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seresinhangmanjake · 1 year

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It's What You Make It

Dad!Jake "Hangman" Seresin x female reader

Summary: Jake hasn't been on the best of terms with his parents since they found out about you and his baby, and now his mother decides she wants to meet her granddaughter.

Warnings: cursing maybe? Protective Jake

Notes: Suggested by an anon / Part of the Oh, Baby Universe.

Words: 4200

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“Jake, dear, your mother would like to meet her granddaughter.”

It was cruel, really, to have such devastating words leave the lips of one of those he loved the most, but maybe that was why she of all people was tasked with it. He wasn't likely to listen to another on the matter. Hell, had anyone else but she called, he wouldn't have answered, and he struggled not to see it as a bit of a betrayal. A trick.

"Gram," he sighed into the phone, running a hand through his hair, "I'm not doing this with them. After everything we just faced with her mother, why should we put ourselves through dealing with mine?"

"You know she had nothing to do with that email."

"Yea and nothing to do with discouraging it, either."

The other end of the line went silent. Jake looked to his left where his daughter was being bounced on her mother's lap just out of earshot. You smiled at the girl, but the stone now sitting on Jake's heart kept it from swelling as it normally would at the sight of your brightened face.

His perfect little family. Safe and sound in California. Far from Texas. Far from the people you'd yet to learn criticized you for your past choices.

When you first asked about them, Jake couldn't hide the fact that his parents were displeased with the coming of his daughter. He'd blamed it on their lack of open-mindedness to the girl being brought into his life under ‘unique’ circumstances, and while that was in fact a part of it, the bulk of their problems they placed solely in you and not trusting why you bothered to return when you left him to begin with. They buried you under a mountain of their judgment and you were completely unaware. But that was how he wanted to keep it. He wanted you in the dark. Oddly enough, the darkness was where you were safest. And that plan had been working so well, too. You had a healthy understanding of the difficulty of parents, and after the way your mother treated him the month prior you hadn't pressured him for more information on his.

I only care about the three of us, Jake. As long as we're together, nothing else matters—that's what you'd said. You sealed that promise with a kiss that led to hours in bed full of sex and naps and cuddles and what felt like hundreds of exchanges of 'I love yous'.

The issue with his parents wasn't brought up again.

And now his grandmother was ruining it.

"What do you expect of me, Gram?" he asked; the first of his rapid-fire questions. "To bring them there? To subject them to that? You really want me to hurt my girlfriend? My daughter? What even makes you think Mom cares to see Eve? There's no way she admitted—"

"Breathe, dear," she soothed. And Jake did as told, but it didn't make him feel the slightest bit better. "I saw it in her eyes."

He sighed, chest noticeably deflating. "Oh, come on. I love you, Gram, but seriously?"

"Jacob Seresin, you hush," she scolded, her voice raised and tinny through the speaker. "You asked me a question, so listen up."

Jake grumbled, defeated. The senior Eve had that power over him. She was the mother his mother should have been. She taught him plenty and raised him well. He knew how to respect his woman because of his Gram. He treated you the way you deserved because she made sure to instill in him the value of women where his own parents had failed to do.

So he listened.

"When I returned from my visit a couple of weeks ago, your mother snuck in the casual question or two whenever your father wasn't around," she explained. "And I told her. Anything she cared to know. That Eve is beautiful and her mother is a stunner." Jake's lips curved upward despite the anxiety building in his chest. "That your girls are perfect. That you are happier than I've ever seen you."

"...And?"

"And she nodded and got a little grin on her face."

Jake waited for more, but it didn't come. His hand rose and fell, smacking against the side of his thigh. "That's your only argument to encourage surrendering the happiness of my family to a couple of snakes?"

"Snakes?" He could practically see the roll of her eyes. "Really, dear?"

"I read you the email."

The email he'd received a few weeks after he got you back and learned of his daughter's existence. The one that spat aggressive levels of disappointment in him, and called you an abundance of names that nearly had him crushing his phone in his palm. The one that expressed very clearly his parents' refusal to acknowledge the woman he loved and his baby as their family.

"No," Jake said as he shook his head. "No, I'm not doing it."

"I'm not saying you have to, dear. I'm just telling you that there is someone else who might want to be a part of your daughter's life. That's more family for Eve to be surrounded by. Another person to love her."

—-

He’d promised her he’d think about it. And while he really wished he could forget her words, they were persistent, nagging, and unwilling to get out of his way; like a damn fly buzzing around his face during all hours of his days and nights.

His grandmother was wise and she was clever to tap into one of his life’s motivations: to provide his daughter with as much love as possible. Though Eve did have love—from him, from you, his team, his grandmother—the potential for so much more was taken away from her.

She didn’t see your family. They lived across the country and after the way your mother behaved, you’d pretty much cut her off for the time being. His sister’s husband was in the Air Force, stationed at Aviano in Italy with no set date of return. And his parents had made their opinions clear, so he felt it best to never let you or Eve around them. But doing what he believed was best didn’t stop the guilt of denying Eve her family, of not giving her enough. He thought about Christmas coming up and how she wouldn’t have her grandparents. He thought about the major events in her life to come; the birthdays and school plays, the graduations, and the, hopefully only, wedding.

Wait, he stopped himself, scratch the wedding. No wedding. How could his daughter possibly have a wedding if she would never be dating to begin with?

But there was still enough remaining to worry him.

Jake didn’t want a day to come when Eve looked around the room and wondered why she didn’t have the people in her life that her friends at school did. She deserved everything he could possibly give her, and his grandmother calling to inform him he wasn’t providing that was a stab to the heart.

“You’re lost.”

The voice—your voice—was one of two powerful enough to crack the thick shell surrounding his thoughts.

Your fingers wove through his hair as he focused his vision on your face, letting the fog clear to make out the perfection he saw in each feature. You wiggled on the mattress, inching your body closer to his and he lifted his arm to drape over your waist.

“What’s going on?” you asked. “You’ve been zoning out for three days.”

He wouldn’t lie to you—never could. And even if he tried, it would be a waste of breath with the way you managed to sniff out untruths like a damn bloodhound. The information he didn’t tell you he always preferred to label as ‘omissions.’ Those could just barely slip by your clever brain. And he’d only ever done it twice; when he’d neglected to spill his hidden love, and when he hadn’t provided you with all the details of his father’s email. Both seemed like good ideas at the time. Necessary. But now…

“According to Gram,” Jake sighed, “my mother wants to meet Eve.”

You tried to control your face, but the ceasing of your nails grazing across his scalp was enough to tell him you were plenty shocked. Likely plenty terrified, too, with the trauma of the last parental interaction.

“Oh.” You blinked once, twice, three times, as your lips parted and sealed and parted again. “So, that means…what? They're fine with everything now?"

"I doubt it, but…" Jake bit the inside of his cheek. Shook his head. “Honey, I’m really not sure.”

“You trust them?”

“No.”

“Then what do you want to do?”

He didn’t know, not even after three days of thought. He cared about protecting his family, but whether or not introducing his mother to you and his daughter would be a choice he'd come to regret was hard to say. “What do you think we should do?”

“Baby, your family, your decision.”

With a groan, Jake pulled you closer and turned onto his back, settling your body on top of his.

“But you’re so much smarter than me,” he said, wrapping his arms snuggly around your waist and tilting his chin up for a kiss.

You let him kiss you, despite the weight of the conversation surely causing you as much unease as it was him. You let him kiss you for as long as he wanted. Like you knew just how badly he needed it in that moment. How badly he needed you.

“You’re no idiot, Jake Seresin," you said when he decided it was fair to let you breathe. "I’ll do whatever you think is best.”

He hummed, pushing some of your hair back behind your shoulder. “Why do you have to be so damn supportive and reasonable?”

You smiled so sweetly. Leaned in closer.

“Because I trust you," you whispered, letting your lips slowly travel around his face, pressing gentle kisses where you could. "And I believe in you."

You pulled back, locking your eyes with his, and as you stroked his cheek, you said, “Because you’re my teammate, Jake.”

He let your words soak in—filling him, sating him—before taking a deep inhale through his nose. On the heavy exhale he released a breathy “Fuck.”

You chuckled. “What?”

“It’s just extremely hot when you say shit like that and I am trying to make a decision that really isn’t helped by my dick getting hard.”

He swelled larger in his underwear as he spoke and he could see the very second that mischievous glint took root in your eye.

“Aw," you pouted, slightly grinding your hips into his, making his breath hitch, "Does my man get turned on by commitment?"

His fingers dug into your waist to hold you still, and with a scowl, he said, "You already knew that so quit teasing me."

“Who's teasing?" You asked as you gave him a peck. "You've been distracted for three days, and I miss you. So let me take your mind off it. Then we can get some sleep and talk it over in the morning."

He loved you for that. That you knew him enough to refrain from pushing him in any direction. You knew enough to know when he needed a distraction from the things that most bothered him.

"Deal," he whispered. Then his fingers tangled in your hair and he pulled your face closer to his.

—-

It wasn't talked about in the morning. Not that one nor the weeks worth that followed. The distraction Jake had been so thankful for continued to find itself in the forms of wake-up sex, and invigorating work days, and evenings filled with dedicated family time—things he actually cared about. Thinking about what to do with his mother had been bothersome enough that at the first chance to brush it aside, it slipped from his mind without effort. And he didn’t care, just as he didn’t care how his life had completely split after his father sent that email.

It was a clean severing, like a hot blade through butter, and the two new parts were far from equal. You and his daughter occupied one chunk of his divided world—the larger of the two—and the other chunk was where his parents remained, dwarfed under the shadow of its massive counterpart. It was too easy to let go of that extra bit that was hanging off the end of what was an otherwise perfect life, so he did.

He didn’t follow up with his grandmother—

A mistake he discovered when his mother walked through the front door of the Hard Deck and disrupted the peace surrounding his little family.

His trio had decided to have lunch with Rooster at the bar well before opening hours, and it was the lack of overlapping voices, clinking glasses, and occasional drunken shouting which allowed for the clicking of heels across hardwood flooring to echo clearly throughout the room.

Three voices went eerily silent, the only continuous sound being that of Eve shaking her rattle toy, lost in the sweet ignorance of childhood and completely oblivious to the thickness that had just swelled throughout the bar.

Jake glared at his grandmother who was just off to the side of her daughter-in-law. She stared back, a look of complete innocence on her face until she grew bored with silent standoff and, with a roll of her eyes, made a beeline for you and Eve. She smiled wide, immediately popping the bubble that was holding everyone hostage, to give you a little hug around the shoulders before kissing the top of Eve’s head.

“Oh, I missed you,” she said as huddled beside the small girl.

Jake stood from the rounded table and crossed his arms over his chest, the movement broadening his shoulders and thickening his muscles, like an animal determined to protect his mate and cub from any predator bold enough to test him. And as far as he was concerned, that was exactly what he was looking at. The woman standing still as a statue twenty feet from him was not someone he recognized anymore. He couldn’t guarantee that her next move would not be in the form of a threat, so he didn’t risk it.

His mother raised her hand in a wave weakened by uncertainty. “Hi, sweetheart.”

Her voice was meeker than he expected, and she stood less confidently than he’d ever known in his thirty-four years. Her styled hair and perfectly painted nails and carefully applied makeup suddenly seemed unnatural on the woman before him, like an ill-fitting costume hanging off her body with an uneasy facial expression to match.

“Gram,” Jake began, a deep grit to his tone. He didn’t tear his eyes away from his mother. “What did you do?”

Without glancing her way, Jake knew his grandmother had taken his seat at the table, holding his daughter and likely making silly faces at her as she inserted herself in what was his pleasant weekend.

“You two need to talk,” she said. There was a smile in her voice. A giggle from Eve. “You weren’t going to make the first move, and she was coming either way, so I figured it would be best if I tagged along.”

The crease in Jake’s brow deepened. That was not enough for him. “No warning?”

“Nope. You wouldn’t have agreed.”

He shook his head. His mother still hadn’t moved.

"Is he here?" Jake finally asked her.

His mother startled at his directness, but she recovered after a moment’s passing and took a step closer that Jake immediately made up by taking a step back. She paused. "Jake—"

"Is he here?" he snapped.

The new silence in the aftermath of his sharp tone was loud, terribly loud, and long-lasting. Painfully so.

"Uh, family?" Rooster suddenly said from behind him. "Why don't we take a little walk on the beach."

Chairs scraped across the floor and Jake couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so thankful for his friend. Rooster was the only other person to know the full truth of what was said about Jake’s girlfriend and daughter, and he undoubtedly felt the storm brewing. A storm he knew Jake wouldn’t want his family to witness.

No one argued, and as the others made their way outside, you appeared in front of him, breaking the tension of his steady stare. He looked at you, making sure to soften the hard edge in his eyes to soothe the worry in yours, but it didn’t work. His smile was tight-lipped and brief.

"Go with them, Honey," he whispered with a nod toward the door. He took your hand in his and kissed your knuckles before running his thumb over the top of them. "It's ok."

He tried that smile again, but the expression on your face made it known he was no more convincing than before.

With your free hand you cupped his cheek, then you stood up on your toes to press your lips to his—a little token of strength. When you stepped away from him, you snuck a quick look at his mother before you were on your way, following everyone else out the back door onto the beach.

Only once you were out of his sight did Jake allow his eyes to land back on his mother.

She swallowed hard, her shaky hands clasped in front of her. "She's lovely," she said.

"She is," he replied, crossing his arms once again, stony glare back in place. "Where's Dad?"

Her nerves radiated through the room. He could practically see them—thin wiggly lines emanating from her form.

"He's on a business trip. He doesn't even know I came. I just wanted to meet them. I'm only here for a couple of days and—"

"What happens when he finds out?” Jake interjected. “He'll lose his mind. He’ll show up here, and he won't walk away without making his point clear when it comes to my girlfriend and baby."

He could feel his voice raising as he continued to speak, but he couldn’t restrain himself. The pure rage he’d been trying to tamp down for months was yanked to the surface now that he was looking directly into the eyes of someone who had no issue insulting you, and therefore, hurting him.

She said his name again, but the overwhelming combination of her gentle tone and the pain swirling in her irises had tears beginning to coat his own, a stinging at his nose.

It pissed him off.

"He isn't coming anywhere near them,” Jake practically growled, that internal animal determined to protect his family slipping through the calm demeanor he’d been so close to regaining. “Do you understand me? After the things he said, the things he called her? It's not happening."

His mother nodded. "I understand."

"That little girl is mine. I'm not being tricked into raising someone else's kid!"

"I know, sweetheart,” she said as she attempted a step closer. He flinched but didn’t move away. She took another step. “Gram showed me a picture of her. She looks just like you."

He frowned at her hint of a smile, at her hand extending his way like to earn the trust of an aggressive puppy.

"Jake, I'm so sorry,” She near whispered. She was closer than he realized—he blamed it on his blurring vision—and her palm tentatively landed on his forearm. “This is not how I wanted things to be. You’re my son. The woman you love is outside that door and she birthed my granddaughter.” Her fingers lightly squeezed. “The last thing I want is to be alienated from the family you’ve made.”

For what felt like the hundredth time in the last week, Jake didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t think right. He felt lost, and the only things capable of bringing him to safety were not within grabbing distance, separated from him by a door that might as well have been a mile away.

Another palm met his other forearm and his arms were carefully untwined. One of his hands was sandwiched between two smaller ones. He couldn’t decide if it was comforting.

He’d never been terribly close to her, less close to his father, but it didn’t change that she was, in fact, his mother. He’d always feel a bond, in some form. And knowing that her actions, her words, or lack thereof, were too often influenced by being under his father’s thumb stuck in the back of his mind. Rarely did she drift, knowing she’d have to face his frustration, but she had this time, for him, for his child, and it made things all the more difficult. Confusing.

"I know what was said was…horrible. And—" Her eyelids briefly closed as she shook her head. She blew out a subtle breath before looking up at him. “I know I didn't do anything about it. I didn't call you and tell you I wasn't on his side in this. But that's what I'm doing now."

His lips parted but she continued.

“If it doesn’t work, if you don’t want me around them, then I’ll go. I’ll respect that, sweetheart, but I just wanted to try.”

The longer she stood there, the longer she had her hands around his, looking as desperate as she did, the harder it was for Jake to maintain the same depth of anger that he’d been so attached to. It seeped away with the nagging obligation to let her try to be a grandmother to his daughter. Not just for his mother, but for Eve. His baby girl, for whom he would willingly spend his entire life trying to provide everything she deserved and more.

Jake sighed.

“You can meet them,” he said, “But—”

She smiled. “That’s enough for now. I wouldn’t ask for more.”

Good. He wouldn’t give her more. Not now. Not until he saw for himself how she behaved around you and his baby.

Nodding, he said, “Come on, then.”

He could feel her nerves again as they stepped out the back door of the bar, but the moment he saw your face, all of his attention went to you and what you were going to think about what he’d just agreed to.

You only gave a brief look to his mother, a small smile with it, before your eyes were back on his. The question in them he responded to with a nod, then his mother stepped out from behind him. She hadn’t a chance to get a good look at Eve when she arrived, but now that the girl was right in front of her, snuggled in your arms, his mother couldn’t peel her eyes away.

Her hand raised to cover her mouth and muffle the light sob that escaped as she stared in awe at the girl. She eased over to you.

"Could I—" She started but hesitated.

Jake understood her pause. His mother was asking another mother—a woman she didn’t truly know—if she could hold her baby. And what mother would hand her child over to a stranger? He respected her for recognizing that. For not assuming she had a claim on his child.

A relationship with Eve would be a gift to her, but not one she could demand. It was a gift that must be granted. A decision; His and yours. And while he had decided he was ok with his mother being around Eve, you, too, would have to agree.

“Would it be alright with you if I held her?” his mother finally asked.

You looked at Jake again and he nodded again—extra reassurance that he trusted the intentions of the woman asking you to hand over your entire world.

Smile spreading across your face, you said, “Of course,” and lifted Eve in his mother’s direction.

"Oh…gosh,” she breathed, settling the girl on her hip. "You're so wonderful, aren't you."

Her words were breaking as they left her lips, but she continued to murmur sweet praises as she hugged the baby girl close, and kissed the top of her blonde head, and ran her fingers over the much smaller ones. His mother looked at and held her son’s daughter as if she were unreal, delicate, breakable. And that’s exactly what she was. Eve was a miracle—one that brought her parents together again when it seemed so horribly unlikely, and she needed to be treated as such.

Jake’s heart squeezed so beautifully at the sight, and the tears he thought had come and gone threatened to reemerge. He felt full. Oddly complete in a way he didn’t anticipate.

It was uncomfortable to realize how much he wanted that acceptance, for himself, for you, for his child, but he couldn’t deny the relief of seeing his mother care. Not judging but loving the way he chose to live his life despite it being so different than what was expected of him.

A brush against his hand pulled him away from the scene. You tugged on his fingers and grinned when his eyes met yours. You pulled more, but Jake was already moving to sit beside you on the bench.

“You ok?” you asked as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders. You leaned into him.

“I’m giving it a chance,” he said, pressing a kiss to your temple. “We’ll see.”

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A/N: this will have a 2nd part.

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collecting-stories · 3 years

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Strawberry - Daryl Dixon

Request: Hi love! I adore your daryl dixon works and i was wondering if i would be able to request a scenario where you risk your life to save a baby that you found and daryl’s reaction (you still survive but it was a narrow escape) to your maternal instincts? 

A/N: I think I went a little off course with this one. To be fair, I tried it out three different ways and settled on this so hopefully it’s good.

The Walking Dead Masterlist

✘ ✘ ✘ ✘

The atmosphere at camp had taken a relatively negative turn after you’d gotten back from the run with Daryl. It didn’t help that you were injured, cuts so deep on your leg that if Daryl hadn’t vouched for them being caused by barbed wire you were sure Shane would’ve shot you on the spot, convinced you’d been bitten. Hershel had to stitch you up and you could hear Andrea bitching the entire time, voice carrying through the door, that this was all a liability. You, your recklessness, your injury, and, most importantly, the baby that you were holding on your lap for the entirety of Hershel’s work.

A little girl without a name, she was wearing pink corduroy overalls with strawberries embroidered into them. The run, which should have been routine, had taken you and Daryl further into town. He’d been spending a lot of time looking for Sophia but when Glenn injured his ankle on a run, Rick nominated you and Daryl to head out in search of supplies.

“When I told you to bring back whatever you could find,” Rick said, watching the baby skeptically, “I didn’t mean a baby.”

She was little more than five months old you guessed, trapped in a car seat in the back of an old Volkswagen that Glenn told you hadn’t been there when he passed through before. “Must’ve been other survivors, travelling through the area.” Everyone seemed to have an opinion on the baby and on your decision to save her, at great personal risk to yourself, but you tuned most of them out. Aside from situationally, most of these people weren’t ones you would ever actually spend time with and you didn’t care if the Andrea’s of the world passed judgement on your personal convictions.

“How’s she doing?” The only one who had been surprisingly without criticism of your actions was the one person you had expected to admonish you for being reckless. Daryl sat down on the porch steps beside you, crossbow on his lap.

You had seen the baby trying to outrun a hoard of walkers and get back to Daryl’s bike. She was inside the car, crying, and you had doubled back for her, nearly killing yourself when you caught your leg on a bundle of barbed wire from a downed fence. Daryl had cut it from your leg, part of your jeans ripping off with them as he pulled you and the baby to safety. He’d been the one to bandage you enough to get you back to the farm too, not a word to you the entire time.

In all honesty, you were waiting for him to be angry. Maybe not yell because you hadn’t really experienced him yelling at you before, but certainly had heard him go at it with Shane a few times. And you expected something, at least a “yer stupid” but so far he hadn’t said anything.

“Alright,” you shifted the baby in your arms and placed the empty bottle down between you and Daryl, “she finally ate.”

