pretty much everyone who dared cross their path. Telling him to chill the fuck out didn’t get her anywhere, nor did some scripted words of encouragement.

“Oh, it burns! It burns!” he near screamed, hurting V’s ears.

The moment they arrived at the clinic V didn’t waste any time. She quickly grabbed the bag from the backseat and directed the man to the green, neon sign on the other side of the alley.

“W-Where are you going?” he panted as she took off towards the clinic ahead of him.

“Giving the doc a heads up!” she called from over her shoulder. “Just come this way!”

Two steps at a time, V practically threw herself to the bottom of the clinic’s stairs. Stumbling, she burst inside, the metal gate grinding loudly through its shaft.

Viktor was already on his feet, no doubt startled at the commotion she was causing. Something between a smile and pure shock was spread on the ripperdoc’s face as he greeted the merc.

“Hey, V, where’s the fire-”

“I brought you lunch!”

V moved past him to toss their meal on his workbench. Some of his tools fell loudly to the floor.

“Aw, thanks, kid,” he said with a small smile, allowing himself to be touched by the gesture despite the rising chaos that was building in his clinic. “What’s going-”

“I also brought you a patient!”

Before the words registered, a harsh cry echoed in the large space. Viktor’s eyes snapped to the entrance of the clinic where a sweaty, half-naked man was leaning on the gate’s frame. The man’s hands were planted in the apex of his thighs. A sudden spark caused his body to jolt.

Like a switch, Viktor’s focus became sharp and alert.

“V, the chair,” demanded Viktor. “Stat.”

The merc grimaced as she hoisted the stranger up and led him to the operating chair. Viktor had already sanitized his hands and arms with a quick drying antiseptic by the time the man collapsed in place.

“Due to your compromised state,” began Viktor in a flat drone. V winced at how Viktor shoved his usual stimulant into his forearm, leaving behind a rounded wound that would join the other scars. “I am obligated to act on Article 23.4 of NUSA’s Good Samaritan Law to provide emergency medical care-”

“Shit,” moaned the man, his hands gripping hard at the armrests. “W-What the hell are you talking about? Just do your fuckin’ job!”

“Preem,” muttered the ripperdoc as he jabbed the man’s upper thigh with his medgun. The man yelped. “Pain should subside now.”

V suppressed a smile in response to the dry look that Vik shot her.

“Grab me two ‘Dorphs from that shelf,” he told her, a finger from his exoglove pointing in a general direction. “Need Beauts.”

“On it.”

As V searched his supply, Viktor gathered information from his new patient.

Despite knowing the ripperdoc for as long as she had and walking in on countless operations, seeing Viktor work in such a controlled, level manner calmed V’s nerves as well. A voice as rich as honey had that effect on people. The man made ripper work look easy, multitasking between running diagnostics, checking vitals, and laying a thin, surgical drape on the man’s exposed lap. Viktor kept the conversation flowing, delivering timely ‘mhms’ and repeating specs aloud for the recording program of his computer. He had an ease to his voice, something tranquil and trustworthy, even as Viktor pushed against the man’s chest when the guy tried to rise from the chair.

“Jesse,” warned Viktor calmly. “Easy there.”

If he wanted to put up a real fight, V doubted that Jesse had a chance against Viktor. The patient’s body squirmed under the force of one arm alone.

“Doc, doc, doc, you need to operate,” Jesse argued. “You n-need to-”

“Jesse,” Viktor snapped, and in response the man immediately stilled. Jesse’s lids seemed to then get heavier and his shoulders slumped.

“There we go,” soothed the ripperdoc with a smirk, his body stretching on his rolling stool. “Took your body a while. I gave you a little cocktail of mine, the Vektor special. Should feel nothin’ but good now.”

V set the requested meds on a metal table by his stool. Viktor grabbed one, shook it, and handed it wordlessly to his patient.

Turning on her heel, V was about to dismiss herself from the situation. Her role was fulfilled. The guy was maybe gonna be okay, and even though V interrupted several of Viktor’s appointments, she could at least attempt to respect Doctor-Patient confidentiality. The flaming crotch man seemed like a great place to start.

Just as she started to walk away, she felt a tight grip on her wrist.

“Nuh-uh,” said Viktor lowly, fingers giving a gentle squeeze. “I’ll need ya to stick around for this one, kiddo.”

“Think you got it, Vik,” she said with a grin. “Flaming dicks aren’t really my thing.”

“Oh, I know I got it,” he returned. “And flaming dicks aside, I’d rather have a second pair of hands should things head south. Normally I’d call for Misty, but she’s out today. Besides…”

Viktor rolled in closer to V, an air of confidence about him. V’s eyes narrowed.

“Would love to see you play nurse,” he purred.

A warmth stung her cheeks as she took her wrist back.

“So long as I don’t have to wear an outfit, I’ll help,” she quipped.

“Oh, don’t tempt me.”

The huskiness of his voice made her blush even more.

Viktor winked up at V before he turned his full attention back to his sedated patient.

Her attention, too, travelled back to Jesse as he huffed the med. Then, they fell on the surgical drape in his lap.

“So,” she prompted. “His dick was about to explode.”

Viktor hummed in agreement.

“You don’t, uh, seem that worried about it,” she went on.

A chuckle.

Even Jesse in his laxed state, sat up a bit for an explanation.

“We’re in the clear for now,” answered Viktor. More so to the patient, he added, “Now that you’re calm, your blood pressure isn’t forcing that faulty equipment to activate. Should be smooth sailing if you stay as relaxed as possible.”

“Oh, okay,” replied Jesse dumbly, no longer looking Viktor in the eye, but instead gazing up at the dark ceiling. “Um, what are, what are you going to do exactly, doc?”

“Gonna take that shitty tech out of your junk, Jess, that’s what. Guessing you got it for a steal, right? Black market shit? Some word from the Wise: Don’t ever accept tech that’s too good to be true. Ever. Especially if it’s an implant like this. I mean, you’re lookin’ at a few potential side effects that I can talk to you about after the procedure-”

“Wait, you can’t, like, fix it?”

Viktor sighed.

“Uh, no,” he replied flatly. “Not my specialty. And I don’t plan on being held liable for whatever, eh, works and doesn’t work. I can refer you to a guy I know in Charter Hill though.”

Jesse pouted in response, but after seeing how Viktor wasn’t going to budge on the issue, he consented to the procedure.

As time went by, V kept busy by fetching Viktor whatever supply he requested, whether it be more drugs, sutures, or gauze. Which was fine and ultimately best considering the kind of operation that was taking place. Not that V became squeamish around the sight and smell of blood, no. That wasn’t it. Just the nature of it all, that Vik was repairing a poor man’s augmented penis.

So much for a relaxing, care-free day.

The only saving grace to it all was seeing Viktor in his element. The man shined. He kept Jesse talking, eyes meeting his patient’s and on the monitor in equal measure, while also sounding personable and sincere. They exchanged stories about interests, about boxing matches they’ve seen, hobbies, some boring topics, some piquing her curiosity. Viktor’s voice held the same steadiness no matter the subject, and V’s heart warmed at watching him work with such care. Though she’s been in his operating chair herself probably hundreds of times, it was something special to see him work with someone else, to witness him calm even the most panicked of souls.

A goofy laugh gushed from Jesse, no doubt feeling the effects of all the medication.

“Ah man, you’re just so sexy,” he blurted.

V blinked at the realization that the comment was directed at her.

A listless ‘Mm’ was all she offered.

Viktor kept working, attributing the outburst to the drugs.

“I mean it!” said Jesse, misreading the woman’s lack of response. “You are just so gorgeous. So, so breathtaking. And you helped me-”

“I expect to be paid,” V reminded him.

“Yes, yes, and you deserve to. Yes, you deserve to! Doesn’t she deserve to be paid?”

Viktor offered a close-lipped smile in agreement, preferring to finish the operation as soon as humanly possible with the turn the conversation had taken. Just a few more stitches-

“Do you do advertisements?” continued Jesse, nearly sounding manic. “Do you? A supermodel maybe? You know, like a side gig sorta thing?”

V snorted.

