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sunrisefairy · 3 years

Text

Sketches

Pairing: George Weasley x reader

Word count: 2.1k

Summary: Y/N likes drawing people. More specifically, she likes drawing George Weasley. Which is fine, until she loses her notebook and George is the one who finds it.

A/N: Okay so because of lockdown and me having legit nothing to do i spent the last 2 days writing this fic for @teawiththeweasleys writing challenge and i couldnt wait to share it with you. im lowkey very proud of it so i hope you all like it

Taglist: @hufflepuff5972 @inglourious-imagines message me if you would like to be added!

Ever since Y/N was a little girl she was always drawing whether it was scribbles of her family, animals, magical creatures or plants, you could always find the girl with a pencil and paper somewhere nearby. For as long as she could remember her home was covered in her drawings, Y/N’s mum and dad would frame and hang up all of their daughters’ drawings all over the walls. They were so proud of Y/N’s creativity and encouraged her to keep creating her art. It had become a tradition that every year for her birthday Y/N would receive a new notebook and pencils form her parents and it was always her most cherished gift.

Over the last few years Y/N has become very intrigued with drawing faces, she loved how she could capture a person’s emotion with just some charcoal and parchment. More recently when Y/N was sketching she’d try to focus on the subtle and small features that make humans unique and beautiful, may it be the way their eyebrows arched in curiosity or the dimples and freckles etched into their skin or small wrinkles that danced near their eyes when they smiled. Y/N loved it all.

Because Y/N was so captivated with how facial features made everyone unique she found herself draw a particular ginger a lot more than anyone else. George Weasley. Everybody at Hogwarts knew George Weasley was the twin to the confident and loud Fred Weasley. And being that they are identical twins they look very similar. Y/N found it fascinating trying to pinpoint their minor physical differences and she had become quite good at it.

Her brown leather notebook, which if it wasn’t in her hand was usually found stuffed in her book bag, was full of sketches of George. It started of gradual, her drawings of the sweet boy. Y/N was usually found sitting on a bench in the courtyard if the weather was nice, drawing anyone she saw nearby and normally it was someone new each time. But when her eyes landed on the loud group of Gryffindor boys, she felt a pull to the tall boy with fiery hair who was standing next to his twin, both taking turns to tell a story which had the rest of the group engrossed. Y/N wanted to challenge herself, it was simple, she wanted to capture the features that made an identical twin unique.

Y/N spent the last few weeks ‘studying’ George in a very non-threatening and not at all creepy way. The pair had a few classes together being in the same year at school but the two hadn’t really spoken much to each other. So, Y/N admired from afar, normally from across the great hall or in class. She quickly learnt that George’s face was longer than his brothers, his eyes were more slanted, and his lips had a curve in them that was more prominent when he smiled, something he does a lot, Y/N observed.

~~~

The weather was particularly nice on this Saturday afternoon, so naturally Y/N found herself on a bench in the courtyard with her pencil tin open and a range of charcoals scattered around her as she doodled in her notebook (the one which wasn’t unofficially dedicated to George).

“Hello there little Gryffindors-” Y/N heard a voice call from nearby, the voice belonging to Fred Weasley. George was standing next to his twin and the duo were chatting to some unsuspecting first years.

“-anyone fancy a nougat? They are delicious” George finished; the twins shared a mischievous glance at each other.

Y/N quickly grabbed her other notebook and some charcoal and began sketching the boy’s face focusing on the way his eyes sparkled when he laughed at the poor Gryffindor who accepted the free candy which turned out to be a nosebleed nougat. Y/N was absorbed in her sketching she didn’t notice her best friend sit next to her, peering over her shoulder.

“Ah, drawing your lover boy again I see” Alicia chuckled as Y/N slammed the book shut.

“He’s not my lover boy, I’ve already told you; I draw him to-”

“-capture the features that make an identical twin unique. Sure, so if I flick through your other notebooks, I’ll find one dedicated to Fred too then?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, “shut up.”

“Come on creeper, we told the others we’d hang out today.” Alicia pulled on Y/N’s hand as she quickly threw her notebooks and pencil tin in her book bag.

“Merlin, hang on! You’re gonna rip my arm out of its socket!” Y/N giggles hoisting her bag strap higher up her shoulder.

The two girls walked off, arms linked and laughing, neither one noticed the lone notebook that was left on the bench.

~~~

George, Fred and Lee were heading towards the great hall after their amusing interaction with a group of first years when the younger twin noticed a brown book perched on a bench. He detoured that way to pick it up, flicking through the pages in hopes he will find who it belongs to so he can return it.

George furrowed his brows as he dove deeper into the book. He expected it to be filled with notes and writing but he was not expecting to see drawings of people; of him and Fred. But as he looked closer, he quickly realised that they weren’t sketches of him and Fred, just himself.

“Oi! What are you doing? We’re gonna be late for dinner” Fred’s voice pulled him back. George shoved the notebook in his pants pocket and hurried after his twin very confused as to why the notebook was filled with drawings of him.

Later that night George found himself sitting on his bed in his dorm room flipping through the notebook. These drawings were incredible, whoever it belonged to had some serious talent but he couldn’t get over why someone had drawn him, let alone multiple drawings. Each sketch was different to the last though, some were of his whole face others just of his eyes or mouth. George was in awe of the skill this person had; they had managed to capture his face perfectly.