He nodded, glancing over at the baby as you laid her against your chest to burp her. “Yer good with her, ya got any experience with babies then?” He asked, more than you’d talked to him since Merle went missing, presumed dead. Probably more than you had spoken to him before that too.

“I was the middle kid of nine,” you replied, “babies are pretty much part of my wiring. I always thought I’d have one.”

“Got one now.”

You laughed, maybe the first honest one since you’d wound up in Atlanta. Daryl wasn’t one to joke around and that, partially, had thrown you into the minor fit but, more over, he was right. As judgmental as Lori and Andrea and Shane wanted to be, this baby wasn’t going anywhere any time soon. None of them would as you to do that.

“I guess I do.” You finally said, “I’m sorry for getting us all mixed up, by the way. I wasn’t trying to jeopardise your safety.”

“I ain’t some heartless bastard, not gonna ask ya ta leave a kid ta die.” He replied.

“Still, thought you’d have something to say about it. Everyone else seems to.”

“Yeah well,” his hands worked to clean the crossbow and he paused his speech for a moment, full concentration on the weapon in his hands. He listened for any sign of footsteps or the possibility of somebody that might overhear the conversation. “Shane woulda just as soon shot ya both in the back.”

“That’s true.”

“Everybody’s losing that bit of ‘em...it’s good ya still got it.” He said quietly and you nodded because you understood what he was trying to say. The same thing that had him out there looking for Sophia had propelled you back to the car. And if he had seen the baby first he would’ve done the same thing.

The baby made a quiet heaving noise before something akin to a giggle and you laid her on your thighs as you reached for the spit blanket that Maggie had given you. Daryl reached a hand over, steadying the baby she didn’t roll off your lap, the infant cooing at him and grabbing at his fingers.

“I looked through her diaper bag,” you finally said, adjusting her again so she could sit up, facing her out to the yard and letting her look around at everything. She seemed transfixed with Daryl, reaching out for him and clapping her hands together when he gave her his hand back. “There’s no name or anything on it…not even on her tags.”

“I ain’t good at naming things,” Daryl said, as if sensing that was why you’d brought it up. “Stray cat used to come in our yard ta eat and all I called him was kitty.”

“Yeah…I’m gonna pass on naming her Baby.” You joked, “just figured since you were there when I found her.”

“She’s all yours,” he replied hastily though he had set his crossbow aside to play with her. Not going so far as to take her off your lap but keeping her occupied, holding her attention.

You pushed open the door to the jail cell, sliding the curtain out of the way as you slipped inside, surprised to see Daryl sitting on the bed in your tiny room, the baby on his lap. You had put her down for a nap only thirty minutes earlier, heading outside to check the snares with Rick and had come back in to make sure she was alright.

“Beth asked if I’d check on her,” Daryl said, not even looking away from her as you shut the curtain and pulled the chair over. “Said Judith was fussing.”

“Thanks, sorry I was out in the field...guess I shouldn’t be leaving her with everyone else if I’m the one who’s supposed to be taking care of her.” You joked. Lori was gone now but the admonishment had been from her. That if you so desperately wanted this baby around than you should be the one to care for her.

“Ain’t just a job for one person.” Daryl replied, “she ain’t hard to take care of anyway.”

“That’s cause she likes you.” You observed. His cheeks flushed and he bowed his head, almost bashful at the thought and you just smiled like you hadn’t noticed his sudden behavior, turning your attention to the baby.

“Frazier,” the little girl rocked back on her bottom, giggling when she met Daryl’s shins and tilting her head back to look up at him. Her knees and the palms of her hands were stained from the grass that she’d been tearing through.

She smiled, rocking herself forward so that she could clumsily stand up, turning swiftly to face Daryl again as she reached her arms up for him. “Daddy!” The moniker was new, ever since Judith had started talking, calling Rick ‘dada’ when she saw him, Frazier had decided that she, too, required a dad. And, naturally, she had decided that it was Daryl.

He shouldered the crossbow he was carrying and leaned down to scoop her up, doing his best to ignore the name. You’d suggested that maybe the term would die out as she got a little older but so far it was sticking and, while Daryl made like it bothered him, it didn’t really. Taking care of the baby, who you’d named from your mother’s side of the family, had seemingly brought the two of you closer. Or at least it had created a reason for Daryl to stay close to you. Looking out for the baby, as he always put it.

“She’s been waiting all day for you.”

Speak of the devil, he turned toward the house to see you coming out to greet them, still pulling a hoodie on to combat the chill that had settled into Alexandria. In the time between Hershel’s farm and now you had seen a lot of bloodshed, lost a lot of people. For a brief moment in time Daryl had been fairly positive he had lost the both of you too, but you had turned up in the woods outside of Terminus, Frazier right there with you.

“Ya been keeping watch?” He asked, jostling her slightly and being rewarded when she giggled and nodded her head.

“Yeah, no naps!”

“Oh Lord,” he muttered, handing her off to you when you reached out for her.

“Come on Frazier, let’s get some food?” You offered, carrying her towards the stairs. She twisted in your arms, reaching over your shoulder for Daryl as he followed behind you.

For all the maternal instincts everyone always said that you had, you thought Daryl was just as protective and acutely aware of Frazier, and now Judith, as you were. He was just less obvious about it. Trying to pass it off as indifference when in actuality you had seen that side of him often and in excess.

Taglist: @cbarter @onemorebeautifulnightmare @mainokutan @solllaris @twdeadfanfic @legit-emily @gigilame @sabertooth-potato @enrapturedbythemoon @thanossexual @yespleasejayhalstead

#daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon fic #the walking dead fanfic #the walking dead fic #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead imagine #twd fanfiction #twd fic #twd fanfic #twd imagine #collecting stories imagine

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pillow-anime-talk · 3 years

Text

his talented baby. {pt.1}

synopsis: You as a person with a huge (and hidden) talent, and also a girl who really surprises your boyfriend.

# tags: scenarios; current relationships; romance; fluff; some PDA; sfw

includes: female reader ft. ken kaneki & nishiki nishio {tokyo ghoul} + yuuma isogai & itona horibe {assclass}

— KEN (ft. singing)

Your closest friends invited you to a popular karaoke bar on one Friday night to celebrate a successfully passed semester in college. Of course, you couldn’t forget about your lovely boyfriend, who was at the same university, but in a different field (i.e. Japanese literature) and always supported you with all his might, knowing how much you want to do your dream job in the future.

So you went to the meeting together, and on the way to the designated place you talked all the time about what the next year of study would bring you. As soon as you reached the room where your three closest besties and one male friend were waiting for you, you both greeted them warmly, immediately taking off your thick coats and taking your seats on a soft, leather couch next to a table filled with tasty-looking snacks and colorful drinks.

Long minutes of conversations between the six of you resulted in drunk plenty of alcohol and blushes on the faces. After drinking, you always got more talkative and more self-confident, so you suggested using the TV and the karaoke machine. Of course, you first offered your friends and Ken to sing something, but they all declined, saying that you should start as an initiator. One of the girls, blonde-haired Minami, smiled at you with a sparkle in her pretty golden eyes, adding that you are the best in this and you should show how to do it correctly. You chuckled in response, waving your hand at her to dismiss compliment.

Kaneki, on the other hand, frowned as he looked at the boy who was sitting on his right.

“... Oh, you don’t know? Y/N-san hasn’t yet praised herself to you that she has a wonderful voice? Huh, huh.” The black-haired boy shook his head, reaching for the glass filled with blue something again. “Hmmm, well. Normally Y/N’s very shy, but she always sings at trips when she’s drunk.” He chuckled while you picked one of your favorite songs in the meantime. So everyone looked at your standing figure, then heard the characteristic sounds from one of Selena Gomez’s songs coming from the gray speakers.

“My dear, I dedicate it to you~!” You looked with joy on your face towards the eighteen-year-old, giving him a quick wink, and then you started your little performance with ‘Love you like a love song’ from the above-mentioned artist.

Your friends didn’t seem surprised and instead started clapping to the beat of the music... but Ken’s eyes widened and he spat out his high-percentage drink, not knowing how to react to the fact that for nine, long months of your relationship, you concealed the fact that you could sing so well and so beautifully. Your voice was perfect for the song that was playing now, and you seemed to be having a great time – there was a huge smile on your lips, your eyelids were slightly closed and your hand was over your heart. If it weren’t for the fact that you were at a karaoke bar, everyone would definitely think you are playing a concert on the biggest stage in Tokyo city.

After the song was over, another girl got up to present a completely different choice, and you handed her the dark microphone, bowing in the process.

Kaneki still seemed speechless and as soon as you sat down next to him, he immediately kissed you on the warm forehead, asking you to sing more to him, especially when you two are going to be alone, because he probably fell in love with you once again and just wanted to experience that love every day thereafter.

— NISHIKI (ft. ballet)

Nishiki, as a pharmacy student, didn’t have much time for extra-curricular activities or unnecessary meetings; in addition, the fact that he was a bloodthirsty ghoul and had to watch over himself made it difficult for him to function normally in the life of Kamii University. However, the brown-haired man always found time for you, for his beloved girlfriend.

You had been dating for over three, long years, and the man definitely couldn’t imagine his own life without you by his side. You knew each other better than anyone else in this world, but sometimes some tiny things of your ordinary day eluded Nishio; of course you understood it perfectly and you weren’t angry or disappointed with him. After all, he had to protect himself, you, take care of his specific menu, be vigilant at every step, and additionally he had to pretend to be the perfect student, senpai (or kouhai) and friend of other people.

So you weren’t surprised when one day you handed him a silverish ticket for probably the most important show of your life and he just looked at you in wonderment. At the beginning, the twenty-year-old asked if it was a performance related to singing or playing an instrument due to the fact that the colorful paper didn’t tell him too much, but you just smirked as you tweaked the unruly, soft hair on his head.

“Hmm. If you don’t remember what I do in my free time, it’s even better, I guess. Come and see it for yourself, honey. I think that thanks to this you will even calm down a little and rest due to the recent weeks.” You announced in a light tone of voice, and the young man sighed under his breath.

“So... I’ll find out in three days, am I right?” He made sure by correcting his glasses and you nodded, then grabbing his rough hand and kissing his cool cheek. A short while later you suggested going to your apartment and catching up on a few episodes of your favorite series that you started quite recently.

The anticipation of your important day passed very quickly and on Saturday, at 6 p.m., when everyone took their seats (with your boyfriend sitting on one of the balconies with the best view of the stage), delicate music was played in the theater, which made everyone shiver on the whole body. Until then, the brown-eyed boy somewhere in the back of his head had the impression that it was a theater performance or an opera, but when he saw your person appear on stage in a beautifully tailored dress and ballet shoes, all the questions that flickered in his mind disappeared in literally one second.

‘Well, yeah. I remember now. She always told me about ballet classes and new shoes.’ A huge, proud smirk came on his pale face and you glanced out of the corner of your eye towards his VIP seat.

Though your expression was cold and composed, you felt an enormous heat in your small heart as the man waved at you, showing two thumbs up. His lips moved even slightly, and although Nishiki tried to hide it, you knew perfectly well that the pink blush and mute ‘I love you’ was sincere and even better than being able to play Odetta, the White Swan, in a ballet spectacle.

— YUUMA (ft. songwriting and guitar playing)

Christmas at school was never what you enjoyed; maybe due to the fact that before, your classmates on main campus were quite specific and you definitely didn’t fit with their strange ‘ideals’. It was only in the class E that you felt that you could find real friends or people who would share your ideas.

But, hmm. Still, you seemed to stand out from the rest of the girls in the class who had more... down-to-earth hobbies or characters than you; Okuda liked chemistry and was really excellent at it, Kirara loved reading, Rio was the best at English and had a great sense of fashion, and Toka was pretty good at cooking. Contrary to them, you preferred to... do more ‘intimate’ things. Writing short poems filled your heart with peace and prevented you from being as critical of yourself as usual. And when you wrote the lyrics of the songs, made notes or melodies to them and sang quietly, you could feel like a real artist that everyone wanted to admire and imitate.

Therefore, when your first and last class holidays with the rest of the 3-E students were fast approaching, Koro-sensei was the one who asked you for a short talk. You weren’t sure what this was about, but moments later your uncertainties were dispelled.

“Y/N-san, I think you mistook your notebooks today and instead of giving me your homework, you gave to me... this.” He said in his as always happy voice, and seeing the black notebook in which you always wrote songs and notes, you blushed all over your face, apologizing profusely for the mistake. “Huh? But this is no mistake, my dear. If it weren’t for this, I would never even think that we have such a talented soul in Class 3-E. So would you like to perform in front of the rest of the students and teachers during the holidays?” The easy question made you widen your eyes and sighed.

“I-I’ve never played in front of anyone, so...” You admitted shyly, and the tall, yellow octopus just chuckled.

“I’m pretty sure they will love it. We can practice together.”

Well, you couldn’t refuse (especially when Koro-sensei offered to bring your favorite, foreign snacks...) and on class Christmas day you showed up with your acoustic guitar and a notebook full of chords and songs. Everyone was surprised and curious at how well you play guitar. After all, you’ve never even mentioned that you can play any instrument before. On the other hand, the class representative, and your boyfriend at the same time, immediately came up to you, asking if you were really okay; better than anyone else, Isogai knew that you didn’t like too much attention and big crowds. But you reassured him it was okay and promised your teacher you would do it, so you smiled at him and then took your seat under the blackboard with a wooden guitar on your lap.

The song you chose for the day was a song you wrote quite recently. It had a little bit of magic, and at the same moment it seemed very romantic and delicate. Even Karma seemed delighted with your beautiful play and soft voice that echoed from time to time between the walls of huge classroom.

At the end of the song, you decided to raise your gaze and simultaneously look at your all friends, three teachers and other half; everyone was really happy and positively speechless. So you gave Yuuma a slight wink, making him blush sweetly.

The young teenager definitely hoped you would show him more of your songs someday, not necessarily the happy Christmas carols Kaede and Ritsu asked for.

— ITONA (ft. dancing)

“... You never mentioned that you can dance.” He admitted softly, and you squeezed his smooth hand tighter.

“So... I mention it right now. It’s not a big deal, baby. I just ... like it and enjoy it a lot.” You giggled as you correcting the black sports bag over your shoulder, then opened the heavy door to the training room, immediately jumping up at the sound of loud squeals and greetings from your closest friends. “Guys, this is Itona Horibe, my boyfriend that I told to you before! Love, it’s Aki-chan, Yui-chan, Kazuya-kun, Saburo-kun, and our cameraman and editor Ryuu senpai. Most often, the five of us cooperate with each other when it comes to dance in groups of five people. And... today we are going to cover a song so I hope you’ll like it. I’ll go change and you all, please, don’t scare my boyfriend and give him something to drink!”

As a group leader, you often came up with choreographies and warm-ups for yourself and others. So, it couldn’t be otherwise this time. For the last week and a half you have been practicing the choreo you came up with and today you were supposed to record material for the video on your quite popular YouTube account. You were extremely excited, not only with the new content, but most of all with the fact that your beloved one would be able to watch it live and evaluate your skills that have been refined over the years. So as soon as you got back to the teens waiting for you, you kissed the light-blue-haired quickly on the right cheek and told him that he could sit against the wall, close to the table full of snacks and the contact for charging the phone.

Then you talked with everyone for a while, doing a short warm-up and reminding the cameraman about how to move the cam. A few short minutes later, you lined up in the middle of a huge white room with Ryuu in front of you. You knelt down in the center, of course, gently moving your shoulders to calm your rapidly pounding heart and heavy breathing, and when a song by Ariana Grande started playing all over the bright room, you all looked at the already activated camera, shaking your heads and then you got up from the wooden floor.

Itona... was speechless. He has never seen people dancing before, he has never even been interested in others, only you and what you like. Today he got to know your little passion, which turned out to be a breathtaking talent, and the boy wondered if you could do anything else; are you good at one specific dance genre or are you able to move your body in a completely different rhythm than he currently saw?

From Koro-sensei’s history lessons, when you two were in junior high, the eighteen-year-old remembered perfectly well that there is also classical dance, tango and breakdance. So could you also do that? He had to ask you about it later.

But now his curious gaze was focused on you and your huge, radiant smile, and the sound of feet hitting the ground. He also looked at your legs, tiny hands, stomach, and hair, while he wondered if he might learn to dance too, to be even closer to you and your hobby. After all, you looked so beautiful and so joyful... He wanted to share these emotions.

#— 🍁#tokyo ghoul #tokyo ghoul scenarios #tokyo ghoul x reader #kaneki ken #kaneki ken scenarios #kaneki ken x reader #nishio nishiki #nishio nishiki scenarios #nishio nishiki x reader #assassination classroom #assassination classroom scenarios #assassination classroom x reader #itona horibe #itona horibe scenarios #itona horibe x reader #yuuma isogai #yuuma isogai scenarios #yuuma isogai x reader

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Note

Now I want the story where NMJ is half war god and NHS is half fox spirit, thank you so much xD

based on this tumblr post and Lao Nie’s decision to refer to WRH as A-Han in this one ficlet

on ao3

Nie Zonghui had long ago suspected that his Sect Leader was a madman, but he didn’t really know it for certain until the first time he lost the man while on a bodyguarding mission – his first, and a great honor.

Supposedly.

“It’s all right,” his father said, looking long-suffering, when he reported back in distress. “He’s an adult, our sect leader, and this is a small city with no major threats in the middle of some idiosyncratic festival celebration for some goddess or another. How much damage can he really do before he sobers up?”

Nie Zonghui stared at his father, then turned to his mother, who was also staring at her husband with an expression of sincere incredulity.

“Lots,” she supplied. “Lots and lots and lots, and that’s assuming he doesn’t get himself killed in the meantime. Why would you even say that?”

“He’s our sect leader, have some respect.”

“I respect the boss bull of the herd, too, but it doesn’t mean I let it go wandering around the fields wherever it pleases!” She shook her head, snorting in a manner not entirely unlike a bull herself. “Well, if we’re very lucky, maybe our cousin will knock up a cow while he’s out and about rather than just breaking things. We could use a direct heir already; he’s not getting any younger.”

“We could use him being properly married is what we could use. I don’t understand why he’s so resistant – ah, Zonghui, you’re still here? Go gather some cultivators and go look for him, but don’t kick up any fuss, and worry too much if you can’t find him at once. He’ll be back to business soon enough.”

He was, if by “soon enough” one meant “after nearly ten days” and by “back to business” one meant “still drunk off his ass and waxing rhapsodic about some girl he met and possibly married”.

“Yes, yes, I’m sure the sun shines out of her ass,” Nie Zonghui’s father said, his face stormy. “You still could’ve told us where you went. Look what you did to poor Zonghui, he’s been wearing down his heels pacing in worry over you!”

“Oh, heels, yes, did I mention that my gorgeous goddess had amazing legs, too?” their sect leader asked with a soppy smile and stars in his eyes, totally uninterested in any of their petty complaints. “She could kill a man with them – oh, but I would die a happy man between those thighs…!”

“Zonghui, go guard the outside door,” his mother told him. “Also, tell his younger sister that she might need to be sect leader sooner than she’d hoped, because I’m going to murder this fucking –”

Nie Zonghui was there, too, when ten months later his new little baby cousin was (metaphorically) ditched on their doorstep.

The entire thing was entirely too dramatic for his taste, and yes, he was aware that as a person who chose to dual wield sabers he had very little room to criticize others for being overly dramatic, however correct he might be.

They had been fighting bandits – barely disguised mercenaries, really, probably paid off by the Wen sect to harass them – in what had turned into a particularly bad situation. Three separate regiments had joined together to take advantage of a terrible thunderstorm and ambush them at all once and them with their backs against a raging river, swollen with rain to the precipice of flooding, with no way to retreat except by fleeing on their sabers, abandoning the common people they were protecting and losing all face.

The sect leader had been raging on the battlefield, saber in hand, but even he had seen that they would need to shortly choose between death and dishonor; Nie Zonghui, close by his side, had seen how his face was split with a terrible scowl as he wracked his brain for more options.

Then there had been a terrible roar of thunder, and then a flash of light that had blinded them all.

Nie Zonghui had immediately noted the anomality of it, thunder first and lightning second, and wondered it if it was some sort of array working against them, especially when the light had not faded away but grown brighter, causing searing pain in his eyes that made him fall and clutch at his face. But he was a good soldier, loyal and true, and he forced his eyes open to squint into the night, looking to see he did not know what.

Through his sun-blindness, he vaguely thought he could see a silhouette not unlike that of a woman, ten feet tall and radiant as the sun, wearing a dress of nine colors and carrying a guandao in her hand that seemed to reach the clouds, but when he blinked again he saw nothing at all.

Or, well, he did see something: all of their enemies were headless, no matter where on the battlefield they were, their bodies dropping like a loosened string of coins where they had been standing and splattering anyone they were fighting with blood as they gawped at the sudden corpses.

Also, the sect leader was suddenly holding something in his arms when he hadn’t been before.

“What’s that?” Nie Zonghui asked, and the sect leader turned towards him. Nie Zonghui squinted, and suddenly wondered if this entire battle had been a very bad dream. “…is that a baby?”

“Yes,” the sect leader said, grinning broadly. “He’s my son!”

“He’s your what,” Nie Zonghui said.

“My son! I didn’t know about him, of course – apparently he came as something of a surprise to her as well – but anyway she thought that it would be more appropriate for me to raise him, all things considered. A baby doesn’t quite fit her lifestyle. What do you think of ‘Mingjue’ as a courtesy name? Good, yes?”

Nie Zonghui suddenly understood why his parents were always cursing all the time.

“I don’t see why I need another wife,” the sect leader said. “I already have a son.”

“Don’t you want to give said son a mother?” Nie Zonghui’s mother asked, her arms crossed. “One that isn’t the Dark Lady of the Nine Heavens, the war goddess you somehow managed to knock up without getting killed?”