“Nope, can’t say I would even want to, Jesse.”

“Huh, well, you should think about it. You would make a shit ton of eddies if you did, probably more than merc work. Not to objectify you, but like, you totally have the bod for the job.”

Viktor glanced up at V after that comment, his blood boiling at how Jesse’s advice rendered her speechless.

Not missing an awkward beat, Jesse then asked “So are ya single? Or is dating not your thing?”

V squared her shoulders.

“Don’t think you need to know that-”

“Come on! Gimme a hint. I mean, no judgment if you don’t date.”

“Good to know.”

“Yeah, I can keep it loose. What about you?”

Viktor’s jaw started to ache from how hard it was clenched.

“Actually,” said V, her voice perking up. “I am dating someone. And I like the guy. A lot. Pretty solid, so not really looking for anything else right now-”

In a voice that Viktor could only assume was supposed to be a whisper, Jesse said, “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt ‘im-”

A clank.

Viktor had put down a pair of surgical scissors so loudly that both Jesse and V jumped.

“V?” questioned the ripperdoc in a terse tone. “Mind grabbin’ our patient here a low-dose ‘Dorph for the road? ‘Bout finished up.”

A heavy sigh of relief left the merc as she headed towards the back of the clinic.

“You’ll need to take two huffs now and two more in an hour or so, okay?” said Viktor to Jesse, annoyed at catching Jesse’s eyes trailing after V.

“That woman,” he started to say, clearly missing what Viktor had said about the meds. “For such a smart mouth, she’s got a great ass, am I right-”

Without warning, Viktor’s fingers smacked the side of Jesse’s face with enough force to make him flinch. Stunned, Jesse immediately looked at Viktor.

Eyes locked on Jesse, Viktor called out to V.

“Hey, V? See any more of that stim I use? You know, the one that I need in case my hand slips?”

Some shuffling sounded from the back.

“Um, yeah,” she shouted. “Why?”

“I just did a lot of good work here on Jesse’s dick. Would hate for something to happen to it at the finish line.”

Jesse swallowed as he could feel the outline of Viktor’s intense stare past the tinted lenses. The ripperdoc sat close to his patient and spoke in a voice so dark that it made Jesse’s hair rise on the back of his neck.

“You’re my patient now, but the moment you step out of here, you’re just any other asshole on the street that hits on V in front of my face. Difference between now and then is that I’ll kick your goddamn teeth out on the curb should I hear another word out of that mouth of yours ‘bout how hot she looks and what the fuck she does with her body. You will pay her. Don’t care if you pay me, but unless you wanna know what the Bradbury sidewalk tastes like I better hear from V by the end of the day that you paid her in full for bringing you into my clinic today or so help you God I don’t find you and get those eddies myself.”

Jesse swallowed before nodding his head.

The only sound that could be heard in the clinic was V’s footsteps. She found it odd how still the men were sitting and how Jesse didn’t acknowledge her presence once she returned to the operating chair.

“Here,” she said to the ripperdoc, but Viktor shook his head at the stimulant she brought.

“You know, I actually think I won’t need it. He’s all set and ready to go. Aren’t you, Jesse?”

The guy would have some balls to respond. As expected, Jesse remained quiet. The ripperdoc’s back popped as he rose slowly from the stool, his body stiff from operating. He continued stretching as he walked towards the locker room area of his clinic to fetch Jesse a pair of stocked sweats that he set aside for patients.

V gave Viktor a questioning look and was met only with another classic wink.

“About my payment,” she began, turning her attention back to Jesse.

Still refusing to look her in the eye, Jesse stated, “I’ll get it to you in an hour.”

The man quickly dressed, thanked Viktor for his services, and rushed out of the clinic without looking back. Based on the smugness that Viktor carried himself with as he wiped down his workspace, V caught onto what happened.

With V’s help, the clinic was cleaned and prepped for the next fortunate soul who sought out Viktor’s care.

The pair were lounging on the ripperdoc’s crusty couch in the back of the clinic, their feet propped up on a stack of boxes with lukewarm takeout in hand.

“Not a fan of Jesse’s career advice, I take it?” teased V with a grin.

Viktor glowered as he swallowed a mouthful of noodles.

“Not a fan of really any advice he gave, no,” he replied coolly.

“Might lose future business,” she mocked, but he was already shaking his head.

“It’s all good. I’m eating lunch with a supermodel. Life can’t get any sweeter.”

#viktor vektor #Victor Vector #Viktor Vector #Victor Vektor #cyberpunk 2077 #ripperdoc #whats a short fic

[anxiouslyfred]

Blackberry Delivery Service

Summary: Where soulmates get plants that reflect what is done to each of them at unpredictable time of their lives, schools teach it’s about maturity. Virgil has known this is wrong since he got his plant at the young age of 8.

Remus never learns this before the night everything goes wrong gets followed by a day out of Roman’s daydreams.

/\/\

Nobody had figured out yet how the delivery service worked. There were classes in schools covering the history of soulmates and the plants connected to them which could go over how when people roamed the lands or lived in small villages and tribes they'd be drawn to the plants when they were ready for it. That still happened in a lot of the indigenous cultures, where spending time among nature was a larger part of their way of life.

For the people in cities though a delivery service had opened with the advent of a postal service. When a person became ready to care for their plant it would be delivered at a time they were alone at home and then the van would disappear for somewhere else. No base was known of for the Soulmate plants delivery, nor any greenhouses and plenty of legends surrounded the vans but nothing could get confirmed.

Virgil had read everything he could about them regardless. Originally it was dreaming that he'd get his plant one day and learn how he can find his soulmate with it. Receiving it when he was just 8 years old had grown the interest into the reasons people claimed they got their plants.

What schools taught was that if you are mature enough to care for someone, or something, living other than yourself and put their needs on the same level as your own then the plant would be delivered. The forums and multitudes of orphanages and care homes gave out different lessons, leaflets filled with personal stories about people getting their plant so they had something to look forward to, a reassurance there was somebody out their for them.

That was why Virgil received his plant. His parents had busy jobs and rarely spared a thought for their son, so long as he was fed, clean and his clothes were the good quality expected of reasonably wealthy parents. He'd gotten lonely and used to being ignored, or a second thought to everyone but the blackberry bust he received was a promise that wouldn't continue forever.

And that was how he continued on, looking after the plant and trying its best to help it grow. The thorns were longer than a normal blackberry bush and grew in a higher number but the berries were a wonderful balanced of sweet and tangy. It was soon Virgil's favourite treat, as long as the berries came from his soulmate plant. If only he could tell his soulmate was looking after theirs as well, but nothing changed except what Virgil did to the plant.

/Years Later for Remus\

It had taken far too long for Remus to save up the money for his own flat. Still, 10 times fired is 20 people he knows can't accept who he is, and he could finally move out from Roman's apartment.

He'd thought there could be a celebration, him and his brother having a game night or something to mark the achievement. Sure Remus would have liked to do more than that, go to a bar, or maybe bowling and see how many innuendos and dirty jokes he could make around it, but with Roman back in rehearsals a night in, getting him settled into the flat would have been nice.

Instead they argued, Remus hurt over the dismissal Roman gave. “I can't just fritter away hours with you. This could be a big break for me if it gets the presses attention so I have to be responsible for my time.”

“It's one night, Ro. One night to get that stick out of your arse, loosen up and just be silly again. Fuck, we could find an adventure on a hike and play dragons and princes again like we used to. Toast the fact I'm making it on my own now.” Remus had pleaded, just needing something to mark the change.

“Yeah and then in a month, possibly two, you'll be asking for an adventure or night out to celebrate you moving straight back in.” Roman scoffed, dismissing the idea and Remus's long standing dream of independence in one sentence.

Remus had slammed the door to his flat open then. He'd made the offer when they finished moving all his stuff over to the apartment and there was something darkly satisfying that he could now actually kick Roman out now. “Fuck you, Get the hell out of here! You've watched how fucking hard I've worked to get this and now you think I'm going to throw it all away for what?” He made no attempt to keep his voice down, too hurt and angry to care.