Some might view finding a notebook filled of drawings of themselves a little creepy, however George Weasley found it flattering. You see, for his whole life, George has seen himself as the other half of Fred. Most people in their lives couldn’t tell the pair apart and opted to talk to them and refer to them almost as if they were one person as FredandGeorge and not Fred and George. This notebook was proof that someone out there noticed George as a singular person, an individual, which made George’s heart flutter.

~~~

“Oh godric” Y/N mumbles pouring out the contents of her book bag on the table.

“Hey, Y/N relax. I’m sure it will turn up eventually.” Alicia says in attempt to calm her friend down.

Y/N ran her hands through her hair, very stressed. She had been searching for her notebook all morning with no luck worried that the wrong person had found it and would deem her a creepy stalker.

“How can I relax when my notebook-the notebook which is filled with drawings of George Weasley-has gone missing. Oh merlin, whoever has it will most likely recognise the drawings of George and give it to him and he’ll eventually find out that it belongs to me and think I’m a freak” Y/N’s arms are frantically waving around to empathise her point as she paces up and down the room.

Alicia stops in front of her friend, placing her hands on her shoulders, squeezing reassuringly “Y/N breath. You’ve told me a million times that those drawings are just about capturing someone’s facial features, right? It’s not like you have a crush on the guy so it doesn’t matter if anyone thinks that, because it’s not true.”

Y/N’s sketches of George Weasley had started just as Alicia said but it quickly turned into Y/N possessing a small, okay maybe huge crush on the red head and her trying to find any excuse to stare at him and draw. Y/N’s heart hammered in her chest at the thought of George being the one to find her notebook. There was no way George wouldn’t be freaked out and think Y/N had some weird obsession with him.

“Okay so when was the last time you remember having your book?” Alicia questions.

Y/N racks her brain trying to remember, “yesterday afternoon. In the courtyard on that bench, I was drawing him when you came over. I’m sure I put it in my bag but I haven’t seen it since.”

Alicia nodded, the two deciding that was the best place to start.

Y/N practically sprints to the courtyard, luckily there wasn’t many students here, giving it was a Sunday morning and everyone was probably still sleeping. The two girls look around trying to spot the leather book. Y/N sighs in defeat, collapsing onto the bench and groaing into her hands.

“Bloody hell, I can’t believe I lost it. I’m so stupid”

“Err, Y/N” Alicia nudged her friend’s shoulder.

“Geez, thanks Alicia, you’re meant to say ‘No Y/N you’re not stupid’”

Alicia widened her eyes at Y/N before glancing behind her, “look”.

Y/N follows her gaze and freezes. George Weasley was walking towards them, that in itself was strange but it wasn’t until Y/N looked down at George’s hand and noticed the missing notebook.

“Oh no.”

George had figured whoever misplaced the notebook would probably come back to the last place they had it to search for it. He was hoping for that at least. Not only did he want to return the book to its rightful owner, he also wanted to thank them for seeing him, for noticing him.

As George rounded the corner his eyes scanned the courtyard and were met with Alicia Spinnit and Y/N L/N sitting on the same bench he’d found the notebook on, bingo. Judging by Y/N’s wide eyes that were glued to the notebook in his hand and how Alicia gave her a pat on the shoulder before disappearing, George figured the drawings were the work of Y/N. George’s heart sped up with this information. The two of them weren’t close but were friendly having shared some classes together. George had caught himself on more than one occasion glancing at Y/N during lessons and mealtimes, wondering what it would be like to get to know her. Guess now he has a chance.

His feet stopped a few paces in front of the bench as Y/N gawked up at him.

George cleared his throat, “uh I believe this belongs to you?”

Y/N basically snatches the notebook from his fingers, feeling insanely embarrassed and when Y/N is embarrassed, she rambles. “Oh merlin, I’m so sorry! I’m guessing you looked through it, of course you did. I would have too if I stumbled across a stranger’s book. I’m also guessing you realised all the drawings were of you. Look I’m not some stalker, I swear. Like I’m not some girl that has a massive crush on you and decided to fill a notebook with drawings of you… Well I do have a crush on you. But I promise I didn’t mean to be creepy. I just, I like drawing people and you have a nice face.” Y/N chews on her bottom lip, forcing herself to shut up.

George opens his mouth and closes it a few times as he processes the girl’s words. “Wow, um- I want you to know that I don’t think you’re creepy at all. I was actually really flattered looking through your pictures. It’s nice to know someone sees me as me and not as an extension of Fred.”

The two stare at each other for a few moments, neither one knowing what to say.

George moves to sit beside Y/N, close enough that their thighs are touching, “they are really good by the way. The drawings I mean. You’re very talented.”

Y/N blushes at his words, “thank you. I don’t normally share my art, with the exception of my parents and Alicia.”

George places a hand over his heart, “well in that case I feel very honoured.” He runs his fingers through his hair as Y/N giggles before continuing, “I know we aren’t super close and I kind of hate that it’s taken me this long to ask but would you maybe wanna hang out sometime? Like a date.”

Y/N fiddles with the notebook in her lap trying to hide her excitement “for sure, I’d love that.”

George lets out a sigh of relief, “great, well what are you up to right now? Maybe we can hang out and you can draw more pictures of my handsome face.”

Y/N rolls her eyes and playfully shoves at his side “careful, your head might explode with all that ego. But yes I’d love to hang out with you right now.”

“Cool.”

#George Weasley #George weasley one shot #George weasley x reader #george weasley x you #george weasley fluff #George weasley fanfic #George Weasley fanfiction #george weasley imagine #fred and george #fred weasley #fred weasley oneshot #fred weasley one shot #harry potter #harry potter one shot #harry potter oneshot #harry potter imagine #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x you

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cherry-gemz · 3 years

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Open Book: Part I

Summary: As the Assistant Librarian for a small town in Florida, you find yourself intrigued with an extraordinary little girl and her charming uncle. As each day goes by, you teach the girl about adventure and mystery with your love of books. Little do you know what's in store for you next.

Pairings: Y/N and Frank Adler

Rating: PG, all fluff

Word count: IDK, failed at the assignment 2k+ lol. So I split the fic.

Challenge Prompt: Write a story about someone trying to find the perfect birthday gift.

A/N: Happiest of birthdays dear @a-little-counter-esperanto. You are the bees knees and really a true gem! I'm so happy we've become friends - we have so many things in common it's cray. I'm wishing you all the love and happiness, sunshine! May you continue to have a fantastic birthday sleepover and enjoy being loved by all! Hope you enjoy the fic xx - Cherry

"Did you get the flowers?" Mary asked as she sat on the couch flipping through the tv.

Frank patted his chest and then his jeans in search of his keys.

"What?"

Mary kept changing the channels without a beat,"Frank. You're supposed to buy a girl flowers on the date."

Frank furrowed his brow, "Uh...no. Have you seen my keys? Really?"

Mary rolled her eyes, "She's not gonna kiss you goodnight."

He searched on the kitchen table and rummaged through old mail when a knock at the door interrupted his concentration. As he bee-lined to the door, Mary turned off the tv and hopped off the couch to grab her latest book she'd chiseled her way through for the week.

Frank swung the door open abruptly and started you as you stood at their doorstep.

"Hey! You made it, great!" Frank exclaimed. "Sorry, my head's a mess."

Mary now situated herself at the kitchen table and shouted over her shoulder, "It's because he hasn't been on a real date in over six months."

Frank turned red," What? No...I mean yes, but jeez, Mary. Remember we talked about how to read a room?"

He turned back to you, "Come in, come in. I'm just trying to find my keys."

You chuckled and nodded to the doorknob which held his set of keys and he smacked his forehead.

As you walked into the house, you noticed little knickknacks here and there on shelves. And books. Mountains of books everywhere. Piling on top of each other.

"Hi Mary," you smiled as she kept her back to you, nose deep in her book.

"Mary…" Frank scolded as he put his hands on his hips.

"Hi, Ms. Y/N."

You smiled as you approached her, "May I sit?"

She nodded in agreement and you pulled out a chair.

"I brought you something…" you say as you rummage through your canvas bag for your book on crabs. "Well, actually I was hoping you could help me...see…"

Frank smiled as he saw the two of you bonding. He caught himself admiring you more than he'd like to admit as he needed to head off to his date soon. He appreciated your assistance with babysitting Mary as the two of you first met at the local library. His date, Justine, was a waitress at the bar he would visit from time to time. While there was a chemistry between them, it was really just through vanity. With you, he had come to know you at a deeper level: the way you’d squint or furrow your brow when reviewing your clipboard. Or how adorable you’d look chewing on the cap of your pen when trying to finalize an email at your desk. He saw that you loved the color yellow, considering how many skirts and cardigans you’d paired together. And that you were a romantic at heart - the classics were your fave to read and how’d you get lost in historical facts when he had first asked you what your hobbies were. Seeing how a beautiful person you were, inside and out, he now regretted asking Justine out with you on his mind.

Mary's eyes scanned the books of quantum physics and mathematics. At first you thought perhaps she had another book instead, but as you watched her day in and day out, you were astounded at the tiny prodigy and her ability to ascertain such knowledge at her age. You'd correct the cataloging errors for the day and find her reading for enjoyment it seemed.

Then one day Frank arrived. Mary had always left on her own, but as if it were any old regular day, the handsome uncle came to retrieve his stellar niece. He had a warmness to him. His dark brown hair and beard complemented his face, one that was obvious in an overall attractiveness. And he was kind, he showed that by adopting his niece after her mother had passed away and truly nurturing her gifted talent. You learned he fixed boats for a living and lived not too far from the library. You smiled at the odd pair together, they somehow seemed to work however.

As you checked their books out, Mary tiptoed over the large walnut desk and glanced at you.

"You're pretty," she stated.

"Mary. What did we say?" Frank tsked, embarrassed, but didn't disagree with her observation.

"What? Frank, you told me that I need to state facts, rather than assumptions. And I am stating a fact that Ms. Y/LN is pretty. Do you think she's pretty, Frank?"

Frank coughed into his fist and blushed, you smirked, half wanting to know his answer, half laughing inside of how Mary was so blunt.

"Yes, Ms. Y/LN is very pretty," he replied and gazed at your eyes. He licked his lips and you had to turn away feeling flushed. You closed the last book and placed it in Mary's backpack.

"All set," you replied. "These are due on the 23rd."

Frank zipped up the backpack and slung it over his broad shoulder. "Thanks, we'll see you tomorrow."

"Oh?" You replied as Mary looked at you both attempting to assess the flirtation occuring before her eyes.

"Well, yeah, she loves it here, I mean. And we have a few other books to return."

"Yes, we'll see you tomorrow. Bye, Mary."

"Bye," Mary replied and skipped off.

Frank showed up every day after that. You found it endearing, but not wanting to read into something that wasn't there, you focused your attention on Mary. That only seemed to peak his interest further. While he had a knack for attracting women, his heart was never in it for the long haul since the minute they found out about Mary, they'd either run away from the possible responsibility, or Mary would run them off herself. But with you it was different. You were genuine and kind to Mary. Knowing quite well of her mathematical abilities, you would challenge her in other areas: art, zoology, history. You found that while she could read more college level books than any person you met in the small town, she still was a child wanting to learn about all other aspects of life. You'd sit together at a table: you, reviewing inventory spreadsheets for the latest book fair and her, immersed in some book that would put you to sleep at night.

"Frank, you should ask Ms. Y/LN out," Mary stated one day as the three of you sat at a table together. Frank practically choked and you shook your head, secretly wanting to say yes.

"Aw, Mary. Well, I bet Ms. Y/LN has guys lined up at her door every night."

"No, she doesn't," Mary replied as she turned a page of her book. Frank laughed and placed his hand on Mary's shoulder, pretending to shake her.

"Well, actually Ms. Y/LN…" he said as your heart skipped a beat.

"Y/N," you interrupted. "You can call me Y/N. I feel we're on a first name basis now considering you're here everyday."

“Y/N,” he smiled. His hair was more combed today. You had noticed that he seemed to be disheveled when you first met him, however either Mary’s tactics were rubbing off on him, or it was your pure imagination.

“Yes?” you piped. You haven't been regularly dating lately. There just weren’t many prospects these days. Not ones that could keep up with conversation, let alone intellect. So instead, you found yourself immersed with your favorite fictional characters in the sea of books you’d grown to know and love.

His brow furrowed, he seemed nervous and he picked at the edge of a book as he attempted to gather his thoughts.

“Do you have a favorite book?” Mary interrupted as Frank turned to her, but seemingly glad she saved him from embarrassment.

“Do I have a favorite book? Hmmm...” you thought and a childish smile appeared on your face. “I have many favorite books, Mary...The Velveteen Rabbit, The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe…”

“Yeah, but what’s like your most favorite book?”

You extended your hand out to her and she willingly accepted. Frank perked up his interest as he watched the two of you scamper off into the fiction area. Curious, he stood up and decided to follow. The two of you giggled quietly as you made your way around the columns, your free hand lightly ghosting over the spines of the books. The subtle scent of paper and dust permeated Frank’s sense of smell. He was more of an outdoorsy person nowadays as he had left behind his scholarly days teaching in Boston. It’s where Mary learned most from, his appetite to keep learning, vernacular, and wit . You slowed down and perused a row until you found your favorite book.

“Aha!” you exclaim and hid the book behind your back as Mary jumped up and down with excitement. “Now, I’m not sure if this is something you’d be interested in, it’s more for ten year olds in my opinion. However, I know you’re a very mature young lady and I find that you’d quite enjoy the story if you give it a chance.”

Frank smiled, perplexed as to what book could possibly be your favorite. You pulled the book from behind and showed Mary.

“Little Women,” she stated. “By Louisa May Alcott.”

“Yes. It’s a beautiful story, really. About sisters and the trials they endure during the American Civil War. There’s friendship, love, and growth.”

Mary bunched her nose, you could tell she was on the fence about whether she’d enjoy a story about fictional sisters and yucky love stuff. You started to pull it away, however she grabbed it from your hands. You laughed and looked at Frank who leaned onto the columns and folded his arms.

“Seems someone is wanting to expand their horizons,” he chuckled.

“So it seems,” you smiled back as Mary skipped off to return to the table leaving the two of you behind.

“I’m more of a Lord of the Rings man myself.”

“Really?” you responded playfully. “The Hobbit included, right?”

“Of course,” he scoffed. “I think I actually just read that one to be honest, I just wanted to impress you. I spent my time reading Calvin and Hobbes more, probably how Mary learned my sarcasm.”

You laugh and touch his forearm as a reflex, but quickly realize and pull away. The spark that you felt when you connected was undeniable. You felt butterflies with him standing next to you and you hoped he hadn’t noticed your inability to remain calm.

“Y/N…” he started to say nervously. “Would it be alright if I called ya? Maybe we can get together sometime?”

“Oh, umm,” you replied, caught off guard. While you definitely had caught feelings for the handsome man, you never would have thought it’d be reciprocated. You stuttered, trying to gather your response.

Your hesitation threw him off, and he quickly replied, “I mean...like to sit for Mary or whatever. She really likes you.”

“Of course...yes,” you reply defeated in hopes that he would have asked you out. Instead of asking why he didn’t, you started to walk back to Mary. Frank scrunched his face in frustration in knowing he missed his shot with you and blurted out the most platonic question instead. He realized as well and quickly shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and followed your lead.

Frank watched as you comfortably plopped yourself next to Mary on the couch, dreading that he had to meet up with Justine. He’d much rather relax on the couch with you and the rugrat, enjoying some silly kids movie together.

You peered over the couch, “Is it okay if she has popcorn?”

“What? Yes,” Mary said flatly and jumped off the couch to the kitchen.

“Okay, miss. But not too much sugar. Bedtime is still at 9,” Frank replied as you shrugged your shoulders.

“It’s the weekend, Frank,” Mary called out from the kitchen.

“Yes, but-“

“Will you be late?” you asked.

He looked at you in surprise, “Um, no. Probably before ten?”

“Okay, have fun.”

“It’s Y/N’s birthday,” Mary replied, carrying two coke bottles and a bag of jelly beans.

You shook your head in regret of ever telling the child when your birthday was. She was so inquisitive that day, asking about all your favorites: food, animals, books, and now birthday.

“It’s your birthday?!” Frank asked.

“Yeah, no big deal.”

“How old are you?” Mary asked as she set the drinks on the coffee table and then remembered how Frank would scold her about leaving water rings. She grabbed the coasters and placed them under the bottles.

“Mary!” Frank detested and placed his hands on his hips.

“How old do you think I am?” You tease, waving off to Frank that it was okay.

“Older than Justine, that’s for sure. She said she was 24, but looks 34. But she acts like she's 12. She hasn't even read anything on quantum physics, she thought wave mechanics was something Frank was working on with a boat,” she said coolly and popped a few jelly beans into her mouth. She nestled herself back into the couch cushions and wiggled her feet.

“Mary Elizabeth!” Frank’s voice boomed as he entered the living room.

Mary leaned over to whisper to you, “Frank says I'm not supposed to correct older people. Nobody likes a smart-ass.”

“And a busy body,” he huffed.

You nodded and laughed quietly, entertained at his expense.

“Well I am 32,” you smiled and looked at your watch, “As of one hour ago as a matter of fact.”

“That’s good. You’re much more mature than Justine and a better fit for him. Happy Birthday.”

“Thank you.”

“Mary…that’s it. You’re on your last warning,” Frank bellowed. “Don’t make me let Y/N go home and then you’re stuck with me tonight.”

“What? No! Okay. I’m sorry,” she lamented and folded her arms.

Frank’s demeanor changed as he turned to you, “I hadn’t known it was your birthday. Don’t feel pressured to sit for her tonight if you have other plans.” Secretly he wanted to cancel on Justine and spend the night celebrating you instead.

“Oh it’s okay! It kind of appeared out of nowhere. I usually go back home and celebrate with friends and family, but my schedule didn’t permit it this year. Next year, perhaps.”

“What’s your favorite dessert?” Mary asked as she chewed on another handful of jelly beans.

“Red velvet cheesecake,” you smiled. “I have a sweet tooth.”

Frank couldn’t concentrate on his date with Justine. His mind was elsewhere. On you. Justine grazed her hand as they sat next to each other at the bar. He seemed unfazed by her gesture and looked at his watch, 9:14pm. Would it be too obvious if he cut the date short that he was into you? He coughed and took a swig of his beer.

“Do you wanna come back to my place?” She cooed and bit her lip in anticipation.

“What? Oh actually I was gonna head out. The sitter needed me home by 9:30,” he lied.

“Oh, sitter?”

“Yeah, Mary. Remember? My niece?”

“That’s right. How old is she again?”

“Seven,” He said, annoyed. He recalled they had met once before. The bartender approached them and handed Frank the receipt.

“Hey, do you have any desserts on the menu?”

Justine’s ears perked in curiosity of where he was going with asking about dessert.

The bartender grunted slightly and threw a mangled tri-fold menu and Frank grabbed it quickly.

“Buddy, ring me up for the red velvet cupcake.”

#Laurens birthday challenge #Lauren's birthday sleepover #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x you #frank adler #gifted #chris evans fanfic #chris evans fluff #♡ frank adler ♡#open book

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mi6-cafe · 3 years

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WEEK 2 DRABBLES ARE HERE!

Now, let’s refresh your memory.

For the second week of LDWS, our true l- our writers were asked to write a drabble between 150 and 200 words, based on the word deck from the point of view of an outsider.

THEY DID SUCH A GREAT JOB!

(this is a purely illustrative gif of an outside observer of the goings on at Q’s flat, not a prompt)

READ THE DRABBLES AND VOTE!

hOW?

Read the drabbles & Pick three favourites!

Vote for them on this form!

Add some feedback for the writers!

That’s it! You have done your civic duty and voted!

Vote!

Read the drabbles below the line.

Title: Eulogy for the Aston Martin Author: Misha / artsytarts Warnings: Canon Typical Violence (mainly directed at vehicles) Summary: Around 007, life and death go hand in hand.

The moment I leave solid ground and fly, pointed directly at the deck of the ship, I know my life is forfeit.

I realize now why the other machines pitied me after I was assigned to the man they call 007. I see his blue eyes blazing as he concentrates, gripping my steering wheel. They say he’s careless, but judging from the few days I’ve carried him, I know different. He’s not careless. His destruction is calculated. Only once I was obsolete, once he depleted my ammunition, blew my doors off, and pushed my motor to breaking point did he make his decision: To use me as his missile.

I count the milliseconds as the deck rushes towards me. Without a word, 007 pushes the ejector button and I fling him out into the open air, out into safety and freedom.

I am to be his sacrifice.

Before I hit the ship to perish in a blaze, I decide: I have no use for resentment. Like so many machines before me, I have granted him life.

That must count for something.

Title: All In Author: sorion Warnings: none Summary: Bond is handy with cards, and Felix likes to watch.

There are few things as satisfying as watching James Bond clean a table in poker. Felix has learned that pretty much the moment he's met Bond, and the entertainment value hasn't changed in the years that have passed.

On the contrary: Felix has learned some of Bond's tells. Not the kind of tells that would let him win against the insufferably unbeatable agent, but Felix recognises the spark that lights up in Bond's eyes, only seconds before he wipes the confident smirk off an opponent's face with a winning hand.

Another thing he can see is whether Bond enjoys the game for its own sake or just really hates one of the other players. He knows it's the latter when the opponent asks for a rematch and offers the deed to a hotel in lieu of liquid funds, and Bond agrees, provided that they use a new, unopened deck of cards.

The opponent blanches near imperceptibly, and Felix smirks into his drink. Oh, yes. Very satisfying.

Title: Voyeuristic Displeasure Author: sunaddicted Warnings: none Summary: seeing everything is not so fun

Bond's hands were big and rough, stronger than they had any right to be.

He had been observing them with varying degrees of interest over the years, stuck behind his computers or out in the field - air straining in his lungs with the knowledge that the other's life depended on how fast and how smart he could be.

He watched Bond strut along the deck, hand poised low on someone's lower back, head tilted down in a way that suggested he was focusing on whatever he was being told, seemingly enraptured in them - Bond played the part well but he knew what signs to look for, to spot the seams of the almost perfect façade: he darted glances around, favoring his right side, trying to keep under the eye of the cameras that he knew to be in friendly hands.

The hand slipped lower, fingers teasingly dipping beneath the edge of the brightly colored bathing suit his companion was wearing - shameless.

Almost teasing.

He stood up with a weary sigh, empty mug held aloft: he was going to need a strongly brewed cup of tea, if he had to watch Bond flirt his way into another bed.

Title: International Man Of Mystery Author: Merc / moon_of_mercury Warnings: none Summary: Some players never make it to places like Casino Royale. Others... acquire nice cars on the way.

She has encountered many interesting characters in her career, some more remarkable than others. Poker tends to attract extraordinary people. It isn’t always easily definable: something about this man arrests her attention the moment he walks up to the table, asking to join the game even though she’s already cutting the deck.

He flashes a cocky smile at everyone, reads his opponents like a professional, and pleads with her to let the unlucky Mr. Dimitrios bet his car to win his money back. She complies, amused. Such self-sufficient arrogance would be offending if not for his friendly politeness. The way he eyes the man’s wife is not mere casual interest either. Those intense ice-blue eyes have already seen every opportunity. His body language may seem relaxed, but there’s an awareness in his movements that hints at explosive potential underneath the calm surface.

For an exhilarating moment, she revels in being a part of this man’s story. It’s as clear as day that he’s used to playing for much higher stakes. She wonders what the real prize here is.

Dimitrios has lost again even before this stranger shows his cards. Men like him bend luck to their will.

Title: Crossroads Author: Hexiva Warnings: None Summary: James Bond visits a fortune teller.

The man’s cold blue eyes look past Serenity as he steps into her fortune-telling tent, and she shivers. His aura is like ice, a vast glacier with life frozen deep down inside it. He reminds her of a mobster from some old movie, wealthy but brutal.

“What do you want to learn?” she asks.

“The future,” he says, distractedly. She follows his eyes to a bearded man standing at the high striker, speaking in Russian.