“She never specified that she was –”

“Someone needs to be Nie-furen,” the sect leader’s younger sister interrupted, “because I am sick and tired of doing the job, and it’s a little difficult to ask a goddess to do it. So you are going to find yourself another one that’s a little closer to the ground this time, you understand me?”

The sect leader nodded and agreed, which was universally agreed upon to be the only appropriate reaction when his beloved meimei said something in that particular tone of voice.

(He did, after a suitable period of time, state that he wanted to make clear that there was no actual evidence that he had knocked up Jiutian Xuannü and that it was quite plausible that the mother of his heir was nothing more than a rogue cultivator of particular strength and possibility even immortality. If Baosan Sanren had managed it, why not someone else?)

At any rate, they brought him several pictures of women that might fit the bill and who would not be too offended at being asked to be a secondary wife – their sect leader swore up and down that he had performed bows with the mother of his first son, rendering him legitimate, and anyway no one was in the mood to see if the maybe-a-goddess would take offense to someone calling her child a bastard – but none seemed to catch their sect leader’s interest.

“Consider visiting a few brothels,” Nie Zonghui’s great-uncle suggested. “Anything to get you back in the habit of thinking about women of a less divine nature – though of course we’d prefer that she be literate.”

The sect leader scowled and stalked off to go night-hunting instead.

“I don’t like brothels,” he said to Nie Zonghui as they made their way through an especially deserted mountain valley in search of something that had murdered all the local mensfolk in the surrounding villages with especial viciousness. “Surely there’s an option in between.”

Nie Zonghui preferred his sabers to either men or women, but he obediently wracked his brain to think of where people in stories and famous songs found their wives. “Innkeeper’s daughters?” he finally suggested.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” the sect leader scoffed, but the very next day, he decided to break his usual habit of staying out in the wild no matter the weather in favor of taking shelter from the encroaching storm in a small inn right at the base of an especially lonesome and nasty-looking cliff.

“We’re always happy to have guests,” the innkeeper said with a somewhat sinister smile – he was pale as a ghost in the guttering candlelight, and his lips looked very red. “My daughter will show you to your rooms.”

The daughter in question was inhumanly beautiful: small and graceful, with a fox’s face and dark hair that fell to her knees.

“Wow,” the sect leader said, staring at her. “You know, I think you could kill me with those nails of yours.”

Nie Zonghui took a look and agreed with the sentiment, seeing that her nails were as long as claws and looked just as sharp, but apparently he and the sect leader had somewhat different interpretations of this sequence of events and plans on how to address it.

Namely, Nie Zonghui pointed out that the lady was obviously some sort of yao or maybe a gui and that she was probably the one seducing the local mensfolk, draining their yang energy and then slaughtering them, and therefore that it was undoubtedly their duty as cultivators – and cultivators of the Nie sect in particular – to put an end to her vile deeds through the swift application of their sabers. Furthermore, he explained, they should take care never to allow themselves to be alone with her in the process, lest she seek to entrance them with her seductive magics and lure them to their undoubtedly violent deaths.

The sect leader’s rebuttal to this line of logic was limited to “I’m the sect leader and if I want to bang the probably-a-ghost, I’m going to bang the ghost and there’s nothing you can do to stop me”.

Amazingly enough, the sect leader did not end up dead the next day – the innkeeper looked just as surprised as Nie Zonghui felt – and instead announced, very happily, that he was planning on marrying her.

“You what,” the innkeeper said, staring at his very smug-looking ‘daughter’. In light of dawn, she was wearing a dress of many colors with a foxfur ruff, and her beauty was almost painful to behold.

“You why,” Nie Zonghui moaned.

“You shut up,” the sect leader told him. “I’ll have you know that my lady here is very clever, literate and well-learned, and she doesn’t at all mind being the second wife. Weren’t you one of the ones on my case about getting a Nie-furen to help managing things back home?”

“I didn’t think we needed to specify that the person in question didn’t murder a lot of people!”

“Isn’t his first wife supposedly a war goddess?” the lady inquired, her clever eyes dancing in amusement.

“Well…yes…”

“Also, all those men deserved it,” she said. After a brief pause, she added, “In my opinion as a totally unrelated observer, of course.”

“See?” the sect leader said, putting his arm around her waist. “No problem. Anyway, she’ll stick to killing bad people from now on, it’s fine.”

The lady smiled. There were many teeth in that smile, and they were very sharp.

“If she doesn’t, I’ll have my first wife discipline her,” the sect leader added and her smile abruptly disappeared.

Nie Zonghui coughed into his hand, but reluctantly admitted that maybe this wouldn’t turn out to be as bad as all that.

“Huaisang is a lovely name,” Nie Zonghui’s mother said, being the best of them at diplomacy when she put her mind to it, although admittedly it was something she did only very rarely. “I think we were just expecting something a little different, that’s all.”

“Possibly something a little more fox related,” Nie Zonghui’s father said.

“Please,” the sect leader’s second wife said. “That would be gauche.”

They looked at her.

“…all of my suggestions along those lines got rejected,” she admitted, and glared at the small shrine in the corner as if it had personally wronged her. In this context, it very well might have.

“Is there anything we should keep an eye out for?” Nie Zonghui said, watching his little cousin carry around his even littler cousin under his arm as if he were a sack of potatoes and not a baby that hadn’t yet had its first month celebration. He would have interfered but for the fact that little Nie Huaisang seemed to be notably more in control of his various limbs than the usual infant. “A tail, for instance?”

“Oh, no,” the second lady said. “Nothing like that.”

“Great,” Nie Zonghui said. “I’m glad to hear it.”

“It’s very rare for fox children to achieve a grand plot worthy of a tail in their first lifetime.” A pause. “From what I understand, that is.”

“Great,” Nie Zonghui said. “…great.”

“You’ll take good care of him when I’m gone, won’t you?” she asked, and when they all looked at her, smiled. “Not for another year or two, don’t worry, but I really can’t stay here that long. Sometimes, a girl’s got urges she has to take care of.”

“The sort of urges where we’d need to hunt down a mysteriously appearing fox yao for having murdered a lot of people?”

“I already promised to stop killing people,” she said sulkily. “Although I do think I made some plausible arguments in favor of a little bit of entirely justified murder in connection with the Jin sect and maybe the Lan sect and, oh, the Jiang sect –”

“Please don’t.”

“It’s not my fault your Great Sects are all headed by men who wrong women.”

“You’re not wrong,” Nie Zonghui’s mother said, and Nie Zonghui’s father looked alarmed. “But still, don’t.”

“You’re such spoilsports. But no, as it happens, it’s getting to that time when I need to return home for a while to pay my respects to the older generation.”

“How often does that happen?” Nie Zonghui’s father asked. “Once a century?”

“A gentleman shouldn’t ask a lady her age,” she sniffed. “At any rate, my family home is rather far away and they’re fairly insular, so I’ll probably be gone for at least a decade or so. I’d take the baby with me, but, well, you know, long travel and all. He’s better off sticking with his father.”

“All right,” Nie Zonghui’s mother said. “We understand, and we’ll help take care of him as best we can.”

“I’m glad.”

“We have only one thing to ask of you in return.”

Their second lady arched her delicate eyebrows.

Nie Zonghui’s mother smiled. “You be the one to tell your sister-in-law that you’re leaving your post.”

“…you know, on second thought, maybe I can push my departure out a few more years…”

“Before you say anything, I want to be clear right now that I don’t need a third wife,” their sect leader said. “I’m fine.”

“Sect Leader,” Nie Zonghui’s mother said, not unaffectionately. “You’re not allowed a third wife.”

“And therefore – wait, really?” he asked, a little skeptically. “You’re not concerned about me?”

“Oh, we’re very concerned about you,” Nie Zonghui’s father said. “But not in that specific respect. Some celibacy would probably be good for you, at least in terms of increasing your life expectancy.”

“…my sister is lying in wait with a cleaver to make sure she doesn’t have to take on the duties of Nie-furen again, isn’t she.”

“I’m not discounting that possibility, but don’t worry about it, it’s fine, we’ll talk to her. The Lan sect haven’t had a proper hostess in years either, we can just say we’re following their example.”

The sect leader eyed his cousins beadily. “They haven’t had a proper sect leader in years, either.”

“No, you don’t say,” Nie Zonghui’s mother said dryly. “What a coincidence -”

“You have two fine sons,” Nie Zonghui’s father said hastily. “That seems like enough, really.”

“You don’t think they need a mother…?”

“Sect Leader,” Nie Zonghui interjected politely. “While we admit that it may be within your capabilities to be able to find a mother willing to deal with one step-son who has been waiving around a saber taller than he is since he learned to walk and has a penchant for the unyielding, unmerciful and very violent application of the norms of divine justice –”

Nie Mingjue’s presence bolstered the spirit of good men, while his gaze seemed to make evildoers itch. He was the most earnestly good person Nie Zonghui had ever met, and also one of the most stiff and unbending in respect to what he believed should and should not be done.

Unfortunate that his standards didn’t seem to match up to the needs of either human law or diplomacy…

“– as well as another who can scheme circles around anyone and persuade them of anything as long as he puts his mind to it and only doesn’t because he’s too busy lazing around in the sun to bother –”

Nie Huaisang liked to file his nails down to something that looked quite normal, but they grew sharp quickly enough if he wasn’t paying attention, and he had a penchant for pranks. There was nothing quite as unnerving as running into a sudden and unexpected ambush and then suddenly hearing the shrill peal of a fox’s laughter, hidden behind a scholarly fan.

“– but all things considered, we’d really rather you - didn’t.”

His mother and father nodded fervently.

“Good,” the sect leader said, though he still looked suspiciously at them as if he thought they were hiding something. “Good. As long as we’re agreed.”

Nie Zonghui walked in on his sect leader pinning the Wen sect leader to a wall, murmuring something in a low voice with a very particular smile on his face, and then he turned around and walked right back out again.

The sect leader of the Wen sect might appear beautiful and young, but he was at least a generation older than the Nie sect leader. Not that that had stopped the latter from relying on their respective positions to refer to him in startlingly intimate terms – my dear A-Han, the sect leader would say with a touch of wickedness that reminded one of his second son and the tiger gall bravery of his first – and while at first the Wen sect leader had taken it as a challenge to his authority, an act of brash insolence, it appeared that they had progressed beyond that.

That the Wen sect leader already had three wives and two concubines apparently didn’t present any obstacles either – except perhaps in what those poor women might have to endure from their husband when he returned from the wretched teasing he was enduring. Nie Zonghui felt a bit of pity for them.

Shortly thereafter, he felt a bit of pity for himself. The Wen sect had long dreamed of dominating the cultivation world and sought to increase their influence with the other sects through underhanded means, with the Nie sect opposing them at every turn. Even if war was not on the immediate horizon, the wise could smell its distant approach in the air - the best estimates said that it would take another decade or two to arrive, unless the Nie sect leader took an especially hard stance.

It appeared, however, that the Nie sect leader had chosen to take a different sort of…hard stance.

Ugh.

Maybe Nie Zonghui could conspire to throw his sect leader into a cage with a live tiger in heat next time he felt in the mood. It’d probably be less dangerous.

Nie Zonghui had assumed that the first person to talk to him about what he had seen would be his sect leader, even if it was only to remind him of the general rule that the sect leader had ultimate power and therefore could exercise his own bad judgment in deciding to fuck whoever he wished, but instead it was the Wen sect leader that found him later that afternoon.

A flush had yet to fully fade from his cheeks, and Nie Zonghui raised his eyes to the ceiling to avoid looking directly at the man in front of him.

He did not want to know. Others might, given that no one had ever complained about the looks of either party, but he himself had realized long ago that he had no interest in matters of the flesh under any circumstances; he was very content with that conclusion.

“Is there some service this one can provide to Sect Leader Wen?” he asked politely, and it was only when the sect leader flushed again that he realized belatedly that his words could be misconstrued. After all, his own sect leader had probably already made a similar offer regarding the provision of services…

“Your sect leader has a sister, doesn’t he?” the other man asked, his voice tight and his hands in even tighter fists. “I’m not misremembering that?”

“He does,” Nie Zonghui responded honestly, and not without sympathy for the Wen sect leader’s position. He was given to understand that making certain belated discoveries regarding one’s own preferences could be highly disconcerting, particularly later in life. “But she’s rather different in kind than what you may be thinking, so it won’t work out that way. It wouldn’t work even if she wasn’t already married, which she is.”

After a moment of thought, he added, “Also, consider your predecessors.”

The Wen sect leader’s eyes narrowed.

Really, it was the sect leader’s own damn fault that he got himself murdered.

#mdzs #lao nie #nie zonghui #madame nie 1 and 2 #wen ruohan #my fic #my fics #the alternate name of this fic was #a goddess a yao and a tyrant walk into a bar to bitch about their boyfriend #but I refrained #atwitchofthewrist

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insufferablelust · 4 years

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uhm hi can i request a spencer blurb where morgan flirts with the reader and makes spencer jealous and can it be smutty please?? thank you!! 💙💙

Hi lovely! thank you so much for requesting! i hope i delivered what you imagined, and happy reading❤️ as always excuse the grammatical errors❤️

Warnings : OKAY THIS IS VERY SMUTTY SO PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!! jealous!dom!spencer, innocent!reader, messy smut description because its my first one so please be gentle with me :), hints of degradation, and car sex! enjoy!!

Please leave a like and reblog if you like my stories, feel free to give me constructive criticism and feedbacks, and send me more concepts! thank you.

If looks could kill, Derek Morgan would already be in heaven right now. Spencer really tried to keep his calm, but there’s something about the way you laughed at whatever flirty remarks Morgan sent your way is enough to drove the boy wonder mad, seething even.

Everyone on the team already knows how you guys are a thing by now, you both tried to keep it a secret of course but seeing how in love and smitten you are towards one another, it’s not hard to see the signs, before you even knew it, you both were summoned to Hotch’s office and given the “Don’t let this distract your focus especially on the field and strictly no PDA” talk, yet you didn’t missed the small smile that was threatening to appear in his face, both of you relieved that you are allowed to still have the relationship despite having to be discreet about it.

Now Morgan, morgan should’ve known that his pretty boy doesn’t like when someone touches what’s his, especially (Y/n), his most precious and way too obliviously innocent girlfriend. So when he decided to blatantly ‘flirt’ with you in the bullpen, to anyone it’ll only look like the usual Derek Morgan stuff, like how he is with garcia but Spencer isn’t no one, it’s not a surprise to see the way Spencer gripped his coffee mug as he stared at the way Derek leaned on your desk, saying things along the lines of “Oh you don’t wanna know, mama” as Spencer about to text his incredibly cute girlfriend, Emily rushed to his side and tap his shoulder,

“Hey, Reid have you finished the research i asked you few days ago?” her eyes glances at Morgan and (y/n) signaling that she knows what’s up. “oh! um yes i have, why? you need it now?” he groggily asked, while still throwing glances at (y/n)’s way and bit his lip at the sight of her laughing— god even though he’s mad, he can’t even resist that you look so delicately pretty.

“no, no i just need you to review something for me, lean over” Prentiss half-whispered the last part, before spencer leaning over and listen closely “Don’t just text her smitten tiger, go over there and rescue her— now see reid, that was exactly what i’ve been thinking!” He almost burst out laughing at the way she half-shout the last part as if to convince everyone. Spencer then nodded before walking over to where (Y/n)’s desk is at, with his hand tucked away in his pants pocket.

“Oh! Spence! Derek was just telling me about that one time he had released your number to the press” Hearing your giggle might just be the only thing that’s saving Morgan’s ass from his beating right about now (well.. also that he won’t ever hurt Derek but thats besides the point). Spencer throws a sharp dagger looking glance at Morgan’s way as he tuck a strand of hair behind your ears, “Mhm, and does he tell you that i beat him by hacking into his phone” Your eyes widen as you laugh loudly and genuinely, gripping spencer’s wrist, “You guys are such children..”

at that Derek smiles and throw his palms up as a sign of defeat “alright pretty boy, she’s all yours” that left your eyebrows furrowed, “what’s that all about?” she stood up, bringing his palms up to her lips to press a soft kiss on top of it, waiting for his response. “Morgan said to me yesterday that he has the same effect on every female he encountered, so i said ‘not (Y/n)’— hey don’t blush you’re making me want to bend you over this desk right now” Spencer whispered the last bit on your ear, which has you clenching your thighs together and draws in a sharp breath, looking around the bullpen “While we can conclude how your demeanor changed when its me that‘a making you laugh, how genuine and loud it is, i still don’t favor the way you were with him.”

“Spence, you’re jealous?” Y/n’s eyes widened, as she stepped closer to limit any space between the both of you. An act that makes it possible to feel each other’s heat, your lips almost brushed against one another before spencer grip your wrist tightly and dragged you to his car in such a hurry.

—

Your breath hitched as you straddled his hips, arms clutching onto his hair tightly and lips pressing against each other in a desperate needy way. His hands were all over you as he gripped your waist to gently guide you grind your pulsing warm clothed center on his bulge, resulting a groan from his throat and you whimpering with need.

“S-spence, we’re in a car and lunch break is—“ you were cut off with a lewd moan, as you feel his thumb skillfully rub your clit over the damp panties. “You drove me crazy, you’re mine and i will make sure you know that before anything else” He grunts in your ear as you desperately grind against his thumb, earning a mocking chuckle from him,

“Oh baby, so desperate aren’t you? sweetheart, i’m barely touching you and you’re already this needy for me?” He leaned back against the seat as he watched you crumble on top of him, heads thrown back, and body positively shivering. “You’re damn right when you said i’m jealous (y/n), you’re mine and mine only, say it.” His demands has always been your favorite, the way his hands gripped your waist will surely leave marks that you’ll adore, and the way he peppered kisses all over your collarbones suggests that he wants nothing more than to mark you up— show everyone you’re his.

“ah oh! i’m y-yours spence, just yours!” You managed to blurted out through your whines, which sent Spencer to a lust filled frenzy. He unbuckled his belt with ease before unzipping his pants and take his cock out— stroking it gently to tease you, “that’s right baby, so now why don’t you prove to me that you’re mine yeah? place your hand on your back, and ride me pretty girl”

you bit your lip at his response before leaning to the side to take your panties off, giving it to him, it’s really the game you two likes to play, he dominates you, and you obey everything he said, you’re his as much as he’s yours. And you know that you can definitely said your safeword and he won’t push you further. You trust him, and he’s there to protect you, the thoughts of that fueled you even more as you straddle him and put your hands behind your back, crossing them with your palm on your elbows.

“C-can you help me?” your voice wavering as you silently beg him to help you line his cock against your wet opening, your eyes glassy, and your cheeks flushed. Spencer swore he could cum just by looking at you, he guides you by your hips and align you both, before you sink down on him slowly- making you moan way too loud, you were borderline screaming “oh! you’re so deep!” you mumbled out as you feel him stretching your warm walls, and pressing onto your stomach. You watched his eyes fluttered shut as he composed his breathing before gripping your waist to help you bounce gently at first.

“That’s it baby, ride me, show me you’re mine” he whispered on your ears, trailing soft kisses down your jaw to your neck and exposed collarbones, “gonna mark you up, so that everyone can see that you’re mine” he groaned as he feels your walls tightening around him, “yeah you would like that wouldn’t you? needy little thing” the way he said that throws you puts you to the edge as you screamed, before he shoved your panties inside your mouth and quickly grind his hips up to you, finally fucking you in a brutal claiming pace.

“shh, as much as i -fuck i love hearing you, we have to be quiet -oh baby you’re so tight” he placed one of his hand on your throat as he keeps on the same pace, feeling his cock nudge a particular spot that has you screaming behind the panties “nobody gets to see you this way but me.” His breathing becomes labored as he quicken his pace, using every limited space you two have in the car and sending you to pleasurable oblivion.

“you’re gonna cum baby? for me? i can feel you clenching around me” He half groaned half whispered, pulling your panties out of your mouth to hear you hoarsely cried out for him “Yes! yes Dr. Reid! please l-let me cum!” you feel his fingers gripped onto your neck tighter as he fuck you with such a claiming pace, going feral. “Oh you naughty little minx, cum for me, go on baby, show me that i’m the only one who can make you feel this good” he breathlessly grunt as he can feel your cunt tightening around him, that resulted in both of you coming with silent screams and shaking limbs.

“I love you, i swear t-to all the books i’ve read” His high pitched voice cracks you up as you both tried to control your breathing, Spencer is holding you close to him, as he pulled himself out and grab for some wipes to clean you both. “i love you too Dr. Reid” you cheekily whispered on his ear, earning a grunt from him and a grip to your jaw “Everyone is probably wondering where we are, so if you don’t want to show up looking like a slut i suggest you keep your pretty mouth shut and behave until i show you just how much you’re mine when we get back later, understand baby?”

“Yes, Dr.Reid”

Oh you will definitely be the one who flirts next time.

—————

THANK YOU! SEND ME MORE STUFF❤️

#spencer reid smut #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid blurbs #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid imagines #spencer reid imagine #insufferableblurb #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagines #dom!spencer #spencer x y/n #spencer x reader

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readyplayerhobi · 4 years

Text

Always Trust In Pixie Dust

; Pixie!Seokjin x Pixie!Reader

; Genre: Fluff, a tiny bit of angst

; Word Count: 14k

; Synopsis: As a vegetable pixie, you weren’t exactly considered the most desirable in the pixie hierarchy. But the uncle of one of your student’s is convinced that you have a secret admirer, only made worse when your younger brother and sister get involved. Will they succeed in their matchmaking or will your admirer come forward before they can get into too much mischief?

; A/N: Okay so...this is my first FULL Jin fic and I feel bad because I basically lost all inspiration for any writing about 4/5 through writing this. As a result...it’s pretty fair to say I’m a little uncertain of how this fic is and how you’ll all feel about it, particularly as there’s no smut anymore (it just didn’t fit). I love the world though, and I love pixie!Jin. I hope you enjoy it and if you do, PLEASE reblog because Jin fics don’t get the love they deserve, nor do solely fluff fics :( also, please leave me your comments and thoughts and asks so I know what you thought. I’m trying my hardest to get back into writing and just finishing this was hugely important for me!