“Yeah, cause you're so mature. You haven't even received a plant to look after yet.” Roman had started to protest but as soon as Remus's missing plant was mentioned he was getting manhandled out of the door.

“I'm blocking you everywhere. I fucking trusted you!” Remus screamed, throwing cushions from the sofa at the door as soon as he'd slammed it shut, locking it behind Roman.

Remus had tried. He'd done everything he could think of to be mature enough to get that soulmate plant, but it still hadn't been delivered. Every day he hoped that perhaps finally it would come; that whatever spirits created and delivered the plants would finally realise he was ready for the soulmate plant.

He'd even kept a garden on the balcony at Roman's house. That was Remus's space and he'd kept it alive, thriving even. Every plant he'd had there had now found a place on window sills around the apartment, as specified to their requirements as Remus could manage.

For Roman to have thrown his missing soulmate plant back at him was too far, and his brother should have known that. It had turned the first night in his apartment which Remus had been so excited to finally afford from being a celebration to one of near destruction.

Remus had agreed with fix and redecorate the apartment for a reduced rent so he decided to move the screaming in his brain to chipping the cracked tiling away from the walls of the bathroom. The landlord had offered it when learning he was a joiner after his most recent building course. With every strike he wished it was a stem he could yank away from Roman's lavender bush, make him realise just how it felt to be missing something everyone insisted was important.

Mud, plants and carpentry could only get Remus so far until he was collapsing onto his new bed, and the tears came.

A new home, but an even lonelier life than before now he couldn't face the last person to try and stick with him again.

/A New Day Comes\

Remus thought the knock on his door must be Roman, trying to apologise or just explain himself. There were always more explanations from Roman than spoken apologies. The apology was shown in his behaviour and the time he cut himself off.

He definitely didn't expect the knock to be a blackberry bush and a van driving out of sight.

An apartment with no balcony or attached garden was probably the worst possible place Remus could try to grow blackberries, but he didn't have much choice, not over what his soulmate plant was, or where it could grow. There was at least a large window in his bedroom that he could find space for it in.

Remus gave it a small smile as he carried it through, leaving it at the foot of his bed for a moment. “Well I guess you were finally ready to come to me then. You just wait here while I shift some of your new friends around to give you a nice spot to rest in.” He says, stroking the leaves lightly before turning away.

“This isn't the ideal space for you, I know, but it's what I have and what's mine is yours, Buddy. Well for you and all my other plant friends of course. I don't care if your connected to my soulmate, these guys get all my love just as much as you do.” Remus was rambling, still mostly talking to the blackberry bush but nuzzling into the other plants he had as they were moved, some closer together and a couple taken to one of the other windowsills.

“I'm no more mature than I was yesterday so it seems like the teachers were just saying more bullshit to us all. Wonder why you're actually here though. Unless it's because I'm completely alone in the world now, and this is all just a complete scam. What makes me being completely alone the trigger when Roman got his years ago after a night moping that he's never be someone's hero?” They'd still been living with their parents when that happened, but now Remus was focused on being lied to by schools.

He shook his head, moving the bush to the new spot. “Maybe I should have tried mixing those chemicals in science labs given everything else they've lied over. I bet it wouldn't have caused anything fun to happen anyway. Now Buddy, you need a frame or some support to hook onto and then I want to start checking online if there are any people around caring for blackberry bushes. If my soulmate already has you then I'm gonna be telling them off for not caring for you properly. Lack of gardening knowledge does not mean you're unable to research a singular plant.”

Remus fell to humming as he started rooting through the boxes that hadn't yet been unpacked for his gardening supplies. He'd need to trim the bush a bit and get it tied onto a frame. There was plenty of time before he had work to get that done.

/Over to Virgil\

After growing up with his blackberry bush, Virgil never expected anything to change with it. He wasn't sure if that was because his soulmate was content to let him look after it or if they just hadn't received their plant yet.

This morning was proving they probably hadn't received it until now and were very knowledgable about how to look after their plants. Virgil had watched as the canes were cut, thorns trimmed away in the busier areas of the bush and then as a frame appeared in the pot, stalks being tied to it from the bottom upwards.

It had been a relaxing if confusing scene to watch but Virgil hadn't wanted to look away. There was evidence he had a soulmate and apparently one who's a very avid gardener.

Part of him wanted to cheer, to dance around his home screaming for joy. He had a soulmate out there, and now their plants were more identifiable than the wild growth that was all Virgil understood enough to achieve. There was a chance he could one day find someone who wouldn't just be talking to him for his family name, or in the hopes of getting a higher role in his mother's business.

It just made Virgil want to go out and start actually trying to find whomever they were, but what if they were annoyed that he hadn't taken better care of their plant? What if they had their life all put together and only cared about the plant because soulmates were meant to be important to them and he'd just disappoint them?

There were hundreds of what if questions that Virgil was now coming up with, stilling his hands as he went to search the 'match my plant' websites there were.

Instead he just double checked his Blackberry bush was watered enough and drew a V in the soil, washing his hands before finally heading into the restaurant his parents wanted checking on today. They'd decided Virgil should have a role as site inspector for the restaurants while they were refurbished or put together for a new site opening at some point and Virgil didn't mind the role. It gave him the chance to meet normal people in the builders, electricians and other skilled jobs as well as avoid special treatment from the restaurants staff since most of the time they'd never meet him officially.

Today the site was having fitted counters installed as well as the tables secured for the private booths. Virgil would really just be checking everything looked right and hoping to avoid chatting to the joiner for too long.

“Hey there, Are you the boss man for the site?” There was a man in fluorescent overalls trying to peer through the windows of the restaurant, knocking on them as Virgil walked up to it.

Most of the builders had been given the morning off so they didn't get in the way but the actions of the man had Virgil checking the time and realising he'd set off late after watching his plant get looked after. “Yep, that's me. Sorry I ran a little late. It seems like my soulmate has gotten their plant and was doing a lot of gardening for it this morning. I got distracted watching it.” The explanation was far more than the joiner needed to know, but it felt deserved given Virgil was late.

“Cool thing, Patches. I got mine this morning too. Must be a busy day for the delivery guys. You planning on letting us in or should I break a window and replace it on my way out?” The man had walked back to the van that was parked on the pavement in front of the restaurant as he spoke, but leaned back to wink at Virgil when he suggested the vandalism.

Virgil shook his head, snorting a little at the idea. It didn't seem serious so he wasn't going to treat it as such. “First, I'm gonna need to see some ID, preferably your traders license. Can't just trust people who ask if I run the building without introducing themselves at all.” He did pull the keys out of his pocket though, waiting beside the door as the other bounced back over.

“Well, I'm Remus, here's my card, call me whenever for whatever cause a body like yours I ain't gonna refuse.” Remus definitely checked Virgil out as he spoke but still handed over his license, a business card behind it that Virgil pocketed.

Unlocking the door, he shook his head again. “I'm Virgil and will need to call the company doing the rest of this place to complain about the state they've left it in. Sorry it seems to be chaos. I did order them to leave it clear yesterday but apparently my instructions were ignored.”

Remus didn't seem to care, already carrying various boards and his toolkit, just making large steps over any equipment or items left in his way. “I got a blackberry bush this morning. You said you thought your soulmate had got theirs today too so what's yours?”

“Oh, yeah, same. It's blackberries too. I've been scared that I'll hurt it if I do anything though so have mostly left it to grow its own way once I got a mini greenhouse to look after it in.” Virgil agreed, pulling his phone out, and falling into mumbles over how to make the call.

It was only moments later when Virgil looked up to actually double check the number, ever doubting his phone had saved it correctly, that he realised Remus had frozen and started watching him, large siding board still balanced on his shoulder. “Did I say something wrong? Is there something I need to raise as a big issue to like health and safety that I've missed?” He asked.

Remus bounced between his feet for a moment, almost falling before he remembered the siding and leant it against the wall. “No Dude, but like, does your plant look something like this now?” He pulled his phone out while speaking, flicking through a few screens before showing a picture of Virgil's blackberry bush, except it was surrounded by dozens of other plants on a windowsill that was in dire need of fresh paint and probably new frames all together.