She shuffles her deck. “There are two paths before everyone,” she says. “This choice is yours.” She draws two. “First path - The Lovers, the Star. Companionship and connection bringing hope. Choose the Lovers' path, and you will find a new beginning. A second chance.”

“And the other?” he asks. His tone is flat and apathetic. He doesn't believe in hope.

She draws again. “The Emperor, the Hermit, both reversed. Rigidity and repression bringing isolation and misery. Choose the Emperor's path and you will end up alone.”

But the man is looking past her at the Russian, and he stands. “Thanks." A wry little smile. "But I think I already know what path I’m on.”

She watches him go. In his shadow, she sees the Emperor.

Title: Observation Deck Author: Anyawen Warnings: none Summary: Mallory and Tanner contemplate employee relations.

Mallory surveyed the scene before him, sipping his scotch and trying, fruitlessly, to tune out the horrid rendition of 'Deck the Halls' playing overhead.

"We should do something about that," Tanner said, coming to stand beside him.

"About what?"

"That," Tanner replied, gesturing in the direction of Bond and Q. "Them."

The Quartermaster, decked out in a horrible Christmas jumper, looked exasperated. Bond, naturally, looked smug. They appeared to have entirely forgotten the holiday party happening around them as they argued. Flirted. Whatever.

"Trying to stop that from happening would be an exercise in rearranging deckchairs on the Titanic," Mallory said with a bemused smile. "Utterly futile."

"I don't want to discourage them," Tanner protested as Q cracked an unwilling smile at something Bond said.

"What, then?"

"A little push? Mistletoe? Lock them in a closet?" Tanner suggested hopefully.

"That might be construed as stacking the deck in your favor," Mallory observed mildly.

"You know about the bet?" Tanner spluttered as Q stole Bond's champagne glass and drained it to Bond's mock outrage.

"Spy," Mallory explained succinctly.

Tanner nodded wry acknowledgement.

They continued their silent observations a few minutes more, then Tanner asked, "What day did you pick?"

"April first."

Title: Nighttime Invasion Author: SouffleGirl91 Warnings: vague references to blood, swearing Summary: Q’s cat is not impressed by 3am visitors

Thunk.

A crumpled heap hit the floor. She hissed, tail bushy, ready to pounce on the intruder.

“Oof!”

Gunpowder Man was invading her space.

Again.

“Q?” Gunpowder Man whisper-shouted. He sounded different. “Are you awake?”

Something dark dripped from his nose.

She sniffed cautiously. He stank of copper and salt. Still, it was better than the strong, sour reek of last time.

A light came on in Father’s bedroom.

Gunpowder Man lifted himself up and wobbled to the sofa. Walking on two legs seemed harder for him than usual.

“Bond?” Father came traipsing up behind him, making the room light up. “What the fuck? It’s 3 in the bloody morning. You couldn’t wait?”

“What, you’re not happy to see me?” Gunpowder Man used the false-happy tone Father used when he tricked her into The Basket.

Another dark drip.

“Don’t be stupid,” Father tsked, petting Gunpowder Man softly on the shoulder. That should help; Father gave the best pets. “Why don’t I put the - Christ, Bond! What happened to your nose?”

“It’s not broken. She hit me when I told her I was staying.”

“I thought psychologists were meant to keep their cool,” Father sighed. “Come on, let’s clean you up.”

Title: A confession of a deck Author: scarytheory Warnings: none Summary: James Bond would be lost without me.

I'd like to think that James and I are not just colleagues, but friends.

You know, we’ve been through a lot together. Cottages in forgotten lands, first-class casinos, important fights – I’d always been with him and helped him along the way.

But this game is different.

“That’s not fair, James,” the opponent says, watching his stack of cards.

“I’m not cheating, Q.”

The opponent snorts. “You may be the best player the MI6’s ever had, but even you can’t be THAT good, 007. Aces again? That’s not very subtle.”

“You were the one who said poker is just basic math and all about the art of reading people. So stop whinging and take off your shirt.”

Beg your pardon?

There is something disturbing in the air. I don’t think I want to give the good cards to James anymore. “Happy?”

The shirt falls to the floor.

“Immensely.”

The next round, Q loses his pants. I’m starting to think that this isn’t even about poker!

“I won.”

Finally, it’s over and I can relax again. Even though I’m not sure what this young lad can have that James Bond would be interested in… oh.

Title: Camouflage Author: IrishWitch58 Warnings: None Summary: A certain agent and their partner are in the field. The local perspective.

Grace's eyes were drawn to her first customers on the deck overlooking the harbor. They were as unlike as could be but Grace would have known they were together with just a glance. The subtle leaning in, the eye contact, the briefest brush of a hand. Not honeymooners but the established kind of connection that took time and patience. The younger man was dark and slender and had a tan that was honey gold. The older one was broader and blond and that one sent tingles up her spine. Her brother and his military buddies were like that, poised and watchful. She didn't see a weapon but suspected he was armed. They'd arrived three days ago in a beautifully restored vintage sailboat, walking the less traveled portions of the island.

Passing Grace, Mimi muttered “Spies posing as tourists.”

Gracie scoffed at Mimi's imagination. What were they spying on here, conch recipes? Then a new boat dropped anchor. The blond saw it first and the dark haired one checked the tablet he always seemed to have before nodding and finishing his chowder.

The pretty sailboat pulled up anchor the next dawn and the new boat was found derelict two days later.

#10

Title: Missing Him Author: Nana-chan Warnings: Summary: Austen the cat watches as her human pines for the Blond One

From her perch on the living room sofa, Austen looks disapprovingly at her bespectacled human. He is out on the deck again, smoking and no doubt pining for the Blond One. He is a relatively new addition to the household and has been gone for several days now, as is his habit. Keats—that dummy—misses him, too, as he meows and gazes forlornly at the front door.

She herself is unsure of the Blond One, but she doesn’t like it when her human is all sad and distracted, reeking of cigarette smoke and unresponsive to feline overtures of comfort. She feels powerless to help him. How did one man become so essential to her human’s happiness?

Then a key turns, the door opens, and there he is. The Blond One dumps his bag in the foyer and heads straight for the deck, pausing only to give her a brief head scritch. She watches as he folds her human into his arms and starts grooming him in that strange way humans have, with their mouths fused.

She hears her human laugh, gladness and relief evident in his tones, and finally, she makes up her mind about the Blond One.

#11

Title: Origin of a Voyeur Author: stormofsharpthings Warnings: none Summary: There was a legitimate reason to start going through all the Q Branch security footage, dammit!

After the small accidental volcano destroyed lab 7b, no one could recall who’d last checked the fire suppression system. Exasperated, R pulled up the security videos in hopes of spotting someone. The recording of Q and 007 was entirely unrelated, but she just couldn’t look away.

Q had been helping Bond dress for some formal event, tuxedo carefully tailored to conceal the equipment Q was arranging around his body. The scene resembled a squire helping his knight, except...

R bit her lip at the way Q stroked his fingertips down the front of Bond’s suit to check the drape of the fabric, evading Bond’s hungry gaze with a sly little quirk to his mouth. Then Q leaned close, reaching around to run his hands over the back of the jacket, lingering a little over Bond’s well-proportioned backside before he sank to one knee and brushed along the sides of the trousers.

“There, all decked out,” Q murmured.

Bond reached down to cradle Q’s chin in his hand and Q looked up with a provocative lick of his lips, the heat almost visibly simmering between them. Bond took a deep breath, his fingers tightening, and Q ‘s eyes widened and then slid shut as he turned to brush his lips against Bond’s thumb. When Bond made a low rough sound, both Q and Rani swallowed at the same time.

Then the outer office door slammed and she hurriedly shut her computer down, blushing. But she saved a private copy first.

#12

Title: The Bet Author: Venstar Warnings: none Summary: Bets are made, there will be blood.

Oh, yes. It was going to happen. The tension was palpable in the room, yes he said palpable in his interior monologue. Just fucking get closer. Do it already. He was going to win that bet today by fuck. He leaned forward in anticipation, eyes locked on target. Yes. Yes….Keep going...almost….

*AH-OOH-GA!! AH-OOH-GAH!! AH-OOH-GAH!!*

Fuck, goddammit. Not again! He narrowed his eyes. There was no way another attack by water was happening. Dammit. Fake or not they were going to have to clear the god damned building. He sighed heavily as he turned sad eyes back to where 007 and Q had been quietly eyeing each other. They were gone. “What the fuck?” Where? There! The orange of Q’s cardigan turned a corner. He was not about to lose the 'THEY FINALLY MADE OUT DAY' be! He ignored the rest of Q’branch’s leads as they ordered the evacuation.

“Davis?”

Fuck. It was R.

“And just where are you going? Exit is that way.”

He turned with hunched shoulders to find R smiling at him. Her eyes flitted past him to where Q and 007 had disappeared to. “THAT bet will only be won when it’s officially my day.”

#13

Title: Specs and the Lady Author: solarmorrigan Warnings: None. Summary: Louis has been a bartender for a long time, but occasionally patrons can still surprise him.

The Friday night crowd seethes around the bar in waves, laughing and calling out their orders. Louis has been a bartender a long time, which means he can keep up with the steady roll of vodka-tonic-scotch-and-soda-bottle-bottle-pint and still keep an eye on the floor for trouble.

Trouble like the man in specs and a loud jumper bumping into an over-drunk man in a worn football jersey, spilling both their drinks.

Specs’ mouth forms the word ‘sorry,’ but Jersey isn’t having it. He grabs Specs’ jumper, but before Louis can even call for Paul—their unofficial bouncer-bartender—a lady slides in between them, curly hair and cunning eyes, and pulls Jersey’s hand away.

Jersey shoves the lady, and viper-quick, she decks him. Jersey goes down.

Louis lets out a surprised laugh. The lady looks quite pleased. Specs looks exasperated, though Louis doesn’t know why; if he had someone like that in his corner, all squared shoulders and terrifying heels, he’d be delighted. Then again, from Specs’ half-laughing attempt at chastisement that carries in the surprised lull in noise (“Really, Eve?”), this isn’t the first time it’s happened.

“Just take Jersey out,” Louis bids as Paul moves in, “Specs and the lady are fine.”

#14

Title: Eyes on You Author: oldestcharm Warnings: n/a Summary: The Quartermaster is enjoying his afternoon and Bond is far too concerned about his garden.

She's good at her job. So good, in fact, that she's currently hidden from sight with her scope right on MI6's Quartermaster himself. He's sitting on the deck of his house, enjoying the sunny weather with a girly drink in one hand and a laptop resting on his thighs. He's typing furiously, paying no attention to his surroundings. All she has to do is take one shot.

Then, the sprinklers turn on.

She does her best to not make a sound even as her phone buzzes.

4:27 pm:

There are over twenty cameras on the property.

4:28 pm:

I suggest you get out of my hydrangea bush. James worked rather hard on the garden and he won't be pleased to find you there.

A click behind her — probably a gun. "You've ruined my garden."

She turns around and finds herself face to face with the legendary agent. She cringes. "I'm... very sorry?"

Bond does not look amused. "You're fixing this before you leave."

"You're not going to kill me?" she asks, heart pounding.

"Q wants you for his team." Bond sighs, looking more annoyed than anything. "Either you accept or I'll shoot you."

Well, it's not exactly a choice.

#15

Title: Over It Author: MrKsan / starrboned Warnings: Canon-Typical language Summary: Tanner is nervous.

Ferrying through the maze of the Thames tunnels was often a nerve-wracking job. More so when his passengers were nervous. More so when it was the Chief of Staff who was sitting across from him, restless, tap-tap-tapping on his cardboard box.

Tanner gave Jack an awkward smile as they docked, climbing the narrow ladder just as the Quartermaster stormed into view.

“I’m going to skin the twat alive, Bill!“ he hissed, making Tanner stumble to a stop. “Didn’t even try to cover his tracks.”

Jack grinned. Only one man could piss Q off that much.

Tanner sighed, resigned. “I’ll inform M-”

“Already did,” Q huffed.

"Oh?"

"Not risking my career for him again, Bill."

Jack dared a peek at the couple; the conversation was taking an unexpected turn.

Tanner blinked, once, twice, before seeming to come to a decision. He shoved the cardboard box at Q.

“Thought we could share breakfast, since our dinner last night was interrupted? Bad timing, of course- ”

"Bill,” Q said, and Jack saw the silver of a smirk. "I would love to."

Pulling a crumpled cigarette from under his heavy coat, Jack couldn't help but grin to himself.

MI6 and their drama.

Go vote!

#james bond #james bond fanfiction #drabbles #00Q #rare pair #ldws2021 #ldws 2021 #ldws

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papikakashikahn · 2 years

Text

FIXATED

An Andrew Garfield/ Peter Parker x Reader fanfic

Chapter Three

Summary: This story is a serval chapter work about Andrew garfield’s peter Parker struggling to balance pursuing a higher education at NYU as well as being spiderman. In meeting Y/N he’s encouraged to become a different person, but he feels guilty in doing so especially after the death of his first love four years ago to his hands. Slow burn

a/n: this one, your major comes up, so to keep the story tailor to your I put Y/M for your major, enjoy :)

This is embarrassing

I nervously tapped my foot standing outside the peer writing center. I decided a little reluctantly to take up Flanigan’s advice and head to the writing lab the next day to see if someone could help me out. Yet, although I got myself to the office I couldn't seem to force myself inwards.

My spider sense are telling me this is bs

But another part of me thought of failing this course and I just couldn’t afford not keeping my promise to Aunt May. I wanted to prove to her that i could balance being Spiderman and being a college student. She was supporting me and I couldn’t fail her.

In reminding myself of this I found myself somehow through the threshold of the office.

The girl at the desk looked up at me as if I was interrupting her.

“Umm… hi! I’m here for - uh- you know…?” I awkwardly uttered. Without a word she pointed me in another direction.

In following her finger I found a familiar face unoccupied like the other students.

“Uh… Y/N?” I called to her, standing before her while she sat at a desk.

“Oh hi Peter, what are you doing here? Do you need help with something?” she asked, looking up from her computer.

“Uh- yes - actually. See… I flunked that paper for Flanigan but she told me I could resubmit. So I came here for… help” I managed to say, rubbing the back of my neck shyly.

She nodded quietly. “What about you? Did you come for editing too or?” I question trying to make conversation. “Oh no, I’m actually a peer tutor for the writing lab actually” she laughed, patting the chair next to her motioning for me to sit.

Dumbass

“I knew that. That makes more sense” I laughed nervously.

I did not know that actually

There was a moment of awkward silence as I just kinda looked at her for what to do next but every thought in my mind left my body when we made eye contact. Thankfully, however, she continued the conversation.

“So is that the draft in your hands?” She questioned, pointing to my paper.

“Uh- yea it’s just a little something something since I had to write a new one so…” “Mhm, can I look at what you have so far?” she asked, looking me in my eyes. And I found myself lost again.

I wonder if this is weird since she caught me looking at her earlier today.

“Yea all yours” I slid it to her casually. Yet, right as I did so, the paper decided to stick to my fingertips. My eyebrows furrowed together looking at the paper refusing to detach from my hand.

Oh fuck. This alway happens at the worst times.

She tried to tug the paper away and was confused when it wasn’t giving. She pulled it with more effort, yet I still had it sticking to my fingertips. She also furrowed her eyebrows looking at it and let out a laugh. She met my eyes.

“How are you doing that?” she smiled. I shifted under her gaze. “I was like playing with glue or something that's probably what-” as I was making up an excuse for the sticky spider fingertips of mine, she touched my finger to pull it off the paper curiously “-it is” I finished with a shaky breath. As she did so she looked back up at me.

“That’s some pretty strong glue. You had art homework or something Peter? What’s your major?” she asked, flashing me a smile.

I cleared my throat before answering. “Biophysics” I answered. She let out a subtle laugh and turned her attention back to the paper she managed to get away from my fingertips.

That only happens when I'm nervous but it hasn’t happened in such a long time.

Trying to get what just happened off her mind, I changed the conversation. “What’s your major again Y/N?” I asked her.

“Y/M” she responded without looking up.

“Oh n-nice” I stammered as I observed her while she focused on my paper wholesomely. She didn’t seem to think much of the sticky fingertips thing which was weird in my opinion. She’s a smart girl. I don't know why that just slipped past her.

“Getting an F is kinda embarrassing, I’m just really not good at writing” I sighed, attempting to make conversation.

“No I understand, Flanigan is also just a hard grader if that makes you feel better” she comforted raising her eyes to meet mine.

I raised my eyebrow remembering her grade. “What did you get?” I asked her. She pressed her lips knowing what I would say in response.“An A-” she answered, giving a light smirk knowing what I would say next. I rolled my eyes playfully. “Wow, I don’t know how you even tutor here with grades like that” I joked shaking my head. She tilted her head at my response with a certain look in her eyes. Looking back at her I felt nervous again.

I cleared my throat before continuing. “Is this just a hobby for you or is it work study?” I asked. “Work study” she responded with a smile, looking back at my paper.

“Well they probably don’t pay you enough to be editing papers like mine” I laughed.

“I accept tips,” she joked back.

#andrew garfield #andrewgarfieldxreader #spiderman #the amazing spider man #spidermanxreader #fixated

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gottawriteanegoortwo · 3 years

Text

WKM Role Swap: The Story Splits

Prologue

With our attention on the day after the fateful poker night, we return to the story just as it splits from the one we are familiar with. Some of it may sound familiar, but don't be fooled. Change is in the air as the Colonel misses his cue...

We also neglected to attach the AO3 link, should you prefer to read it on that platform. Consider that remedied now.

Realising that nothing would happen unless someone took initiative, Celine led the group from the scene of the crime to the dining room. The guests took their places at the large, round table as Celine took a moment to calm her frustrations with the immaturity facing her. With such a serious issue at hand, she couldn’t understand how some of them were so careless about it.

“Look, Mark’s death is a terrible thing indeed. But I fear that there are forces much darker than anything we’ve seen here today. I’m well versed in the arcane arts, but if you,” she gestured at the group, “untrained and uninitiated, can summon lightning with a mere word, we’re all in far graver danger than anything we could ever hope to face alone. We’re gonna have to work together if we’re gonna survive this.”

“Celine… What are you proposing?” Damien’s voice was tinged with worry, and the Attorney flashed him a look of concern as they put a supportive hand on his arm.

“We need to speak with Mark.”

“I knew it!” Chef slammed his hands on the table. “He’s a flesh-eating zombie!”

“No -”

“Well, maybe one of those smart zombies,” William helpfully suggested, “homeo sapio zombifus!”

“No, no!” Celine snapped, catching the attention of the two men. “I need to commune with the dead.” Silence briefly fell on the table. William was bemused. The Attorney tilted their head in confusion. Damien looked away. Benjamin and Chef exchanged light shrugs.

“That… Doesn’t sound like a good idea,” spoke Abe, the voice of reason. Celine rolled her eyes.

“Well, it’s a good thing I don’t need your permission. But YOU.” Her sharp tone drew everyone’s attention to the Attorney. “You’ve been awfully quiet through this whole thing.” At once, the atmosphere of the room grew heavy, as though Celine had granted some of the guests the ability to see the Attorney in a completely different light.

“With those beady little eyes…” snarled the Chef.

“And wearing THOSE rags?” Benjamin tutted.

Abe looked conflicted as he said, “maybe I shouldn’t have trusted someone so goddamn gorgeous.”

The Attorney's head turned to William, waiting for whatever belittling statement he wanted to make. There was a brief pause as he belatedly realised they were looking at him with resignation. He had been dismissive of them in the morning, it would likely shine through now.

"I - I'll pass," William lifted his hand a fraction to dismiss the moment. In doing so, Damien's shuffling caught his eye on the other side of the Attorney. This confrontation toward his university friend was making Damien uncomfortable, but he was in no position to try and object once Celine set her mind on something. Not only that, William could see exhaustion weighing his friend down. William knew it was his fault, but he couldn't tell them. No one would believe it was an accident.

"- stand for it!" The Detective jumping to his feet and slamming the table threw William back into the present moment. A few seconds passed in complete silence, like actors knowing a line was missed and not knowing if they should continue or not. Celine was the first to recover as she dismissed the Detective's worries by giving the offer to stand outside.

Like a student frantically trying to figure out what they missed while zoned out in class, William glanced around as he put the pieces together. The Attorney had agreed to help Celine in trying to talk to the dead. The Detective objected. It was a matter that likely went against Damien’s own opinions on the matter, but he said nothing.

You see, William did trust Celine with all his heart… But he would quickly say the same for Damien. The younger twin had an innate talent for finding ‘good’ people, ones with kind hearts. From what William had seen throughout the day, the Attorney was no different. Why sit back and let them be involved in something reckless when the thought worried Damien?

In the moments of William’s internal dilemma, Damien had chased after Celine to try and talk sense into her. The movements were too quick for a man worn out from the day’s stresses. Every time he stopped during the argument, Damien leaned more on his cane or on the stair’s bannister to lessen the risk of his good leg buckling. But as the Attorney began climbing the stairs after the siblings, they felt a firm tug on their wrist that yanked them back a step. They turned in time to witness William quickly pulling his hand away to show he meant no harm.

"Can I have a quick word before you follow?" The Attorney glanced up toward the bickering twins before nodding. "I know you agreed to help Celine, but I think Damien needs your assistance more right now. Did you see the way he moved out of his chair? He's relying more on the cane. If left unsupervised, he’s going to collapse. I swear, it’s been years since the war and he still lacks the basic ability to take care of himself and accept his limits." The Attorney’s concentration faltered as their gaze drifted upward to the frail Mayor. "All this stress has exhausted him. He needs to go lie down, and you're the only one he'll listen to." The Attorney gestured to William, suggesting that he could complete that task instead. "You heard our last conversation. I know he's still angry at me. He wouldn't want to talk to me… He needs a friendly face right now that will keep him calm. I can handle Celine in your stead. She doesn’t scare me." The Attorney tried to point out that Damien wanted to talk to William. Reconciliation was necessary, but he had to avert the immediate danger first. William put a hand over his heart and bowed his head. "I will talk to him after he rests for a while. I promise." While not ideal, it was enough for the Attorney and the Colonel to switch places.

The twins' argument screeched to a halt when they noticed William ascending the stairs with the Attorney hot on his heels.

"What are you doing?" Celine turned on the Colonel. "You aren't supposed to be here."

"I'm helping you with your ghosty-whatevers," responded William calmly, raising the brim of his hat to properly look at Celine, "and it's either me or no one." He kept his expression neutral, making it known that his decision would not be swayed. Damien was taken aback, throwing a confused look to the Attorney. They flashed a supportive smile as they moved a little closer to William. A subtle action that gave a clear message to Damien: "it's okay. We're on the same side". It was a reassurance that had him take a step back and let William pass. All Celine could do was let out a sound of exclamation as William marched past them toward Celine's personal study.

"Just be careful!" Damien called after them. William spun around to grin at Damien while Celine opened the door. To his delight, the Attorney was at Damien’s side. They gave William a thumbs up, and he nodded his head in gratitude.

Next Chapter.

#who killed markiplier #writersofmark #william j barnum #mayor damien #celine the seer #abe the detective #wkm role swap #fanfiction

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bumblebee-moreno · 3 years

Text

Lovers

After hours of cursing at my laptop, I have finally finished my secret santa fic for @artemiseamoon (hope you like it!!!)

Ezra x reader (written with an AFAB reader in mind, though it’s entirely possible I accidentally made it gender neutral)

Warnings: insecure Ezra, discussion of body image (Ezra), light angst, but mostly fluff, possibly OOC Ezra? idk I haven’t written a lot of him yet... umm marriage is discussed just but it’s left ambiguous as to whether it’s legal or if y’all just decided to say you were 🤷 ...um possible inaccuracies with the tarot content?? i did my research but I had zero knowledge to begin with so idk if I got everything right?

Word count: 5098

A/N: Important!!! This fic is separated into sections... Italics take place in a different point in time. The three middle sections (which each have titles) are to represent each card in the tarot reading, the first titled section (in italics) is a flashback, the second is present time, and the third (in italics) is a snapshot of the future. the beginning and end also take place present time.

before you continue, did you read the author’s note?? it’s important to understanding the fic!!

Ezra lets out a soft sigh, burying his nose deeper into your chest. You card your fingers through his hair, a soft smile appearing on your lips at the way he leans into your touch.

These moments are your favourite: when the weather outside is too dreary for work, and the two of you curl up together on the small cot you share.