“Kim Taehyung...you don’t have a child,” Your words cause the tall pixie with soft, peach coloured hair to pause with almost comically wide eyes turned to you. “So what are you doing here?”

He says nothing for a moment before straightening himself, crossing his arms over his broad chest and pursing his lips at you. Even though he’s younger than you, he towers over you and you work hard to keep your teacher aura that had him looking so chastised when caught.

“You’re right. I don’t have a child. But I do have a niece. Right there,” Taehyung points over to the little girl sitting on the floor, her voice sweetly joining the other girls she’s sat with as they sing a nursery rhyme together. “And I’ve been asked to bring her home by her dad.”

Twisting your lips, you sigh before nodding and gesturing for him to come inside. The nursery that you worked at was inside a hollowed-out tree, providing plenty of space for the babies and little ones who were not old enough to attend school lessons in the higher levels of the tree. Everything inside your room was bright and colourful though, the walls stained with the vibrant colours that came from the richest pigments created from flowers.

A mural of the forest and individual, faceless pixies took up one half of the circular room while the other was free for the children to paint on as they saw fit. Creativity was one of the most important traits of a pixie after all, and it was your job to ensure that they went wild with all their beautiful, creative thoughts.

The floor was dotted with dried paint, and even new paint splashes from the day's activities and you hummed lightly as you moved over to the line of reed twine that was strung up across the room, parchment hung on it in intervals with each one containing a drawing. Scanning over, you take the one with the little girl's name and hand it over to Taehyung.

“Miyeon painted this for her dad. Make sure that he gets it please.” You request, smiling at him. He looks over the painting with a critical eye before grinning, nodding before bounding over to Miyeon and crouching down next to her.

“Hey, sweetie. Did you paint this for your daddy? He’s going to love it. Look at your house! It’s so pretty. You’re so talented.” He cooed to her and you watched as her face lit up with happiness at the approval and support from her uncle. Kim Miyeon was the four-year-old daughter of Kim Namjoon, Taehyung’s older brother.

Unfortunately, her mother had died of illness two years ago and so she was being brought up by Namjoon alone. Everyone had worried about that at first given Namjoon’s eccentric nature. He was the inventor of the hamlet, the one who put all that intelligence and creativity to use to create new and useful things for other pixies to use.

But it often meant he could be forgetful and scatterbrained. Occasionally forgetting to eat things or working too long. The idea of him raising a two-year-old on his own had been nerve-wracking, but Namjoon had once more impressed everyone by being a doting father to his daughter.

He may forget to feed himself, but his daughter never went without. And she was proving to be just as creative and intelligent as her daddy. You weren’t sure the hamlet was ready for two people like Kim Namjoon.

“Uncle Tae!” She said, her voice its usual sweet mixed with a little shyness. But you couldn’t deny her love for her uncle, nor his love for her. Opening his arms, she jumps into them and giggles as he stands, pretending she’s heavy by making overly loud grunts and noises.

“Oh, oh you’re getting so big. What is your daddy feeding you?” He teases her, laughing as she starts to give him a serious answer. Looking over at you, he gives you a boxy smile before heading to the door.

“You know...I know a little secret,” Raising a brow at him, you make a gesture for him to continue and he whispers into Miyeon’s ear, a conspiratorial look on his face as he watches you the whole time. “Did you know that Miss Park has a secret admirer?”

She gasps loudly, putting two small hands over her mouth while her pretty eyes go wide. You resist the urge to roll your eyes and instead move a piece of Miyeon’s strawberry blonde hair out of the way of her eyes, untangling it as you do so.

“That’s not a secret Taehyung. You tell me that every time you see me.” Snorting, he rolls his eyes in turn before heading out of the door that you open for him. It’s warm outside, with the sun shining down through the forest canopy and a gentle, cool breeze causing the leaves and grass to rustle.

Taehyung’s wings, long and gossamer-thin like a dragonfly’s flicker as he moves into open space and you take in the hint of peach in the almost transparent wings. As with all pixies, his wing colour matches his hair and pixie dust.

“Yeah, but I’m gonna give you a hint this time. You know him.” Now you can’t help but laugh, leaning against the ancient tree trunk that was so familiar to you. Like all pixies in Appleseed Grove, you had also spent your early years in the rooms carved out of the old oak. It was almost tradition now, and everyone took care to make sure that the oak survived despite how it was being used as an education base.

“I know everyone in Appleseed Taehyung. So try again.” The younger pixie hums thoughtfully before winking at you.

“Okay, you may know everyone here. But your secret admirer is someone that you see every other day.” And with that, he spreads his wings and takes off, the soft fluttering of his delicate wings resulting in a glittering blur of peach as he flies off to Namjoon’s home with Miyeon safely secured in his arms.

Frowning, you watch him go before heading back inside to wait for the other parents to arrive. None of the children has noticed you leave and you lean against the wooden desk you use thoughtfully. None of the little ones had wings and you were beyond thankful for that. It was a pain trying to round them up as they moved on their little feet and legs so as a nursery teacher, you were beyond thankful that they wouldn’t get their wings until they were seven.

But you find yourself turning Taehyung’s words over in your head. He liked to tease you incessantly. It was in his base nature as the youngest son of his family and you were convinced the only responsibility he would ever accept was for the stables where he helped to train the birds that your hamlet was so famous for.

Pixies would travel from far and wide for an Appleseed bird. From the tawny owls that were perfect for anyone who needed to travel at night to the swallows that were used for general travelling needs and even the kestrel’s that were trained to help protect pixies and their land, Taehyung was surprisingly good at training them all.

No one was safe from his mischief outside of his work though and you sighed, wondering why you were letting him get to you. Still, though, he’d never given you a hint as obvious as this. Despite knowing everyone in Appleseed, you didn’t interact with everyone frequently. So that reduced the pool of suspects for your ‘secret admirer’.

If you ever had one.

Blowing out air loudly, you resolve to push his words out of his head for now. You’ve got more important things to worry about. Like little Jaebum who has started a paint fight with his fellow partner in crime Jiyong.

The incessant knocking on your door immediately gives you a clue as to who it is. There’s only one person who has that much pure energy and that’s your little sister, Park Jiwon. As soon as your door is opened, you’re immediately waylaid by both your younger siblings as they push past you into your home.

Groaning quietly, you rub at your face before closing the door and turning around. As a vegetable pixie, you had the luxury of living inside a baby carrot. As the name suggests, it’s pretty small and everything you owned was in this one room. A small kitchen was to the left while your bedroom to your right and a small living area further away.

Pixie social hierarchy is dictated by living status. Fruit pixies, like Taehyung, were the top as it required a lot of innate magic to keep their home sustained. Nut pixies, like your brother and sister, were on the second rank while vegetable pixies were below that. In an ideal world, it would just mean you all had different homes, with each home being directly influenced by your magic.

Your magic had manifested itself in a baby carrot, which was admittedly cute looking, Jimin’s in a chestnut and Jiwon’s in an almond nut. But pixie’s were notoriously finicky, which meant that they liked to marry into each other's social ranking. Fruit pixies to fruit and so forth. Which meant you were destined for another vegetable pixie.

You should be thankful, you guess. Only a few generations ago, your family had been rock pixies. Which meant they had no innate magic. So with your younger siblings being the first to ever manifest their homes in the nut ranking, you had hope that the future was bright for your nieces and nephews.

Didn’t help the small hint of sourness in yourself at the knowledge you’d been skipped over though. What you wouldn’t give for a better home, a nicer home. It was silly though, and you shook your head to escape the thoughts. It didn’t matter in reality, you had a good job, great friends and a loving family.

“What do you two want?” You sigh at the twins, their matching pale blonde hair the only thing you can see from where they sit on your sofa. Nut pixies were renowned for having the most similar colour palettes for their hair and wings. From the palest blonde to the darkest brown, your younger siblings had ended up on the paler end.

“Can’t we just visit our big sister?” Jimin says, a sweet smile on his face and you narrow your eyes at him. His cheeks were round and full, something he was never going to get rid of even though he was the same age as Taehyung. Same age and with the same mischievous mentality.

Unsurprisingly, they had been firm best friends since they’d met in nursery school. Which meant that Taehyung’s earlier mysterious comments had almost certainly been told to Jimin, who would have in turn told Jiwon. Because anything you told one twin would end up being told to the other as they were incapable of keeping secrets from each other.

“No. Well, yes and you do. Frequently. But I’m guessing it’s something to do with Taehyung deciding to be his usual self?” Jiwon giggles and it immediately sets off Jimin, the sounds almost the same except one had a feminine tone and the other masculine. Sighing deeply, you moved over to the kitchen and carried on making your dinner before looking at them both.

“Are you staying for dinner? It’s an apple walnut salad.” They both need eagerly and you snort in amusement. Despite the years between you all, and the fact that they had a much closer bond, you still loved them dearly and enjoyed their presence.

“So have you figured it out yet? Tae gave you such a good clue!” Jimin asks, reaching forward for your newest book that you’d taken from Appleseed’s sole library. It was run by Taehyung’s oldest brother, Kim Seokjin, who was a sweet guy if a little shy.

“What? That it’s someone in Appleseed who I see regularly? Narrows it down a little but not much munchkin.” A deep and overly exaggerated sigh leaves him and you resist the urge to poke your tongue out, not wanting to lower yourself to his level.

But he can tell what you’re feeling by the way your wings twitch. Jiwon pushes him, scolding him lightly and you chuckle at the reminder that she’s the older twin. If only by a few minutes of course.

“Shut up Jiminie. She’ll never realise,” You gasp in outrage at her quick betrayal of you and she simply flashes you a sweet smile in response. “Not until it’s spelt out for her.”

“Do you want this salad or do you want me to add in some paprika too?” Hissing, you point the knife you’re using to cut the vegetables for the salad and resist the urge to laugh at her pouting face. Jiwon hated paprika with a passion and you knew that apples were her weakness. There was no way she was giving up this dinner.

“Wonnie, you give in too easily to her.” Jimin scowls, poking at his twin incessantly until she’s squealing with laughter and wriggling around on the couch. Frowning, you watch them both and wonder how they don’t tear or break a wing. You wouldn’t think that they were both fully functioning adults with actual jobs looking at them right now.

There are better-behaved children in the nursery.

“Be nice to her, she’s my favourite sibling for a reason.” He gets up at that, so much outrage on his face that you’d think you’d just severely insulted him or something. Though with the twins, everything was a competition and so you probably had.

“Wrong. Anyway, I’m going to be your favourite sibling now. Because I’ll give you another hint.” Standing smugly, he crosses his arms over his chest and you pause from cutting the apples that you’d bought from the fruit market just before coming home.

“Why, exactly, do you think I care? Even if I find out who it is, nothing is going to happen. Also, stop being mean to whoever it is! They probably don’t want you to tell.” His plush pink lips pout out at your resistance to his teasing and you simply go back to making dinner, ignoring the two of them as they whisper to each other.

“You see him regularly, he’s older than you and you’ve been personally acquainted with him for your whole life.” Now that gets you to pause, frowning down at your knife as you contemplate Jimin’s words. Despite what you’d just told him, you can’t deny that you’re intrigued at the possibility of someone liking you.

It had been a while since you’d gone on a date and even then, he hadn’t been from Appleseed Grove but the next hamlet over in Greenleaf. Taehyung telling you that you not only knew your admirer but saw him regularly had reduced your list. But Jimin’s hints reduced it even further.

The list was still impossibly large in your opinion, you could already list several pixies whom you’ve known personally your whole life, but still. You can almost feel the answer. Shaking your head, you tut at him and frown as you try to push the inquisitive thoughts away.

“Jimin! What did I just say?”

Almost immediately he pouts, slumping down onto the couch in a remarkable imitation of a petulant toddler. Jiwon soothes him immediately, running her fingers through his hair and you want to scowl at their innate bond. Why was she making him feel better dammit?

“Enough, both of you. Come get a plate, it’s done and then I want you two out after you’ve finished eating. And make sure you wash your plates too!”

Perhaps unsurprisingly, your little brother and Taehyung do not let the issue go. You’re convinced that they’re hatching some sort of secret matchmaking mission with you as the main star. You trust Jimin of course, but you know he’s always one to get up to mischief and the combination of Taehyung and him is potentially devastating.

Still, you try to push it out of your mind as the last thing you need is to start stressing over whoever this admirer could be. And with your younger sibling, it could truly be anyone. For all you knew, it might be the sweet old man who lost his wife a year ago and is always tending to the community garden.

A shiver runs through you as that thought passes through your head. He’s nice, but certainly not what a young pixie like you wants. You have faith at least that Jiwon wouldn’t let her brother do something as mean as that. She might find the idea amusing but she probably wouldn’t let him get into it thankfully.

Opening the door to the library, you inhale the smell of fresh books with a small smile before heading inside. You’d already finished the book you’d taken out only the other day and had eagerly come back for something else, wanting a story to whisk you away in the evenings.

It helped that Seokjin was an incredibly handsome pixie too, you wouldn’t lie. The rose pink-haired man was perhaps the perfect man to run the library as he always had his nose pushed into a book and he had an almost perfect memory of everything stocked. No matter what subject you wanted, whether fiction or nonfiction, he knew exactly what you would like to read.

He was also incredibly shy and awkward, which was why he seemed especially suited to the quiet solitude of the library. Plenty of people visited it, of course, even now you could see a mother with her two young children picking out books, but it wasn’t exactly somewhere that saw a huge amount of socialising.

You liked that though and you liked his company too. It was understandable perhaps given that you spent your daily life around small children who didn’t seem to understand that they had inside voices yet. Seokjin was like a breath of fresh air to you. A very quiet, softly spoken breath of fresh air.

If ever there was anyone in Appleseed Grove that would be the most understanding of the never-ending struggles of your little brother, it would be Kim Seokjin. How he’d managed to put up with Taehyung when he was younger was beyond you because that boy was chaos incarnate. Which was another reason why you were here; you wanted to get Seokjin’s opinion on the whole thing.

He was a font of useful knowledge and had read enough philosophy and self-help books to be able to give you correct and relevant advice. Plus, he knew all about annoying little brothers who were determined to meddle in your life. There had been a rather amusing incident a few years ago where Taehyung had set up Seokjin on a date, only it had turned out his date was double his age and thought they were just going to play nuts and stones in the park with her other elderly friends.

Needless to say, it had been embarrassing for everyone involved and you weren’t sure how Taehyung was still alive. All you knew was that Seokjin must dearly love him. Either that or Namjoon had intervened to prevent one of his brother’s murder.

You really should ask him how he restrained himself because you were positive that one day you were going to have to do the same. And you did not want to see Jiwon sad because you’d had to murder her twin brother for embarrassing you.

At first glance, you don’t see Seokjin anywhere and you sigh softly. It looks like you’re going to have to search for the pixie throughout the aisles of books. Thankfully, the library isn’t too big. It takes up all the space in an old tree stump with bookcases lining the area that are all packed full of books.

Placing the book you’ve brought back behind the front desk, you begin to search through the aisles. You’re never quite sure what Seokjin spends his time doing in the library really and when you find him, he’s just crouched in front of the romance section. Raising your eyebrow, you watch him for a moment and simply take the moment to admire him while he’s not paying attention.

Seokjin is very introverted by nature which is unfortunate because he’s quite possibly the most handsome pixie you’ve ever seen. His soft hair is ruffled today, the strands made up of a range of colours from a deep rose to the lightest cherry blossom. A beautiful golden tan to his skin, round cheeks, luscious plump lips and enigmatic brown eyes combine with tall stature and broad shoulders to make him just plain beautiful.

He doesn’t notice you admiring him given how intently he’s staring at the bindings of the books, his delicate, translucent wings shimmering as they twitch in time to whatever he’s thinking. Pursing your lips, you shake your head to push out the intrusive thoughts before heading over and crouching next to him.

“Whatcha doing?” You ask lightly, looking over the novels he’s perusing and realise they’re all historical romance novels. They’re not your kind of thing as the topic of noble fruit pixies taking pity on lowly vegetable pixies or even worse, rock pixies. Society took a while to move on and you were thankful that the age of nobility had long since passed but there were still those who sought to imagine themselves in that period.

And as someone who would’ve been of the servant class back then, you had no wish to read about being ridiculed for loving someone higher up. You didn’t know whether Seokjin was interested in it or was just contemplating how to reorganise them. The shelf didn’t look to be in any specific order and if you knew anything about him, it was that he liked his things to be neatly organised.

Still, he hadn’t been expecting you as the yell he lets out is obscenely loud in the quietness of the library. Even more than that, he falls backwards in a scene that could only be described as comical.

Chuckling, you gently reach forward to help him rearrange his wings before he gets into a cross-legged position. Pressing a hand to his chest, he takes a deep breath in before exhaling slowly with wide eyes.

“Hey! Give a guy some warning next time please!” He exclaims a small hint of a whine threading into his voice in what can only be described as a Seokjin complaint. Snorting, you roll your eyes and sit next to him as you both stare at the bookshelf quietly.

“So, was there a reason you just frightened the life out of me?” Reaching forward, he takes one of the books off the shelf before carrying on removing the rest. You help him by taking on the other side of the shelf, humming to yourself with a tongue in your cheek as you contemplate how to ask.

While you knew Seokjin well enough to feel okay asking him about this, you weren’t exactly super close. He was a little older than you and almost intimidatingly handsome. Perhaps unsurprisingly, you’d had a big crush on your little brother’s best friend's older brother when you were younger. And that was a confusing enough sentence on its own.

As a result of that relationship though, the two of you had had enough interactions over the years to be called friends. Not close friends or anything, but enough that you felt comfortable talking to him. Plus, he was an incredibly calm and stable person when he wasn’t screaming in fear.

Along with that, if anyone was going to understand how to handle Taehyung, it would be his eldest brother. Which is why you let out your breath in a long, low exhale before placing the final book on the pile.

“Did you know Taehyung has been bothering me lately?” Cringing, you realise that makes it sound like he’s annoying you. And as much as you wish he wouldn’t tease you about this whole admirer thing, he wasn’t annoying you.

“Scratch that. I made him sound bad. He’s not bothering me really, it’s just...I think Jimin and him are on one of their matchmaking crusades again. Taehyung’s been telling me for ages that I’ve got a secret admirer and I pretty much ignored him because I thought he was just making it up. Only now Jimin’s got involved and it’s someone I know and see often?” You don’t notice the way Seokjin freezes for a moment, his hand pausing over the top of the book he was about to pick up.

“Oh...really?” His voice is weirdly high for a moment before he coughs roughly, clearing whatever had caused the pitch change before it’s back to normal. “A...secret admirer? How long has he been telling you that?”

Making a face, you wave your hand aimlessly in an unsure gesture as you shrug simultaneously. “I don’t know. At least a few months I think, I haven’t been keeping track. But when I pointed out the other day that I know everyone in Appleseed Grove, both Jimin and he decided to up the ante and are starting to give me clues. So now I know it’s at least someone who I interact with and not just someone who happens to live here. Which is still a really big pool to pick from given my job.”

Sighing deeply, you stretch out one leg before moving your hands to rest on the floor behind you, holding your upper body up as you stretch. There’s a soft fluttering as your wings stretch too and you shiver slightly as they brush against Seokjin’s own, lacing his with burnished copper pixie dust. Twisting your lips, you look over to where Seokjin is sitting staring at the pile of books.

Frowning, you reach over to poke his muscular thigh playful and tilt your head when he looks up. He has an almost curious expression on his face and you give him a questioning glance. There’s no response from him for a few seconds, instead, he just seems to look over your face intently before giving you a tight smile.

“Nothing more than that? No like...name hints or jobs or anything?” Seokjin asks, looking back away from you to start rearranging the books into alphabetical authors. Watching him, you tap at your lips before sighing and shaking your head.

“No. But it’s your brother. And my brother. We know what they’re like. They’ll get me believing them and it’ll turn out to be some old guy. Or even a bird knowing Taehyung. For all I know, they’re just talking bird poop to me and there’s no one.” That gets a snort from Seokjin and you look at him in confusion.

When he realises you’re staring, he coughs awkwardly and you can’t help but smile at the way his ears burn red, a shade almost similar to the rich red of the apple he lives in. His cheeks are soon flushing too and you have to bite your lip to make sure you don’t let yourself laugh too loudly to embarrass him even more.

Still, you want to know what’s got him like that so you stay carefully quiet to let him explain himself. After a minute of silence, that’s particularly awkward, he must realise that you’re not going to let the conversation move on until you’re done. Resting his hand on the cover of the book he’s placed onto the shelf, he takes a surprisingly big breath that has your brows raising slightly.

“I’m pretty sure there’s someone. I mean...n-not that I-I know who it i-is but like...you’re so nice a-and stuff. So...I-I mean, Taehyung is probably right. D-don’t you think?” Slowly, your lips twist up into a smile as you feel suddenly shy at his sweet praise. Hearing Seokjin sound so sure that there’s someone out there who likes you makes butterflies flutter inside your stomach and you feel the small flame of hope that maybe it’s even him.

It’s ridiculous of course because Seokjin is way out of your league. Like, he’s not even in the same realm as you so there’s no point in even hoping really. He’s a fruit pixie from a long, unbroken line of fruit pixies who is also ridiculously handsome and intelligent. There’s no way he’d want to lower himself to be with you.

Still...you can’t help but have a small hope. That crush from years ago apparently never died.

“Maybe. It’s a nice thought, right? I’m not exactly the greatest catch in Appleseed though.” Now he’s the one snorting, his eyes rolling in exasperation before he lets out an expletive, pushing at your arm hard enough until you’re almost falling over.