“That's – That is my plant! Even down to the frame that appeared!” Virgil exclaimed, almost snatching the phone away to look closer at the picture. “I watched everything getting trimmed and tied onto the frame this morning.” He muttered, all thoughts of scolding the builders leaving his mind in the moment.

“So you're my soulmate then?” Remus asked after a minute of waiting for that connection to be made.

Virgil didn't think his eyes could get any wider or that he could be any more shocked than he already was, but that sentence would have managed it. “Well, must be, this is my plant so yeah.” He nodded frantically through the explanation.

He was a bit confused when Remus's expression darkened to a scowl. “This entire soulmate thing is fucked up. Nothing against you but is this stupid damnable universe telling me I had to go through losing or falling out with everyone I know only to get my plant and meet my soulmate on the same fucking day? It's ridiculous and stupid. If it wanted to pull this fairytale bullshit with anyone it should have been with Roman. This feels like he's fucking writing the story of my day just to spite me after throwing everything I've been trying to do back in my face yesterday.” The rant had Virgil backing away a little, sitting down on one of the benches as Remus carried on.

“I did every fucking thing I could to be whatever stupid ideal of mature this world wants before letting people have their plants for years! I scraped through course after course, job after job just trying to find one which I could make a career out of, earn enough to get even a ratty apartment I need to fix up for the landlord and then have the universe fucking telling me to speed run the entire process. Not just, hey Remus, you can finally have the soulmate plant to look after since you've been looking after your hundred plant babies so well, but hey Remus, you brother is a fucking bastard so you're all alone but here's a plant and hey, here's your entire fucking soulmate too.” Remus was screaming at the walls, the ceiling, anywhere that wasn't Virgil, looking like he was two steps from destroying the next thing he looked at closer to ground level.

Virgil usually felt panicked by watching displays of anger like this in real people. He'd usually do everything he can to get out of that situation but instead he just listened and waited, learning more from the rant than he'd expected to.

The yelling must have been audible from outside or something because there was soon a knock on the window of the restaurant, although Remus didn't seem to hear it. He did notice when Virgil stood though, falling quiet to watch him as though expecting him to say something.

With a gesture to the door Virgil went to open it, only to blink as someone almost identical to Remus stood on the opposite side, holding what he guessed might have been a peppermint plant. “Hi, um, sorry if I can't do this, but Remus hasn't been answering my calls and had mentioned doing some work here today. Is he still around?” The man asked, shifting to try and see further into the store.

“Who are you, first? And what's with the plant?” Virgil held a hand up to keep them outside, raising an eyebrow at their discomfort.

“His brother, Roman. I said something I really shouldn't have and have come to beg for forgiveness. The plant is part of my apology.” With that explanation, especially following the rant he'd just heard Virgil held one finger up before shutting the door in his face.

Remus seemed to have started getting his work tools out now his rant had been cut off when Virgil sat down again. “So that was some rant you had there and given I've had my blackberry bush since I was 8, I might be able to explain what actually seems to be the time the plants come to us. Before that though, are you going to start screaming again if I say there's someone at the door holding a plant and asking if you're here so they can beg for forgiveness?” He explained, watching as Remus turned to him and then deflated.

“He literally said I wouldn't last more than a couple months in my new apartment before having to live with him again, threw the fact I hadn't got my plant yet in my face last night and is now trying to apologise with a fucking plant?” Remus muttered, but sighed as he stood up.

Roman was let in silently and he seemed to watch Remus as if expecting something to be said first. Remus was watching his brother just as carefully, before glancing over to Virgil.

“Seriously. Are we sure the universe hasn't stolen one of Roman's stories and decided to dump me into it?” He asked, taking the peppermint from Roman and placing it in front of the window.

“I have literally known Roman for all of 2 seconds so have no clue what those stories might be like to say.” Virgil pointed out, knowing his expression was probably reflecting how crazy he found the question to be.

Remus rolled his eye, “I see no prostrating yourself on the floor to beg for forgiveness. This apology so far sucks worse than Mrs PeePee's apple sorbet.” He glanced over to Roman who was looking between them confused.

“Yes, of course dear Brother, except there isn't exactly space on the floor for that to be possible. I spoke entirely out of turn yesterday and should have never even considered speaking to you the way I have done. You have my deepest apologies and I swear that I will do everything I can to help make it up to you. In fact I would be honoured if tonight you'd accompany to the indoor mini golf course that's opening on the edge of town. It's rainforest themed and I hear rumours they've included a swamp area.” Roman bowed as he was speaking, actually glancing around to see if it was safe for him to kneel.

Virgil couldn't help snickering at it though, and Remus was soon to join in the laughter. “Let's all go actually. I need to know if this idiot is entertaining beyond cheap jokes and loud rants to tell the universe off.” Virgil agreed, before glancing at the sideboard and the time. There was still a couple of hours before the rest of the builders should arrive, hopefully enough time for Remus to do some of the work he was actually here for.

“Sure, you're forgiven and I think the universe has done pretty much everything I would have asked you to do or try to do already.” Remus agreed, jumping over a few things back to where he would be fitting the counters. “By the way, this is my soulmate and I got a blackberry bush this morning. Only figured that it was the same as his like 10 minutes before you got here.”

“Was that what the screaming was about? I thought someone was injured?” Roman asked, moving to the bench when Virgil shrugged and patted it.

Virgil snorted. “Yeah, Remus has a few things to say to whatever does soulmates about how today has gone for him. Not sure the universe listens to people screaming in restaurants-to-be though.”

Eventually Virgil would get Roman to share one of the stories Remus had kept referencing and had to agree: The day they met really did seem to come out of Roman's imagination.

#dukexiety #soulmate au #virgil sanders #remus sanders #creativitwins #roman sanders

[oneofyatosfollowers]

Yatori Week 2021- Day 6

@yatoriweek2021

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32090953/chapters/79500055

Fanfiction: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13905660/1/Yatori-Week-2021

There were many reasons Hiyori and Yukine had been upset with Yato keeping his secrets. 

For one, they were dangerous to both him and the rest. Another was trust. That was something that bothered Yukine more than Hiyori; after all, she understood the many reasons why Yato didn’t tell them and she couldn’t blame him for it. But the reason that most upset Hiyori, was one that she had to face after he first disappeared.

Hiyori didn’t know Yato at all.

She knew nothing about him, couldn’t even take a guess as to where he would go. No favorite restaurant or bar, no other friends, no relaxing hobbies. And while there was once a time that wouldn’t have bothered Hiyori, that was no longer the case. Especially now, when they risked their lives for each other over and over.

Of course now, she knew more about him than anyone did. Yukine knew a lot but there were still aspects of Yato he didn’t understand yet. Yato had told them most of the important stuff, confirming or denying any questions or theories they had. But even so, Hiyori was just a speck. Just a sudden, minuscule existence in the grand scheme of the centuries of a god's life. Whether or not Yukine liked to think otherwise, there was no possible way for Yato to tell them about all his experiences in the one year he knew them. Considering they had trusted each other for less than that.

Unfortunately that didn’t change the fact that all those pieces, big and small, were a part of him. Parts that they-she- didn’t know. Yato was full of surprises and even though that was usually fun to experience, the distance between them didn’t become more apparent until right now. With Father being locked away in heaven, stuck in an immortal existence to keep Yato alive, the heavens ultimately proclaimed him dead in every other sense of the word. As such, his children were left in an odd sort of limbo between mourning and dealing with the aftermath of his punishment.

Since Nora was rightfully struggling with the adjustment, even though she had been living at Kofukus for the past couple months, most of the actual work had been left to Yato. He attended meetings in heaven, completed any paperwork, rounded up all the masks that escaped. He also located all of The Crafter’s storage houses, living spaces, and any other place he kept things for him or the masks. Heaven took care of most of it, preferring to keep his children away and out of suspicion; but Ameterasu left the fate of the main house to Yato. Out of either pity or consideration.