Ezra insists he hates days like this. A day without work is a day without pay, after all. You’d always laugh at his complaints.

“Surely a day in bed with me isn’t that unbearable,” you’d always tease.

“A day in your arms,” He’d reply, pressing a kiss to your lips, “is the only satisfactory substitution for a day’s work.”

Ezra shifts in your embrace until he can reach to brush his lips against your neck. You tilt your head, allowing him easier access.

Ezra begins murmuring against your skin. Between every kiss comes a compliment. You have no idea what most of them mean; you can only guess by the love with which they’re said. “There are,” Ezra kisses you again, “no words,” kiss, “impressive enough to describe you, my Star.”

You slowly sit up, Ezra following suit, not allowing any significant distance to come between the two of you.

You cup Ezra’s cheeks, steadying his face between your hands. Softly, as if he might shatter if you’re not careful, you brush your thumb across his lower lip.

Your lover stares into your eyes, almost as if they are the night sky and he’s searching for constellations. Just as you begin to wonder if he’s lost himself, Ezra breaks the silence, his voice barely more than a breath. “What’s going on in that mind of yours?”

“Just thinking about how lucky I am to hold the universe in my hands,” you reply, and as if to prove your point, you pull Ezra into a kiss that is as gentle as it is passionate.

“You are mistaken, Star,” Ezra lifts his hand to your face, desperately wishing he had his other, so he could properly mirror your touch. He places a feather-light kiss to your forehead.

“Oh?” you breathe, preparing yourself to argue when he says that he’s the one holding the universe in his hand. Just as he always says.

But his touch falls from your face. With a feather-like touch, he pulls your right hand from his cheek, turning it to place your palm on your left one. He mirrors it with your left hand.

“Now you hold the universe in your hands,” he whispers with a subtle quiver in his voice.

You drop your arms, lips parting to argue with him; to insist you had it right the first time. But your words catch in your throat when a single tear spills down Ezra’s face.

He tries to swipe it away before you see, but you catch his wrist. “What’s wrong, love?” you dry his cheek with your thumb, allowing your fingertips to linger against his jaw.

You watch the wheels turn in Ezra’s head as he chooses his words. “…Me,” he replies simply.

For a moment, you don’t know how to respond. “…you?”

Ezra nods, pulling away from you to lean against the wall.

“What does that mean?” you try to brush a strand of hair out of Ezra’s face, but he shies away from your touch.

“You deserve… more,” Ezra refuses to look at you.

“I don’t understand,” you search Ezra’s face for clues.

“You deserve someone who can give you everything,” he sniffs, “You deserve more than a forlorn pod and allocating freeze-dried rations.” More tears escape from Ezra’s eyes and drip into his lap.

“Ezra,” you soothe, “I don’t care about any of that.” Ezra opens his mouth to argue, but you continue. “Is it not enough to love each other?” you question, not bothering to wait for an answer. “If I only cared about material possessions, do you think I’d really have stuck around this long? I love you, that’s all I care about.”

Ezra wordlessly stands, shuffling across the floor to rifle through a canvas bag.

“What are you doing?” you sigh. You’re met only with a hollow silence.

After a moment, Ezra returns. He delicately sits beside you, placing a small object in your lap. Your gaze drops to find a stack of well-loved cards.

“Ezra,” you protest, setting the cards aside.

“Please,” the desperation in Ezra’s voice breaks your heart.

“You don’t need a tarot reading to tell you that I love you,” you try to meet Ezra’s eyes, but they’re glued to the floor.

“I just—” Ezra sighs. “Forgive my trepidation, but I need to know… where are we headed? I comprehend that you love me at this moment in our journey, but what about years from now? Will you still be enamoured by me?”

You give in with a sigh, realising that Ezra won’t be satisfied by just your insistence that you’ll always love him.

“I’d like to believe you when you say you love me, but I can’t help but speculate that your judgement may be clouded,” Ezra continues. “Our ceaseless wayfaring, our lamentable career… It’s all beneath you. You deserve better.”

You finish shuffling the cards and lay them in front of you. After taking a moment to examine the spread, you open your mouth to speak.

---

Reversed Ace of Cups

Ezra sat back, frowning at the canvas bag. It was stretched at odd angles, stitches pulled tight. He didn’t even attempt to close it, the zipper would tear right off.

“You’re certain all your possessions fit in here?” he asked. He wasn’t able to fit half your things in the bag, let alone all of them.

“Yes, Ezra, I’m certain it all fits.” You lifted your attention from scrubbing filters to examine Ezra’s progress. Laughing at his lost expression, you crossed the floor to kneel across from him.

“You just have to reorganise so it fits,” you explained, shuffling items around until there was room for more.

Ezra watched your hands dig through the bag. They looked like they’d fit perfectly in his. He watched your eyes analyse your work. Just like they do in the field.

Ezra could tell there was a lifetime of stories behind that gaze. He wondered which story caused that slight frown that only seemed to disappear when you were asleep. Or, perhaps, it was a collection of stories.

“There,” You sat back on your knees.

Ezra dropped his attention to the bag. Everything fit. It was still a bit stretched at the seams, but the zipper would no longer struggle to close.

Something caught Ezra’s eye. He reached in, lifting a deck of cards from the top of the bag’s contents. He removed the string holding them together and spread them out in his hands to admire the art on each of them.

“I, um…” You stuttered, watching Ezra’s fingers trace the worn ink and well-used edges.

“I was not aware that you read tarot,” Ezra murmured with a hint of admiration in his voice.

“Keeps me sane,” you shrugged.

“Would you feel inclined to do a reading for me?” Ezra asked, offering the cards out to you.

Your fingers brushed against his and Ezra’s heart jumped into his throat. The contact only lasted a moment, though, before you began shuffling the cards. You were saying something. Your voice was beautiful. Ezra could listen to you talk forever.

You were staring at him expectantly. Ezra’s face heated up—he hadn’t heard what you said.

“I apologise, I didn’t quite catch that, Star.” He chewed his lip, praying that you didn’t catch on to his train of thought.

You fought the urge to smile at the nickname. Ezra has called you that since the day you met. You always pretended to be annoyed, insisting he use your name. You don’t hate it; you just wish it meant the same thing to him that it did to you.

“I asked if you had a question? For the reading.”

“Oh,” Ezra exclaimed. “My apologies, my cognizance was elsewhere.”

“Yeah, no shit,” you laughed, your usual frown melting away. Ezra’s chest swelled with pride at being the reason you’re so relaxed, despite his embarrassment.

“This assignment is approaching its end,” Ezra took a moment to sweep his gaze across the room that had been your shared home for the last several months. “How should I converge with the coming weeks?”

‘will you stick around?’ Ezra meant to say. But you couldn’t know how he feels. Not yet.

You nodded to acknowledge Ezra’s question before you finish shuffling.

Ezra wasn’t even sure how many cards you laid down.

Even through your concentration, you looked happy. Relaxed.

You began to speak. As you shared your interpretation of the cards, Ezra watched how different emotions transformed your face.

Some of them, he had seen before; the passionate look you get when you talk about the stars, the way your brows furrow in an excited concentration. He only saw your eyes light up like this on occasion; at night, usually. When it was too dark to work but neither of you are quite ready to go to sleep, so you settle on opposite ends of the bed, each doing your own thing. He’d sometimes watch you from the corner of his eye, and when you thought he wasn’t looking, you’d glance up at him with that same look in your eye, Ezra had always wondered what it meant, but has never dared ask for fear you’d stop letting him see it. It was a look that felt rare and intimate. As if only those who you’d trust with your life would ever have the privilege of seeing it.

But some of those expressions, Ezra had never seen on your face. The way you looked when you paused for a breath, it was as if you were doing so much more than interpreting the message the cards were telling you; you were the connection between this reality and the next, watching a story unfold and telling Ezra what he needed to know to make it his reality.

Your expressions confirmed what your words were telling him: everything was about to change. His lifestyle. His relationship with you. Everything.

It should have scared Ezra. But this was the safest, the calmest, Ezra had felt in a long time.

You fell silent, finished with your reading. You searched Ezra’s face for a reaction.

“I love you,” Ezra blurted out before he could stop himself.

Your jaw dropped. “Ezra, I—” You didn’t know what to say.

“I understand if my feelings are not reciprocated. And I apologise if this puts you in a vexatious position, I assure you, that was not my intention.” Ezra paused, wringing his hands together. “I simply needed you to be aware of my feelings towards you.”

You didn’t know how to respond. A million words sat at the tip of your tongue, but none of them seemed right. With each passing second, Ezra could feel his stomach drop further and further into the floor.

“Oh,” Ezra breathed, taking your silence as rejection. He backed away, shoulders threatening to collapse around him. Tears stung at the backs of his eyes. His stomach was turning. How could he be so stupid as to think you’d fall in love with a man like him?

You dove forward suddenly, pulling his face toward yours, your lips crashing against his. It took Ezra a moment to register your actions, and another to react. He was soon pulling you into his chest in a bruising embrace, his lips engulfed yours in a way that was almost overwhelming. Ezra let out a soft moan when your fingers found his hair. His nose bumped yours and his breath tasted like the stale, nearly unbearable rations you’d been living off of for months, but you didn’t care—yours probably wasn’t much better.

The kiss was rushed, desperate. Your teeth kept hitting his. He couldn’t decide where on your body he wanted his hands to be.

You finally broke away for a breath. “I love you too,” you whispered into Ezra’s lips.

___

Reversed Judgement

It’s been years since that night. You’d gone through everything together; Ezra nursed you back to health when you got sick, you’d taken care of him when he, inevitably, caught whatever you had. It’s been ages since you stopped counting how many times you’d stitched each other’s wounds. You’d been there for him when he lost his arm, he’d been by your side for every injury of your own. It has never been a question that you have each other’s backs.

Ezra smiles softly. You’re so beautiful like this. The way your eyes light up as you speak, as if you’re a prospector who has just uncovered a valuable gem. It’s an expression Ezra has seen a million times, but his heart aches to see it a million more.

But his smile quickly fades. You’re happy right now. But how long until you realise you deserve better? You don’t deserve this life. You deserve more than a creaky pod and a lumpy cot much too small for one person, let alone two.

And what about the loss of his arm? The jobs Ezra can take now are restricted, the people who will hire him even more so. In bed, he can hardly figure out what to do with himself. You keep insisting that it’s okay, that he’ll learn. But how long are you willing to wait?

Ezra closes his eyes and listens to your voice; it’s his favourite sound. And the passion behind it now, during a reading? It’s overwhelming.

Ezra wants the rest of his life to be spent by your side. He can’t stop thinking about his future with you. Will you settle down together? Or spend the rest of your lives travelling the galaxy together? He’s not sure which he wants more. But either way, he can’t imagine a story for himself that doesn’t include growing old with you. If he’s honest with himself, Ezra can’t even remember a time he’s thought so much about the future. It’s always been about now. About surviving to see tomorrow.

Why does that have to change now that he’s in love? Why is he suddenly afraid of the future?

You’re happy now. Your kisses, the way you seek Ezra out even in your sleep, how your hand finds his almost constantly, proves how happy you are.

Ezra’s never been this happy. He’s never known someone who makes him feel so safe. Around you, Ezra can put his guard down. He doesn’t have to be so cryptic all the time. With you, Ezra can just exist.

Ezra’s hand finds its way into his pocket. His fingers wrap around a small stone.

He watches your hands accentuate each point you make. Ezra loves your hands. Especially your right hand; it’s the one he gets to hold when you walk beside him. It fits so perfectly in his. He loves the way your hands bury themselves in his hair when you kiss him. He loves how gentle they are when you’re patching him up. He pretends to hate it when you slip your hands under his shirt when you notice how cold they are just so you can press them against his chest and laugh at him when he squirms. Ezra loves that laugh.

He fidgets with the gem. He’s forgotten exactly how long it’s been there, though he remembers the day he got it as if it were yesterday. It was one of your first digs together. The gem was too small to be worth anything. So Ezra pocketed the stone, and it’s become a bit of an extension of himself.

Ezra watches your lips move in sync with your words. He loves your lips. The way they taste against his. The way they trace along his jaw when you’re teasing. Ezra’s kissed you a million times, and yet he always yearns for another.

“My Star,” he’d always say whenever you noted that he could never seem to stop kissing you, “a single touch shared with you could console even the most pained of men. And therefore, what motivation do I have to add to the distance between us?”

My Star. Ezra’s called you that… Forever. Ezra loves your name. But to call you his Star is a privilege only he has. Every time he says it, he remembers the countless times the two of you have laid on the ground, examining the night sky in search of constellations. No matter where you are, you always find a way to stargaze.

Through the window of your shared pod.

Passing glances through your helmet when the air outside isn’t safe to breathe.

But by far, Ezra’s favourite is when the air outside is breathable so you pull him outside to lay on the ground, held in each other’s embrace.

On those nights, you’ll continue to talk about the stars long after Ezra’s coaxed you inside to bed. He loves to fall asleep to the sound of your voice in one ear, the rhythm of your heartbeat in the other. Those nights fill Ezra’s chest with a lightness that washes away years of trauma.

But tonight, the stars are hidden behind a veil of clouds. Rain echoes through the trees outside. It reminds Ezra of the nights you’re curled under threadbare blankets and you’re whispering sweet nothings in Ezra’s ear.

Ezra smiles at this. Rainy days are his favourite. It stresses him that he often can’t work on those days, though in your company, that stress quickly melts away.

Ezra is never happier than when he’s with you.

___

Ten of Cups

“Star,” Ezra calls out to you.

You’re on your knees, elbow-deep in a sticky black mud. “Yeah?” you grunt back, nearly toppling forward into the mud in your distraction.

“The spoils of these pits appear to already have been claimed, and the sun is beginning to set.” Ezra sits back on his knees, pulling his arm from his own mud pit. “I suppose it’s time we get cleaned up for the remainder day.”

Ezra stifles a laugh at your disgusted grimace when you free your arms from the mud. After a brief examination of the sun-streaked sky, you let out a frustrated huff, pushing yourself to your feet.

“Yeah,” you give in. You have to resist the urge to wipe your hands on your clothing. You accept Ezra’s outstretched hand, lacing your fingers in his.

The stream isn’t far away—close enough that its inviting babbling has called out to you and Ezra all day.

Ezra leads you hand-in-hand to the edge of the murky water. He sinks to his knees first, wasting no time in submerging his arm into the icy liquid to wash away the itchy layers of chemically contaminated mud.

With a desperate splash, you follow close behind.

It’s jobs like these that makes Ezra wish gloves were a luxury the two of you could afford. But gloves strong enough to not break down upon contact with the mud would cost a fortune to buy and would require frequent replacements.

And so, after a long day buried in the acidic material, your arms are left itchy and raw. Ezra frantically rubs his forearm back and forth over a rock just below the surface of the water in a desperate attempt to wash himself clean, and, perhaps relieve some of the painful itch. If he notices the blood staining the water, he doesn’t care; in this moment, the temporary relief overpowers the regret that will later come from allowing the rock to break through his skin.

Ezra startles when your hands close around his wrist. Gently, You begin rubbing away the mud with your already clean hands. You’re conscious to take extra care around the steady trickle of blood.

“You’ll only make it worse like that,” you murmur, focusing your attention on making sure no mud is left under Ezra’s fingernails.

“Thank you,” Ezra closes his eyes in pleasure when you begin massaging his raw skin under the cloudy water to remove the last traces of mud.

“Mhm,” you reply absentmindedly and pull his hand from the water.

Ezra stands, hoisting you to your feet and pulling you into your shared pod.

You help each other dry off and spread an ointment over each other’s arms that makes tears of relief spring to Ezra’s eyes. After stripping yourselves free of your dirty clothes, Ezra collapses onto the cot, pulling you into his chest.

You shift until your head is resting on his shoulder and your body is curled around Ezra’s side leaving his arm free to reach what he needs to.

This position makes it difficult for Ezra to wrap his arm around you, but after a long day of work, neither one of you wants to move if he needs to reach something from the rusty bedside table.

You wrap your arms around your lover’s neck. Reflexively, Ezra’s fingers lift to find yours. He silently fidgets with the thin metal band around your finger, which had been returned to its rightful place upon arrival at the pod.

The pads of his fingers trace over the small gem embedded in the metal. Ezra smiles, remembering the cold winter’s day you’d finally said “I do.”

A soft chuckle escapes Ezra’s throat as he recalls the night you’d agreed to marry him, despite the many years you’d spent telling him about your distaste for the idea of being married.

“What’s that about?” you ask, not seeing a reason to laugh.

“I’m so fortunate to have you, Star,” Ezra whispers back, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” You murmur and lean up to press a kiss to Ezra’s jaw, at the same place you always do; the little patch in his scruff, where Ezra seems unable to grow any hair.

You love those spots on either side of his face. “They’re built in places for me to kiss,” you’d always insist whenever Ezra was feeling insecure about his patchy stubble.

“Still?” Ezra asks. “You still love me after all these years?”

“Why not?” You can’t think of a single thing Ezra has ever done that might make you rethink your feelings. Sure, he has his habits that never fail to get on your nerves. But, if anything, that makes you love him all the more.

“You’re not growing exhausted by my presence?”

“How could I ever get bored of you?” You sit up enough to meet Ezra’s gaze. “I love you more than anything. If I didn’t, what reason would I have to follow you on all these jobs and crazy ideas you get to make a living?” You caress Ezra’s cheek with your knuckles. “Ezra, I stay because I love you. Those feelings are never going to change. And, if they do, it will be because I’ve fallen further in love with you. If that’s even possible.”

“What did I do to deserve you?” Ezra smiles softly.

You let out a hum of contemplation. “I’m just here for the kisses,” you tease, placing a brief peck on his lips.

Ezra hums contentedly, and you snuggle back into his chest. After a few moments of a loving stillness, Ezra’s fingers find their way back to yours to toy with your ring.

“Do you remember the night I gave this to you?” Ezra whispers, tracing circles over the tiny gem.

“How could I forget?” You whisper back.

___

You finish your reading and lift your eyes to gauge Ezra’s reaction. A small smile tugs at his lips, but he doesn’t respond.

Silently, Ezra rises to his feet, gathering the cards and stowing them back in your bag.

“Lay down,” Ezra commands. With a grunt, he pulls a strange machine from under the cot. You obey, too curious to argue. Ezra shoves the machine to the centre of the floor.

Ezra switches off the lamp, plunging the tent into absolute darkness. “My mother had one of these when I was a child,” Ezra explains, “I had to construct this one from scrap parts, so it’s not as impressive as the one I grew up with.” With a soft click, the machine turns on and the ceiling is decorated with small flecks of light.

Ezra continues to explain, but you’ve already figured it out. “It’s the stars on Wehouf,” you interrupt with a gasp. Wehouf was where you first met Ezra.

Ezra lays on the cot beside you, wrapping you into a firm embrace.

“You built this for me?” you murmur in disbelief. How did he find time to work on this without you noticing?

“Took me two years,” Ezra presses a kiss to the crown of your head. “The majority of the parts I required aren’t easy to come by in the green.”

“Thank you,” you whisper.

“The entire time I was assembling it, I couldn’t help but meditate over how intensely I feel for you. I never thought I was capable of these feelings. When we first met, you were nothing more than an associate on an endeavour to make a living. I’m not certain when I fell in love,” Ezra’s hand slips under your shirt and he begins tracing gentle circles against your skin with his fingertips. “I don’t think I ever stopped falling. I don’t believe I ever want to. I crave to spend my whole lifetime by your side. I want to chart the view of the stars from every planet, every moon. And I want to do it with your hand in mine.”

“Ezra, I—” You start.

“You could count every single star in the sky, and still only know a fraction of the love I feel for you,” Ezra continues. “And I know you’ve expressed a distaste for it in the past,” Ezra shifts to pull the tiny gem from his pocket. Gently, he slips the metal band around your finger. A perfect fit. “But, I was hoping you’d consider marrying me? I wouldn’t expect it to be legal if that’s not what you want, but—”

“Of course I’ll marry you, Ezra,” You interrupt, shifting to meet his gaze. “I love you more than anything. If it makes you happy, of course, I’ll marry you. And besides, we’re out here alone a solid 98% of the time. So marriage can be whatever we want it to be. Right?”

Ezra breathes a sigh of relief. He wasn’t afraid of you saying no, per se, but he was terrified the question would make you uncomfortable and perhaps cause you to push him away.

“I know I can be an arduous man to love sometimes,” Ezra begins to tear up. “And I still think you deserve better than me. But, you make me exultant beyond any doubt, and you seem content by my side as well. I can’t promise that things will be perfect, because they most certainly won’t. But I will love you eternally, with every fibre of my being. And that, Star, is a promise.”

“Oh, Ezra,” you whisper, “I don’t expect things to always be perfect. I’ve lived with you long enough to know that life will go to shit. A lot. But I’ve also lived with you long enough to know it always ends up okay.” You rest your forehead against Ezra’s. “You deserve more than you think you do. I know you’ve made mistakes. Fuck, I’ve watched you make some seriously questionable decisions. To the point where I sometimes wonder how you’re still alive. But you have more love in this little tuft of hair than most people have in their whole body.” You gently tug on Ezra’s little blond patch of hair to emphasize your point. “And that’s all I care about.” You finish with a brief but passionate kiss.

Ezra doesn’t know how to respond. Tears threaten to escape down his cheeks. “Fuck,” he sobs, pulling you closer until your nose is buried in his neck. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Ezra,” you hum.

Your fingers begin to toy with the ring on your finger. “How’d you manage to get this?” Ezra doesn’t even have to see to know what you’re talking about.

“The gem is from one of our first digs together,” He explains. “It was too diminutive to sell, but I couldn’t bring myself to dispose of it. I got it fixed with a ring two planets back.”

“That must’ve cost a fortune,” you say, suddenly feeling a bit guilty that he felt the need to do such a thing to please you. Sufficient jewellers aren’t easy to find this far out, and because of that, it can be quite expensive to so much as repair a simple ring.

“Nearly depleted my personal savings,” Ezra answers. “But I couldn’t think of a superior way to spend it; now whenever my gaze falls upon your hand, I am reminded of our years spent in each other’s presence.”

“You didn’t have to,” you kiss the soft skin at Ezra’s neck. “I’d have married you without it.”

“Do you not like it?” Ezra asks with a touch of panic to his voice.

“Oh, I love it,” you reassure. Ezra visibly relaxes. “I love everything you get for me.” You pull the ring off your finger to inspect it as you talk. It’s a simple band, with just enough width to have room for the gem embedded in the smooth metal. Upon closer examination, you find a tiny engraving inside. ‘I love you, my Star.’ “I love everything you do for me,” you turn your head to admire the speckles of light above you. You return the ring to your finger. “I always will. Just know I don’t expect to be spoiled. I enjoy it, but your love is enough for me.”

“I know, my Star,” Ezra sighs. “I can’t provide you the life of luxury you deserve. I enjoy doing what I can to make up for it.”

“I have everything I want right here.” You snuggle deeper into Ezra’s chest to admire the stars projected across the ceiling.

He doesn’t respond. For a few moments, the only sounds are the rain, the soft whirring of the star machine, and your breaths combined with Ezra’s. You never saw yourself in this position. But Ezra has a way of turning the lives of those around him upside down. And for you, it somehow feels right.

“I love you, my Star.”

“I love you too, Ezra.”

#ezra prospect #pedros12daysofchristmas #ezra x reader #Pedro Pascal

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hanadolphieron · 3 years

Text

princess!hyejoo; chapter two~

warnings; enclosed spaces, spying

genre; fluff, slight angst

pairing; son hyejoo x female reader

word count; 1.2k

summary; your friend isn’t the innocent handmaiden you thought them out to be.

based on what you’d observed of hyejoo (which wasn’t much,) you’d decided that she seemed like a punctual person. that’s why you were getting ready so early.

or at least, that’s what you were telling yourself.

it wasn’t because she had pretty eyes hidden by thick eyelashes that seemed to flutter every time she blinked, or because she acted like a secretive spy character out of a fairytale (the type of character you always fall for)

no, none of that. you just wanted to be prepared when she dropped by your rooms in order to go find the secret route to the king’s office together.