“Don’t say that. You’re beautiful, smart and have a great job. Anyone would be honoured!” Almost as if he realises what he’s just said, his eyes go wide and his already pink cheeks redden even further. “I-I mean...w-well. Y-yeah, what I said.”

Smiling gently, you reach and take his hand, squeezing it gently in thanks before gently scooting over the pile of books on your side. Even though you’d come here to get an idea of how to handle Taehyung, you feel pretty content now given that even Seokjin thought the admirer might be real. It made you feel a little excited to know that there could be someone out there, dreaming of living a domestic life with you.

“Thanks, Seokjin, you’re too sweet. I put the book I took out behind the desk, are you okay if I take something else?” You gesture back towards the end of the aisle and miss the way Seokjin’s eyes go a little soft at you.

“Yeah, sure. That’s fine. Just...write down what you took and I’ll note it down in the lodger. And hey...just ignore Taehyung if you want. I’ve learnt that eventually, he gets bored if he gets no real reply.” He gives you a small smile, looking remarkably small for someone so big as he sits there on the floor and you give him a smile of thanks in response.

“Maybe. I was going to do that but...I mean, if it is real...maybe I should go along with it? Find out who it is. You never know, it could be my future husband or wife. I’d be silly to turn that down right? It’s a little exciting too like I’m in school again.” Giggling, you give him a bright smile before waving goodbye and heading back out.

Once you’ve left his sight, Seokjin’s shoulders deflate with the long-suffering sigh he lets out while his head flops forward. Closing his eyes, he stays that way for a moment while mentally imaging all the ways he could murder Taehyung and Jimin without their bodies ever being found. He’d read enough books to be able to pull it off, surely.

Flower stems, he hated that he’d gotten drunk that one night with them all and accidentally blurted his long-held crush for you. It was something that everyone had already figured out long ago but that night, he’d confirmed it. And of course, his little brother and his annoyance-in-arms best friend had decided to do something about it and play matchmaker.

But what was he meant to do? He couldn’t kill them now because you looked to be too invested in the mystery of it all, the romance of everything. Would you be disappointed if you found out it was him though? He knew that he was good looking but at the end of the day, he was still the shy and introverted librarian who didn’t get too involved with everyone else. Not exactly the best catch.

Glancing back to where you’d gone, he chewed on his lip slowly before taking in a deep breath. Or maybe you would be happy with the revelation. If he let it get revealed of course. Would you ever consider him as a potential future husband?

Seokjin knew that the only way to find out that was to let you find out who your admirer was. But he was suddenly struck with uncertainty at the knowledge you’d find out via Taehyung and Jimin. Surely you’d like it better if he confessed himself? It’d be better coming from him right? Or would you be angry that he hadn’t said anything when you’d sat here, talking about it so confused?

Swallowing thickly, he wondered what the right decision was. And if he’d even make that decision or make a fool out of himself for everyone else to see.

The next few weeks are busier than ever for you with the coming Harvest Festival. It was one of the biggest events in the year and saw all pixies getting involved with harvesting the communal gardens. Thanks were given to the goddess of the harvest, Alixtra, and everyone celebrated in the hopes of a bountiful harvest next year as well.

As such, you were not only coordinating where you were going to be spending the Festival but also helping the children to get involved. That involved getting them to make special banners and decorations that would be hung throughout Appleseed Grove while also teaching them the importance of the Festival.

You were also being bombarded with Taehyung and Jimin. The two mischief-makers had gotten it firmly into their heads that they simply needed to have you figure out who the admirer was and so they’d upped their game. It almost felt like you couldn’t have a single conversation with them without them mentioning it.

As much as you’d indulge them under normal circumstances however, you were a little too stressed with trying to sort everything out to truly appreciate their efforts. So the most they were doing is successfully annoying you and making you wish that you didn’t even have a secret admirer.

Honestly, it was all just becoming a little too much from them and you’d snapped more than a few times. You had more important things to be worrying about than whatever they were cooking up. And you knew that they were planning something for the Festival. There was no way they couldn’t be.

Groaning quietly, you pressed a hand to your forehead as you tried to rub away the headache that was brewing. Today had been particularly stressful with the children deciding to be completely uncooperative. You’d had to clean up so much mess along with dealing with two tantrums and three fights.

It seemed the excitement of it all was getting to them. As much as you wanted to be angry at their behaviour, which was normally excellent, you couldn’t because they were just children. Children who were being a little overwhelmed by the fact everyone was suddenly making a big deal of the Festival. If the adults were getting stressed over it, then it wasn’t surprising that the children were struggling to cope with their emotions too.

So you’d soothed the tears when some of them had gotten too upset when their painting didn’t go right and you placated frayed tempers between friends until they were hugging each other once more. The downside to being the calm person throughout it all was that you had taken on their negative emotions.

As a result, you needed to calm down and the best way to do that was to take yourself off somewhere. Which was why you were at the aviary, the home of all the birds that Taehyung helped to train. They didn’t all live there obviously, most of them lived freely and returned when called but many chose to stay in the warm, comfortable spaces made for them.

And one of those birds was Sweetsong, Taehyung’s swallow who was his pride and joy. She was, as her name implied, incredibly sweet and had a pretty birdsong when she felt like it. You had permission to take her out whenever she wasn’t being used by Taehyung as you enjoyed riding but couldn’t afford a bird. They were too expensive to maintain, unfortunately, so you simply rode Sweetsong.

You were kind of glad of it, to be honest as you loved her. Heading into the aviary, you called out her name and smiled as she chirped before fluttering down to meet you. Big, intelligent black eyes take you in for a moment before she recognises you and twitters happily, pushing her soft head against you.

Sweetsong was a typical swallow bird with indigo feathers that turned into a navy blue across her head and wings. Her breast was covered in the softest feathers of cream and white, evidently having been groomed by Taehyung recently, while the lower half of her face was a burnt orange.

“Hey girl, how are you?” You murmur to her, smiling as you stroke her face gently. She follows you out of the aviary obediently and stands quietly as you retrieve the spider silk tack that was made just for her. It’s incredibly strong and light, which is ideal given how fine-boned she was, with the underneath covered in the highest quality moss to prevent her feathers from being pulled or caught.

Looping the bridle around her head and carefully adding the saddle, you reach for a handful of grain from one of the leaf bins nearby and feed it to her while checking her over. Years of handling her meant she was content to simply wait for you and you smiled, nodding happily as you accepted she was okay.

“Okay Sweetsong, let’s go for a fly, hm?” Whispering to her, you kiss her beak before moving to the saddle. Pushing with your wings, you landed with grace and positioned yourself as you’d been taught when you were younger. Almost immediately, Sweetsong changes position and you feel her becoming more alert and ready.

Clicking your tongue quietly at her, she tilts her head in response before spreading her magnificent wings. You only get a moment to admire them though before she’s pushing off, the sound loud against the quietness of the evening and soon enough, you’re both rushing through the air as she moves faster.

Grinning broadly, you hold onto the reins and lean in so that the air doesn’t hurt as much, letting your wings find their perfect position so they’re not uncomfortable while flying. While pixies were perfectly capable of flying and did often, it was tiring to fly long distances. Which was why different birds were trained, allowing them to carry you when you wouldn’t be able to.

Rising higher and higher into the sky, you both cleared the forest with ease. Taking in a deep breath of cold, fresh air, you sit upright as Sweetsong finds an air current and begins to glide along with it. She chirps happily, singing a song to her wild free who flutter out of the treetops as well.

The forest is far below you now, the green tops of them a never-ending sight as they extend out towards the horizon in all directions. Almost sensually they move, flowing together as the wind rushes through them and you’re reminded of the rushing river close to Appleseed. It’s far stronger than the simple creek that slithers through the Grove but the movement of the canopy reminds you of it for a moment.

Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath and simply enjoy how relaxing it feels to be so high. There are no worries up here, no stress or anxiety. No secret admirers or annoying little brothers. It’s just you and Sweetsong with the final rays of the sun painting a striking image across the sky in pinks, oranges, purples and yellows.

This was exactly what you needed after the day you’d had. After the month you’ve had really. It was just...relaxing to have nothing to concern yourself about for an hour or so. Sweetsong flew steadily for you and the day was ending beautifully, making you positive that you’d made the right decision to take her out.

“Ah girl, what am I gonna do?” You sighed out, reaching forward to stroke the silky soft feathers of the swallow’s head. What you were asking that question about exactly, you weren’t sure. A lot of things were uncertain lately and you just didn’t know how to handle it all. Still, it felt nice to just ignore civilization for a while and instead just fly.

So that’s what you do for the next hour. The two of swooping and soaring through the air, travelling a good distance before heading back home. You can tell that Sweetsong is happy to just be able to fly how she wants given the cute noises she makes the whole time and you can’t help but laugh at them. Despite Taehyung being an annoyance for you lately, you wouldn’t deny that he’d done a good job with training her.

His pride and joy.

Appleseed Grove isn’t visible from the air at first, not unless you have a hawk’s vision. But the lower Sweetsong gets, the better you get to see your home. The small oil lamps have been lit for the night, giving the Grove a warm and cosy look while you see a few stragglers who are out enjoying the last of the evening light.

All around the Grove is a range of fruits, nuts and vegetables that are home to so many pixies. Single pixies and whole families of them arranged neatly in whatever magic is inherent to you all. A few tree trunks are hollowed out for social needs such as the school but otherwise, it’s a burst of pretty colours that blend.

Landing at the aviary, you quickly get off Sweetsong and set about getting her ready for the night. The bridle and saddle are removed while you quickly go and get the feather shine Taehyung had developed long ago. Running it along her feathers gently, you smiled at her pleased and content noises and kissed her beak once more.

Once she is ready to go back in for sleep, you walk in with her and give her a nightly feed. When Taehyung had agreed to let you take her out whenever you’d also agreed to care for her when you came back. That meant grooming her once finished and feeding her, along with cleaning her tack.

Which is why once you’ve got her all settled, you sit down on one of the small seats made from a broken branch to begin cleaning. The spider silk bridle is so light and dainty in your hands, yet you know it’s near enough impossible to break. Still, it can get dirty quite easily and the moss has to be cared for to make sure it doesn’t go bad.

“Y/N?” Your name is called makes you jump in surprise, the sound loud and unexpected in the quietness of the aviary. Looking around at the entrance with wide eyes, you frown for a moment in confusion at the sight of Seokjin before giving him a friendly smile.

“Hey Seokjin, how are you?” You ask politely, watching as he moves inside from the doorway. He’s playing with his hands, fingers pushing and rubbing against each other and you frown as you realise that he’s nervous for some reason. Although it was Seokjin and he wasn’t exactly famed for having an outgoing disposition.

“Hi, I’m err...I’m good. Yeah, good.” Tilting your head at him, your eyes narrow as you wonder what’s so wrong. He sounds like something’s wrong and you go to get up, unsure if you’re needed for something. Although what help you could be, you didn’t know.

“N-no, don’t get up. It’s okay. I just...I mean...I have something to tell you. Myself. Before others tell you. I just…” He swallows, his face paler than usual and you watch intently as he wipes at his brow with shaking hands. “I want you to hear it from me. And I’m sorry that I haven’t told you before now. But…it’s just...it’s you.”

Raising an eyebrow at him, you wonder what he’s talking about as he’s making no sense to you. Who was going to tell you something? And what did he need you to know so desperately? You only really saw him when you went to the library so you couldn’t think of anything hugely important. Unless you’d forgotten to take a book back or something.

“I-I like you. It’s me. Your secret admirer. It’s, well, it’s me. I err, I don’t remember when it started or anything b-but it was a long time ago. I just...y-you’re so pretty and outgoing. I never knew h-how to talk to you properly like that. And I didn’t think that you’d like me like that either. But then you said that about Taehyung and Jimin and I panicked because what if you found out from them and not from me?” He continues to babble for a few minutes but all you can focus on is two immediate facts.

Firstly, he likes you. As in...romantically likes you. All those crushes you’d had as a teenager immediately come rushing to fore as you try to understand the fact that Kim Seokjin, the incredibly handsome and intelligent Kim Seokjin who was way out of your realm, liked you. This must be a dream or something.

The only explanation.

Secondly, he was your secret admirer? That gets the biggest frown from you as you try to comprehend it. Taehyung and Jimin had been pretty clumsy with their hints obviously, but they were right in the hints they had given you. You did know him well and you did interact with him frequently.

Plus, the fact that Seokjin was Taehyung’s older brother and Jimin was Taehyung’s best friend...it all made sense. Though why they’d started their crusade to get you together, you weren’t entirely sure. You were positive that you hadn’t given any hint to the fact that you could potentially like Seokjin.

Pushing those thoughts out of your head though, you decide that the most important concern right now is to make sure that the fruit pixie doesn’t give himself a heart attack. Which looks a distinct possibility given how stressed he’s looking right now.

Giving him a gentle smile, you reach out and take one of his shaking hands and invite him to sit next to you. The way he almost falls onto the seat has you biting your lip to stop yourself from laughing though it’s not helped by the way his eyes are so wide, almost like he’s seen a ghost or something.

“Hey, hey, Seokjin. Please...just calm down. It’s okay. I’m not going to be mean or anything. Just...take a breath and explain it to me properly. You’re my admirer? You like me?” The way your lips curl up into a smile as you say those words is mirrored by the warm and fuzzy feeling in your stomach.

Seokjin pauses, body stilling completely for a second as he acknowledges what you’ve said before nodding slowly. He’s not looking at you now, instead focusing firmly on the ground before him. Licking at your lips, you wonder how to handle this and it goes quiet for a few moments.

“Wow, teenage me would be dying of excitement right now,” You tease him lightly, pushing at his shoulder with your own as you grin at his surprise. “And I’ll be honest...adult me is pretty happy with this news too. You like me? A vegetable pixie?”

That gets a snort of derision from him and you almost sigh in relief at how his annoyance with the intricacies of the pixie social hierarchy is stronger than his nerves. Leaning into him a little, you inhale deeply and smile at the sweet scent he gives off.

“I don’t care about that! Who cares?! It means nothing other than your magic chose that to manifest in. Some of the smartest pixies in history weren’t fruit pixies so why does it matter? I mean, you teach the future of our society in school and…” He carries on with his rant, his strong brows furrowed inwards as he gesticulated wildly to go along with his anger.

It makes you feel a little warm at how he repudiates the societal expectations that you’d both grown up with. Pursing your lips, you let him finally finish before he takes a deep breath to steady himself. Then he looks directly at you, those beautiful and emotive mahogany eyes feeling like they’re staring deep into you.

“I like you Y/N. I-I’ve never dared to say it before because I didn’t think you’d like me back. I’m nothing like you and I know that. But I was with some friends one night and we got to drinking honey sugar so I was a little drunk and...yeah. That’s where Taehyung and Jimin found out about my feelings. I don’t know if I was going to get the courage to tell you but when you told me what they were doing...I couldn’t let you find out that way. Nor did I want to get blindsided by their scheming. If you want to reject me then…I-I’d rather you do it in private than whatever they’re planning.” He finished, round cheeks flushing a red that makes him look rather sweet while his eyes almost seem to shine in the low light.

You don’t respond for a minute, simply looking him over carefully and you note the way his broad shoulders seem to slump at what he probably thinks is a rejection. In reality, though, you’re just admiring how brave and bold he was to come to you and tell you this. Tell you his feelings that he was planning to keep to himself because he thought there was no chance.

All this, so you didn’t get hurt or upset at finding out who your admirer was. There was some selfish nature too as he didn’t want to get rejected in a public setting but still. You could only imagine how difficult it was to put yourself and your feelings out here like this while having no idea what the potential outcome could be.

Reaching for his hand, you take it and gently squeeze it reassuringly. He looks down and swallows hard when you manoeuvre your hands until your fingers are laced together. Lip quirking, you note how natural it looks to have them like that before you glance back up at him.

“I’m not going to lie, Seokjin. I didn’t exactly expect it to be you. I mean, I thought it would be nice but I thought that you were way out of my league and that I had no chance. So to find out that it’s you? I mean...I can’t think of anyone who I’d rather it be now. More So because you found the courage to tell me without letting me get suckered into whatever our brothers were planning. I appreciate that I do.” Pausing, you run your finger along the back of his hand and trace the veins and tendons there.

Seokjin doesn’t respond, instead just letting you explore while you get your thoughts together. You wanted to make sure that you did this right because you certainly were not planning on letting Seokjin walk out of here with a broken heart.

“I’m happy it’s you. And I can’t say that I feel exactly the same, but I know that I want more with you now. If you’ll accept it and accept me?” Once more, Seokjin’s eyes widen to the point that you’re almost surprised they don’t fall out. His wings twitch and vibrate almost intensely behind him, rose pink pixie dust fluttering to the ground as his nerves get the best of his control.

“Really?” Is all he blurts out, his plump lips forming an ‘o’ shape of surprise and you snort with laughter as you nod. Poking at them gently, you then let your fingers trace lightly over the smooth and silky soft skin of his cheek until you’re cupping it.

“Really. I’d be an idiot to say no to this offer! You’re quiet and shy, yes, but I love that about you. You’re also so intelligent and kind and funny. Always willing to put a smile on everyone’s face, even if it’s at the expense of yourself. There’s no way I’m going to turn you down, Mr Kim. So the question is...do you want this to become a relationship? An actual, romantic relationship with no interference from our brothers?” He’s silent for a moment, simply staring at you in what looks like awe.

It makes you wriggle in your seat, the spider silk bridle still carefully in your lap while the gentle sounds of the sleeping birds above you both form a piece of natural background music. Finally, though, you see his shocked face turn into one of pure happiness as his eyes practically light up with excitement, his cheeks rising as the smile on his face grows so broad.

“Yes! Definitely, of course. I mean...are you serious?” Giggling, you nod as he continues to stutter out questions to you. Squeezing his hand once more, you grin broadly as he almost floats off the seat in pure exhilaration, his wings releasing so much pixie dust that you can see it glittering in front of you as it floats on the gentle breeze.

“One thing though,” You say, causing him to pause with dread seeping into his expression. “We are going to get our own back on our brothers.”

The Harvest Festival always began early in the morning, when the first rays of sun began to lighten the sky and the birds sang their first notes for the day. For as long as there was natural light, pixies from all over Appleseed Grove would work together to harvest the crops before celebrating during the night.

It was your favourite time of the year. You were able to see the fruits and vegetables that had been carefully grown over the summer months and know that the winter was going to be easy this year. A year with a bad harvest meant that winter was a struggle, and no one wanted that.

But so far today, you've helped to harvest the strawberry fields. A few strawberries had left your basket and made their way into your mouth, their succulent bodies were ripe with juice and bursting with a sweet flavour. It was customary for pixies to indulge in some of the harvests, as long as it wasn’t going to impact on the overall crop.

You’d already filled six baskets with the luscious red fruit, the pile of strawberries being carefully placed by more volunteers into boxes. These volunteers had the most magic in the Grove, and they used that magic to seal the boxes. This meant the contents remained in an almost frozen manner, staying fresh for the coming months instead of rotting away.

No one knew how it worked really, nor did anyone know how they did it. It was just something instinctive that they did. You knew because you’d asked Taehyung one year. His family was rich in magic and they were always part of the sealers. He hadn’t been able to give you an answer as he didn’t know how he did it, just that it happened without conscious thought.

Through a little subtle influence, you’d managed to make it so that Seokjin was one of the sealers at the strawberry fields today. No one knew that you were together yet. It had been two weeks since you had agreed to start a relationship. Two weeks that had been almost dreamlike for you.

You visited his home after dark, feeling like you were breaking the rules or something, and enjoyed his company throughout the evening. Sometimes it was just making dinner today, feeling very domestic, other times it was reading against each other in silence. There had been a few incidents where the two of you had gotten a little more...involved than you’d anticipated, resulting in you having to rush out of his home in the early morning in the hopes you could get back to your home and change your clothes.

It was all very exciting and exhilarating, made even better by the fact that you loved to see the warm smile of happiness that spread whenever he looked at you. If you’d thought he was handsome before, then it was nothing compared to now when you could have him however you wanted him.

You were pretty sure you were fast on the track to loving this pixie.

The only reason you were both remaining quiet about your relationship was so that your little brothers wouldn’t find out too early. You’d been entirely serious when you’d told Seokjin that you wanted to get back at them. They had far too much fun pranking people and you felt it was time that they got a dose of their own medicine.

Seokjin had just fully agreed, laughing at the thought of outsmarting Taehyung for once. And he’d loved your plan as well. The both of you were going to have to be impeccable actors tonight.

For now though, you’d had to just settle with subtle touches of each other whenever you’d passed, a hand running along his back or arm or a gentle squeeze of your arm when you handed him another basket of strawberries. The smiles between you both were perhaps a little softer than one might expect, your eyes a little more loved up but no one was looking too closely.

It felt nice though, to have someone to smile and laugh with. You just couldn’t wait until it was finally out in the open, even if Seokjin was a little nervous about how people would react. For you, you didn’t care about the general population’s opinion. It was the parents that worried you a little.

Oh, your parents would be ecstatic at you getting into a relationship with one of the most eligible pixies in Appleseed. It was a step up for you, going straight from vegetable to fruit and Seokjin’s family were well respected. But you were worried about how they would react to you. For Seokjin, they would probably view it as him lowering himself.

You had hope though because Seokjin had made it abundantly clear that he didn’t care about anyone else’s views in regards to that. He liked you as you were and he’d told you many times over the last two weeks that he had never wanted anyone else. Which was always surprising to hear, but it warmed your stomach still.

Now though, the light in the sky was beginning to wane as nature painted it in streaks of oranges, yellows and reds while the sun began to set. The lanterns around the Grove were being lit and the bubbling sense of excitement seeped into the atmosphere.

You’d finished picking only around half an hour ago, the strawberry fields officially empty of any of the fruit. The boxes were all sealed and had been moved to the communal storage where they would remain until they were needed. Many other pixies sat around as well, chattering with each other as they waited for the final signal.