Originally, Yato and Nora were content to simply burn the estate house to the ground with all the contents and beasts inside. But Hiyori and the rest convinced them to at least look through it, saying it was okay to take the time instead of just cutting it off. In hindsight maybe the two didn’t want to go back to such a traumatic place (and maybe the others were just curious) but Hiyori could tell Yato had some longing to go there, safely. He and Nora had argued against anyone else going, even her and Yukine, but that opinion was ultimately swayed too. It was easier to do that nowadays, Yato wasn’t as stubborn as he used to be. Still bogged down by guilt of all kinds. But everyone promised the both of them they wouldn’t do or touch anything without permission and Yukine insisted on staying by Yato’s side.

That didn’t stop their jaws from dropping as they followed The Crafter’s children south along the coast and far up into the mountains. Yato and Nora decided to walk there, out of habit, and the rest had no choice but to do the same. An old stone staircase led from a small back road up into the trees. After about another mile, they met a driveway and a large bamboo fence. It was old, but clearly still used and well maintained. The height wasn’t anything extravagant- Hiyori knew she was the only one that couldn’t leap over it- but the large chains that crossed over the entrance warded others to stay away.

They waited patiently for Nora to unlock it before the doors swung open and they were met with a beautiful front yard and house. It wasn’t extravagant by any means but the yard was well kept with hydrangea bushes lining the fence and white pebbles accenting most of the plants and house. The house itself was rather grand. Far too nice for someone like Yato but everyone had the sense not to comment on it. The estate was very old fashioned, a traditional Japanese style with two floors and probably an attic. The white building had long hallways sticking off either side and thin wooden slats covering all the windows. They were the same dark wood as the naked support beams around the outside of the house and matched nicely with the dark pointed roof.

In fact the only “crafter” thing about the house was the handful of masks that slept in the front yard. Three of them looked like large deer, that raised their heads at the intruders but did nothing more. Some smaller ones skittered under the porch while two wolves dashed out to see the new guests, happy to finally see members of the family. With one nod from Yato and Nora, Bishamon dispelled these rather peaceful creatures. Hiyori didn’t try to think about it too much.

Nora unlocked the front door, sliding the wooden door open and letting the group into the mud room. For a moment everyone stood, unsure if they were supposed to take off their shoes, but when neither of The Crafter’s children did, they didn’t either. Down the hall to the left was the living room, straight ahead was the hallway and kitchen, and to the right were stairs to go up. Wordlessly, everyone separated and got to work. Since Yukine stayed with Yato, following him to the back of the house and down the right hallway to The Crafter’s workspace, Hiyori stayed with Nora in the kitchen. It was just as old as the rest of the house, mostly running on fire and various stone appliances.

“If you want to go with him, you can,” Nora said suddenly.

“Huh?” Hiyori jolted and dropped the tied trash bag, trying and failing to hide the fact that her thoughts were now upstairs. Nora didn’t say anything more, just leveled Hiyori with a polite but challenging look. Hiyori swallowed and looked down, attempting to hide her blush. There was no point in denying it, everyone in this house knew- and saw- that there was something between them.

“Hey Nora?” Kofuku peaked her head in the kitchen with Daikoku, Bishamon, and Kazuma over her shoulder, “we finished with the left side of the house. Except for Tenjin and Mayu who are still in the library. What else should we do?”

“If you walk straight out the back for a little less than a mile there is a holy spring. In the stream leading to it is a fruit net and laundry. There is also a garage in the back with Father’s sport’s car and Yato’s motorcycle. You can probably get rid of all the tools or something,” Nora said. There was another moment of stunned silence, something that has happened a lot since coming here, but everyone quickly delegated the work and left. Hiyori took a moment to drag the trash bags to the pile set neatly outfront on the porch before coming back. Before Yato agreed to let them come in, even with the promise they would not question or disobey his orders, he laid down several ground rules. One of which was that gods must always travel with their shinki, even from room to room. Apparently there were still masks that hid in the walls as security and Yato wasn’t sure how’d they act without their master. This was also the reason no one was to make any loud noises, or a ton of sudden movements. It was no wonder Yato and Nora were such naturally quiet people.

“I just- I don’t,” Hiyori started. She was cut off by Nora’s sigh as she worked to tape a box of glassware shut.

“Hiyori, I’m fine,” Nora stated, “this is my home. I’m not like Yato where I view this as a scary place, this is where I would go to feel safe and comfortable. It’s sad to see it go but this is hardly the first time we’ve moved. They’re just things.” The girl spoke as simply as ever, lifting the box and setting it atop the others for someone stronger to put in the mover’s truck one of Bishamon’s shinki drove. Ebisu offered to have a yard sale of The Crafter’s belongings after thoroughly cleansing them. He was planning on giving the money to Yato, who offered it to Kofuku, who decided to put it in a savings account for family emergencies.

“I know and that’s great. I just don’t want you to be alone, you know?”

“Then I’ll join Tenjin in Father’s study. We’re just about done here anyway,” Nora stood and wiped her hands on her hips. The cabinets in the kitchen were empty, the oven was cleaned out of wood and charcoal, and the floors were swept clean. Without another word, Hiyori opening and shutting her mouth, Nora left the room like a ghost. A shiver immediately ran up her spine and Hiyori’s fists squeezed. She couldn’t run, afterall she just got her tail fixed but still wasn’t able to leave her body, so there was no reason for her to go antagonizing phantoms. Down the hall and up the stairs Hiyori was stuck between two bedrooms. Fearing the thought of walking into the wrong one, Hiyori waited and listened.

“Isn’t this room bigger than ours?” Yukine said.

“Not quite but almost. I usually shared it with Nora.” Came Yato’s reply.

“All I’m saying is that this isn’t what I expected someone like you to have.” Despite the bratty tone, Hiyori could tell Yukine wasn’t angry. Nor was he blaming his dad. It sounded more like he was trying to have a normal conversation.

“That’s because I don’t. This isn’t my house,” Yato muttered, “and I never wanted any of my shinki to come anywhere near this place. Especially you.” His voice was muffled from behind the door that Hiyori awkwardly faced. She didn’t want to walk in on one of their moments, they needed that, but she wanted to make sure Yato wasn’t pouting.

“I know.” Yukine finally mumbled, dropping the facade he tried to wear. It was more Yato’s thing than his, Yukine could only ever wear his heart on his sleeve. She could sense the tension on the other side of the door and Hiyori knew she had to step in. Besides, she didn’t like having her back to the bedroom of that wretched man. The door slid open and Hiyori readied herself to settle messy emotions only to see Yukine giving Yato an awkward side hug, both of them crouching on the floor. Their heads were pressed together as Yukine rubbed Yato’s back up and down. Suddenly the blonde’s head popped up and looked at her.

“Hiyori,” Yukine said. It took a moment for Yato to raise his head and look over his shoulder. He wasn’t crying, he hardly even looked upset, but he did have that look in his eye. The one where he blamed himself for bringing some sort of misfortune on them.

“Hey ‘yori,” Yato gave her a smile, “Yukine’s being a good kiddo and guide. Makin’ sure I’m doin’ alright.” The two separated as she walked in. She smiled at Yukine’s blush.

“That’s wonderful. I just came up here to see if you needed help. We just finished the kitchen.” Hiyori said as she knelt down. On the far wall were two large closets, the right one Yatos, the left one Noras, above was more storage that they seemed to make little use of save for some awards. In between the two closets was a mirror and vanity with hairbrushes and hair accessories. In front of Yato was a box of kimonos, the closet was open to reveal he had about four left to fold. They were all plain, just various colors of white, black, and blue. There was one green but it seemed barely worn.

“What about Nora?” Yukine asked.

“She went to help Tenjin in the library. Bishamon and Kazuma finished with the music room and basement while Kofuku and Daikoku cleaned out the garage and all the bathrooms. Like you asked, none of us went into his room.” Hiyori relayed.

“Yeah, I think Nora wanted to do that. Leave it for last and all. Of course she’ll need Bishamon or Tenjin with her just to make sure she doesn’t try anything.” Yato muttered as he folded the last of his clothes.

“There’s still the, uh, attic. But other than that everything is done.” Hiyori felt bad reminding the two of Yato’s deeds as a God of Calamity. The ceiling was filled with nothing but boxes of newspaper clippings and requests of those who’ve died by Yato’s sword. Hiyori didn’t want to go in there, yet another forgien aspect of Yato she didn’t want to know. Yukine paused his cleaning as Yato sighed.