soon, there came a soft rapping on your door, which you rushed to and opened, inviting hyejoo in. she didn’t seem too keen on staying for a while, eager to explore this secret route you’d spoken of. you felt the same way and the two of you headed off down the hallway silently.

“so, hyejoo, if you don’t mind telling me, why-”

“shh!” hyejoo cuts off your attempt at conversation, hissing at you, “we have to be quiet.”

“hyejoo,” your voice dropping to a whisper, “we’ll look much less suspicious if we’re not crouching low to the ground while speaking in low tones.”

“we’ll also look much less suspicious if you don’t ask me why i’m doing this,” she gives you a pointed look.

“you didn’t even know what i was going to ask you, you unruly eggshell,” you retort grumpily.

“really? what were you going to ask me then?” she questions, already knowing the answer.

you sigh. she does to. “i don’t blame you for wanting to know why i’m doing this,” hyejoo says gently.

“as you should!” your voice raises a little.

hyejoo studies your face, “we’re at a corridor. where do we go next?”

“good pivot,” you respond, referring to her not so subtle change of conversation, “left.”

leading the way, the two of you stroll inconspicuously through the halls of the castle. hyejoo seems to have mastered the art of moving quietly- her feet make no noise as they pad along the ground. “do you still have that dagger strapped against your calf?” you question.

“what?” her feet stumble as she whips her head to look at you.

“do you still-” you begin.

“how’d you know?”

“you do have it strapped against your calf hyejoo, and i’m sure you’re aware at this point how flighty our handmaiden dresses are. there’s not a chance that it would go completely unnoticed.”

she studies you. she seems to do that a lot, you note.

grabbing her and pulling her down another corridor, you don’t give her a chance to respond to your accusation. a guard had just turned down the hallway- one that you knew from experience would never shut up once he started talking.

“what was that!?” hyejoo hisses.

“someone i don’t feel like talking to.” she rolls her eyes, “now could you please answer my question?”

“it’s on my thigh now, not my calf” she responds curtly.

“do you know how to use it?”

“no, i keep a useless weapon attached to my leg for no reason at all.”

you glare at her sarcasm, “alright, that was a stupid question. i was hoping you’d answer with a story about how you learned to use it rather than a yes or a no.”

hyejoo studies you again as you turn to the right, starting up a flight of stairs. “would you quit doing that? i can’t read you like i do other people.”

she pauses and studies you the same way once again, this time a smile quirking up her lips, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

scoffing, you grasp her hand lightly as you drag your fellow handmaiden up the stairs. “it’s a dead end,” hyejoo states aloud, staring at the wall in front of the two of you.

“not if you go up,” you say, pushing the ceiling above you, revealing it as a trapdoor.

gaping slightly, hyejoo asks, “how’d you know this was here?”

“i may have done some exploring myself,” you smile, jumping up into the miniscule expanse above the door. hyejoo follows, brushing against you as she does.

a small ray of light emits from a rectangle shaped hole in the siding of the room. it comes from the king’s study.

“is that...” hyejoo begins.

“yes, that’s where the king works.”

“i can’t see much,” she says, frowning.

“yes, well, it’s 11 o’clock at night and the space you’re looking through isn’t big enough for a mouse. i used it to listen the last time i was up here.”

she sits back from her crouched position on the floor and squints at you in the dark. “why were you listening in on whatever the king was talking about?”

“no reason,” you say, shrugging, “you seem surprised at the amount of trouble i get up to. did you really think i was as shy as i make people believe?”

her eyes bore into yours. “no,” she says hesitantly, “i just didn’t realize people from your kingdom were all too interested in royal affairs other than the newest marriage or child.”

you raise your eyebrows at this and open your mouth to question her, but before you can, she asks, “what do you mean, ‘make people believe?’ do you have a reason to put a mask on your personality?”

“of course not,” you reassure her, feeling the breath from her lips in this enclosed space, “i just prefer to only show inner self to people who are interested in it. you’ll find i’m much different in private than i am in public,” you say.

her eyes glow suspiciously, a smirk appearing on her lips. “in private? interesting...”

“no, no wait, not that,” you laugh nervously.

“you’ll find my private persona contrasts to my public one as well,” hyejoo’s voice changes to a darker, yet hesitant tone. she seems to be waiting for your reaction.

you don’t really have a reaction. well, you do, you’re completely and utterly stunned. you’re not used to attractive women flirting with you in dusty, confined spaces. your mouth hangs open and you just. stare.

your mind turns back on again, and you splutter out, “how, how nice.”

hyejoo audibly sighs at this, looking slightly hurt. she takes a hand away from your chin. you hadn’t even realized it, but she had been holding you in place, making you look into her eyes. the thought sent tremors through your body.

you speak without thinking about it, remembering something, “what did you mean by ‘people from your kingdom’? aren’t you from here too?”

eyes wide, it’s hyejoo’s turn to be at a loss for words. she takes a deep breath before explain it to you-

“listen, y/n, i’m only telling you this because i know i can trust you. don’t ask me how or why, but i just know. i’m not from this kingdom, as you realized. i’m from aurileo, the eastern kingdom.”

“aurileo,” you mouth quietly, “why are you here then?”

“shh,” she says, bringing a finger to your lips, “just listen. i’m not here to become a handmaiden. i’m here to spy.”

to hyejoo’s shock, your eyes light up in glee at this. “a spy? really?” she nods.

“what’s your mission then?”

“my mother sent me here. i’m to learn the ways of heredian royalty, so that when i take the throne, i can destroy it from the inside out.”

previous ~ next ~ masterlist

#femifics #electra #loona #son hyejoo #loona fluff #loona angst #loona imagines #loona reactions #loona x reader #son hyejoo x reader #hyejoo x reader #olivia hye #olivia hye fluff #olivia hye x reader #olivia hye angst

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sweetiepie08 · 3 years

Text

Rebel Z (Chapter 10 Final)

nvader Zim fanfic

While analyzing Zim’s PAK for weaknesses, Tak discovers strange coding that sends her on a search for answers. The clues lead her to uncover a conspiracy that governs all of Irken society. When the truth sends her on the run, she has no choice but to return to the one place the Tallest would never willingly go: Urth.

Meanwhile, Dib has noticed odd changes in Zim’s behavior. Has the invader simply grown bored of his mission over the last few years, or is there something more interesting going on?

People who asked to be tagged: @incorrect-invader-zim , @messinwitheddie, @reblogstupids, @cate-r-gunn

If anyone else would like to be added to the tag list please let me know.

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Chapter 6. Chapter 7. Chapter 8. Chapter 9. Chapter 10.

Thank you for reading! I do plan to continue the story in a sequel fic, but I may take a short hiatus first. I hope you enjoyed this!

Be on the lookout for the next book in the series, RevolutionZ! In which Zim and Tak attempt to join the Resisty and gain new companions! Dib fills his gap year by joining an alien rebellion! Gaz gets dragged in too! And what happened to Zim in Death Melee is explained!

However, I will most likely only be posting links to Ao3 than full chapters to Tumblr. Again, Thank you everyone for reading!

[-]

“So, what exactly the fuck was all that stuff with the punch about?” Dib asked once they were a comfortable distance away form the Massive.

Zim glared straight ahead at the stars. “It’s nothing that concerns you, human.”

“Bullshit!” Dib slammed his hand down on the control panel. “Your little stunt could have gotten us killed. Out with it!”

Zim gritted his teeth and gripped the steering mechanism until his knuckles quaked. Dib braced himself for the inevitable screaming denial. Instead, Zim let out a pained sigh. “Fine, if you must know, I figured out three Urth years ago that my mission was a sham and my leaders were trying to have me killed, so I took revenge. Happy?”

“We know all that,” Tak snapped. “And anyway, I told you your mission was a lie a long time ago. What I want to know is how you managed to betray the Tallest without your treasonous thoughts setting of your life clock.”

“Yeah, and who’s Spek?” Dib added.

“You wish to hear Zim’s tale of woe?” He clenched his fist and heaved out another sigh. “Fine. Three Urth years ago, the Tallest contacted me, telling me they selected me to participate in Death Melee, an inter-galactic event that all would be watching.”

“The one where they throw criminals on a planet together to fight to the death?” Tak deadpanned. “That was your first clue?”

“They told me the rules had changed and it was now a contest of elite warriors. For my partner, they gave me a Spek, a smeet just shy of his cadet years. He hadn’t even seen his first cycle yet…” Zim’s fists shook as he cut himself off.

“Since you’re still alive, I’m assuming you won,” Dib said.

“Yes, but…” his gaze fell to the floor. “Yes. Anyway, throughout the Melee, it became clear to me that the Tallest lied. This was still a game for criminals, but Spek…” Zim narrowed his haunted eyes, “he was only there to lessen my chances.”

Dib watched, mesmerized. He thought he’d seen the many moods of Zim. He’d seen everything from proud boasting, to spiteful rage, to pathetic schmooping. But this, this was something else entirely, something he never expected to see from the alien. True remorse.

“On my journey back to Urth,” he continued, “I had too much time to think and when made it back to m base, I was done with all of it.” Rage grew in his voice with every word. “I knew they lied. I knew they’d been lying. For a moment, I thought, if they didn’t want my genius, maybe someone else would. And that thought was enough to set off my life clock. Instead of simply ripping out my feedback chip, I infected it with a virus that sends the Control Brains a loop of my Urth memories, preventing it from receiving new thoughts and experiences.” A bitter, satisfied smile came to his face. “As far as I can tell, it hadn’t noticed anything was off until now.”

“And the machines I saw you building?” Dib pressed.

Zim drew himself up. “I have a contract with the Resisity. I build them machines, they appreciate my genius and send me monies.”

“And that’s what you’ve been doing for three years?” Dib asked, voice sripping with skepticism.

Zim nodded and said nothing more.

Dib stared at him, trying to get a read on this whole tale. He wasn’t sure what to believe. Zim’s reason for existence seamed to be pleasing his Tallest. The little green monster talked of nothing else since arriving on Urth. He couldn’t imagine Zim wanting anything else and he’d fallen for the schmoopy act before. But this was not schmoop. It was too subtle, too quiet. And that betrayal of his Tallest couldn’t be denied. Something had truly changed.

Dib looked to Tak to gauge her opinion, but her face revealed nothing except careful calculation.

“I’d heard the Resisty had been growing and gaining power,” she mused. “New technology granted them upsetting victories and made them more of a problem than they once were. They could be the key. We need to fight if we ever want a chance of defeating the Control Brains and freeing our people, and for that, we’ll need an army. With your connection and my information, we could pose a real threat to the Empire.”

Dib expected Zim to launch into another tirade about how he wasn’t in it for the politics. That this was all a personal mission and he had no interest in going rogue. That did not happen.

Instead, Zim said nothing for a long time. He simply stared through the windshield in tense silence. But then, a grin grew slowly on his face. “I’m in.”

[-]

When they made it back to Earth, they found that Gaz made use of MiMi and Mini Mouse as gaming companions, Dad bought her excuse that Dib was hanging out at Zim’s house, and that he hadn’t even stopped home long enough to notice the two additional robots in the living room.

Dib went straight to his room and laid out all of his recording devices. He had the notes he took the night Zim and Tak rambled drunkenly on the couch. He had the audio recording of the old man Irken that he couldn’t wait to translate. And he had the spy camera he’d been wearing to capture the whole experience. He never got so much undeniable proof on one mission before, and no one, to his knowledge, had this much evidence of this quality ever. He’d be king of the Swollen Eyeball network if he showed even a fraction of…

His eyes drifted to the Swollen Eyeball emblem pinned to his bulletin board and he let out a sigh. The Swollen Eyeball… what a joke. They’d been reduced to a bunch of anti-science conspiracy nuts. The organization became a competition to see who could shout their wildest theory the loudest. What were they compared to a real evil alien empire, a real soul-sucking, Lovecraftian horror, and a real space alien rebellion?

No. This was bigger than some crack-pot conspiracy group. This rebellion universe-shattering consequences. And he was going to be part of it.

[-]

Out in his ship, Zim stared at his PAK connector with warry eyes. He wasn’t sure what held him back now. His stunt on the Massive already solidified his traitor status, but this felt different, more official. It was one thing to enact vengeance on those who betrayed him. It was quite another to completely detach himself from society.

He’d been unwaveringly loyal to the Empire since his conception, but they didn’t want him. He’d seen that years ago. So what was he waiting for?

He disconnected the PAK from his back and ignored the lifeclock in the corner of his eye as he plugged it in. He opened the hatch, clicked a pair of tweezers in his fingers, then reached them toward his feedback chip.

At a light tug, his computer’s voice gave an automated warning.

You are attempting to remove the feedback chip. Doing so is an act of treason against the Irken Empire. Are you sure you want to proceed?

Zim closed his eyes and pulled the chip free.

[-]

Tak’s footsteps echoed as she walked across the concrete garage floor. MiMi’s metallic feet clacked beside her. Apart from that, the room was silent. She was used to silence. One grows accustomed to it when traveling alone through space. But these last few days had been anything but. And with Zim as her dubious ally, silent moments like this were certain to be few and far between.

And yet, this moment, she felt the need to fill it with something.

She popped open the windshield of her ship and hopped inside. “MiMi, my disc please.” Mimi reached into her head and took out the Urth data storage disc. Zim wasn’t the only one with a secret stash.

Tak took the disc from Mimi and placed it in a tray on the ship’s control panel. “Ship, track six please.” As she hopped out, music began to play. Smooth, jazzy horns filled the air and the singer began crooning.

Maybe this time, I’ll be lucky. Maybe this time he’ll stay…

The song was from an Urth performance art piece. The vocalist sang about some male mate. That part didn’t interest Tak in the slightest. Still, there was something about it...

Not a loser anymore, like the last time and the time before…

The song continued to play as Tak opened the engine access panel and began her work. While manipulating the many gears and wires, she found a few interesting repair methods that the human implemented over the years. Many employed the use of an Urth bonding strip called “duct tape”, which she had to admit came in handy. The human didn’t do a bad job, even if it was pretty slap-dash.

All the odds are in my favor, something’s bound to begin…

She finally untangled a mess of wires and reconnected them.

It’s gotta happen, happen sometime…

She fused together the final wire and the ship hummed to life. Fuel Regulation Systems online.

Tak smiled, “Okay Mimi, looks like we’re finally getting somewhere.” She ducked back into the access panel as the song his its crescendo.

Maybe this time I’ll win.

#invader zim fanfiction #invader zim #iz fanfiction #iz fanfic #zim #dib #tak #gaz #gir #rebel zim #rebel leader tak #zadf #sweetiepie08 #sweetiepie fanfic #sweetiepie writes #invader zim fandom

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jadekitty777 · 3 years

Text

On Your Six, Chapter 5

Day 5: Mission Go- Cooking for @taiqrowweek

Wait what do you mean I switched the prompt days around? Dunno what you’re talking about ;)

(Don’t worry it’ll make more sense in the long run)

Rating: T for this chapter, M for overall

Words: 2.5k

Summary: Qrow was what most of society would call a small-town criminal. But to those oppressed, he hoped only to be a healer. In an effort to make a change in the world, he moves from kingdom to kingdom, searching for branded omegas in need. His goal? To turn the derogatory words the reformatories forced them to bear on their skin into works of art.

Then one day, his past catches up to him in the form of Taiyang, his former best friend, with a brand of his own stained onto his skin and a plea for help in his eyes. Qrow has no choice but to answer, even if it means he’d have to face his mistakes once and for all.

[An ABO-style universe in a modern-day style Remnant. No Grimm, because people are the real monsters in this one]

Ao3 Link: On Your Sleeve

Tai had started feeding him.

At first, it had begun with little things, shortly following that fateful day he gave him the picture. Prepackaged snacks or fresh fruits or vegetables as a healthy addition to the cheap, instant lunch meals he could easily afford. Then it quickly dissolved into tubberware covered leftovers of various pastas or stews, things that kept well and were well adept at making in large servings.

By late May, with the advent of Qrow’s twenty-sixth birthday, Tai arrived at his place loaded with grocery bags, a proper skillet and a determined purpose to make his favorite dish of chicken curry. It was, hands down, one of the best meals he’d had in years.

Yet, even after the occasion passed, the trend continued until it seemed Sunday became the day his stomach most looked forward too. Normally, Qrow would put up a fight about being doted after – Tai wouldn’t be the first omega to develop the habit. The most prominent of whom had been Maria, whose sessions had to be shorter than most both due to her age and the difficulty working with thinner, more wrinkled skin.

But she had also been a grandmother. A feisty one, who smacked him on the head a lot with her cane, but was also kind and worried and constantly remarking on his too-thin frame until he just gave up and let her do whatever she wanted.

But with Tai, he couldn’t even manage to feign annoyance. In part because Tai’s cooking was damn good and he’d be a fool not to gobble it up at every opportunity. But also, because it gave an excuse for their sessions to run long.

He didn’t even think it was a one-sided endeavor. Beyond the innate omega instinct to care for and Tai’s naturally generous personality, there was a loneliness in those blue eyes that told the truth behind all the fumbled attempts to waste time or make breaks run longer. By July, Tai wasn’t leaving his place until at least ten at night.

Neither of them complained about the arrangement.

Then August rolled around, and Qrow had an absolutely foolish idea.

The first Sunday of the month was on the 5th and it passed with little incident or notice. They were back at the first of the designs, arguably the most complex with the amount of color layers needed, so their dinner was nothing fancy. Just simple sandwiches and side salads, so most of their time could be spent under the needle instead.

He’d banked on that happening so that what would happen next wouldn’t have a chance of paling in comparison.

You busy tonight? He messaged early Wednesday.

Tai responded a few hours later, probably when his first break popped up. No. Why?

Come over after work. I have something to give you. He replied after he’d finished with his client for the day, sometime early afternoon.

The final response was cheeky and towards the end of the school day. You’re about as subtle as a brick.

Almost at 6 P.M. on the dot, there was a knock on his door.

“Coming!” Qrow called, dancing between the kitchen and the table to make sure everything was perfectly in place. He gave it all a satisfactory nod, then hurried over, sliding the door open only enough so he could wedge between it and the threshold, blocking Tai’s view.

The omega looked different, fresh out of work. His blond hair had been lightly gelled, just enough to give it a bit of bounce. The casual wear he was normally in was swapped out for a more professional look; pants and a collared shirt ironed of any wrinkles and shoes shined enough they gleamed.

So of course his eyes fell onto the one thing that completely ruined the look with a teasing snort. “Nice tie, Tai.”

“You like it?” He grinned, pulling at the absolutely hideous yellow abomination that was covered in yapping cartoon corgis. “The kids love ‘em. They call me the Funny Tie Guy.”

Oh Gods. “Bet you get a kick out of it every time.”

“I literally can knot get enough of it.” Tai had the nerve to wink as he said it too.

Qrow groaned. “You are so lucky it’s your day. Speaking of-” He swung the door open, revealing the room with a flourish.

Admittedly, it wasn’t much. Still, it was satisfying to see the way Tai’s face lit up with joy as he spotted the modest little table set for two, dinner already set in their bowls and the most expensive white wine he could reasonably afford already poured. The omega looked from it to him, grin growing, “You did all this?”

“Yeaaah.” Qrow flushed, trying to hide his anxiety. He’d never been great with giving gifts. “Happy birthday ya big lug.”

Tai laughed, throwing an arm over his shoulders and pulling him into a hug. “Thank you. This is just what I wanted.”

He could have stayed there forever – but he didn’t work himself to death to let dinner go cold. He pat his back, mindful of the healing wounds, and said, “Let’s eat.”

Qrow’s relationship with cooking was disjointed and the spread seemed to reflect that. The fried rice was perfect; it was one of the first things his mother taught him how to make on the stove. The garlic broccoli, more of a staple in the Xiao Long family, had a bit of crunch where some of the pieces hadn’t fully cooked through because he hadn’t had Tai beside him to remind him to stir. Just like the many other easy things he helped him learn how to make when he found out he and Raven had been living off nothing but white rice and peanut butter sandwiches for months.

The moo shu pork was the trickiest and most complicated dish by far and nothing he’d ever even attempted before. His amateur hand left it looking a bit of a mess as they poured it onto the tortillas. Unpretty as it was in presentation and lacking a few of the pricier ingredients like oyster sauce and sesame oil, the marinade had the pork still bursting with flavor.

The wine was there to act as a garnish to make the food seem better than it was. Which was probably why Qrow kept pouring it until he and Tai had split two and a half glasses between each other. Either that, or because Tai was adorably chatty when he was tipsy.

“So, there we are, watching about thirty of these Fayblades spinning around, knocking into each other and some of the cheaper ones are falling apart. Everything is going too fast for any of us to do the math problems on them. And Missy and I just look at each other like we both just realized what a horrible mistake we made. It was only the first week back and I was pretty sure we were about to lose an eye or something.” As he told the story, Tai animatedly gestured around with his glass, liquid sloshing almost past the rim. “We get the kids to back up until they all stop. Then Missy starts gathering a few up, saying how this time we would try less so we can actually keep count – when Velvet speaks up from the back and says ‘Blue wins 124 to 90’.”

Qrow polished off his own glass, setting it on the table. “That’s the quiet one with the rabbit in her bag, right?”

“Mmhmm. She kind of tries to hide when everyone starts looking at her, so I don’t say anything right then. Just take it as fact and move on. But when recess comes around, I pull her aside and ask her how she knew the answer. And she tells me, completely serious mind you, that she’s a camera. So it was easy to do all the math when she basically had the pictures saved in her head. And I’m like, holy shit!” He taps his temple for emphasis. “She has a photographic memory.”

“Ain’t that just a myth?” He asked, starting to gather the empty dishes.

Tai waved him off. “Pfft. Qrow, you gotta stop thinking like the world’s just a big science textbook. It’s more like a-a fairytale! Where magic can happen at any moment.”

“Tai, you’re drunk.”

“I am not!” This time, when he gestured, some of the wine hit the table. He blinked down at it. “Ah, shit!”

He laughed. “Man, you still can’t hold your liquor.”

“You dishonor me.” The omega accused, pointing to his right hand as if it were an exhibit. “I’m holding it just fine.”

That only made him laugh harder, until he had to wipe tears from the corners of his eyes.

Somehow, they found themselves laying side by side on the bed, shoulders pressed together. Tai’s scroll was balanced between the head of the bed and the wall, the display playing the finale of their favorite show growing up, Silver Eyes. It was the height of the final battle. Rosette was locked in battle with Bastinda while the rest of her friends lay, unconscious or ensnared in traps, around them.

“Do you not yet see how pointless this all is? How my power eclipses you all?” Bastinda snarled as she swung her wand down. “You’re all just insignificant riffraff!”

Rosette seemed to find some strength, blocking the attack with her broadsword. “You’re wrong! No one is insignificant! Even the smallest of us has something good to contribute.”

“Foolish child!” A powerful gravity spell threw Rosette to the ground, knocking her sword out of her hand.

“Gods,” Qrow griped. “This is cheesier than I remember.”

Tai shushed him. “Hush, the best part’s coming up!”

He rolled his eyes, but his traitorous mouth smiled all the same. Alright, so maybe this part was pretty hype. Watching it play out again on the screen, he felt ten again, practically glued to screen as his excitement built.

A large shadow stretched across the valley, delaying the witch from striking the final blow as she turned to the source. Up on the hill, sun behind him, was Zwei. Rosette’s little corgi that had been with her from the start of the show. He came racing down the hill, stubby little legs barely able to pick up speed.

Bastinda sneered, pointed her wand at the dog. “Pathetic.”

“Zwei, no!!” Rosette cried, tears filling her eyes just as the blast fired.

It seemed like the end for the lovable pup as smoke filled the air.

And then, with a blast of light, something came flying out of the dust and landing before the witch. The world rumbled under powerful paws as the giant white wolf stood before her, letting out a powerful growl that brought her to her knees.

“I don’t believe it!” Blanca cried from her mirror prison. “Zwei’s a Guardian!”

The rest of the finale played out just as he remembered, Zwei turning the tide of the fight and giving Rosette a chance to free her friends, all of them coming together for one final attack that rid the world of the cruel witch once and for all. After that, the wolf turned back into the lovable and more marketable corgi pup, and everyone headed home to enjoy true peace for the first time in a millennium.