Seokjin was sitting next to you, tiredness etched into his face as he blinked blearily and you snorted, reaching over to push at him slightly.

“What are you so tired for? You weren’t walking the fields and picking!” Teasing him, you grin as he pulls a face and lets out an outraged yell. It gets a few looks from others but they just turn away with a smile, used to the way Seokjin was the loudest quiet person they’d ever known.

“Hey! I’ve been busy too. I just...I’m not used to all this manual labour stuff, you know? Or socialising this much. I work in a library for a reason.” He states plainly, his face carefully blank and you can’t help but snort in amusement. Perhaps it was different for you. Being a teacher meant that you spent most of your day on your feet, running around after children and picking up their stuff.

Shaking your head slightly, you can’t help but lean against him and enjoy the warmth he’s giving off. The nights are slowly beginning to get colder and you’re already not looking forward to the coldness of winter. Frost and ice were not friendly to a tiny pixie and you shuddered at the thought of it already.

The fear of your wings freezing and breaking was something that began in childhood and never quite left.

Remaining quiet for a few minutes, you found yourself almost dozing off on Seokjin’s shoulder. The hard work you’d done throughout the day was combined with how comfortable and safe you felt with him, his now-familiar scent soothing you and lulling you to sleep.

The sudden ringing of a bell throughout Appleseed Grove, the sound echoing off the trunks of the giant trees surrounding you, causes you to jerk upright. Eyes wide, you almost don’t hear the way Seokjin laughs as you realise your wings are fluttering in fright. Glancing behind, you grimace at the sight of the glittering pixie dust left from your wings, orange dust shimmering in the light.

“Finally!” You exhale, standing up and stretching with a tiny groan. A warm hand resting on your suddenly exposed stomach makes you grunt, shrinking back down and looking at Seokjin with wide eyes. He simply grins and shrugs, gesturing to the fact that almost everyone had practically sprinted off anyway.

“No one’s looking, it’s okay. Come on then, sweetpea. Let’s go enjoy the evening!” Seokjin doesn’t take your hand to lead you down to the centre of the Grove, instead resting his own on the small of your back and gently guiding you there. Smiling at him, you take a moment to quickly kiss his cheek while you have the chance before eagerly rushing past the now barren fields.

The bell signalled that the harvest was complete and stored away for winter. It also meant that the partying could begin, with everyone making their way back to the hamlet and getting ready to celebrate through the night and give thanks to Alixtra for what she had blessed you all with.

“I’ll see you soon, okay?” You say to Seokjin once you reach the first homes, looking up at him and giving him a bright smile as he nods. He doesn’t kiss you, but his hand lingers on your back before you go. You’re not sure what he’s going to do, for now, perhaps go and pay his respects to Alixtra at the Harvest Shrine.

But you’re on a mission as you have a specific job to do now.

Searching through the Grove, you eventually manage to round up your entire class and have them all gathered around you. The children have spent the day running through the various fields and playing, encouraging their parents and the other adults to work well while enjoying themselves. Now they all stand before you, looking suitably tired yet excited.

Children did not participate in the harvest itself, but they did have an important role to play during the Festival. Alongside helping you decorate and creating a suitably atmospheric mood for Appleseed Grove, they were also the ones who would make offerings to Alixtra for a good bounty next year as well.

Each child had a fruit or vegetable that had been picked today, the biggest and best of each crop held tightly in their small hands. Smiling at them all as you counted them, you crouched down and brought them all in closer.

“Okay everyone, we’re going to do this just like we practiced, remember?” They all nod at you seriously, their faces carefully restrained while their eyes gleamed with repressed emotion. “Good, come on then. Everyone’s waiting!”

Walking through the crowd of pixies that surrounded the Harvest Shrine, you smiled at them all in turn as they gave way to you and your little procession. Cooing and soft murmurs of joy rippled through them as they took in the sight of the tiny children and their big harvest, each small face full of concentration that made them look even more adorable.

Reaching the Harvest Shrine, you bowed your head reverently to the carving of Alixtra before gesturing to the children. Each one came forward and placed their harvest onto the wooden altar, bowing their head as you’d taught them before taking a step back. This continued on until everyone was done and the shrine was filled.

Looking them over as they stood in a straight line, their hands all linked together as you’d taught them, you grin before nodding your head to let them know they could finish.

“Thank you Alixtra for this harvest. Please accept our labour and bless us for next year.” The words were carefully monotonous as each child tried hard to remember what they’d learnt. You bite your lip to prevent the smile that wants to leave as some of them mess up their words but overall, it’s good and you feel unbelievable pride at them all.

Once done, they look at you and burst into grins and cheers of excitement as you nod your head in satisfaction at them. Laughing finally, you crouch and accept all their hugs before watching as they rush off to find their parents. The noise level increases exponentially as everyone begins to celebrate finally. There are no more rituals to perform, just excitement and fun to be had.

Looking around the Grove, you take in everything for a second with a smile. The lanterns give everything a warm, friendly atmosphere as they bring an orange glow to the bark of the surrounding trees. Festive bunting strung from house to house and tree to tree flutter gently in the soft breeze. The scent of honey glazed pine nuts and hazelnut crusted apple slices dances through the air lazily, causing your stomach to rumble in anticipation.

The familiar outline of your younger brother catches your attention though, his sweet laugh reaching your ears as he hands Jiwon a strawprise. It was a terrible name that had been coined long ago by a travelling pixie who had introduced it to Appleseed Grove. Half a strawberry coated in a sticky honey glaze and grilled before being coated in orange peel. It was delicious and a favourite snack to enjoy when the weather was warm.

You’re not surprised to see your siblings together. They are twins after all. What’s even less of a surprise is the way Jimin’s eyes light up when he spots you, his smile growing even bigger and brighter.

Sighing deeply, you steel yourself as you realise this is going to be the moment. The moment that Jimin and Taehyung have been working towards. When they would finally reveal to you who your secret admirer was.

What they didn’t know though, was that Seokjin and you had been working on your own plan to ruin their own. Whether or not you’d manage to pull it off was an entirely different story. It all depended on if you could both act it out properly without hurting each other or anything.

You’d find out soon enough though. Jimin was herding Jiwon towards you and it was only when they started moving that you realised Seokjin and Taehyung had been there too, hidden by the pixies waiting to be served. Neither of them had noticed you yet, both talking to each other intently while nibbling on their snacks.

Scanning over Seokjin, your stomach flipped at the sight of him. He was beyond handsome, entering the realm of ethereal. How you’d ended up being the one to gain his affection was still a mystery. He made a striking figure against everyone else around him, his height equal to Taehyung’s but towering over your smaller siblings.

While you’d been busy with the children, he must have slipped off to clean up after harvesting as his broad shoulders were highlighted by the white, silk shirt he wore. A lean waist tapered into his dark brown trousers, showing off his long legs which ended in the elegant leather boots. But you mainly focused on his face, admiring how nature had been so kind and generous to him.

His peony pink lips were plush and plump, glistening from the sticky glaze of the maple treat he was eating and you knew from experience that they were just as soft as they looked. Pink hair looked almost artfully styled on top of his head, making his tan skin even richer in the low lights while his eyes were creased in happiness as he laughed at something Taehyung said.

You loved Seokjin’s eyes. Even before you’d started dating, you’d always thought he had the sweetest eyes. Gentle and kind yet intense as well, the long dark lashes that surrounded them giving him an even more dramatic look. Yes, nature had fallen in love with Seokjin and you couldn’t blame her.

When combined with his patient, kind and inquisitive nature, it was impossible to not fall in love with him.

Which was a thought for another day, as even you knew that it was far too soon to be thinking such big thoughts like that. Still, your wings fluttered in anticipation at the sight of him as you hoped they wouldn’t betray the fact you were happy. It wouldn’t do to let Jimin and Taehyung achieve their little goal.

It’s not long before they’re greeting you, joy-filled on all their faces and beating out the exhaustion of all the work from today. You’re careful to act very politely with Seokjin, hoping you two aren’t letting on that you’re a little closer than your siblings might realise. As far as they were aware, you two were only acquainted and didn’t particularly consider each other friends.

“You’re free for the night now, right?” Jimin asks, slinging his arm around your shoulders before squeezing tightly. Cringing from the tight embrace, you poke at his side until he’s yelping and pulling away with a pout before holding out the strawprise he’d brought over for you.

“Thank you. And yeah, I’m all done now. Everyone else finished?” You didn’t think anyone else had any other jobs to do tonight but you weren’t entirely sure given how busy you’d been arranging your own time. Everyone shakes their head, including Seokjin, and you smile at them all happily.

“Great, then we can all just enjoy the night. Did you all have a good day?” The five of you move off to find an empty spot of grass, close enough to the festivities to be able to see, hear and smell everything but far enough that you can all hear each other without having to shout. Fluttering your wings slightly, you shift until you’re comfortable with them before realising that Taehyung and Jimin had moved around until Seokjin was sitting next to you.

It took a surprising amount of effort on your behalf to not reach out and touch him, especially when he’d placed his hand so close to yours on the ground. From this angle, he almost glowed in the gentle lights and you wanted to just rest your chin on your knees and watch him, fascinated with how quickly you’d fallen for him.

A sudden tickling sensation against your highly sensitive wings has you stiffening with wide eyes, glancing behind quickly to spot Seokjin’s translucent wing resting against your own softly. Twinkles of pink dust mixed with your burnt orange to create a beautiful image and you bit your lip as you turned back around, pleased with the subtle physical affection he was giving you.

Your wings were the most sensitive part of you with each pixie taking plenty of care to look after them. They weren’t as fragile as they looked, but it was considered especially rude to touch another’s wings on purpose. That social norm changed when you were in a relationship though and it was considered more intimate.

No one could see what Seokjin had done, but it made your stomach feel warm and tingly. Hiding your smile behind the strawprise that you eat slowly, you listen to Jiwon and Jimin start to argue over who had picked the most blackberries today. They’d both been based in that field and as usual, it had turned into a competition.

The argument certainly wasn’t helped by Taehyung making inputs now and then, grinning when both twins glared at him for ruining their point. Finishing your snack, you sighed and shook your head at all three of the younger siblings.

“I swear, is it impossible for you three to be around without it devolving into bickering? I see fewer arguments from the children I teach than from you all.” Jimin sticks his tongue at you in what was a very mature move while Jiwon scrunches her face up. Chuckling at them both, you glance over at Seokjin with a raised brow.

“Hey, don’t look at me! Taehyung and I don’t fight all that often.” He says with a laugh, holding his hands up almost like he’s trying to protect himself. That gets a snort from Jimin who looks at the fruit pixie next to you sardonically.

“Please, you live to bicker with Tae! And that’s nothing compared to when you’re around Jungkook. The three of you together are even worse than Jiwon and me.” Seokjin’s ears turn a delightful shade of red at Jimin’s accusation and he splutters as he tries to reject it. Giggling, you reach out and brush the hair from his forehead affectionately before letting your fingers trail to his now hot ears.

“Are you serious?” Taehyung suddenly shouts, causing you to jump in surprise and look at him with wide eyes. Your expression quickly morphs from one of a shock to confusion given the dual looks of surprise mixed with consternation on both Jimin and him.

And then you realise what you’d just done. The overly affectionate physical affection you’d just given Seokjin in a very public environment when you weren’t an overly affectionate person in general. On top of that, Seokjin had accepted your touch without complaint and without flinching away, something he would have never done before you’d started a relationship.

“Oh, apple trees.” You curse, pressing the palm of your hand to your face as you realise that instead of Seokjin and you ruining their plan, instead, you’d ruined your plan to ruin their plan. All because you can’t keep your hands off the handsome pixie next to you.

The quiet sigh from your right lets you know that Seokjin has realised that the game is up too. Thankfully though, he doesn’t appear to be too bothered by it. Instead, he just takes the opportunity to take your hand, lacing his fingers with yours and giving you the softest smile that makes his eyes shine with happiness.

“You two are together?” Jimin asks, his eyes wide as they dart from Seokjin’s face to yours then to your hands and back again. It almost makes you laugh at how surprised he looks and you realise that you at least got some victory in that they didn’t get to do whatever they were planning. Maybe this was the better result anyway.

“Yes. We did want to let you two go ahead with whatever you were going to plan tonight and then ruin it all for you to make up for all the times that you’ve annoyed us but that hasn’t worked.” Sighing, you shuffle a little closer to Seokjin before resting your head on one of his delightfully broad shoulders. He smells just as good as he had this morning and you wish that it was just you two, enjoying each other’s company alone amidst the revelry from everyone.

“Wha...when...when did this happen?” Now it’s Taehyung’s turn to have that outraged tone to his voice, which makes you feel a little better really. As much as you liked him, it was nice to finally have the upper hand this time.

“A few weeks ago. I’d gone to the library to take a book back and talked to Seokjin, telling him about you two and my ‘secret admirer’. Obviously, my ‘secret admirer’ was worried about what you were going to do so came and confessed before you could embarrass him. Or me.” Glancing up at Seokjin, you note his ears are going red again and smile softly, leaning to press a kiss to his cheek.

“We wouldn’t have embarrassed you…” Your younger brother trails off but his awkward expression catches him out, letting you know that they were probably planning exactly that. It’s made even worse by the way Jiwon snorts and rolls her eyes, pushing at Jimin’s shoulder hard.

“Liar, I’ve heard you two. I’m glad you spoiled it,” She grins at you before clapping her hands together in excitement, pure happiness shining from her as she looks you both over. “You’re so cute together!”

Now it’s your turn to feel shy and you press your face into Seokjin’s shirt, causing his chest to rumble as he laughs quietly. Letting go of your hand, he wraps his arm around your waist while carefully avoiding your wings, gently stroking your side in reassurance.

“Wonnie! Why do you always give up so easily?” Jimin pouts, his lower lip pushing out further than you’ve seen it lately while his eyes go wide and glassy at her. It has zero effect on his twin sister though who just sighs heavily before pushing him hard enough to have him falling over.

“I don’t give up easily, I just know when to not make a fool of myself.” She points out, crossing her arms and ignoring her brother’s attempts to get back in her good books. Taehyung doesn’t even try, just looking both Seokjin and you over carefully before sighing and nodding slowly.

“Okay, you ruined our plans. But it doesn’t matter anyway. You’ve done what I wanted, which is you started my big bro!” Now he’s giving you that trademark boxy smile, his excitement almost palpable as he wiggles in place. Watching him with a raised brow, you look up at Seokjin for potential advice but he just shrugs, obviously used to Taehyung’s changing moods.

“You’re not...mad?”

“Of course I’m not! I kept hinting it because I wanted you to date him. I know I can be annoying but I’m not cruel. I knew Seokjinnie had a big crush on you and he’d be good for you. So I don’t care that our plan failed because I still achieved my goal. Now you just gotta marry.” That has Seokjin spluttering, coughing up the honey water he’d been sipping at carefully until you’re patting his back in amusement.

“Steady, steady.” You murmur to him, trying not to laugh at the aghast way he looks at Taehyung. Eyes flickering over to Jimin, you watch as your own younger brother gets that look in his eyes that says he’s already planning mischief and you sigh deeply.

“You two are having nothing to do with any potential future engagement, do you hear me? Let us be for a while!” You curse at them both, shaking your fist and making Jiwon chuckle. Looking at her, she holds her hands up to placate you while shaking her head.

“Hey! I’m not getting involved in this so don’t get mad at me!” She pleads and you look away from her, lifting a brow as you look from Taehyung to Jimin carefully. Neither of them says anything but you note with a sinking feeling that they’ve both got those carefully neutral expressions painted on their faces.

The expressions that say they’re going to get up to something.

Almost immediately you stand, pulling Seokjin up with almost pure strength while you point at the two mischief-makers with narrowed eyes. “Don’t even think about it. Let us just enjoy the fact that we’re together, do you understand? And don’t you dare pressure Seokjin into anything!”

Grabbing Seokjin’s hand, you quickly walk away through the crowd before you can hear either of their protestations that they wouldn’t even think of doing such a thing. Seokjin doesn’t say anything either, just letting you lead him between people while you both ignore the fact that your obvious closeness was making subtle waves throughout.

Everyone knew everyone in Appleseed after all, so it wasn’t surprising that people noted your newfound affection towards the librarian. Thankfully though, no one was too inclined to say anything and just let you both go until you were on the other side of the grove, close to the aviary.

The soft cooing of the birds as they settled down for the night complemented the now subdued noises from the festival, letting you both feel like you were still part of everything while giving you both your own space. Leaning back against the fence, you carefully shift your wings over the top until they’re resting carefully before letting out a deep sigh that quickly evolves into a groan.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-” Seokjin cuts you off with a fingertip to your lips, an equally gentle smile on his own as he looks down at you fondly. The lighting isn’t as great here but he still looks beautiful.

“It’s okay Honestly, I’m not the best actor so I wasn’t looking forward to trying to keep a straight face. I’m glad we just got it out there.” His voice is calm and you can tell he’s genuinely not upset at you ruining the plan, perhaps even relieved that you can now both just be together without any of the cloak and dagger behaviour you’ve both been doing.

Although it has been fun to feel young again when you slunk around like you were trying to avoid your parents.

“Yeah...me too. Now we can just...be together. Normally and in the open.” You grin up at him before wrapping your arms around his waist, enjoying the way he feels so solid beneath your hands. Resting your chin on his chest, you close your eyes and simply take in a deep breath, enjoying how peaceful and calm everything seems to be at this moment. How much you just enjoy being around Seokjin, something you hadn’t even realised until you’d started dating.

“You’re happy, right?” Seokjin asks quietly, resting his cheek on your head while his arms come to embrace you around your shoulders. Nodding against him, you give him an affirmative noise as well, unwilling to ruin the moment.

You don’t need him to tell you that he feels the same. The way his arms tighten around you and the soft kiss he presses to your forehead lets you know, causing you to smile as you simply enjoy the moment while the rest of Appleseed Grove celebrates around you.

Despite the annoyance you’d felt at both Taehyung and Jimin only a few months ago with their secret admirer nonsense, you owed them for the fact that Seokjin had finally gotten the courage to tell you his true feelings. Not that you’d ever let them know that of course. But most of all, you were just thankful that Seokjin had decided to come forward.

You may have only been with him for a few weeks now, but you already couldn’t imagine your life without the beautiful fruit pixie in it anymore.

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adminbryantsaki · 3 years

Text

A Girl like you.

Part one.

Hawks x reader

(I do not own Hawks/ Keigo Takami. Horikoshi Kohei does. This was commissioned by the lovely @undefined--person. Thanks to @nocturnalazura for helping with the grammar and proofreading. If this isn’t your cup of tea, blend of spices, or brew of coffee, move on. )

Tip jar/paypal

Commissions

Tw: Blood, angst, mentions of injury, stalking, breaking up,

Wc: 5k.

You paced your living room as you were waiting for your boyfriend Hawks to return home after his shift. He recently became the #2 Hero after All Might’s retirement which came with a big responsibility as he was being called out for more missions. You were fine with this and knew what you signed up for when the two of you first started dating about a year ago. You noticed that your sleep schedule was slightly off since you were staying up late at night waiting for Keigo to come home safe. Some nights he would be coming home when the sun was coming up, others he would only be gone for an hour or two.

Recently, you noticed how the fame and him being on the news had been getting to him and going to his head. He had begun to prioritize whatever big showy villain that had been appearing in the news over you. He also began to sneak off at night after he thought you had gone to sleep. He also would make random trips to the nearby store asking if you wanted something while he was gone. He also began to forget about important date nights or weekends that the two of you had planned. After weeks of putting up with this, you decided that tonight you were going to confront him about it. You heard something land on your balcony and your back door slide open. You stopped your pacing and folded your arms across your chest and stared at your boyfriend as he entered your home.

“Oh, Hey, baby bird. I didn’t think you’d be staying up for me. I would’ve messaged you to tell you that I was going to be late tonight.” He chuckled as he closed the door behind him and walked to you to give you a hug and a kiss. You pushed him away.

“What’s wrong?” He asked as he was a little hurt that you pushed him away. You took a deep breath and cut straight to the point.

“Why have you been sneaking off at night? Also, you have been forgetting special date nights. You forgot our One-year anniversary! Am I that boring to you now that you’ve decided to delve yourself into your work?” You asked him then and there with your voice wavering and tears threatening to fall from your face.

“Listen, I’ve been busy as I’m the #2 Hero now. I want to protect people from villains that seem to be popping up like weeds recently and I want to spend time with you. But how can the world be safe unless I’m there to help keep the villains from wrecking the city? I also have to keep up my reputation and if I don’t keep taking down villains, that might affect my income from the Commission.” He explained. That made your heart break into a million pieces.

“That doesn’t mean that you have to shove me to the side and keep going to the spotlight just so then you can have more money. Can’t you ignore the calls once in a while?” You asked him as you felt hot tears stream down your cheeks, and you pushed him away again.

“You know I can’t do that!” He spoke in a raised tone which made you cower in front of him as he raised and flared his wings at you. He saw you cowering in front of him, and he lowered his wings. He tried to reach for you to apologize and comfort you, but you smacked his hands away.

“Get out.” You told him. He looked more hurt as he backed away from you. He went out onto the balcony and took off. You fell to your knees bawling your eyes out. You let your tears dry before you called a friend asking if you could stay at their house for a few days since things weren’t going well with you and Hawks. You went to your room and packed a bag with some essentials that you would need while you were gone. You then left the apartment and drove over to your friend’s house where you crashed on the spare bed your friend had and slept the rest of the night.

§§§§§

You woke up the next morning to a dozen missed calls and text messages from Hawks wondering where you were. You decided to ignore him and go about your day. You had breakfast and showered before you went to work. Your phone continued to be spammed with messages from your boyfriend. On your break, you decided to call him back and tell him that you were fine and you needed some space from him for a while.