“Forget it. There’s definitely nothing in there the heavens or anybody wants. We can just burn it as it is tomorrow,” Yato deadpanned, “unless you want to go look. It’s okay.”

“No,” Yukine said immediately without anger.

“No,” Hiyori said after, “it’s fine.” The room fell into a strange but comfortable silence as Hiyori put all the vanity stuff into a box and sealed it. She looked for something else to clean, knowing there was not much more to be done.

“Are you really going to get rid of all this stuff?” Hiyori asked as she scanned the room. Yato placed his box of clothes in a pile by the widow, stacked atop about five others, two of which had Nora’s name on them. All in all, this room, this house, was rather empty. It seemed Father was the only one with sentimental objects but even then it wasn’t anything that couldn’t be replaced. Save for a couple cringey family photos and mask research, there was nothing worth saving.

“Mm-Hmm,” Yato hummed. He took a moment to gather two boxes in his arms and jump out of the window then back. He fixed her with a smile that stalled her heart for a moment, it was soft but genuine, like the more they cleaned out of this house the clearer his mind became. On the opposite wall, on either side of the door, were swords of all sizes and some certificates. Hiyori got to work there, grabbing one of the flatter boxes.

“Like I said to Yukine, this isn’t my room, not really. There’s nothing here I need,” Yato walked up to her, “besides, I already have everything I want at Kofuku’s.” His smile was telling and Hiyori focused on his lips for longer than she was comfortable with admitting. Yes, her soul was fixed, with the help of a sun god and some magic peaches. But not before receiving a desperate kiss from a close friend who gave her a piece of himself to hold her together until they could get help. Red faced, Hiyori looked away as Yato got to work on the rest of Nora’s white, red, and pink patterned kimonos.

“Are you sure? I mean some of this stuff seems like you should keep it. They're your things.” Hiyori said, almost like a sad plea. In her hands were two very prestigious college degrees, one for art and one for math. Below them was a certificate for japanese calligraphy, an acceptance letter to a professional baseball team, and an invitation to the winter olympic qualifiers. What Hiyori said was true, they were unequivocally Yato’s possessions, things that were so painfully him and no one else's. Yet they were so forgien. Yato the vagrant didn’t keep things. Especially so neat and preserved like this. Nor did he try to do things the right way that involved paperwork.

“Yeah, I mean. They’re just pieces of paper, it’s not like getting rid of them will take away my talents. I hardly look at them anyway.” Yato waved her off. Before she could say anything more, Yato had finished the closets and leaped out the window. With a sigh Hiyori went to the other side of the room and picked up two traditional old swords and a violin, ready to move them towards the window.

“Ah! Ah! Wait!” Yukine scrambled from atop a step stool, “not those!”

“But Yato just said?”

“I know but those, uh, he said I could have those.” Embarrassed, Yukine took the objects from her arms and scuttled them back to the corner. Hiyori crept behind him and scanned the growing pile: two swords, three daggers, a couple of boxes, and a book that looked like a large photo album.

“What’s in those boxes?”

“Stuff from the wars,” Yato suddenly popped up behind her.

“Which ones?” Hiyori blinked.

“They’re kinda mixed,” he shrugged, “mostly metals and grimy uniforms, but the kid really wanted them so. You can take things too if you want. Though I still don’t understand why.” It was a sweet sentiment of Yukine but the concept was still strange. Yato didn’t offer things. Well, he did, but he never actually had the material things he tried to offer and would usually offer services or lip service. Hiyori wasn’t sure he liked this version of Yato. She didn’t hate it- this was part of him after all- but Hiyori couldn’t fit these images in with her picture of him. She worked to process it as the group cleaned out the rest of The Crafter’s house, the building not seeming any less empty.

Bishamon’s shinki started the journey to Ebisu’s shrine while she and Tenjin took the mask materials up to heaven, as ordered by Ameterasu. Nora offered to cook dinner, planning on spending a final night saying goodbye to the house, but Kofuku and Daikoku decided to head into town for food. That left just them, Yato’s immediate family and her. Hiyori didn’t want to spend any more time here than she needed to but she still refused Kofuku’s offer to take her. With Yukine and Nora silently prepping food in the kitchen, Hiyori made her way through the back door where Yato had just finished chopping food. He didn’t look at her as she closed the sliding door and took a seat next to him.

“How are you feeling?” She coaxed, arm already around his shoulders.

“Good,” Yato huffed a sigh, “I mean I’m not happy. Not upset either. Just here,” he shrugged. Then he turned those blue eyes on her.

“How about you? Are you okay?” He asked. That was more like him, to ask how others were feeling when he was the one with the problem.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She said. His arm wrapped around her waist but before she could turn her blush on him, he buried his nose in her neck.

“It just doesn’t feel real, you know? I know he’s not dead, so it’s not over, but it just feels like it is?” Yato lowered his voice so the kids inside didn’t hear him worry over nothing. Those were reserved for Hiyori, just like her monologues were only for his ears.  

“A new beginning,” Hiyori offered. She felt him smile against her neck and Hiyori’s blush reached it. Out of habit, she held out her hand and let him intertwine their fingers.

“I have a new life now,” Yato mused, “hopefully one without him in it.”

“But with you still here,” Hiyori squeezed her hand for emphasis.

“Haha, yeah. Of course. Me and you and Yukine, with a little less baggage.”

“Yato,” Hiyori sighed with a smile. She didn’t have the heart to tell him that simply cleaning out his father’s house was enough to make the emotional problems go away.

“I know,” Yato murmured. He nuzzled a little bit more, Hiyori waiting to rest her cheeks on his head. She stared at their hands with a soft smile, the feeling just as familiar as it was forgien. Hiyori came to the conclusion that she might not ever truly, fully, know Yato but that it wouldn’t stop her from loving him all the same.

“It’s a little bit of a shame though,” Hiyori said.

“Hmm?”

“Your stuff. This house. It’s almost like a waste.”

“Not a waste,” Yato said, “a new start. One with you in it.” The smile was evident in his voice and Hiyori could feel the steam rise off her face. She would never get used to such blatant flirting, especially when he grinned so charmingly at her from so close.

“But you’re welcome to take something. Something to remember me by.” Yato’s eyes drifted to her lips and back to her drooping eyes.

“You?” Hiyori said without thinking. Just as she leaned in for another precious kiss, Yato bursted out laughing, tips of his ears a bright red.

“As you wish!” Yato exulted. Hiyori was too lost in her embarrassment to look at him, not even when Yukine threw the kitchen door open to yell at his teasing master. There was still something there, something that overshadowed them with forbidding, but with Yato’s comforting laughter ringing throughout her bones, Hiyori knew they would be alright.

#noragami #noragami fanfic #noragami fanfiction #yato #yatogami #noragami yato #yato noragami #hiyori #iki hiyori #hiyori iki #yukine #nora #yukine noragami #noragami yukine #noragami hiyori #father #fujisaki

[yelena-bellova]

Don’t Be Afraid: Poe Dameron x Solo!Reader - Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen: Under New Management

Series Masterlist

Plot: Y/n and Poe await an update on Leia and attend a meeting with the rest of the Resistance. Afterwards, Y/n takes the opportunity to have an important conversation with Poe.

Warnings: light angst

Word Count: 3.3k

A/N: I didn’t spell check this one too much because I was happy with how it turned out and if I evaluate too much, I’ll end up hating it lol. I’m trying not to overthink my writing anymore, easier said than done. Hopefully you enjoy!

—————

She was going to be alright.

Most likely.

Possibly.

The medics couldn’t give me a definitive answer as to whether Mom would live or not. She was a fighter, they’d said, and her pulse and oxygen levels were stable. However, none of them had ever dealt with a patent having been sucked into the vacuum of space so they were basically guessing. Coma patients could go either way, they’d told me sadly. I was frustrated, but understanding and thankful for their honesty with me. Mom was placed in med bay quarters and was to be heavily monitored. 