Tai sat up as the credits began to roll, stretching his arms above his head. “I still think it holds up pretty well.”

“Sure, if you ignore the fact they completely sidelined Silver Eyes. It’s only the title of the show.” He snarked.

“Come on now. It’s not about the power ups. It’s about the journey and the-”

“Friends they made alone the way.” He mimed gagging. It was only the motto shoved down his throat at the end of almost every episode.

Tai merely laughed at his antics, picking up his scroll and slipping off the bed. “It’s late. I better head home.”

Maybe it was the vestiges of the alcohol or maybe it was the other’s scent, sweeter and more inviting than usual, that loosened his tongue enough to offer, “You could crash here, if you want.”

“In your bed? We hardly fit.”

Acquiescently, he rolled onto his side, practically shoving himself against the wall as he pat the wide, empty space. “It’ll be fine. And your drunk.”

“Hardly. And I’ll have to get up early to get back home and get ready.”

“It’s fine.” The noise left him involuntarily. It wasn’t a growl, really; it was barely more than a rumble. Regardless, the regret hit him instantly as he bit down on his tongue and turned his face up apologetically.

The omega just arched a brow, entirely unaffected and unimpressed by his pitiful display. Then he chuckled, any meteor-sized tension there could have been burning up long before impact could be made. “Gods, you’re such a punk, you know that?”

“I…uh…”

“Alright, you win.” Tai set the alarm on his scroll with his right hand, while he crossed the room and got the lights with his left. He used the glow coming off of the device to find his way back, dropping it onto the nightstand. In the bits of moonlight coming from the window, Tai became an erotic beauty as he undid his tie and buttons, shrugging out of his shirt. His belt hit the ground next – though mercifully he kept his pants on.

Qrow watched him, utterly transfixed, as he lowed himself to the bed, mattress dipping anew with the readded weight as the omega stretched out onto his stomach. Beyond all comprehension, he had to fight every muscle in his body from reaching for him. The need to bring him close and curl around him was overwhelming. So, he shoved his hands underneath the crook of his neck and locked his elbows.

Why had he thought this was a good idea again?

Tai heaved out a long sigh, mumbling, “Goodnight Qrow.”

He swallowed, voice barely above a whisper as he responded, “G’night.”

Without a clock in the room, there was no telling how long he lay there, coiled up tight like a spring waiting for the pressure to come loose, listening to the sounds of Tai’s breathing slowly evening out. It wasn’t until Qrow was absolutely certain the other wouldn’t wake that he risked it.

Though it felt a bit reprehensible, it was with that same uncontrolled desire in which he found himself scooting his upper half forward, inch by agonizing inch, until the bridge of his nose was pressed up against the curve of Tai’s shoulder.

His eyes slipped shut, breathing in deeply. The omega’s scent swirled around him, sunflowers and soil and bright summer days; a smell that was unmistakably, irrevocably Tai.

Here. With him.

Slowly, the rigidity to his muscles relaxed and he finally drifted off, the scent embracing him as securely as its owner could.

#qrow branwen #taiyang xiao long #Taiqrow #taiqrowweek #rwby #fanfiction #Chase Firekitten's Tale

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marksinn · 3 years

Text

Passion Project: Inspiration

I don’t think I’m starting at the beginning with this post. Keep your eyes peeled for later posts that explain what I’m doing and why.

After a month of thinking about, sketching and painting designs, I have finally done something. Essentially, recently watching two films has pushed me into action, and a part of me is ashamed to admit it. There isn’t a word count or any typesetting to curtail my thoughts here, so strap in.

When I created this brief I figured I’d draw a million wee skateboards, colour a few of them in, then fling my favourites into Adobe illustrator and make them look good. From there I would take the 5 best up to the skatepark and ask some of the patrons there which designs stood out to them. Next, I would adapt the three front-runners and create sweet PhotoShop mockups that would show what my designs would look like as skateboards. If I had the time, inclination or money by the end of the project, I would have the design laid onto a real skateboard (I’ve been looking to buy a new one for some time) and then be proud of myself.

So I’ve drawn some wee skateboards. Then I started upscaling the designs onto the floorboards of my loft:

This was an exercise to let me see how small things need to be adapted to be blown up. Skateboards can have any level of detail that you like on them, I hadn’t considered this until I was trying to draw a semi-perfect triangle for the traffic cone, or until I was using chalk to recreate four cubes. It’s also been fun to work with different media on chipboard - I have learned that most kinds of pencil, paint, chalk and charcoal do not like being used on chipboard. Decorating paint, however, has no such issues. Thanks, Dulux!

And so, with a few of these under my belt, I decided to try some digital designs. So I jumped into Illustrator and totally ignored my sketchbook, coming up with three designs that were all inspired by the day I had just had. The top design, I’ll focus on last, for reasons that will become apparent (unless you follow me on Instagram, where you’ll already know that it’s an absolute hit, with over 19 likes already!). I was told by a guy at the skatepark that he likes decks with very basic designs, just a colour or two, nothing overly detailed. Another skater told me that he often likes the basic wood background with one small emblem or sticker just beside the wheels.

The duo-tone design felt nice, I’m usually one for over-complicating things. I definitely have an attitude of “If there’s more in it, there’s a greater chance someone will find something they like”. The first colour choice put my girlfriend in the mind of a hand-bag she had seen photographed in the arms of Carrie Fisher - it was designed to look like a Prozac pill. So I changed the colours up, and added the separating black lines and textures to give it some subtle character. I then went full meta with the Minimal design. And, if I’m being honest, I’m incredibly happy with how it looks like a wee character. Expect to see that making a comeback in the very near future. But the top design is what really got me going.

I’ve recently been watching...

...Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse, and have been loving Miles Morales’ multiple hobbies of graffiti, mixing beats and saving his neighbourhood from a variety of dangers.

I then went to the cinema to see In The Heights, telling the tale of the Latin community during a blackout in North Manhattan. I found myself wrapped up in the romance, tribulations and music of the cast, and was felt oddly proud of Lin Manuel Miranda - who wrote this as a stage-musical while he was in college, had a modicum of success with it, then went on to create Hamilton, one of the most important musicals of our time. With the success of that particular show taking the entire world by storm, he was given the opportunity to make his old, relatively only semi-popular play into a blockbuster film. You can’t help but be inspired by someone like that.

I often find towards the end of a film I’m inspired by the characters’ journeys: be that from zero to hero, from lonely to loved or from rags to riches. Then I walk out and carry on with my normal life doing normal things. And as the hero of the story’s dreams all came true in the closing minutes (sorry for the spoiler, but it’s a musical, they rarely end in despair), a thought floated across my mind:

I’m utterly sick of being inspired

Now, to my credit, I did figure out in the car home that ‘tired’ would be a far more fitting and rhythmic word to use in this sentence, but this was a mentality that I found resonated really strongly with me. I’m very good at being inspired, I think most people are. We hear stories of people starting their own business, achieving some sporting brilliance or overcoming a personal hurdle and we say “Wow, isn’t that inspiring?” or

“It really inspires you to go out and make a difference!” or

“They are such an inspirational speaker!”

Then we go off about our day, not acting on the inspiration, and, for the most part, remaining uninspired. So I decided to act.

I did some very quick research (/acquiring of images of graffiti) in order to get the right shapes and textures to create a spray paint effect in Illustrator. I did some very quick research (/confirming the colours) of South American flags, taking the blue and red used in flags of the home nations of Miles Morales from Spider-Man and Usnavi from In The Heights. And I created the top design.

YES! I had been inspired and I had drawn a wee picture to show that - I had acted on my inspirations!

Then I looked to my left and spotted three, blank skate decks that I had bought on a whim from Re:Ply (a wonderful wee company who do a great deal of charity work supplying boards to people who need them, selling boards to people who can afford them, and for a very reasonable fee, providing unusable decks to people who want to use them for artistic purposes). I realised I hadn’t acted on my inspiration, I had just drawn a few pictures of skateboards with the eventual aim of PhotoShopping them onto other pictures of skateboards.

So I took myself...

... into the city centre with a shoddily prepared speech: “I’m looking for some cheap, small cans of spray paint. I’ve no idea what I’m doing, or if I’ll be good at it, so don’t want to invest too much into this.” Hiding behind this self-deprecating shield I barged into multiple art-, pound- and model-shops and pleaded with the staff to help a young idiot out. Amazingly, a very kind shop assistant pointed me in the direction of Fat Buddha, a clothes shop I’d always ignored as it seemed a bit to “...” for me. I don’t know what it seemed, but I knew it wasn't my kind of shop. Happy to prove me wrong, the guys in there were super helpful and they helped me buy my first cans of spray paint.

Now I’d spent money...

... and as a skinflint, that meant I had to get use out of my purchases. I had tricked myself into being inspired. Inspiration led me to the drawing, inspiration had led me to buy decks and the paint, now inspiration had to make me spray paint.

I’ll stop yammering on now. Essentially, I had planned on creating some analogue designs then digitising them (I’m guessing I should do a post on my brief, yeah? Might just upload the PDF to save me talking more), but then I found that I was doing the complete opposite. Genuinely accidentally. I had played with a few typefaces from various websites to get fonts that represented the ideas I wanted. The top one was semi-stolen (I can’t use the word ‘inspired’ any more in this post) from the end credits of In The Heights. The larger font is something of a nod to inspirational quotes you see on Facebook or on glittery frames in B&M.

I printed those out and cut them into stencils (very impressed that my digital boards have been drawn to a workable scale, thanks Maths). And after putting down a tack-layer (GRAFFITI JARGON (I think)) I sprayed the whole lot in blue.

Next, I tried to get a little fancy. Using cardboard blockers to create straight lines I added stars* (borrowed from the Puerto Rican flag) and made the bottom stripes vaguely reminiscent of America’s Old Glory.

I peeled the lettering off, and I’d done it. I may have to explain the overtly-negative inspirational quote to people, but to me it’s a clear sign that there’s no point in just being inspired, and that’s all I wanted.

A weight I didn’t know I was carrying was lifted from my shoulders. The plan was to possibly end up with a self-designed skateboard. And now I have one.

*Yes, I know they’re crosses.

#pp_hncgd1 #allhandsondecks #skateboard

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project-paranoia · 3 years

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Live Watch: Thousand Autumns Episode One

Oh wow someone got the good... guzheng? Something in that family of instruments anyway. They got the good music for that. And the animation is beautiful and beautifully synchronised to the clip excerpts.

And the imagery! The opening with the symbol of the Dao, and then main character number 1, Shen Qiao, all in white, in a fantastically and subtly ornamented outfit - I love the textures of the cloth they put in on the animation here, cloth and clothes textures are so easy to get wrong and they’ve done it beautifully here. I think this is supposed to be Shen Qiao’s original sect leader/zhangjiao outfit and he looks properly leaderly in it.

And this, followed by a closeup of Yan Wushi’s hand holding the ring of contention, and then Yan Wushi himself, very handsomely rendered in 3d animation - and again I have to voice my appreciation of the cloth textures. That’s actual subtly 3d brocade textures they’re rendering there, with the correct flow for how cloth hangs on the body, and the correct variances of light on the areas with thicker brocade and it is, frankly, very impressive. And they didn’t lose colour saturation doing it either, making that purple robe look suitably luxurious. The shiny hair ornament and one sidebang in white is a nice touch as well. As are the hints they set right in the opening that Shen Qiao and Yan Wushi are ... opposites, and complements, linking them back to the Yin/Yang balance of the symbol of the Dao.

So much love for this opening song it’s so good. Also going to be a pain to translate accurately with a proper sense of the poetry of it, but so good.

Alright episode 1 proper, 风雨欲来. The coming of the wind and rain, literally, I think. Maybe even the foreboding or oncoming storm, if you’re going for the feel of the term instead of literal translation. Oh. Oh that opening montage with the bird’s eye view and the fog and the high mountains - I was so taken by this scenery I sketched and tried to paint it at least 3 times. It’s a very moving shot. Also very much in the grand tradition of xianxia/wuxia, and also, even without a word, hinting at the traditional stance of the Mt Xuandu sect - to 出世， to remove themselves from the world to cultivate in the seclusion and clarity of the literal peaks above the clouds and dust of the world.

Oh. Oh that opening shot. The challenge to combat by Kunye to Shen Qiao. The.. subtle and ornate embroidery and brocade and patterning on Shen Qiao’s sect leader robes is so awesome. The wave motifs repeated in the 3 layers of robes, even on the hair ornament/冠 in his hair, the resolute look on his face! The closeup shot of the 山河同悲 sword - and what a name for it. A sword named for, if I may be excused poetry in translation - compassion and pity and fellow feeling for the griefs and pains and trials of the world as encompassed by the mountains and rivers - what a blade, and what a name, and what a bearer that would be worthy of it. A very good hint, at the kind of person Shen Qiao is, even before they have him open his mouth.

The contrasting costuming decision for Kunye et al is also very nice, hinting at the cultural differences between, say, the peoples that live on the central plains and the more nomadic groups living on less kindly land, shown in the different materials available/preferred - leather, furs, etc vs cloth, silk, cotton etc

And the fight choreography! So nice! The 3d animation works really well here,in that there’s no limitation to the capabilities of human bodies and it’s possible to really show in the visual medium the knock out drag down fight between 2 people whose martial - and quasi magical - capabilities are already at potentially mountain splitting levels. Not to mention also, showing that a Shen Qiao who isn’t being handicapped by sabotage... really can wipe the floor with Kunye if he wants to. And then, of course, once the fight gets to Half-step Peak and they’re out of sight of inconvenient witnesses, the signal for the ambush. And then the effects of the sabotage take hold.

Ah, flashback to 20 years ago, to provide the audience with the world info we need to understand the rest of the story. Not to mention also informing us why Hulugu would even bother. Or why Kunye coming in to challege Shen Qiao is so narratively important. And also introducing the ring that so many would fight over later.

Yan Wushi’s character introduction.. is quite something. As is Yu Shengyan’s. Ah, Shizun, congratulations on exiting your 10 year cultivation seclusion, would you like the highlights on the changes in the world in the past 10 years? But also a good show of character, because they have him not even looking at Yu Shengyan, but looking away in the distance, and telling him to only tell the most important bits, he’s not interested in useless words. Also serves as a nice introduction to some people who’ll be important later, and giving us a time marker for when Shen Qiao ascended to the sect leader post - 5 years ago, after the death of his shizun Qi Fengge. Ah Yan Wushi, your characteristically arrogant attitude - aside from Qi Fengge, who in life was worthy of being the first among all the wuxia world, the rest are not worth even mentioning. And here too a little hint that Yan Wushi might care a little bit in some way for those who are his, including his disciples - He tells Yu Shengyan that this location, this Half Step Peak that they’re at, because of its physical characteristics, is good for him to cultivate to the next level of understanding/enlightenment of the martial arts used by Huanyue Sect.

I love it whenever they hint that the more... developed characters whose martial arts are very good have improved senses. A little flow of blood in the water, Yu Shengyan notices something is wrong, looks at his shizun, and receives a nod of affirmation that he perceived correctly and should take action. And then after that, they come upon a body of one of the Mt Xuandu disciples, and Yan Wushi’s verbal remark that today, Mt Xuandu is troubled and not pure and clean. And then Shen Qiao literally falls from the cliff top - and the pan up makes it very clear that for most people, this is a lethal fall.

And then the surviving ambushers attempt to finish the job when Yu Shengyan checks whether Shen Qiao is still alive... and Yan Wushi takes the training opportunity when he sees it, and tells his disciple to use his strongest techniques to take on the remaining assassins. And then, when Yu Shengyan can't quite wipe the floor with them... criticizes his lack of growth, as might be expected of Yan Wushi, and steps in to really wipe the floor with the assassins, as might not be expected of Yan Wushi. Also doubles as a really nice display to the audience of his level of strength. In fact.. listening to the voice, I think one of those assassins appears, unhidden, in later episodes. Heh. Plot continuity, a nice one. As are the assassins having common sense, recognising Yan Wushi's infamous technique, and running before they're cut down.

Ahahahaha yes Yu Shengyan, your shizun really had you pick that fight for training, and he's really about to pick up Shen Qiao and have him rescued on a whim. Also nice to review, on rewatch for the details, that part of this whim is perhaps curiousity as to Shen Qiao's ability to survive and/or recover, as hinted by the thin thread of strength provided by the Zhuyang Ce, that Yan Wushi identifies as the thin strength keeping him alive, despite the aforementioned lethal fall.

Heh. Yu Shengyan – and maybe Huanyue Sect's other job – information gatherers aka spies.

Ah, Yan Wushi, you really are fascinated by people's reactions under stress, aren't you.

Shen Qiao awakens! Oof, the amount of damage – can't see, amnesia – damaged or even broken meridians – the donghua doesn't mention how much time passes, but given that Yu Shengyan mentions that Shen Qiao's broken bones have only just finished healing – could not have been a matter of days. Weeks, maybe even a month, minimum. Unless Yu Shengyan meant that the bones have only just been set – which could mean a few days. And then the mindscrew from Yan Wushi, telling poor amnesiac Shen Qiao that, yes, your name is Shen Qiao, oh, and you are one of my disciples from Huanyue Sect! Someone sure is hasty to put his poke the injured person plans into action! Ah Yan Wushi, if you could please give Shen Qiao a break, he just had a near death experience! But also – the scope of the injuries – yes, it benefits Yan Wushi's plotting but also – Shen Qiao was injured beyond the scope of ordinary medicine? Yu Shengyan has to be stationed to basically care for him until he is able to awaken – and presumably recover – appropriately!

Alright, time marker, 3 months after previous events.. okay. Shen Qiao can walk, some, though the animators were careful to make it a clearly pained walk, in comparison to how he was moving pre-Kunye fight. And then of course the blindness, which may also explain how they've animated him moving with more cautious steps. And the coughing, and the eyes that can't focus – all in all, a detailed and careful show of how badly injured Shen Qiao still is. Can't help sniggering at every 'shidi' I'm hearing him say though. And Yu Shengyan... yes, really, even though you and your shizun can't quite believe it, there really is a person this kind and considerate of other people.

The appearance of the weiqi board motif! Strategy, and planning, and part of the arts of the refined gentlemen..and the hint of how Shen Qiao is perceiving/visualising the input that he hears, since he can't see right now. And the hint that he might be using qi to help sort through what he hears – well enough that he can identify it's a weiqi board, and even the piece being placed. Very Awesome. Especially when they show Yan Wushi possibly testing Shen Qiao's capability to perceive the world around him by hesitating and purposely not putting down his piece.. and Shen Qiao very naturally picking up the piece – black, the correct colour and the one Yan Wushi was about to play – and putting it in the correct position on the board that Yan Wushi was about to place. Is it any wonder that the next thing Yan Wushi checks is the state of his recovery?

And then we have Yan Wushi's characteristic multipronged planning – creating trouble for Hehuan sect, training for Yu Shengyan, testing opportunity for Shen Qiao. Very excellent, any and every outcome has benefit to Yan Wushi.

Ah the encounter at the medicine shop. Hm. Okay, the sharing of the medicine is clearly a hint to Yan Ziwen of some kind that he and his should be especially cautious tonight, perhaps even to run for their lives tonight. Though it's maybe a hint in the actions, and not the words, because the words don't sound suspicious at all. Neither do the actions, if you were watching as a observer and didn't know Yan Ziwen's paranoid character – a blind person would unsurprisingly wish to be extra careful where they put their hands. And at night, on the attack... for all that Shen Qiao can't quite see, and is currently relying on the rest of his senses... he can tell that something's off about Yu Shengyan's actions. And then... Shen Qiao remembers... the sword, and what Qi Fengge taught him. And then the confrontation, and the near strangulation by Yan Wushi... Shen Qiao has such a nice literary register to his speech. Four word phrases even under severe near strangled stress, with the right philosophical meaning to make his point to Yan Wushi. And then the reveal of Yan Wushi's plotting. Very nicely done.

And now, the first of Yan Wushi's many many invitations to Shen Qiao to forsake his daoist path and join Yan Wushi's ... evil sect is not the right word. Demonic path is technically correct but has moral overtones that don't fit. Join Yan Wushi's cultivation path, maybe. Join and get bloody revenge on everyone who's wronged Shen Qiao – and already there are so many of them. And we the audience wonder for half a second – is he going to do it? Is this going to be a revenge story? And Shen Qiao flat out refuses in words, in the first of many times. And then Shen Qiao walks away from Yan Wushi. Here the animation is a delight again – the audience gets to see the little micro expressions that flit across – he's actually walking away?! And then Yan Wushi does his dramatic gifting of the bamboo stick. And too, a few seconds later, the reveal of their movements being spied on by Duan Wenyang, and Yu Shengyan's orders to continue searching for .. something. Ah, the plotting in Thousand Autumns. Always a delight.

#山河剑心 #thousand autumns

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atc74 · 4 years

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Soul to Souls - Eight

Warnings: Sam is back (eeeek) and a bit of a dick, angst, another vision, impied smut, hold on, it’s gonna get a little bumpy...

Summary: Since she was four years old, Annaleigh has seen the same boy in her dreams. For twenty-five years, she grows to love the boy that has now turned into a man. Dean Winchester just lost the only family he has ever known. The guilt drives him to work harder than ever before. He works to forget the pain, until he meets Annaleigh and she turns his world upside down. What she learns changes both of their lives forever, but what will he do when he discovers the truth? Will he accept it or run back to the only life he has ever known?

Pairing: Dean x OC Annaleigh

Word Count: 2432

Beta’d by: @amanda-teaches, @katehuntington, thank you both for being my guides! Dividers and new cover art by the amazingly talented @talesmaniac89.

A/N: This was my very first series I ever wrote four years ago in September 2016 and I am so happy and proud to bring this back home.

Soul to Souls Master List

Annaleigh had seen Sam in her visions many times throughout her life and she recognized the man in front of them. After what happened in the Stull Cemetery outside of Lawrence, she knew she would never get the chance to meet him. He was her soulmate’s brother. She had grieved for the loss of a man she would never know. Any children Dean and Anna may be blessed with would never know their Uncle Sam outside of a photograph. Now, seeing him on Bobby’s porch, she started to doubt the visions, maybe even God Himself.

Dean immediately tensed up, and his arm tightening around her waist. They stood there for what felt like forever, neither breathing or moving. Annaleigh slowly rubbed smoothing circles on his back, and Dean started to relax a little as he stared at his brother. Anna knew a thousand questions had to be running through his mind right now, because they sure as hell were running through hers.

Sam descended the stairs and joined them on the walkway. Dean stared at his brother before starting and stopping a couple of times. “How are you h-? What the h-? When did y-? How?” was finally all Dean really asked his brother. He dropped the bag and gripped his brother in a hug.

“I don’t know. We have been trying to figure that out since I got back,” Sam responded, hugging Dean just as hard.

The brothers parted, and Sam turned, looking Annaleigh up and down. “So, you must be Annaleigh. Bobby has told me about you and filled me in what has been going on since I became Lucifer’s bitch. I am happy for you and my brother.” He smiled at her, but it lacked something; something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

She nodded, took a step forward and extended her hand, but Sam rushed her instead, wrapping her so tightly in his arms, she found it hard to breathe. He finally let her go, and she stumbled a little, Dean reaching out to grab her arm to steady her.

Anna looked up when she heard the screen door slam. There stood Bobby, quietly assessing the scene before him. Dean let go of her hand and bounded up the stairs. He reached for Bobby and the old, grumpy hunter smiled and threw his arms around her soulmate. “Damn good to see ya, boy.”