“How long will a while be? I miss having you around the house.” His voice sounded from the other side. He sounded like he had been crying and had gotten drunk too. You frowned since you thought that he stopped drinking when the two of you got serious. You let tears run down your face.

“I don’t know how long it will be. I need my space.” You responded and ended the call. You set your phone down on the nearby table and cried again. He was too needy and you guessed that he only wanted you around for appearances and to keep up his image to keep the media from putting him in a bad light.

Little did you know that he was keeping a big secret from you.

About a week or so later, you moved back to your apartment and had your friend help you gather up Keigo’s things and put them outside your building near the trash can. Your friend left your apartment after his things were put near the trash and you had just enough energy to make yourself dinner and shower.

As you were sitting in front of your television eating dinner, your phone rang again. You sighed in annoyance and picked your phone up. It was your friend.

“I don’t know what you’re doing but turn on the news.” They spoke. You reached for your remote and switched the channel to the news. The news was showing Hawks fighting a large group of villains that seemed to be at the advantage point. You watched as he dived and sent out feathers from his wings to pin the villains to the ground. He looked bruised and beaten up. You didn’t know if you should be upset or not even care that the man that you thought you loved was fighting against a large group of villains on his own. You sat forward in your seat and watched the screen before you. He was eventually thrown into the ground and knocked out. That is when you turned the device off and sat back on your couch.

“Y/n? Are you alright?” You thought you heard your friend say from your phone that you had set down when you turned the news on. You held your head in your hands.

“I’ll be fine. I don’t know if I should be going to the hospital or staying here. I want to go be by his side but I also don’t want to give him or the media what they want.” You responded to your friend.

“Just stay where you are and keep watching the news. I’ll stay here on the phone with you.” Your friend told you. You trembled where you sat and turned the television back on. You saw that Hawks was now being loaded into an ambulance on a stretcher. He looked bloodied and beaten up. You let the tears fall down your face as you watched the scene play out on the screen. You felt frozen to your couch, paralyzed by seeing the one that you loved being carted off to the hospital. You stood up and went into your bedroom to get changed. You were going to the hospital. A tiny part of you still cared about him. You couldn’t deny it. You were sure about it. You walked out of your bedroom and to the couch where your phone still laid on the call with your friend.

“I’m going to the hospital. A tiny part of me still cares for him.” You spoke.

“If you say so. Be safe, Y/n. Call be back with details later, ok?” They spoke. You agreed and hung up before you left your apartment and drove to the hospital. You parked your car and ran into the hospital. You asked the front desk what room Hawks was in and you were told that he was in surgery. You were guided to a waiting area that seemed void of people. You sat alone and texted your friend what was going on. You looked around the room before you focused on the nearby television and listened to the news as it wrapped up the incident of the group of villains attacking and Hawks being the only one that fought them. The screen showed recaps of him fighting the villains and how he didn’t let any other heroes help him and how one of the heroes called to Hawks saying that doing this battle alone was a suicide mission and that he needed help. Hawks ignored them and was now in a critical condition and in surgery.

Your focus was broken when someone with dark hair and a hood up that covered their face entered the room and walked past your line of vision. The person sat in the chair next to you and you swore the scent of burnt flesh and smoke filled your nose.

“So, you here waiting for the #2 Hero Hawks to come out of surgery? The nurses typically don’t let just anyone come into the waiting room for Pro heroes to be in recovery so they can be by their side. You must be his main squeeze. The one he takes to fancy events and show up in front of the media when he goes to a press conference.” The person spoke in a raspy voice. You stared at them confused and a little weirded out. You moved to go to a different seat but the person’s hand grabbed onto your arm.

“I believe it would be best that you stay where you are, doll. You and I need to have a little chat.” The person said in a firm tone. You sat back down and person’s hand moved off your arm.

“Have you noticed that Hawks has been leaving you absent more often? Divulging himself into his job and sneaking off when he thinks you’ve gone asleep? Well, honey, I’m one of those reasons why he’s been going off at random times. He doesn’t love you anymore. He doesn’t even like women. He only puts up that façade for the media. He’s been cheating you. I’m his true love. We’ve known each other since we were little kids so our bond is stronger than anything you think you’ll have with him. Now, I suggest you go home and don’t even think of contacting him again or I will find you and burn everything you love to the ground.” The person said.

You[jF1] turned to the person with wide eyes and noticed the surgical staples and pattern of burnt skin and the piercing blue eyes. This was the villain known as Dabi. Your mind raced with thoughts as you stood up and began to exit the hospital with tears streaming from your face. Some of the staff tried to stop you but you just wanted to get out of there. You went to the car and sat in the safety of the driver’s seat with tears streaming down your cheeks. You hiccupped and your crying turned into sobs that racked your whole body. How could he use you like that? He was cheating on you and not just with another woman but a man? You never picked up any hints from him that he didn’t like you. You just though because he became the #2 Hero that he was busier capturing villains and making the world a better place. The idea that he had been cheating on you did cross your mind. The encounter with Dabi confirmed it.

You waited for your tears to dry before you went back into the hospital and asked if Hawks was out of surgery yet. The nurse told you that he was and gave you his room number. You were a woman with determination as you made your way to the room where the hero lay now healing from the injuries he sustained in battle. You opened the door and sat quietly in a chair in the room to wait for Hawks to wake up. The wait wasn’t long as a few minutes later Keigo opened his eyes and looked at you.

“Hey, baby bird.” He said weakly. You laughed.

“Don’t “baby bird” me. You lying, cheating scumbag!” You told him. He sat up a bit and looked at you confused.

“What do you mean? What have I done wrong!?” He asked you.

“You were sneaking out at night to go get screwed or screw with a man! A man that’s a villain too!” You responded.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He told you.

“Don’t lie. I met him downstairs while I was waiting for you to get out of surgery. He smells of burnt flesh and smoke. He also has surgical staples keeping his skin together. Does that sound familiar?” You spoke with a hint of venom in your voice. Hawk’s eyes widened and he laid back on the hospital bed.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” You asked as you stood up from your chair. Hawks looked to you and sighed.

“Its not what you think. The commission asked me to infiltrate the League to gather more information. I might’ve slept with one or two of them to get leverage and gain their trust. But you, my love, are my one and only person that I’d love until the end of time.” He told you truthfully. You didn’t know if you should believe him or not.

“Keigo… We’re over. Feel free to go to where ever it is the villains are hiding when you’re discharged. I don’t want to see you for a while. I need my own space.” You spoke as your voice cracked and your heart sank to your stomach.

“Then leave.” He told you as he stared deadpan at the ceiling. You could feel your heart breaking. You backed out of the room and left the hospital.

You drove home and closed the door behind you and sunk to the floor feeling horrible and sad. You went to your freezer and pulled out a pint of ice cream, got into your pjs and proceeded to eat said ice cream in front of your tv. A few hours passed and your phone buzzed with a text from your friend asking if you were ok. You texted them that you and Hawks broke up. Your friend responded saying that they will be over with some pizza and more ice cream in about half an hour. You unlocked your door before you went to your room and laid on your bed to stare at the ceiling. You heard your door unlock and your friend call out to let you know that it was them. You watched from your room as they set the food on the counter and look for you. They kneeled down and made sure you weren’t going to do anything drastic and have you end up in the hospital. You told them that you wouldn’t and they hugged you before they left you alone to wallow about your loss. You ate some of the pizza and some more ice cream before you took a shower and went to bed.

You woke up the next morning and it was a struggle to pull yourself out of bed and get yourself dressed. You called in to work to tell them that you needed a few days off to only have your boss tell you that you could take as much time as you needed and to come back to work when you were ready. You were relieved then called your parents asking if you could come back home for a while. They asked why and you told them that you didn’t want to talk about it right then but you just needed to come home for a while and get away from the city. They agreed and asked when you’d be coming over. You told them that you’d be over this afternoon. They were excited that you’d be coming so soon and they would have their guest bedroom ready for you. You hung up with them and packed your bags. You locked up your apartment and left.

As you drove to your parent’s house, you listened to the news as heard that Hawks had been discharged from the hospital and was now spending time recovering in his home. You rolled your eyes and kept driving. You didn’t notice that Hawks was in a car following you.

§§§§§

You pulled into the driveway of your parent’s two-story log cabin that you remember them building just after you moved out. You exited your car as your parents came down the driveway and greeted you. They helped you carry your bags inside and help you get settled. Little did you know that Hawks had kept following you until your mom spoke up.

“Honey, do you know that vehicle?” Your mom spoke and gestured to the dark car that had been following you since the city.

“No. I don’t.” You responded as the car parked and the passenger side door opened and the last person, you’d expect to have seen exited the car.

“Y/n! It’s so glad to see you! I haven’t seen you since I was in the hospital.” Hawks spoke. It had only been a day. You told him you needed your space and he just violated that by following you out here. He followed you out to the place you thought you could get away from him and readjust your life and move on from him. But no, this sick fucker had to follow you like a little lost puppy.

“Mom, Dad, this is Hawks. You two know him as the #2 Hero. I know him as my Ex-boyfriend and a dirty cheating scumbag.” You told your parents. Your mom guided you inside while your father stepped forward to confront Hawks.

“Why don’t you and I take a little walk.” Your dad told Hawks as he guided him away from you. Your mom helped you get your bags inside and heated some water for tea. You sat on the bed as your mind raced. How did he get out of the hospital after one day? Was he that desperate to get back with you? You had told him that you needed space. Was he really that selfish? You shook the thoughts off and busied yourself by unpacking your bags and trying to get settled. Your mom came in with a hot cup of tea to help settle your nerves.

“Y/n, honey? Tea is ready. Why don’t we sit down and you can tell me what’s going on?” She suggested. You nodded and followed her out to the kitchen table where You unfolded the events that had happened over the past day and a half. As you were telling her what happened, you began to choke up and tears fall from your face. Your mother pulled you into a comforting hug just as Hawks came through the door.

“Y/N! PLEASE! I’M SORRY FOR WHAT I’VE DONE. I WOULD NEVER CHEAT ON YOU.” He exclaimed. You looked at him and was absolutely disgusted. You stood up and approached him.

“I am absolutely disgusted with you. You violated my space by following me out here! I want you to leave and I never want to see you again!” You yelled at him. Hawks, looking hurt, walked to the door, turned back to see your hurt and angry expression then he closed the door behind him. You sat back down in the chair next to your mom and you covered your mouth and let more tears stream from your eyes. Your dad put a hand on your back as sobs wracked through your body.

“You can stay here for as long as you need to, Y/n. You’re safe here from him.” You heard your dad tell you.

“I just want to go lay down.” You spoke as you stood shakily. Your mom helped you to your room where you laid down under your blanket and passed out.

You woke up again around dinner time and you groggily left your bedroom and went to the kitchen where your mom was finishing up your favorite comfort food.

“Hi honey, did you sleep well?” Your mom asked as you went to the kettle to make a cup of hot cocoa.

“Yes, I did, thank you for asking.”

“I’m glad you slept well, dear. Can you set the table please? Dinner is almost ready.” She said as you took a sip of your cocoa. You got plates down and silverware out and set the table. Your mom put hot pans and bowls on top of potholders on the table. You felt at home as the smells of your favorite dishes filled your nose. You said grace before you dug into the food and ate your fill. Your mom brought out some of your favorite dessert and let you have some while the three of you settled down to watch a movie. After the movie was over, you went to bed and slept.

§§§§§

You stayed for the next week taking care of yourself. You contacted your work and was able to work from your parent’s cabin. After the weekend passed, your dad drove you home and made sure you were ok and that you had a means to defend yourself incase Hawks came back. You assured your dad that you were fine, and you had a couple people to call in case things did go south. Your dad helped you carry your bags up to your apartment door and hugged you goodbye. You watched as your dad walked down the steps and turned the corner where his truck was before you unlocked the door of your apartment and stepped inside. Your eyes widened as you saw the absolute chaos that was your apartment. Your lamp was broken, your couch was ripped up and your coffee table was smashed down the middle. You covered your mouth and stepped inside your home… or what was once your home. The place that you thought that you could seek comfort was ruined. There were streaks of what you thought was blood and several familiar crimson feathers either laying on the ground or stabbed into your wall or appliance. You got to your bedroom, and you saw a message painted on the wall in blood. You froze in your tracks and read the message.

“Stay away from him! He’s mine and you’ll never have a chance with him!” You read. You cried and fell to your knees and cried again. You were done and tired of this. You wanted this chaos to be over and done with. You picked up your phone and scrolled through your contacts and found Hawks. You hesitated before you clicked the button to call him. You held the phone to your ear as it rang. He answered.

“Y/n? What’s up?” He asked.

“S-someone… b-broke into my apartment. Was it you? Your feathers are here and there’s a lot of blood.” You said with a wavering tone. You didn’t hear your closet door opening as Hawks was consoling you over the phone.

“Y/n. I wasn’t there. Someone must’ve found fake feathers that match mine. Get out of there. The person that did this is probably still around. I’ll be over as soon as I can, Ok?” You heard him say as something loomed over you. Your eyes went wide as you turned around slowly to see that man from the hospital.

“Y/n?! Answer me please!” Hawks yelled into his phone as you went quiet.

“He’s here.” You said quietly. “GET UP AND RUN!” He yelled into the receiver. You registered what he had told you to do but you were frozen in place. The man from the hospital bent down and put a bloodstained finger under your chin.

“I wondered where you were, Y/n. Didn’t think it would take you so long to come home to see my message.” He spoke. The intense scent of burnt skin and now whiskey on his breath along with the ashen smell of cigarettes filled your nose. You remained frozen as the man remained hovered over you. He grabbed you by the throat and slammed you against the wall.

“Go ahead and suffer.” He croaked out as you felt a warming sensation on your neck. You clawed at his hand and beat on his arm with your fists, but he didn’t let up. Your eyes glanced over to your bedroom window where you saw some scarlet feathers break through the glass and stab through the coat of the villain and pin him against the wall. Hawks swooped in and picked you up.

“I’m here baby. I’m going to get you out of here. I’m taking you to the hospital where they can check you out and make sure you’re not injured.” You heard him say. You clung to his jacket and hid your face in his neck. He held onto you and flew to the nearby hospital where he had you taken care of. He never left your side the entire time he was there holding your hand as the doctors took scans and tests and treated your neck for any minor burns. You felt broken on the inside. You couldn’t take anymore of this drama and stress. You remembered what you had told Hawks only a week ago that you never wanted to see him ever again. But there he was, sticking by your side even when you absolutely hated his guts. Did he still care for you? You didn’t know right then but you knew that you wanted to sleep. The doctors said that you should get your rest and you let your eyes flutter closed.

§§§§§

You woke up a couple hours later to see Keigo slumped in a chair asleep. You smiled softly to yourself before speaking up.

“Hey, sleepy bird.” You said just loud enough that he could hear you. He woke up and smiled. “Nice to see that you’re awake. The doctor said that they want to keep you overnight just incase anything goes bad. Then you should be able to go home tomorrow. Or someplace where you can be safe. I’d offer for you to come to my place, but I know that you and I aren’t on the best of terms right now.” He told you. You looked at him and kept your hand to yourself even though you wanted to hold his hand and pull him close to you and tell him that everything was going to be fine. But it wasn’t. You needed to be away from him and all the media and hype That had overwhelmed your life.

“Hawks, Keigo, I need some space for a while. I mean more than a day. I need an undefined amount of time away from you. Everything that has happened, you cheating on me, you following me to my parent’s cabin, my apartment… I can’t do it anymore. I need a break from you and all the things that come with you.” You told him. He backed away from the bed, nodding slowly until he was leaning against the wall and staring at the mundane pattern of the tiles on the floor.

“So… it is true… we’re over?” His words hung in the air for a few moments. The expression on his face told you that his heart was breaking. But you didn’t think it was genuine. You could feel your heart shattering into a million pieces.

“Yes, Keigo. We’re over.” You spoke. The hero pushed off from the wall and grabbed his coat and bag before leaving your room without another word. You let your tears run down your face as one of the nurses came into the room and checked on you to make sure you were ok. You told them that you had broken things off with your boyfriend and they nodded. They stayed with you and asked if there was anyone, they could call for you and you nodded. You told them about your friend that lived in the city and that you would need to talk with them. The nurse got your phone and handed it to you. You dialed your friend and the two of you talked over your living situation. Your friend agreed to let you come live with them while you recuperated. They said that they would be there in after their shift at work to pick you up an bring you home. You felt a little bit relieved that you had a place to go home. You let yourself fall back asleep and drift off into the land of dreams.

§§§§§

You woke up the next morning and the doctor gave you a last check up to make sure your vocal cords were undamaged. They gave you a clean bill of health and you were wheeled down to the pickup area where your friend was waiting for you in their car. They helped you into the car where there was a couple bags of your things and your suitcases that had remained unpacked from your vacation. When your friend parked in the parking garage of their apartment, you got a message from Hawks saying:

“I thought over some things, and we need to talk, alone.”

End part one.

#hawks x y/n #hawks bnha #bnha keigo takami #angst #tw blood #writing commissions #commission #tw stalking #Tw hospital

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giorno-plays-piano · 4 years

Text

Come play with me

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, home invasion, allusion to stalking and non-con.

Words: 1987.

Summary: Having to deal with Bucky Barnes, a talented head engineer who you have to convince cooperating with your boss, you suddenly discover his psychopathic tendencies. Worse, he has taken an eerie interest in you.

_______________________

“Listen, dear, I know what he asks for seems like something very inappropriate, but, in fact, the guy just likes you and-”

“No, Mr. Simons, he doesn’t just like me.” You snapped, bringing the cellphone closer your face. “This madman asked me to be at his disposal any time he wants. Please, don’t try to convince me it’s okay because this is madness.”

“I know, I know, he sounds like a psycho, but he’s not. Mr. Barnes is just... difficult. He needs to work on his communicational skills, he admitted it himself during our meeting today.” Your boss - or rather your ex-boss - was almost pleading you to listen to him, but you had enough of this nonsense. Nothing could change your mind after yesterday’s humiliating encounter with James Buchanan Barnes, the head engineer of HYDRA Corp.

“Sir, I have already submitted the resignation form. I perfectly understand the position you are in, but I’m not going to become a toy of this psychopatic man-child.” You answered firmly, looking at your lovely blue clock on the wall and knowing it was too late for any work calls. “Goodbye, Mr. Simons. Have a nice evening.”

Before he tried saying anything else to make you change your decision, you had turned your phone off and put it on your desk, sighing. You could never imagined one day you would face a situation like that.

Yes, when your boss got a promotion, you were truly happy for him. It also meant that you, his secretary, would now get a different type of tasks since you worked more like his personal assistant rather than someone who simply answered the phone calls and built his schedule. A raise was also quite nice. What you didn’t expect was having issues with Bucky, the genius the whole corporation knew about. He was that very same man HYDRA owed its success to as his innovative approach made the company widely known in the whole world for its - his - active protection systems. Barnes was now working on the brand new weapon system control, but he had never submitted sufficient reports, and, apparently, the previous executive left exactly because of Bucky and his wild temperament.

Despite the fact that he was a legendary figure, you had never met him or dealt with him directly. And since now Barnes became your boss’ pain, he became yours, too.

First, it was impossible to set a meeting with him directly. Mr. Simons wanted to take care of this issue himself and emailed Bucky multiple times, but always got the same dry answer that Barnes is too busy. Of course, he never answered any calls - until it was you calling him. Oddly, he was eager to talk to you. It took you just two calls to organize an online meeting for your boss, and, finally, yesterday you got to see the mysterious genius with your own eyes.

He was nothing like you expected. He wasn’t some skinny geek wearing glasses on his long nose, but a beefy man, his shoulders twice wider than your boss’. Barnes had dirty disheveled hair and a three-days beard, but, aside from that, he looked more like a star athlete rather than a nerdy engineer. He dressed in a pretty weird fashion, wearing tight t-shirts, leather pants, chains and heavy studded boots, but criticizing his style wasn’t a part of your job. You needed the reports he refused to submit and get him to attend the meetings.

Of course, he blamed everything on too many bureaucratic procedures and lack of time for anything but his new project. Even while speaking to the two of you he was pacing back and force in his laboratory, fetching this and that, fiddling with something that looked like a futuristic gun from one of Scott Ridley’s movies, his table full of screws and nails, markers, dirty papers, and metal parts of something you couldn’t recognize. Now you could see the true technological genius everyone was talking about.

However, you weren’t satisfied with the lack of information he was willing to give about his project. Barnes had a ridiculous amount of privileges, able to order whatever supplies he needed without anyone’s approval and working in a total secrecy, but HYDRA’s board of directors was growing tired of his reticence and temper tantrums Barnes was throwing every time someone tried to uncover his secrets. The career of your boss was at stake, and you needed Bucky to cooperate. You doubted the company would be willing to get rid of its most valuable employee, but the board of directors could easily limit his access to many of his beloved projects and make his life much more difficult.

Discussing the endless possibilities of what could happen if Barnes still refused to cooperate, you realized he wasn’t worried even the slightest bit. But he agreed to submit the reports if 1) he would get the team of engineers he picked by himself to help him with his project, regardless of whether they are involved with other things 2) he would get you “at his disposal any time he wanted”. Of course, at first you thought it was some kind of weird joke. Who in a right state of mind would ask for anything like this? You tried to laugh it off along with your boss, who was as shocked as you.

Then you figured out Barnes was dead serious. He wanted you.

Of course, you weren’t having it. Maybe your boss career was at stake, but it was his business, not yours. If the only thing he could offer you was being Barnes’ toy for the sake of the corporation, you would prefer to leave your place and find a position somewhere else.

How could he even suggest submitting to that psycho? Who did he think you were? A doll? A disposable Barbie or something? Even thinking of that was making you furious.