We sat at either end of her bed, Poe near her feet and me holding her hand and studying her peaceful face. The medics had left, assuring me that if they detected her levels changing so much as one number, they’d come running. Her skin had finally warmed up, the ice crystals on her face had disappeared. She looked so normal, as if she was simply taking a nap. What I’d have given for the situation to be as normal as that and waking her up as easy as calling her name…

Poe and I sat in a tense silence until the beeps of our communicators broke it, a message alerting us that a meeting was to be held. Attendance was mandatory. 

I drew a breath slowly, trying to collect my thoughts and calm my ever racing pulse. I could practically hear my mother’s voice telling me to go do my job and not worry about her. She would be right, war didn’t wait for illness and truth be told, I wanted to go do my part. The Resistance was in shambles currently and the desire to help piece it back together was almost overwhelming. By no means did my drive lessen the difficulty of leaving Mom alone and comatose.

I rolled my head to look over at Poe, “We have to go.” He sighed and rubbed his face harshly, it was just as hard for him to leave her, “Yeah…We come right back after though.”

We rose from our seats and I laid a featherlight kiss to Mom’s forehead, squeezing her hand one last time before hesitantly walking away. Poe took my hand into his and pressed his lips to it as we left her room, I was beyond grateful for his steady presence during all of this. But the lingering cloud of guilt still hung over my head that I hadn’t told him yet about my secret. Now that he had noticed when I’d sensed the bridge’s destruction, he was inevitably going to have questions. At some point amidst the chaos that had suddenly overtaken our lives, I’d find a time to tell him. 

We retained an appearance of professionalism once we reached the second bridge, dropping our hands and going to stand with our respective groups. It felt wrong not having him sit with me and the other commanders, I watched him bite back a sad smile as he mixed among the other pilots. Commander D’Acy looked more prepared than I was capable of as I approached her, “I can deliver the news about your mother if you’d like,” she offered, the two of us standing off to the side of the room, “Is there any news?” “No, unfortunately,” I answered, “But I’ll give the news with you. She would kill me if I left my duties to others.” D’Acy nodded and we walked together to the center of the room, silence fell as we took our places. I awkwardly stepped forward, I wasn’t used to commanding the attention of a room. I was sent on missions, some like Jakku and some diplomatic, I even helped with battle strategies. But I wasn’t typically addressing crowds, it felt strange to have everyone’s eyes on me.

I took a deep breath, “General Organa…Leia,” my voice almost faltered, but I squared my shoulders and pictured my mother standing tall, “Is unconscious but she’s recovering. That’s the only information I have and unfortunately, it’s the only piece of good news I can give.” I turned to D’Acy for confirmation, even though I already knew what I was about to say to be true.

“Admiral Ackbar, all of our leadership,” I paused, trying to find the strength to finish, “They’re all gone.” Groans and gasps left everyone’s lips, this part of leading was one I could quickly learn to hate. I didn’t like disappointing people and my stomach twisted as I took in everyone’s faces. Poe, though distressed, gave me a small nod of encouragement to keep going,

“Leia was the sole survivor of the bridge by some miracle,” I continued, omitting the aspect of the Force, “If she were standing here with us, she would say to save your sorrow for after the fight. Right now, we have to live by those words, as hard as that may be…Commander D’Acy?” I traded places with her, taking a seat and waiting for her announcement.

“The chain of command is clear as to who should take General Organa’s place,” D’Acy began, my eyes flickered to Poe who I noticed sat up straighter at her words. I also took note of the fact that I had as well, why was that? I had always assumed that my mother would put me in command should something happen to her, it felt wrong to think of someone else doing it.

“Vice Admiral Holdo of the cruiser Ninka,” D’Acy announced, Poe looked just as unknowingly disappointed as I suspected I did. 

I’d met Holdo several times over my years in the Resistance, I’d never had a fully formed opinion on her. She was reserved yet held a commanding presence, but I’d always gotten the impression that she didn’t care for me. Our leadership styles differed greatly, she carried an air of superiority that I made sure never to. The few times that Dad had come up in passing conversation, her expression had always changed to one of distaste. Maybe she held the fact that my father was a smuggler against me, I was never sure. It didn’t matter, she was now my superior. Mom had chosen her and not me. 

Holdo stepped forward as D’Acy came to sit next to me and the room awaited her words.

“Thank you, Commanders,” she nodded in our direction, “Four hundred of us on three ships. We’re the very last of the Resistance. But we’re not alone. In every corner of the galaxy, the downtrodden and oppressed know our symbol, and they put their hope in it. We are the spark that will light the fire that will restore the Republic. That spark, this Resistance, must survive. That is our mission. Now, to your stations, and may the Force be with us.” She knew how to give a speech, I’d give her that. My mother’s influence was audible in her words, but the lack of layout of a plan worried me. Were we all just supposed to go back to business as usual? Ignoring the fact that there was a fleet of Star Destroyers on our tail? None of it felt right.

The crowd begin to disperse, doing exactly what they’d been told. D’Acy and I stood to leave but not before she placed a hand on my arm, 

“Please update us if anything changes on your mother.”

“Of course,” I nodded. I turned around to go find Poe, but rather than join him I saw him in pursuit of Holdo. No doubt he was thinking the same things I was, but Poe took action while I debated internally. Still, it couldn’t hurt to see where Holdo’s head was at. I climbed the steps and made my way towards them, as soon as I was close it seemed the conversation was already ending. The last words I caught from Holdo were “stick to your post and follow my orders.” As she gracefully walked away, Poe was left dumbstruck in her wake. I chuckled and patted him on the shoulder, “She didn’t fall for the Dameron charm?” “You won’t do any better,” he replied lowly.

“Oh, don’t worry, I already know she doesn’t like me,” I said quietly before heading in Holdo’s direction. It was unlikely I’d get anything out of her that Poe hadn’t. but maybe I could approach her differently. I was Leia’s daughter, I’d grown up in Galactic Senate meetings, diplomacy was one of my skills. 

“Vice Admiral,” I called, Holdo turned to face me, “That was a wonderful speech, very inspiring. I was wondering what our plan of action was regarding putting distance between us and the Star Destroyers.”

“I appreciate your concern, Commander Solo,” she smiled politely, “At the moment I’m advising everyone to stick to their posts and let us handle things.”

“Well, yes, I agree. As a Commander, this is my post and I’m supposed to help handle things.”

“Your job for the time being is to stay with your mother,” Holdo placed her hands on my arms patronizingly, “We can handle everything from here and if you’re needed, we will find you.”

There it was. I was supposed to stay out of the way while the adults handled the situation. I’d earned respect among my co-workers and proved that though young, I knew what I was doing. But Holdo and I had never consistently worked together. She saw me as a young, naive woman put in a position she couldn’t handle. 

“With all due respect, Vice Admiral,” I smiled, trying to hide my growing frustration, “While I will be checking in on my mother regularly, I also want to do my job. And right now my job is to help us get out of range of those Destroyers. So if there’s a plan in place, I’d like to be made aware of it.”

“Commander Solo, I understand your frustration with the situation. But I’m going to tell you the same thing I told your boyfriend, Captain Dameron…Stick to your post and follow my orders.” With that, she went on her way leaving me in the same position I’d found Poe in. If there was a plan, I clearly was not going to be let in on it. 

—————

Mom hadn’t changed in the short time I’d been away. Though I’d returned with the hope that I’d find her awake and ready to take charge. 

I was pacing the room anxiously, playing back my conversation with Holdo and trying to map out the conversation I was about to have. Poe would inevitably end up here and I couldn’t put off telling him about my powers any longer. I couldn’t hold back the painful details or make it sound simpler than it actually was, he was getting the messy truth about the secret I’d kept from him.