Bobby then set his gaze upon her as she stood there on the walk with Sam. “Well, come here, Honey. Let me get a good look atchya. See if this boy’s been treatin’ ya right.” Annaleigh ran up the stairs and embraced Bobby with all her might.

“God, I missed you. And, yeah, Bobby. He treats me right.” She looked over at Dean, a blush rising up her cheeks. Anna grabbed his hand as they headed in the house, Sam trailing behind them.

It was so good to see Dean smiling as they sat down to dinner, swapping stories and sharing memories over beer and whiskey. Even though what he and Annaleigh had together was wonderful, he still wore that weight-of-the-world look on his face when he thought she wasn’t looking. He carried the guilt of those he couldn’t save and until now, that had included his Sam. Witnessing their reunion, with Bobby, it felt like all the pieces of the puzzle were finally coming together. It felt right.

Anna excused herself to get the boys more beer. Dean reached for her hand, their fingertips grazing as she continued to the kitchen. A small smile tugged at her lips as she looked back at him. She turned her head forward again and ran smack into Sam’s huge frame.

“Oh my God, Sam! I am so sorry. I didn’t even see you there!” she gasped, before she walked around him, reaching for the handle.

Sam turned, his gaze on her. She could feel it, like it was boring a hole in the back of her skull, making her uncomfortable. “So, Annaleigh, Bobby tells me you are a prophet of the Lord. How’s that working out for you?” Bitterness seeping through his words, his frame blocking her path back to the den, to Dean.

“Sam,” Anna began as she turned around and handed him another bottle of beer after retrieving it from the fridge. “I have had visions of Dean, sometimes of you too, almost my entire life. This is not new for me. I am sorry if it makes you uneasy. It was hard for Dean to accept at first, too. Sometimes, I think it still is, a little.”

“So, I am trapped in the cage with the Devil himself, being beaten and tortured, and my brother was banging a hot redhead the whole time,” Sam said and laughed, the sound like acid on her skin.

“Now, hold on just a minute, Sam. That is not how things went down, and you’d know it if you listened to Bobby at all. You have to understand that Dean kept hunting after you went under. For months, he ran himself ragged. When he was not looking for ways to get you back, he hunted, and he hunted.” Anna felt herself getting angrier the more they talked; this is not the Sam she remembered from her visions or from her conversations with Dean. This was a Sam she hardly recognized, even if she had never met him before.

“And, he just happened upon a case in your home town, huh? How convenient.” The sarcasm felt like hatred as the words spilled out of his mouth.

“Yes, there was a case. I called Bobby, Bobby sent Dean. Do you have a problem with me, Sam?” she asked defensively, straightening up to her full height, not that five feet and a fraction of an inch was intimidating for someone of Sam’s height.

Sam laughed again, this time it was different. “I am sorry, Annaleigh. I most definitely do not have a problem with you. You are beautiful, and feisty, and clearly good for my brother. He seems happy for the first time in a very long time. I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong vibe. I am still working off some effects from Hell, I guess.” He embraced her again, this time, it was softer, more brotherly.

“Hey! Hands off my girl, bitch!” Neither one of them had heard Dean enter the kitchen.

“Just getting to know her, jerk,” Sam retorted.

Dean reached for her hand, pulling her towards him. She broke away from Sam, melting into Dean’s chest, and inhaled deeply, seeking the comfort she knew she would find there. Leather, a hint of gunpowder and something spicy she still couldn’t decipher. But, it was all Dean, and now it was hers. She sighed contentedly against him as he rubbed one hand up and down her back, kissing the back of the hand he had yet to let go of.

“Hey, Red, you okay? You seem tired,” Dean asked, pulling back a little to look at her.

Anna looked up into his impossibly green eyes and shook her head, curls tumbling everywhere. “Yeah, I am tired. It must be the drive. I am going to head up to bed.” She pushed up on her tiptoes, licking at his plump bottom lip. He eagerly took the hint, bending at the knees, and kissed her slowly, tenderly, before straightening up.

“I’ll be up a little later,” Dean called after her as she climbed the stairs, she blew him a kiss, then bid Bobby and Sam a good night.

After getting ready for the night, Anna sat on the edge of the bed, thinking about what Sam had said to her. From everything she knew of Sam from Dean and Bobby, and even from her own visions, she knew something was off. Maybe this feeling accounts for the restlessness she was feeling during the drive. She hadn’t been able to put her finger on it, but something had felt off, the closer they got to their destination.

Suddenly, she found herself on the floor, shaking, her head between her knees trying to control her breathing and the searing pain in her head. Anna started seeing flashes of another vision: Dean and her, Sam, too. It looked like they were in a hospital. Somewhere in the chaos of the vision, she heard a baby cry.

The door burst open and Dean rushed into the room, followed quickly by Sam and Bobby, weapons drawn. Anna lifted her head weakly and attempted to cover herself in the skimpy pajamas she had chosen to wear to bed, as the three of them stared at her.

“Talk to me, Red! Honey, are you okay? What happened? Are you hurt?” The questions came tumbling out of Dean’s mouth as he ran towards her, dropping to his knees as he slid to a stop right in front of her. With one arm around her waist and the other behind her knees, he lifted her off the floor, returning her to the bed gently, as if he were afraid she would break.

“Thank you,” Anna managed to get out as she tried to cover herself with a blanket. “I’m okay, really. I just got a little dizzy and must have fallen. I guess I don’t hold my liquor as well as you boys.” She tried to hide the lie with laughter, hoping none of them would notice.

Dean sat on the edge of the bed and wrapped an arm around her protectively. He looked toward Sam and Bobby, giving a subtle nod, and they took the hint, closing the door behind them.

“Annaleigh, tell me the truth. You only had one beer with dinner. What’s going on with you?” he asked, his jade eyes full of worry.

“Look at you, all worried about me,” she tried to joke with him.

Dean held her at arm's length. “Honey, I’m serious. What the hell happened?!” He wasn’t buying her story; it was a long shot that he would.

Anna took a deep breath, tucking a few loose curls behind her ear before she continued. “Honestly, Babe. I don’t know what happened. I was sitting here on the edge of the bed, and before I knew it, I was on the floor. My head started pounding, I was shaking, and I couldn’t control my breathing. I don’t know what caused it.” Another lie. Why am I lying to the man I have been in love with for most of my life? she thought to herself.

“I was so worried when I heard the noise. I ran up here as fast as I could. I was scared something happened to you.” He pulled her back into his arms and like magic, she instantly felt better. Her breathing had returned to normal, and the pounding in her head had receded to a dull ache.

Anna looked up at Dean. “Let’s just go to bed. I’ll be right as rain in the morning.” He nodded in agreement and released his hold on her, getting up from the bed to remove his clothes.

She turned on her side as she watched Dean strip down to his boxers. Even after all this time of seeing him, he still took her breath away, making her heart skip a beat. His legs, bowed perfectly, made her weak in the knees. Pressing her thighs together for a little relief, she continued watching him undress, her thoughts getting filthier the longer she looked. The soft hair that she couldn’t stop running her hands through...the pink and plump lips she couldn’t taste enough, as if her own life depended on kissing him...the sage colored eyes that look right into her soul....she couldn’t get enough of him. The fine lines of muscle were covered with a multitude of scars and miles of golden, freckled skin she wanted to trace with her tongue every minute of the day.

That must be where the term “drop dead gorgeous” comes from; her heart stopped and she couldn’t breathe for a moment every time she saw him. Oh girl, you got it bad alright, she thought. She smiled and shook her head, trying to clear her mind.

Dean climbed into bed and wrapped his arms tightly around her, pulling the covers up. He pressed his lips to hers so gently, it felt like feathers. Annaleigh let herself melt into him, Dean swallowing the sigh that escaped her lips. He brought his hand up to cup her face as the other wandered down to bring her leg up around his waist.

“You are so beautiful. I can’t get enough of you, ever. I will never get enough of this mouth, or those stunning blue eyes of yours. I forever want to feel your body next to mine. I want to run my fingers through your wild red hair every moment of every day,” Dean whispered against her skin as his mouth continued its exploration of her body, leaving a blazing trail in its wake.

She honestly could never have enough of this, of him, and what he could do to her body, her mind, her heart, her soul. The heights he could push her to, each time only to raise her up higher than last.

With her head on his chest, contentedly tracing patterns on his arm with one finger, she felt his breathing even out as he drifted to sleep. “I love you, Dean,” she whispered, praying and hoping he did not hear her. Annaleigh had twenty plus years of her life to get to know him and fall in love with him. She didn’t want to rush anything and scare him off. She had seen moments of their future, so she knew he would love her some day, but she also knew it might take him a little longer to get there than it took her.

They hadn’t really talked about “the future” or what life holds for them. With a hunter as your significant other, you learned to live in the moment and take each day as it rose. She knew what she had seen was not set in stone and any hunt could be his last, and not because he decided to hang it up. She knew that someday he might not come home to her. She prayed that whatever information God was feeding her through these visions was legitimate. Annaleigh could no longer imagine a life without him. She knew he had always dreamed of a family, and her hope was that one day, she could give that to him.

Did you like it? The nicest thing you can do for a writer is reblog their work and tell them, and others, how much you like it!

Soul to Souls tags: @emoryhemsworth @flamencodiva @iwantthedean @jensengirl83 @deanwanddamons @smol-and-grumpy @kbl1313 @waywardbeanie @whatareyousearchingfordean @princessmisery666 @spnbaby-67 @shy-violet-soul @lastcallatrockysbar @winchesterxfamilybusiness @fangirlxwritesx67 @squirrelnotsam

#dean x annaleigh #dean winchester #dean winchester x ofc #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester angst #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester smut #dean x ofc #dean winchester soulmate

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missmonsters2 · 5 years

Text

Lie With Me

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader/OFC

For @sunlightwanda summer writing challenge! 💕 - Fake Dating AU - Oneshot

Genre: Humor & Romance

Warnings: Very light sexual situations/thoughts. No smut. Also, every trope that comes with fake dating LOL

Notes: Thanks so much for letting me participate in your writing challenge 😊 I hope you enjoy it! Also whew, made it just before the deadline 😂

Translations/Transliteration: милый/milyj - Darling принцесса/printsessa - Princess

Count: 5975

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Out of all your time spent being an Avenger, you would say that Wanda was the person you were the least close with.

Not because you didn’t like her or she didn’t like you or anything, you just found that there weren’t that many opportunities to get to know the girl.

Wanda was getting private training from Natasha on the art of blending in and spy training 101. Her time was consumed by that, and you were generally busy taking on missions that kept you away from the compound.

On top of that, you’ve never been assigned to a mission with her before. You’ve literally worked with everyone but Wanda.

So, you were quite surprised when Wanda reached out to you for help on her mission.

You had just finished your own mission and on a private jet on your way back. Honestly, you were kind of excited to just go back home to relax. You had no more missions for the next little while, and it’s been a long time since that happened.

But when Wanda radioed in, you assumed you were probably her last choice to ask.

So, you had to make a pit stop instead.

You had no idea what her mission was even about, but whatever it was, you hoped it wasn’t something that was going to need to be dragged out.

You stopped in front of the house that Wanda gave you the coordinates to. Immediately, you notice from your peripherals through your sunglasses the neighbors are watching you discreetly through their window.

Before you can say or do anything, Wanda bursts out the front door, running straight for you. You immediately tense up the moment Wanda jumps onto you, forcing you to hold her, so she doesn’t fall.

“Wanda, what the fu--”

“милый! You’re finally back, I’ve missed you so much.”

Darling? You think to yourself confusedly. A scream wants to escape you and your muscles itch to push Wanda off, but you will yourself to calm down.

As an agent, you know that Wanda is putting on a show and you were going to blow her cover if you didn’t play along.

So, you force yourself to smile, wrapping your arms around her fully before spinning her around. You hear her laugh before you settle her down.

“I’ve missed you too, принцесса,” You tell her softly, and for a moment, her eyes sparkle, but it passes quickly before you can really make sure.

Wanda giggled a little more before grabbing your arm and dragging you inside the house with a positively wicked look in her eyes along with your luggage.

The second you’re both inside with the door shut, it’s like a switch.

Wanda drops your arm before turning to you with an apologetic look.

“Sorry,” she says. “Our neighbors, my targets, were looking outside. I had to make sure they see us.”

It’s the first time you’ve probably ever had such a long conversation with her, and you notice immediately that she’s got a subtle accent. Not as strong as when you first met her, nor completely gone like the last time you heard her talk.

It was clear she had a particular profile to play.

“Right...” you respond, “and exactly what is it that they’re supposed to see?”

“Well,” Wanda drags out, “I’m here to recover a specific item. It’s a half a million-dollar gold sphere that actually has an important microchip inside of it. The targets aren’t criminals, just wealthy club owners who may have bought it on the black market without knowing what it is.”

“Okay?” You say, not really sure what that has to do with you being here or the strange public display of affection that just happened outside.

“And,” Wanda continues on, biting her lip a little. “Well, it’s a gay couple who just seems to really only get along with other gay couples...I just want to get this stupid gold sphere so I can go home.”

You’re in disbelief.

Because this can’t be happening.

This isn’t real, you tell yourself.

“So...you’re telling me that your targets hate straight people and you can’t get close enough to them without pretending to be gay and dating someone?”

“It’s not exactly pretending,” Wanda mumbles at you.

“What?”

Wanda sighs and looks at you with her arms crossed. “Look, I really need your help on this; otherwise, I’m going to be stuck out here for months. I’ve already tried to ask Natasha, but she’s still on her own mission for an unknown amount of time and Carol is in space. Please?”

You really want to groan audibly because of course, you’re not going to turn Wanda down...it’s just...this wasn’t what you had expected when she said she needed help.

“Alright, alright, I’ll help you, but you owe me big time for this.” You point your finger at her, and she nods enthusiastically, and the whole thing can only suggest that Wanda wasn’t able to get very far without her “lover” around.

They probably wanted proof that she really was gay and dating.

“Alright, so, catch me up. What have you told them, and what’s our next move?”

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“You two are so adorable! I’m so glad you could make it. I was beginning to believe Wanda here had made you up.”

You laugh boisterously even though on the inside you were dying a little. Everything felt sprung on you.

Wanda had let you know the two of you were actually going over to the neighbors later that evening. Their names were David and Liam King, who owned the biggest LGBTQ+ nightclub in the city called The Kings & Queens.

So the next couple of hours, you and Wanda had to work out the finer details of your fake relationship.

Wanda had apparently told them you were a freelance photographer and you had traveled to do a wedding for a couple.

You were so thankful that Wanda had immediately reached back out to base after telling that story to set you up with an Instagram profile to show your portfolio.

It was like an unspoken rule between two agents that you guys would do whatever it takes to accomplish this mission.

You’ve done plenty of missions like this before with Natasha, so it shouldn’t be any different with Wanda.

The four of you were sitting outside on their patio around a modernly built bonfire. Dinner was a leisurely affair where you mostly talked about work. David and Liam were already inviting you out to the VIP section of their club, so Wanda was right in the sense being another gay couple did get her a quick ticket into their circle.

Wanda was currently curled into your side while your arm was wrapped around her, fingers entangled together.

You absently thought about how Wanda’s body was much warmer than you expected. She definitely seemed like someone who would’ve had poor circulation, but clearly, that wasn’t the case.

“I’m very much real, though I can’t guarantee whatever Wanda told about me is accurate,” you teased looking at Wanda who was grinning back at you and then she was looking at your lips.

The look stirred something in your lower belly, but you quickly shook the thought away, saying it was something you ate.

David laughed as Liam passed around some skewers and marshmallows. Wanda looked at the treat with her eyes narrowed, as if she wasn’t too sure what she was supposed to do.

You tried to not laugh at how adorable she currently looked, just pulling her closer to your side while you roasted the sugary treat slowly.

Wanda watched you do the activity, storing the image in her head so she could copy you after.

Once you determined the perfect texture for the marshmallow, you grabbed the graham crackers and a piece of the darker chocolate, assembling the treat together.

You were idly thinking about how you might’ve heard Natasha say she had gotten Wanda dark chocolate for valentine’s day once since they had to train together that day.

Wanda tilted her head, trying to remember the order you assembled the dessert together, getting ready to imitate what you had done.

But then to her surprise, you handed the finished dessert to her. She looked at your smiling face as she gently took it from you.

She took a cautious bite, immediately groaning a little at how much she was enjoying it surprisingly.

“S’mores are good, aren’t they?” You tell her with a soft smile, and Wanda smiles back at you.

You were subtly telling her they were called s’mores.

It was new to Wanda.

She had never had anyone take care of her in this type of way.

She had to remind herself that it was a role you were playing, just like she was.

“Oh my god, you guys are disgusting,” David dramatically said with a playful roll of his eyes before looking at his husband. “Why don’t you make me my s’mores?”

Liam looked panicked before all three of you laughed.

You ended up making three more s’mores for Wanda before she couldn’t eat anymore. Wanda sighs contently, falling back into your side, snuggling up to you with her arms wrapped around your waists, and your arm falling around her.

“So, how’d you two meet?” Liam asked as he grabbed David’s hand.

For a moment, the two of you panic. You definitely hadn’t thought that one out. You look at each other, Wanda’s eyes telling you that maybe you should tell the story.

The worst thing that could happen is that the two of you both try to blurt something out completely different.

“Well,” you say, trying to gather your thoughts. Natasha has told you some of the best lies she’s told were half-truths, so maybe that’s what you were going to do.

“I suppose we met through mutual friends,” you start off. “I was a newcomer to Wanda’s group of friends. I didn’t quite meet her until a little later, but I thought she was the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

Wanda felt her cheeks flush, the heat traveling all the way to the tip of her ears as she listened to you.

“Still, even after we met, I didn’t spend a lot of time with her. But...she was always on my mind whenever we passed each other or if I just missed being in the same room as her.”

“Oh my gosh, and then what?” David as enraptured.

Wanda was also curious about what you were going to say.

“Wanda one day asked me to help her with one of her projects,” you say, forcing a blush to your cheeks as you looked away shyly for effect.

“One thing led to another, and now I’ve pretty much secured Wanda and never letting her go,” you say jokingly at the end which gets everyone laughing.

“More like I’ve trapped you, милый,” Wanda teases you, and you playfully roll your eyes at her.

“No complaints here, принцесса.”

Wanda’s eyes twinkle once more with the nickname, and you’re caught up in staring at each other before David sigh.

“Even your nicknames for each other is so cute, I’m about to have diabetes from watching you two.”

You merely smile before Wanda lets out a yawn, and it’s either to signal you that it’s time to go or she’s fatigued.

Either way, you take the cue.

“We should head home,” you say to Wanda, a soft look on your face.

She nods as if she was extremely exhausted. You help her up while David and Liam stand up as well.

“Thanks so much for coming over, it was a blast,” David tells you.

“Thanks for having us over. We’ll host next time,” you tell them and they nod.

Before the two of you can walk off, David calls out again.

“Don’t forget to stop by our club on Saturday. I’ll let the bouncer know to let you guys into the VIP section.”

The two of you nod as you grab Wanda’s hand, lacing your fingers together, and lead her home.

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Wanda sighs the moment she steps into the house. The two of you are still holding hands, not seemingly noticing until you tried to go to the kitchen and Wanda wanted to sit on the couch.

You cough awkwardly as you let go, Wanda watching you with interest as you walk into the kitchen, grabbing the both of you some water.

“Well, this is going exceptionally well,” you say as you take a seat next to her.

“See?” Wanda brags. “I told you it would go much faster pretending to be dating.”

“They’re definitely an interesting couple. Undoubtedly lives the rich and partying lifestyle. Tonight seemed tame for them. Where do you think they’re keeping the golden sphere?”

Wanda took a sip of her water before replying.

“I’ve been to their house and already searched everywhere, so it’s not there. My guess is that it’s at their club in their exclusive VIP section. We’ll have to keep an eye out Saturday.”

You nod.

“Alright,” you agree easily, sighing as you went to stand up. “I’m pretty beat, so I’m going to head to bed. Any particular room I can crash in?”

It was then Wanda seemed to realize something.

“Yeah...about that.”

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“This is so cliché,” you mutter to yourself as you finished your nightly routine, getting ready for bed. Wanda just came out of the bathroom and was getting ready for bed herself.

Wanda had so kindly told you that there was only one room with a bed in it. The other rooms were “under renovations” because whoever gave her this house for the mission was too goddamn lazy and only set up one.

“Do you want me to take the floor?” Wanda asked as she looked at your face.

You scrunched your eyebrows together. “What? No, why would you do that? It’s a queen-sized bed, plenty of room for us to share.”

Wanda was about to say something else, but you cut her off.

“Please do not make this weird. We’re both grown-ups, and spies might I add, we can share a bed. I’ve shared a sleeping quarter with pretty much everyone at the compound. In fact, I’ve slept on top of Steve once, so please just get into bed.”

Wanda snaps her mouth closed before slowly getting into the bed on her side. You internally sigh in relief as you slide in yourself after turning off the lamp.

“You’d think my girlfriend would be more willing to sleep with me,” you say in the dark, teasing Wanda who merely chuckles, pushing you lightly from across the bed.

It was silent for a moment, your eyes drooping shut before Wanda opened her mouth again.

“Why were you sleeping on top of Steve?”

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The sun was hitting your face directly through the streams of the curtain.

You groaned lightly, shifting yourself into the warmth more intimately, burying your face in the mass of hair that was in front of you.

You felt something shift against your body, pressing back more intimately into you.

There was a fleeting thought in your head that this wasn’t normal. You were tempted to ignore it and go back to sleep.

The warmth was really pulling you in, and the soft scent of cinnamon and dry leaves were just lulling you back to sleep.

But then you opened your eyes slowly.

When you realized what the warmth was...you swallowed.

Sometime in the middle of the night, you and Wanda must’ve gravitated towards each other because now you were just a bunch of tangled limbs in bed.

Wanda’s entire backside was pressed into your front as you had a thigh wedged between her legs and arm over her torso. Her shirt had ridden up quite a bit during the night, so your hand was under her shirt, touching her soft, warm skin. You were pretty certain your fingers were just brushing the underside of her breast.

And Wanda wasn’t wearing a bra.

It was still the early hours of the morning, and the entire situation was disorienting for you.

You breathed deeply quietly.

You needed to detangle yourself from this without waking Wanda because you don’t think you could face her if she woke up now.

You try to shift slightly, but all you end up doing is accidentally rubbing your thigh against her.

Wanda groans lightly in her sleep, and you feel the panic rising in your chest.

But Wanda doesn’t wake up, and you silently thank the heavens.

You take a deep breath again, shifting more slowly this time, first your arm before your leg. It takes a ridiculous amount of time, but you manage to escape the bed without waking Wanda, and it feels more accomplishing than any mission you’ve ever done.

You head out the door, closing it as quietly as you can.

You breathe in relief, heading over to the room next door where you left your belongings. Changing into workout attire, you decide to go for a run.

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The smell of eggs and bacon hit your senses the moment you come back into the house.

You see Wanda standing in the kitchen, singing lightly as she’s cooking, wearing an oversized shirt.

You can’t describe it, but the image of it brings a warmth to your chest, and it spreads to the rest of your body.

Wanda turns around, seemingly hearing the door close.

“Oh, you’re back!” She says with a smile. “I made what they call, ‘a traditional American breakfast.’ Are you hungry?”