“Hey," he greeted at the door, having changed into his fatigues, “Any change?” “Mmm mmm,” I hummed, “Which isn’t a bad thing but…” “Obviously not what we want.” I shook my head and sighed, “Holdo’s just as fun as I remember.” Poe bristled at the memory of his interaction with the Vice Admiral and placed his hands on his hips, “Yeah, don’t think for a second that I’m letting that one go. What’d she say to you?” “Stick to my post and follow her orders. I’ll be commed if they need me, otherwise I’m supposed to stay here at my mother’s bedside. She also definitely holds the fact that we’re together against me.” He groaned in disgust and ran a hand through his hair. How Poe managed to look so wildly attractive in the worst circumstances befuddled me, but it was a welcome distraction. I’d always loved how he looked in that dark brown leather jacket…

“Okay, so Holdo may not have a plan,” he started, gesturing towards the door, “But what about us?”

I turned to Mom, wishing more than anything that she was awake. I needed her guidance and the Resistance needed her leadership.

“We’ll come up with something but right now,” I walked towards Poe and took his hand, “I need to tell you something.”

His expression changed to one of concern, he quickly took my other hand, “Is something wrong?” “No, and yes, but mostly no. It depends on how you look at it but,” I stopped and tried to give a small smile, “I’ll let you decide whether it’s good or bad.” I led him to our seats next to my mother and sat close enough that our knees pressed together. Poe’s hands immediately rested on mine as he leaned forward, I inhaled deeply and slowly exhaled before laying my hands on top of his,

“You know me, you know my story, you know my life hasn’t been…easy,” I began nervously, “With all I’ve told you, you’ve never once judged me or treated me differently.” “Right,” Poe chimed in, his eyes never leaving mine, “I love every part of you.”

I smiled at his words and dragged my eyes down to our hands, “I guess I’m asking you to love one more part.”

I stood up slowly and positioned myself a few feet away from him before reaching into my jacket. I unhooked my lightsaber and held it up, flipping the switch and watching the weapon come to life. Poe’s eyes went wide, his jaw fell slack and he twisted his body to face me. It took a lot to stun Poe into silence but this was easily the most shocked I’d ever seen him. Rightfully so, I’d just dropped a bomb on him.

After finally blinking a few times, he began to stammer out a response, “Y-Yeah, okay, that’s uh, that’s something worth mentioning.” I sighed, at least he wasn’t freaking out yet. Involuntarily I rocked the saber slightly from side to side, Poe’s eyes followed the blue blade in wonder. I didn’t know if he’d ever seen one in person but the way he was reacting to it made me think he’d only heard stories.

“How long have you been a…had this…” he fumbled, “How long?” I deactivated the lightsaber and hooked it back inside my jacket, “Since I was a child.” Poe’s eyes blew open again and his brows raised, “You kept it a secret for that long?” I once again took my seat across from him, “I discovered I had the Force when I was a kid, only one other person knew in my family and…” I fiddled with a loose thread on my jacket, “And it wasn’t my mom or dad.” “I got it,” Poe said softly, his fingers coming to brush over my knee comfortingly.

I forced myself to keep going, “I kept it a secret through my life because I was scared of what I could do. Imagine being eight years old and knowing you have this power, I was terrified of myself for the longest time. Eventually, once I was older, I began practicing using the Force. Just stupid stuff like moving pens. It felt…good. Like I’d been denying a part of myself by not using the gift I had.”

My pulse began to pick up as I sorted through the more tragic parts of my story, “I, uh,” I cleared my throat to try and dislodge the lump forming, “My lightsaber came from a confrontation I had, with him. I knew he was in trouble and I took the Falcon to go rescue him,” I focused my eyes on my lap, “I was too late.” Poe was tearfully listening to my every word, he was hunched over with his hands clutching my legs. It grounded me in a way that kept me able to recount my tale to him. He was my rock. “Ever since then, I’ve been training on my own,” I continued more steadily, “Mostly in the forest back on D’Qar or in my room. Things changed on Takodana. I used my saber during the fight to protect Finn, him and my dad saw and the secret was no more. Afterwards, Dad had words for me that I’ll spend the rest of my life grateful for. He’s the reason that I decided to stop being so afraid of my powers.”

We were both smiling at that point, me from the warm memories and Poe probably simply because I was. 

“Everything came to a head at Starkiller,” a chill ran down my back, “After my father was killed…Ren and I fought each other and he tried to get me to join him. I was so angry, I wanted to kill him for all the wrong reasons. If he’s going to die, it should be to save the galaxy not because of a personal vendetta. My dad, for all his shortcomings, was not a vengeful person and neither am I.”

I bit my lip and turned my gaze to Mom, “I thought I’d kept my secret hidden from her but turns out, she knew all along. I don’t know why I was so surprised, of course she knew…”

Poe laughed and I followed immediately after, slipping my fingers through the cracks between his. He squeezed my palms and smiled proudly, 

“You are the strongest woman I’ve ever met,” he complimented, staring into my y/e/c eyes with so much love, “I can’t even begin to tell you how proud I am of you.”

“So you’re not, I don’t know, scared?” I asked, scrunching my face slightly out of fear of what he could say.

Poe chortled and moved his hands to my cheeks, pulling me in for a soft kiss. I could feel the warmth and tenderness in the motion, it was sweeter than the recent ones we’d been enjoying. When we pulled away, he rubbed his thumb slowly over the skin, “I could never be scared of you, sweetheart.” Relief flooded my body, I’d never felt so unconditionally loved in my life by anyone other than my parents. With how little I’d thought of myself since I discovered my powers, I’d fallen into the belief that everyone else would feel the same way. Poe was destroying every lie I’d told myself with each second that he stared at me with adoration on his face. 

“I do have one question,” Poe leaned back in his seat, “If it’s not a secret anymore, are you gonna stop hiding your lightsaber?” “Huh,” I chuckled, “I hadn’t even thought about that.” “What’re you waiting for?” Poe crossed his arms and lightly bumped his boot against my shin, “I want everybody to know I’m in love with a badass Jedi.”

“I’m not a Jedi,” I was quick to end that assumption. Though I was embracing my gift, I wasn’t ready to take that definitive step yet.

“Whatever you say, Master,” Poe jested followed by a charming wink.

I smirked at him before getting up from my seat, Poe had a point. There really was no reason to hide it anymore, it would probably feel great even. I unhooked the lightsaber from my jacket, letting it weigh in my hand for a few seconds as I gazed fondly at it. The more at ease I became with my powers, the more I grew to love the weapon I’d once feared. Taking a quick glance at Poe who was grinning proudly, I attached the saber to my holster for anyone and everyone to see. It felt right. Poe rose to come stand in front of me,

“Thank you,” I whispered, resting my hands on his chest. 

His hands found their new familiar spot on my waist, “For what?” “Being you.” Poe leaned down and nuzzled his nose against mine, “I’m not me without you.” I wanted the moment to last longer, we needed it. Peace in the type of circumstances we were in was rare and fleeting and I knew it would have to end soon. The First Order was chasing us, my mother still lay unconscious and there was questionable leadership guiding us, but at least I had Poe. With him, I was fairly certain we could figure our way out of anything.

“Poe, Y/n,” a voice interrupted our lovely silence.

We broke apart to see an urgent Finn in the doorway with a black-haired woman standing behind him.

“What’s going on?” Poe asked.

“This is Rose,” Finn gestured to her, Rose held up a hand in greeting, “We think we may have figured out a way to escape from the Destroyers.”

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A/N: *sigh* Everyone deserves a boyfriend as supportive as Poe. Hope you enjoyed this chapter, let me know if you’d like to be added to either of the taglists ☺️

Taglist: @m1rkw00dpr1ncess @springfox04 @constantdisgrace @holybatflapexpert @seninjakitey @tammythompson-singslikea-muppet @leilei-draws @eternal-fandoms @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @imaginecrushes @eternallyvenus @thescarletknight2014 @simplybarnes @captain-america5 @breyasficletblog @caseymcflurry @stumbleonmywords @april-14-blog @i-ievu @ultrunning @desperatelytryingtosavemyself @caswinchester2000 @meraki-loki @lovinnholland @wishing4wishes @fruitloopzzz

Star Wars Permanent Taglist: @paintballkid711 @katrynec @caswinchester2000

#poe dameron series #poe dameron x solo!reader #poe dameron fanfiction #poe dameron imagine #poe dameron fanfic #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron #star wars #star wars fanfic #star wars fanfiction #star wars imagine