You smile at her because she sounds so ridiculous as she excitedly puts the hearty breakfast on the table.

“Yeah,” you breath, “I’m just going to clean up really quick.”

By the time you come back down all fresh and showered, Wanda has finished everything.

You take a seat as Wanda helps you put everything on a plate. You take a bite as Wanda watches your expression intensely.

“It’s good, delicious, really. Best I’ve ever had,” you reassure her and Wanda seemingly loses the tension from her shoulders.

“I’m glad,” she tells you. “Ever since moving to the compound, I haven’t had a lot of time to cook anymore with training.”

“Did you cook a lot before?” You ask before putting some more food into your mouth.

Wanda nods, bringing her hand up to her mouth as she tries to swallow her food quicker to answer.

“Yes,” she tells you. “Pietro couldn’t cook at all. I mean at all. So, I learned here and there.”

You give her a soft smile because you’ve heard since her brother died, she was...different. But you were glad she seemed to be able to talk about him now.

“That’s fair,” you respond to her laughing a little bit. “I’ve learned a few things here and there too since I used to do a lot of missions with Natasha...and she really can’t cook.”

“Are you going to explain to me the eyebrow incident? Everyone seems to reference it all the time.” Wanda asked curiously.

The smile drops from your face, and Wanda blinks at the sudden change.

“Never mention that incident again...I still have PTSD from it.”

Wanda sputters out a laughter which gets you smiling a little.

You would dare to say it out loud, but the way Wanda laughs makes your heart flutter.

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The next couple days until Saturday is strangely domestic for you since you had to keep up the charade.

The days were filled with gardening, mostly you watching Wanda garden as everything you touch dies, and cooking dinner together.

There was one evening that you and Wanda took a stroll around the neighborhood. The two of you just...talked.

You got to know each other pretty well, and it was weird how compatible you two seemed to be.

But not because you agreed on everything and had the same interests because you don’t. It was the way that you two fell into step with each other, a calming pull with hints of butterflies that settled over you when you’re with her.

To deeply put it, you two vibrated on the same wavelength.

And, well, she was funny.

It was getting comfortable, and you didn’t know what to do with that feeling.

Every morning, you’d wake up in an intimate position you weren’t in when you went to sleep, and you were finding it harder and harder to detangle yourself and get out of bed each morning.

You were shaken out of your thoughts when Wanda called you to help her zip her dress up. Wanda came out, holding her hair up and back turned to you.

You immediately blank your mind because the sight of her smooth bareback and defined shoulder blades was about to give you thoughts that would send you straight to hell.

“I can’t get the zipper all the way up, can you do it?” Wanda asked so innocently and frustratedly that you feel guilty for almost having such thoughts about her.

“Sure,” you reply, dryly. Taking a step forward, you lightly grab the edge of the zipper and pull it up until it reaches its end.

Wanda turns to you, dropping her hair that fell down her shoulders in loose curls.

“How do I look?” She asked you, and you looked at the attire in full. She was wearing a short clubbing dress that accented her breasts and collarbone.

“Perfect,” you say, and she beams at you.

“Let’s hope we find what we need tonight and hopefully we can be on a plane home tomorrow morning,” Wanda tells you, putting on some earrings.

“Yeah,” you reply for lack of anything else to say.

A part of you wondered if you would go back to being strangers once the two of you returned.

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It was quite the flashy club. Colored lights were blinking everywhere, and the music played so loudly that you could feel the bass thump against your skin.

Bodies were crammed onto the dance floor, dancing (grinding) and making out.

The bouncer let the two of you in easily once your name was given and directed the two of you where the VIP section was.

It was so packed that you ended up grabbing Wanda’s hand tightly so you wouldn’t lose her in the throng of people. You eventually pull her in front of you when you reach up the stairs so she could go first, putting your hands on her waist to follow her.

Once you’re at the top, you feel almost breathless.

“Damn, this club is crowded,” you say, mostly to yourself but then you hear Wanda chuckle.

“It is the most popular gay club here. I think that’s the room they’re in. Let’s go.”

Wanda grabs your hand again, pulling you to the back. Another bouncer is standing at the door, she tells them your names, and he steps to the side while opening the door.

You’re immediately facing a whole other group people.

“You made it!” David exclaims as he gets up to hug the two of you. He smells like tequila, and you know everyone has already started drinking. You look around the room to find another gay couple, a lesbian couple, and a single girl sitting on her own.

The single girl looks like she’s glaring at you slightly as she catches your intertwined hands with Wanda.

You cock your brow.

She looks like she wants to say something but David is introducing everyone to the two of you.

It mostly kind of flies over your head because these people are irrelevant to you and the mission. Wanda seems to be doing better than you for remembering the names.

The only name you caught was the single girl’s, Vanessa. Apparently, she had met with Wanda multiple times before because she hangs out with David and Liam quite often.

She obviously liked Wanda, probably thinking she wasn’t actually dating someone.

It rubs you the wrong way, and you don’t know what to think about that.

“The sphere isn’t in this room,” Wanda whispers to you quietly, passing it off as if she was whispering seductive things in your ear.

You lean against the wall, bringing Wanda a little forward with you as you cup her jaw and bring your lips to her ear.

“We can look around a little later. Focus on getting them drunk so we can look around,” you whisper in return, but to everyone, it looks like you’re biting her ear, especially with the look on Wanda’s face.

“Oh my lord, you two are already at it,” David teased, bringing the two of you apart. You merely smirk before taking a seat down. It just so happens that Wanda ends up sitting next to Vanessa while you’re at the edge.

Drinks are passed around, and you’ve taken a couple shots and now nursing your second beer.

It was good that you had a higher alcohol tolerance, and it seemed like Wanda was more playing into talking to everyone to distract them on the fact she was only taking sips of her drink.

It wasn’t hard to egg on David and Liam to drink more, and you didn’t have to do anything for the other couples.

The party was escalating as time passed. The VIP area was insane with bottle services and their own dance floor.

People were dancing on the floor to the music and flashing lights. You used the opportunity to peek your head out the door to see what else there was.

Around the bouncer, you noticed there were two other rooms and a turn that leads to a staircase.

You hummed.

You looked back to see Wanda dancing on the floor, swaying her hips and running her hands through her hair with her eyes closed.

You couldn’t catch the thoughts fast enough of how insanely hot she was and that you may have wanted to drag her to the washroom.

Wanda’s eyes snapped opened as she locked eyes with you, and it was like a hot electric buzz tingled in the air.

It was cut short when Vanessa came behind Wanda, turning Wanda around and pulling her into a dance—a grind with her.

It pissed you off.

A white, hot burning in your chest flares.

The sheer audacity this girl has to hit on your girlfriend—fake girlfriend—in front of you baffles you.

Wanda doesn’t even really seem to notice, just playing her role and calling for more drinks.

You push off against the wall, stalking your way over to Wanda who’s waving for more drinks from the bartender while Vanessa has her hands on Wanda’s waist.

You stop right behind Wanda, her back facing to you before you grab her arm, spinning her around out of Vanessa’s grasp and into your arms. Your hands slide up to cup her jaws on both sides, strands of her hair caught between your fingers as you capture Wanda’s lips roughly.

You can’t describe how it feels, but it’s like everything in you shifted, everything falling into place in the way you didn’t know you needed.

Wanda softly moans against your lips, pressing her lips over yours over and over again, her hand grasping your fingers against her jaw.

“GET A ROOM!” David yells from the dance floor. Everyone’s chuckling at you while you pull back slightly. You look past Wanda and glare at Vanessa who now seems to register that Wanda is off-limits.

“Might just do that,” you say against Wanda’s lips, grabbing her hand. Everyone is still so wasted and only getting worse as they dance.

You take this moment to pull Wanda out of the room. You notice that the bouncer is still there. Giggling, looking like a naughty couple, you drag Wanda into the room next door. The bouncer leaves you to be because he may have heard the commotion in the other room.

You push Wanda into the next room. As you shut the door behind you, Wanda leaps into you, capturing your lips again.

A surprised moan escaped your lips as you wrap your arm around her waist.

She’s kissing you quite enthusiastically, and you’re trying to return the fervor.

When you break apart for air, Wanda is flushed, her cheeks are a rosy color as she looks at you. You can’t stop thinking about her, how she smells, how she tastes.

It’s a little overwhelming. Wanda’s eyes dilate as she hones in on your thoughts.

“As nice as this is,” you breathlessly say, “we should actually look for the sphere.”

Wanda stared at you for a moment before lifting her body off of yours.

It felt cold.

You cleared your throat, licking your lips slightly, tasting the remnants of Wanda’s lip gloss.

Standing up straight, you looked around the room. There was nothing in the open, so you and Wanda began to shuffle through the shelves and drawers.

“Nothing?” Wanda asks you.

“Nothing,” you sighed.

“You said there was another room, right?”

You nodded but pursed your lips. “I highly doubt it’s in the other room, though. He doesn’t seem to be keeping it on this floor. We should just go straight for the basement.”

You slide the door open slightly to look down the hall. The bouncer is still standing outside at the other room.

You hummed.

At the same moment, Vanessa came spilling out the door, wasted as the bouncer turned his attention to her.

You take advantage of the moment, grabbing Wanda’s hand once more and exiting the room without the bouncer noticing. You lead her to the far back and take a sharp turn where the stairs are.

It leads pretty deep down until you reach the bottom floor. The two of you stand before the door before you open it.

You step in and...

“Are you kidding me?” You ask exasperatedly.

Wanda is blinking at she’s looking around the room. It wasn’t what you had expected at all. There was a large stage, then a built-in dance floor, and then tables and chairs set up.

You look up and...

“You’re telling me he bought a $500,000 golden sphere on the black market...to use it as a disco ball.”

The golden sphere with crystals embedded on it hangs from the ceiling, spinning in all its glory.

“I hate people,” you mumble as you throw a chair on the table and get up onto it. You make a leap and grab the sphere with enough force that it rips from the hook on the ceiling.

You land on the floor gracefully, tossing the sphere to Wanda who catches it with both hands.

“David just really loves dancing,” Wanda teases you as she sets the sphere on the table.

You huff slightly, watching as Wanda’s hands glow and her lithe fingers bring red wisps around.

Wanda essentially bends the metal open, grabbing the microchip out and storing it safely. She bends the metal back perfectly as if it hadn’t been touched at all. Using her powers, she lifts the sphere and puts it back on the hook.

“You’re telling me I just jumped to get it when you could’ve done that?”

“You got to pull your weight around here somehow,” Wanda smirks.

You roll your eyes playfully at her as the two of you leave.

No need to stay longer with the mission completed.

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That night when you get back home, Wanda reports in, and Tony is going to send one of his planes to pick the two of you up tomorrow.

You sighed after you had finished your nightly routine. Sliding into your side of the bed, you lay on your back. Putting your arm behind your head, you unintentionally replay today’s events in your head.

Specifically kissing Wanda.

“Keep thinking those thoughts, and you’re going to find yourself in trouble.”

You snap out of your thoughts to see Wanda enter the bedroom. She walks around the bed, taking off her cardigan and dropping it on the floor before she lifts the blanket and slides in.

She invades your space, scooting herself until her back is pressed against you. Reaching around herself, she grabs your arm and pulls it over her torso.

Wanda settles and sighs in content.

Her fingers are tangled with yours, and she’s taken the liberty of entangling your legs as well.

“Being pretty bold, aren’t we?” You say in the dark, eyebrow raised.

Wanda smiles, her eyes closed as she’s getting ready to sleep.

“Why not? I think after today there’s no need to wait for us both to fall asleep before we cuddle. Think you can at least wake me up tomorrow morning before you wander off?”

You feel your cheeks flush slightly.

“We did a job,” you argued.

“You didn’t need to kiss me like that,” Wanda retorted, referring to the dance floor and Vanessa.

“And let Miss Single and Desperate put her paws all over my fake girlfriend? I think not.”

Wanda shifts a little against you. “So, you were only fake jealous then?”

You don’t answer right away, nor do you move. All your life, every mission you took had meaning, had a direction, had a purpose.

The mission stayed the mission.

This was the first time you had to consider your actions--why you did what you did.

Without this mission, it’s possible you may have never considered Wanda in such a way.

Would Wanda consider you if you weren’t the one here?

Regardless, it happened, and now you cannot stop thinking about her.

“You should consider it,” Wanda says, interrupting your thoughts.

“Consider what?”

“Consider being mine for real, милый.”

The nickname rolls off her tongue so easily that you feel like you’ve been hers for a long time.

Your arm tightens around her, burying your head in her hair, the smell of cinnamon and dry leaves washing over you. You sigh lightly.

“It’s been considered.”

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

The next morning, the two of you leave bright and early. Everything all packed up as you get ready to meet Tony at the airport.

The two of you weren’t going to even say goodbye to David and Liam. They would just find a new family living in this house.

You’re holding hands as the taxi driver drops you off on the tarmac where Tony has his jet parked.

Tony sees your linked hands, smirks, but doesn’t say anything.

“Thank god that the two of you are finally coming home,” Tony comments. You’re putting your suitcases away and hum in response.

“Natasha’s been complaining about having nothing to do while she’s been home for a week.”

You pause for a moment.

“Wait,” you say, turning to Tony with your brows furrowed. “Hasn’t Natasha been on a mission for an unknown amount of time?”

That’s what you recalled Wanda telling you as she roped you into helping her on this mission.

Tony laughs. “I wish. She’s been getting stir crazy at home. It’s so bad, she’s contemplating trying to cook again.”

Tony walks past you, entering the plane while you’re confused.

You stand there, eyes slightly narrowed and looking down as you process that information.

If Natasha was home, then why didn’t Wanda--

Wanda smirks as she walks past you to board the plane as well, but not before quickly pressing her lips to your cheek.

“Come, милый, perhaps you can explain to me what the mile high club is that Tony keeps talking about.”

You blink, your brain nearly short-circuiting.

Wanda winks at you once more before she disappearing on the plane.

You’re hot on her trail as you hurry up the stairs and board the plane yourself.

Of all the Avengers, you would say that Wanda is someone you were planning to get the closest with.

Because you like her, and there were many opportunities for you to do so.

#mm: my fics #cantcontroltheirfearswc #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x ofc #Wanda Maximoff Imagine #Scarlet Witch x Reader #Scarlet Witch Imagine #Avengers #avengers imagine #Avengers AU #avengers reader insert #marvel imagine #marvel mcu #modern avengers AU #genre: humor #genre: romance

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vgckwb · 3 years

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P5R: Rebel Girl (A FeMC Story/P5R Rework) Chapter 51: A Nudge in The Right Direction

After breakfast, Ren decided to head over to the medical office of Dr. Takemi. Once she arrived, she said “Hey doc.”

Takemi looked up. “Oh ho, it’s been a while. I was beginning to think you were afraid of me.

“Nah, I know you don’t bite,” Ren said. “I’ve just been kind of busy.”

“Well, you seem productive,” Takemi said. “But actually your break was productive for me as well. I had some time, so I began processing the results of our tests.”

“Really?” Ren said. “And how’s that going?”

“Hm,” Takemi laughed. “It’s going exceptionally well. I think with a few more tests, this thing could be fully functional.”

“Splendid,” Ren said.

“Excuse me?” a man said, walking up. With him was his wife and their child, a young girl who looked under the weather to say the least. “Is this a medical facility?”

“Um, yes…” Takemi said, surprised by this development.

“We need some help,” the man continued.

“Our daughter is sick, and the treatment we’ve been given isn’t working” the mother informed her.

“I see…” Takemi said.

“Can you help?” the father asked.

Takemi was silent. Ren could tell she wasn’t entirely sure of herself, so she did what any friend would do; hype them up. “Of course. Dr. Takemi doesn’t have this medical facility for nothing. She’s an expert.”

The parents and Takemi looked at Ren. The parents looked at Takemi. “You’re in charge here.”

Takemi looked back at them. “Yes,” she said. She caught up to the situation and gained her confidence back. “Let’s see what we’re dealing with. Come in.” Everyone started to move except Ren. Takemi noticed this. “You too.”

“Her?” the dad said, surprised.

“She’s my assistant,” Takemi informed him.

“Well, OK then,” the father said. Ren shrugged and walked in.

Takemi was doing a check up on the symptoms her parents described. “Hmmmm.”

“We’ve been trying the medicine for over a month, but it doesn’t seem to work.” the mother said. “When we tried explaining as such to our normal doctor, he just brushed us off.”

Takemi finished her check up. “I see. Well, either this guy is either pretty stupid, or has an ego the size of Tokyo.” She went to her desk to write out a prescription. “Does she have any allergies I should know about?” Her parents shook her head. Takemi finished filling it out. “Well then, here. Her symptoms lineup with a few different diseases, but there are subtle differences, and I feel like they just got it wrong. If this medicine doesn’t see an improvement in her condition in a week, come see me again.”

The father took it, looked up to her, and said “Thank you. How much do we owe you?”

“10,000 yen,” Takemi said.

“What?” the father said.

Ren tried to cool things down. “That’s a joke. She does that from time to time.”

“I mean, it’s fine, we’ll pay it…” the mother said.

Takemi looked at all of them. “Tell me, the facility you went to before, was the head doctor there a man by the name of Oyamada?”

“Um, yes” the father said.

Takemi smiled. “Then consider today on the house.” Everyone was shocked. “That one was not a joke.”

The girls’ parents were still stunned, but they nodded, and the father said “Thank you.” They left to go get the medicine. Takemi sighed a sigh of relief.

“So, how does it feel?” Ren asked, smiling all the while. “Being a doctor in situations like this?”

Takemi smied. “While I didn’t like getting jumped into it,” she gave Ren some side-eye, “I will say, it is a rather nice feeling. While I get patients here, nothing like that really happens all too much.”

She glanced off. “To be honest, I thought I’d lost my touch. I was worried about what would happen if I did something wrong. I guess I still am, but the difference is I took action once you pushed me. Besides, I’m certain I figured the problem out. Not to mention I got to stick it to Oyamada. That’s always good.” Ren seemed a bit confused, but didn't worry too much. “So, despite the manner in which you did so, thanks for supporting me. I mean, I did call you in there for a reason.”

Ren was a little worried she’d get more of a reprimand than that. She smiled and said “Thanks.”

“By the way, we still have your test to do,” Takemi said. “Are you ready?” Ren felt a little sheepish, but nodded, and they ran the test as usual. Once Ren woke up, Takemi noted “Faster than usual. That either means the medicine is improving, or you’ve changed dramatically recently.”

“Well, I've been in Tokyo for a full two months now,” Ren said, not missing a beat. “The city certainly changes people.”

Takemi got a laugh out of that. “I mean physically, but I do like hearing about that. I take it you’re doing well.”

Ren nodded. “And part of it is thanks to your medicine.”

“Hm. Well that’s good to hear” Takemi said.

“Speaking of…” Ren said. She took the time to buy some. She bought more than she usually would as a sort of apology for forcing Takemi’s hand earlier.

“Well thank you” Takemi said after the transaction. Ren nodded. She flashed a very genuine smile. “You know, it’s nice to have a friend like you.” Ren smiled back.

Death-Tae Takemi: Rank 4

Ren left for the evening.

As she was leaving, she got a message from Yoshida.

Yoshida: I’m having another speech tonight. Care to join me.

Ren smiled.

Ren: Sure.

She headed off to Station Square to meet up with Yoshida. Once she did, Yoshida greeted her. “Ah, Amamiya-chan. Might I say that was quite a spectacle on TV.” Rn groaned. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” Ren said. “I’m just not used to that much attention.”

“I see,” Yoshida said. “Well, if you aim to be a politician, that can’t be avoided. People will always be watching you because you’re supposed to be a reflection of the people who elected you.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Ren said.

“Well, it’s about time,” Yoshida said. “Shall we get going?” Ren nodded. “Oh, before we go, I do have a question.” Ren was curious. “I could avoid it, but I did write this speech based around the interview, and there’s even a part where I point you out. Would you like me to take it out?”

Ren looked at him and shook her head. “It’s fine. People are already talking about it, and I trust you more than most people to handle things well.”

“Why thank you” Yoshida said, smiling ear to ear. “Now let’s go.”

Ren picked up the card she would be holding. “‘Tonight’s Topic: What We Can Learn from Today’s Youth’.” Ren smiled, picked up the card, and headed over.

Yoshida took his place, Ren took hers, and a crowd started to gather. Ren noticed some people from last time she was here, but also noticed some new faces. “People of Tokyo!” Yoshida began. “As you may know, the Phantom Thieves struck again, this time at the heart of the art world. Of course I was surprised by this as well. But one thing the two incidents have in common is that both perpetrators have abused children.

Society goes on and on about how we should think of the children, but are we really thinking? Or are we pretending to think about them when really we’re thinking of ourselves? Recent data shows that only 12% of people throughout Japan believe and admire the Phantom Thieves, with the plurality of that being children and young adults.

Of course, generational divides exist, and of course, with age comes wisdom, but as adults, we cannot ignore everything these children say just because it doesn’t agree with our point of view. Children have opinions and ideas. To ignore them would be to discourage them from thinking at all. Why, just recently my assistant here debated another student about the Phantom Thieves.”

The crowd was more alert as they turned to Ren to confirm it was her. Ren was feeling the heat just a little too intently and began hiding behind the card she was holding. “Ahem!” Yoshida exclaimed, getting everyone’s attention back on him. “This makes it very clear that children have ideas they wish to express. And the popularity of the interview suggests that people are willing to listen. But we can’t make that a sometimes thing. We need to learn to listen whenever we can. I know that they can’t vote, but that doesn’t mean that if I’m elected, I’m representing them less.

I will listen to everyone’s concerns, no matter who brings them to me. I am running to represent all of you. To be that reflection of you all. And I wish that I would be a reflection you are proud to wake up to in the morning, and proud to see before you go to sleep. Thank you.” There was a little bit of clapping.

After the speech, Ren and Yoshida met up. “Sorry about that,” Yoshida said.

“No, it’s fine. I said it was alright” Ren said, clearly exhausted.

“Well, neither of us expected that much attention to shift towards you,”Yoshida responded.

Ren gathered herself. “By the way, that was an excellent speech.”

“Ah ha, thank you,” Yoshida said. “And as I said earlier, you did well yourself. Especially against someone like Akechi.”

Ren was a bit stunned. “You know Akechi?”

“Well, not personally,” Yoshida said. “But his reputation as Japan’s second Detective Prince precedes him. He’s apparently solved quite a few cases the police were stumped by.”

“I see…” Ren said, going into some thought. “Switching topics…” Yoshida looked at her, curious. “Well, I know you said kids have their own thoughts, and you used mine and Akechi’s debate as evidence, but…I don’t know if that’s more the majority, or just a vocal minority.”

“Bah ha!” Yoshida laughed. “I can see why you’d think that. But let me ask you this: Do you think every adult is as driven to stand for something?” Ren was surprised. “Exactly. So why should a concern be ignored just because it comes from a child? It shouldn’t.”

“Right. Sorry” Ren said.

“It’s fine,” Yoshida said. “As much as you know, there are some things you only learn through experience. But even so, you’re something special.”

Ren was surprised. “I am?”

Yoshida nodded. “While you might not have as much experience, you’re strong-willed, and have a good heart. That alone will take you a long way, no matter where you go. And also, you’ve helped me too.” Ren was shocked.

Yoshida continued. “Before you began helping me, I would make my speeches, and I would try to get the crowd stirred, but there was always a voice in the back of my mind saying that I’ll never earn the people’s trust. But you have proven me wrong, and I feel that makes me a better politician. Not just promising results, but seeing that people listen. So thank you, for helping me find my footing.”

Ren smiled. “Thank you. For helping me find mine too.” Yoshida’s smile widened. Ren’s did as well.

Sun-Toranosuke Yoshida: Rank 2

After their meeting, they headed home.

#persona 5 #persona 5 royal #persona fanfiction #p5r #p5r rework #p5 rework #p5 femc #p5 #FeMC #female ren #ren amamiya #TAE TAKEMI #yoshida toranosuke

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