Sighing, you dropped your phone on the table and went to the kitchen to have a glass of wine. Despite the fact that you had already submitted the resignation form, you still needed to keep working before Mr. Simons would find a new secretary. It meant you would hear him pleading you to stay every day, and it wasn’t going to be nice. This damn Barnes made your life insufferable with just a couple of sentences.

Of course, you weren’t going to keep calling Bucky or trying to talk to some sense into him. Fuck that. Barnes was totally mad, and you weren’t having more of his bullshit.

Suddenly, the lights went out, and you stilled, growing in frustration. What the hell? You had to carefully put an empty glass back on the counter and move to your room again to take the phone. Glancing out of the window, you saw that it was just your apartment while others had light in them. Oh, perfect.

“Why do I pay for all this new technology that never works?” You growled in frustration, rooting around to find your phone.

“That’s a good question. To be honest, I wouldn’t.”

You froze. Somebody was in your room. Turning around quickly, you had finally found your phone and touched the screen - the subtle blue glowing lit Barnes’ gloomy face, and for a few seconds he narrowed his eyes as your phone blinded him.

Fuck.

“What are you doing here?” You whispered in terror, stepping away from him and visibly shaking. God, how did he get through the security system? You had just installed a pretty expensive one, made by...

By HYDRA Corp.

“You see, your security system has so many drawbacks I hacked it even without a proper preparation. You have to consider switching to something more solid.” He said calmly as he made a step towards you. In the darkness of the room he looked even more intimidating with his long dark hair hanging on his eyes, his huge figure looming over you as you ended up being pressed to the wall. “You know, since you were so enthusiastic in the beginning, I expected you to act... more professional.”

You didn’t know what to say. You were trapped between the wall and Barnes’ body as you stared into his face, terrified to the core. What was he doing here? Did he break into your home just because you refused him? Was he damn insane?

Oh yes. Yes, Barnes was.

“You know, we can have so much fun together if you just leave your pathetic boss and come play with me.” He tilted his head to the side, letting his disheveled hair fall on his broad shoulder and taking away the phone from your hand. “You’re a smart girl, aren’t you? I know how much you’re doing while Simons pretends it’s all him. Aren’t you tired of it?”

Well, it was true. Your boss had finally offered you a promotion after you would take care of Barnes issue, so you didn’t complain, waiting for your chance. It was all over now.

“And what do you suggest?” You asked, knowing you needed to somehow get away from this psycho and run to the door.

“Take care of me instead of him.”

You clenched your teeth as Barnes got closer, almost touching the tip of your nose with his, his icy blue eyes fixated on you. You felt the strong smell of cigarettes coming from him and winced from this unwanted intimacy. Barnes was too close to let you get away.

“What do you mean? I don’t think you need a secretary.” You played innocent, not looking him into eyes and staring at something on your right. Now your eyes almost adjusted to the darkness surrounding you.

“I can get you a better position, baby. A project manager, huh? You will ensure me and my team do things right.” His hot breath was burning your skin as Bucky nuzzled against your cheek, making you squirm. “You’ll be the one overseeing the development of a new system, and I get to have you close all the time. Besides, your paycheck gonna be way bigger. Isn’t it nice?”

“I don’t think I have sufficient skills for this job.” You mumbled meekly, squeezing your eyes shut when he put his hand on your shoulder gently. “The Corporation won’t allow me to take this position.”

There was a smug grin on his face. “Oh dear, you’re perfect for the job, I know it. And don’t you worry about the Board of Directors, I can be quite... persuasive.” As he smiled at you, you were ready to cry in front of him, so frightened and almost hysterical.

“What do you want from me, Barnes?” You pleaded in distress, tired and scared of the game he was playing with you.

He took your arm in his and made you move to the bed, forcing you to sit down while he hovered over you, brushing his long hair out of his face and tucking one of his locks behind the ear. Then Barnes cupped your chin with his hand, making you look directly at him.

“Come play with me, baby.” He cooed gently at you, wiping away a tear running down your cheek. “I want you close. Come to me. Talk to me. Have fun with me. I’m not asking much, am I?”

“We’ve only met yesterday. Why-”

You heard him chuckling and got silent immediately. You didn’t like that creepy smile on his face. Why did he look like you were wrong? You knew for sure you didn’t meet him before - who could possibly forget someone like Bucky Barnes - but his smile was telling you that he knew you from somewhere before your yesterday’s encounter. Where else could he meet you? You had no idea.

“It’s alright, dear. You’ll have enough time to know me better.” Barnes whispered, rubbing your chin with his thumb and closing the distance between the two of you. “We’re gonna have lots of fun together.”

______________

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki @helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin @void-hoechlin @abyssaint @heeeyitskay @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @navegandoaciegas @rosalynshields @brattycherubwrites @sllooney @angrythingstarlight @iheartsebastianstan @soleil-dor @iheartsebastianstan

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes x reader #dark bucky barnes #winter soldier #yandere

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shutupandshipit · 3 years

Text

Christmas Preemie - One Shot

Summary: Izuku smoothed a hand over Katsuki belly, smiling as it was kicked at rather viciously. “He’s been moving around a lot, hasn’t he? Wouldn’t it be crazy if he decided to be a Christmas baby.”

Fingers curling in Izuku’s collar, Katsuki brought their noses very, very close. “Don’t even joke about that, shithead. I’m not done baking this loaf yet.”.

....

Or where Izuku makes a joke and forgets to knock on wood.

Pairing: Bakudeku

Rating: T

Check out Coming Home if you haven’t already! It precedes this fic!

Author’s Note: So, I'm sure other places have Christmas Strolls, but I've never seen one outside my hometown. It's literally my favorite part of the entire year, but I haven't gotten to visit it in more than 5 years. I didn't mention the name of the street in the fic, but it is based on the actual Plumas Street and Christmas Stroll that's in my hometown. When you're imagining it, think of what main street for a small town would look like (except we haven't been a small town in many many decades). Also, before anyone mentions it, yes the tortoise from the pat store that's mentioned is an actual thing we saw often. They would tie a balloon to him to keep track or where he went. He was pretty freaking big (medium dog size), and if I remember correctly, he was over 100 years old.

It's Christmas day here in Japan for me, so have another Christmas fic. Anyway, enjoy! Stop by and tell me what your Christmas Stroll/Festival is like! (when there isn't Covid) Blessed Yule! Merry Christmas! Happy Holidays! Whatever you're celebrating, I wish you a happy day!

"Daddy."

The whisper was just soft enough to wake him up, but not loud enough to startle him. Still, Izuku hoped if he pretended not to hear it, it would just end up being a dream. He let his face remain slack, his breathing steady.

A few seconds later before Izuku had even managed to doze off again, the whisper came again, closer this time. “Daddy, wake up.” Weight followed, two small hands pressing into his chest with all their weight.

“Sumi,” Izuku breathed quietly, still refusing to move and believe his daughter had woken him up, “It is very early and Daddy is very tired. Please go back to sleep.”

“But there’s someone outside the door. I can smell them.” The weight disappeared from his chest, but not the edge of the bed.

Groaning, Izuku pushed himself up and peeled his eyes open. Weak blue morning light crawled into the room from beneath the curtains. On the bedside table, blurry red numbers told him that it was only 6:22 AM. Katsuki was still dead asleep beside him, pillow covering his head while his hand lay protectively over his belly.

Sumi bounced anxiously on the edge of the bed, her protheses bare metal all the way down to her toes. She glanced between the door and Izuku. Her wild green locks were wilder than usual from sleep, a brush handle protruding over the top of her head at the back of her hair.

Before Izuku could move to extract it, a knock sounded at the door. Three short, but loud, raps. Both he and Sumi startled, glancing at Katsuki before each other.

With a heavy sigh, Izuku nudged Sumi off the edge of the bed and stood. He was just pulling a shirt over his bare torso when the knocking came again. Louder this time.

Izuku wasn’t someone who normally got agitated easily, but between the early hour and the jetlag, he was less inclined towards solicitude. Jerking open the door, scent flaring out strong and sharp, he growled, “What?” He felt Sumi press against the side of his leg, and glanced down to see her baring her teeth.

The man on the otherside was a burly looking alpha fellow with an overwhelming burning sage scent. Irritation made the scent sharper, less pleasant plant life and more like weed. His arms were crossed over his wide chest, murky brown eyes cut in thin slits. He was taller than Izuku by several inches, but Izuku had no doubts that he could still take the alpha down even without One For All. “Tell your wife to reel in her pheromones. I’ve got three alpha teens in the next room over, and she’s driving them nuts.”

Izuku glanced over his shoulder at the still form of Katsuki before pushing Sumi back into the room and stepping out to square up against the man in front of him. He smiled, sharp and dangerous, channeling every ounce of Katsuki he had stored in his veins. “I’m sorry, can you repeat that? My English isn’t that great. I thought I just heard you say it’s my omega’s fault your boys can’t control themselves.” His English was almost as good as his Japanese after four years with Sumi and Katsuki and Shonetta every other day.

The alpha huffed, glaring down his nose at Izuku. “That’s right. You know you can’t bring omegas in heat to hotels in the U.S.”

“Wow! Amazing! You can’t do that in Japan either, and my omega isn’t in heat.”

“Whatever she is, you need to get her to reel in her fucking pheromones. I’m sure we’re not the only family being bothered.”

“I think,” Izuku started sweetly, “maybe, you need to teach your boys some self control. If they get riled up just from smelling an omega, I think the fault lies with their parents and not a family minding their own business in a separate room.” His smile could have cut glass.

The alpha bristled, face going red. “Why you-”

The door opened behind Izuku, and both alpha’s startled as a disgruntled Katsuki stepped up behind Izuku. “What’s going on? Do you know what fucking time it is, asshole?”

Izuku hadn’t heard Katsuki get up, and assumed Sumi had made the decision to get him. His protheses were attached, metal bare to the morning chill. Katsuki was also shorter than the alpha, but his presence was far more intimidating as he glared at him in all his pregnant glory. At eight months, Katsuki was deep into his pregnancy, and deeply over it as well. He had begun to swell at five months and hadn’t stopped.

“I’m just giving this man some parenting advice,” Izuku said, glancing at the other alpha whose face had drained completely of color.

Katsuki shot narrowed eyes at Izuku. “Yeah, sure sounded like it.”

“You’re Dynamight-”

“Yeah, what of it?” Katsuki groused. His eyes turned back to the alpha, looking him up and down with a critical eye.

Katsuki, pregnant and tired, was not someone a lot of people knew how to deal with. They’d set up the trip to visit Shonetta and Cynthia before they’d had the pregnancy confirmed. Izuku had suggested they move it either one way or the other around the birth to provide his mate with more comfort, but the paperwork had already been in route and tickets purchased. On top of that, Katsuki had been sure he was going to be just as small as when he’d had Katsumi. He had surpassed that stage two months ago.

The alpha seemed to shrink under Katsuki’s steady anger. “I, uh, I’m sure you don’t remember me, but you might remember my daughter? She was kidnapped while we were at the zoo, and you saved her before the guy could throw her into the lion pit.”

After a moment, Katsuki said, “Little red headed omega. Freckles everywhere. Presented very early at seven or something like that. Wouldn’t let any of the alpha heroes near her.”

A smile split across the alpha’s face, and Izuku wasn’t exactly sure what was happening here. “Yes! You were the only one who could get her to calm down enough to come out of the crevice she’d wedged herself in behind the statue.”

Katsuki considered the guy again, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the door frame. “Right, now what were you saying about omegas earlier?”

Sumi pressed between them, eyes still narrowed at the man before them.

Red bloomed in the alpha’s face again, but this time it seemed to be in embarrassment. “Oh, nothing. Nothing at all! Your mate was giving me some parenting advice like he said.” A door opened close by.

“Right.”

Izuku and Sumi glanced down the hall to see an omega girl of about twelve pop out of the door.

“Dad, Danny said- Mr. Dynamight!” She darted out, letting the door slam shut behind her. She gasped. “Katsumi!”

“Katherine!” Sumi shouted in return, wriggling out from between Katsuki and Izuku to jump around with the other girl, hairbrush still in her hair and all. “You’re so much bigger than me now! Do you talk to Ms. Bains anymore?”

While the little girls chattered excitedly with each other, Katsuki pointed at the alpha. “You, come here,” he growled threateningly, palm crackling quietly. Swallowing, the alpha stepped just a hair closer, and Katsuki snapped out a hand to jerk him forward until they were nose to nose. He hissed, “Get your fucking boys under control and stop blaming others for your short-comings. You’ve got a fucking omega daughter, and you’re spouting that rhetoric around her? Get your fucking priorities straight.”

“Y-yes, sir,” the man squeaked.

Katsuki pushed him away. “Great, now that we understand each other.” He turned, slowly making his way back into the room, but returned only a moment later with something clutched in his hand. “Hey, girl!”

Katherine perked up, trotting over to the three adults with Sumi’s hand still clutched in hers. “Yes, sir?”

“Here, something to make your brothers jealous.” Katsuki held out a bandana that their PR agents had specially made when Katsuki and Izuku had publicized their bond. Cut from one corner to the other, one side was green and black with Izuku’s signature bunny motif while the other side was black and orange with ‘X’ graphics. They’d brought a couple of the prototypes to give to Shonetta and Cynthia. “That’s the first like it. I sighed the ‘X’ in the corner, and I’m sure Deku would sign it too if you ask him.”

Katherine turned big brown cow eyes on Izuku, and he smiled as he turned to find a sharpie.

Behind him, he heard Katsumi shout, “I’ve got one too! We can match! We’ve got shirts too! I could send you one when we get home!”

“Would you?” Katherine asked excitedly. Izuku grabbed a pen and paper as well, returning. As he traded everything in his hands for the bandana, she asked, “Dynamight, can I feel your belly, please? I’ve never gotten to feel a baby move before.”

“Go ahead, kid.” If Katsuki Bakugou was anything, he was soft when it came to children and other omegas.

Izuku thought maybe it was something he’d never really completely get about his mate. He knew it had to do with biology, but he thought maybe it had to do with just Katsuki himself. He was gruff around the edges, but he had an ingrained instinct to protect those weaker than him. Then again, Izuku was softer than him when it came to children, so who was really to say.

Katherine stepped forward, pressing reverential fingers to Katsuki’s distended stomach before leaning to press her ear there as well. Sumi followed her lead, chattering all the while as the girls felt and listened. Katherine let out a high, girlish giggle as she pulled back. “He kicked me in the face! What a little bugger.” Still, she pressed her ear right back to where it had been. “You smell good, Dynamight, sir.”

“Well, heck, I hope so. How else am I supposed to keep this one around?” Katsuki jerked a thumb over his shoulder at Izuku who huffed out a laugh in response.

Laughing, Katherine took a few more moments before pulling away. She scribbled a cell number, email address, and physical address before exchanging the notepad for the bandana again. “One day,” she said very seriously, staring up at Katsuki with wonder in her eyes, “I’m going to grow up just as strong as you. I’m going to be a great omega hero like you!”

Her father seemed ready to protest, opening his mouth to say whatever had come to mind, but Izuku put his hand on his shoulder with another sharp smile.

Katsuki’s expression was soft as he patted her on the shoulder. “Hit us up when you’re about to intern in high school, and maybe I’ll be able to work something with Negative. Or if you choose not to be a hero in this sense, you can intern with her wife at the hospital as a nurse or a midwife. There’s a lot of avenues that you could take. Make sure you pick the one that makes you happy.”

Katherine nodded, just a quick bob of her head. “I will.” Before they could part, she wrapped her arms around Katsuki and then did the same to Sumi. When she pulled away, eyes finding her father, they went wide. “Oh no! I forgot. Danny said that the toilet is clogged and it’s leaking all over the bathroom.”

“Ah! What the hell!” The alpha threw his hands into the air, stomping towards the door she’d come out of.

With a giggle, she hurried after him. “Bye, Katsumi! Bye, Mr. Dynamight! Bye, Mr. Deku! Hope to see you again!”

As they disappeared into the room, Katsuki turned to Sumi. “Okay, little monster, time to get ready. Shonetta and Cynthia are supposed to be picking us up soon, and why is there a hairbrush stuck in your hair! Deku!”

Izuku gaped. “It was there when she woke me up! Don’t go blaming me!”

“And yet, I’m still going to.”

…..

-7 months earlier-

“Izuku fucking Midoriya-Bakugou, get your ass in here!”

It wasn't often that Katsuki called Izuku by his full name, and he nearly dropped the plate he'd been holding as Katsuki's enraged voice thundered from the bathroom. He and Sumi, now a stunning nine-year-old and growing bigger every day, caught each other's eyes across the kitchen counter. It had been what felt like years since Katsuki had yelled at him so ferociously.

' Papa's mad !' Sumi signed helpfully, eyes darting to the bathroom door before returning to Izuku.

' Yeah, but the question is how much ?' Izuku signed back one-handed, soapy fingers moving quickly through the air, ' And why ?'

“Fucking Deku!”

Izuku startled again, this time actually dropping the plate as he darted away. Sumi's laughter followed after him, but it did nothing to calm his nerves. “K-Kacchan? What's the matter?” he asked tentatively as he pushed into the bathroom. He paused just inside the door.

Katsuki sat on the edge of the sink, head cradled in his hands, fingers pressed to his eyes. The scent hit him next, sweet caramel and all-spice spiked with the bitter tang of bile and urine. Last was the quiet growling hum Katsuki seemed to be letting slip.

“Kacchan?” Izuku stepped completely into the bathroom and closed the door behind him. Whatever this was, he doubted Katsuki wanted Sumi in on it just yet. “What's the matter?”

“Are you fucking happy?” Katsuki growled, but the edges were softer and fonder than Izuku normally received when Katsuki was angry with him.

That made him wonder; was Katsuki actually angry or just trying to hide something? “A-a-about what? What's going on?” When Katsuki jerked his head toward the toilet, Izuku stepped around him and stopped again.

Right on top of the lid, four pregnancy tests sat. Four pink sticks with four pink plus signs on white faces stared up at him.

He was crying before he'd even fully comprehended the sheer magnitude of what the tests meant. Inhaling a shuddering breath, he whispered, “How long have you thought...”

“A couple weeks. About a month, but I wasn't sure. Didn't want to get anyone's hopes up. Had to check after I puked though.” Katsuki still hadn't lifted his head, and Izuku turned to press between his knees, leaning in to lightly scent the top of his head.

“Kacchan, you really are?” he asked with a hiccup, throat thick and voice choked, “Really? You're not messing with me?”

“Tell me, in what world do you think I'd joke about this?”

A sob slipped passed his lips. “Really? You're really pregnant? Are...” he trailed off, fear coiling in his stomach right alongside the excited butterflies, “Are you mad about it?”

Katsuki released a heavy sigh, and dropped his hands. A smile pulled up the corners of his mouth, and he met Izuku's eyes. "No. No, I'm not, Izuku. Maybe it's just my stupid omega brain, but... I love Katsumi and I loved when she was a baby, and I didn't think it was going to feel the way it did. I didn't think I'd get another chance to feel that again. It's different having a baby and that changed my whole world. And this time..." Reaching out, he gripped Izuku's hips and pulled him close. "This time you'll be here to experience it too."

A torrent of sobs fell from Izuku's mouth, and he covered his face with his hands. Pressing forward, he wrapped his arms around Katsuki's neck to press his face into Katsuki's shoulder instead. "Kacchan, I'm so happy! I can't believe- I didn't think- I'm so happy!"

"Yeah, that's obvious, nerd," Katsuki said fondly, threading his fingers into Izuku's hair to hold him close. "Get it all out now. You're not allowed to be emotional for the next nine months. Got it?"

"That's totally unreasonable." Izuku laughed, breath sticky and wet against his own face. "But I'll try my best." He let out a breath, finally calming as he pulled back. “I can't wait to share these next months with you."

"You won't be saying that soon," Katsuki warned, but his smile ruined the effect. He pulled Izuku back in, this time for a kiss. And even though his mouth still tasted hideous, Izuku couldn’t have been happier.

Sumi burst through the door, eyes wild, hair wilder, hands popping around a phone screaming with Shonetta's voice. "I'm going to have a baby brother?" she screeched, launching herself between Izuku and Katsuki to try and get closer. "Let me touch your belly, Papa! I want to feel Taiyo move!"

"Katsumi!" Katsuki growled warningly as he pulled back to glare down at her, "How many times have I told you to not eavesdrop! Or answer my phone!"

Izuku was laughing though, stepping back to hoist her into his arms. "Sumi, you won't be able to feel them move for a long time. And how long have you had that name picked out? Also, hello, Negative."

Shonetta wasn't paying attention, screaming instead at Katsuki to pick up his phone so she could congratulate him. He didn't comply, ears red and face buried in his hands.

"Since I was three!" Sumi announced, "And I told Papa I wanted a baby brother like the other girls in my class!"

"And I told you not to hold your breath, you little monster," Katsuki growled before groping blindly for the phone. Removing his hand, he glared down at the woman on the screen with red cheeks and curled lips. "You tell anyone, woman, and it'll be the end of you, do you hear me?"

"I've already texted Cynthia."

"You know she's not who I'm talking about."

Izuku could hear the grin in Shonetta's voice rather than see it. "Well, the entire agency is congratulating you. Don't ignore them when they text you."

"Bitch-"

"Katsuki," Izuku reprimanded quickly, but Sumi was already preoccupied as she chattered away at Shonetta.

…..

-Present-

“Katsumi Bakugou-Midoriya, get over here and put your jacket on or I’m going to leave you here, and you’re not going to get to go to the Christmas Stroll at all.”

Izuku popped his head into the little guest room that Shonetta and Cynthia had set up for Sumi to use for the week they’d be in America. There was an air mattress on the floor with a rumpled pink comforter in the middle surrounded by two desks and numerous filing cabinets. Sitting on the edge of the mattress was Sumi, arms crossed over her chest in consternation.

“No! It’ll be too hot!” she shot back, “I can dress myself!”

“Clearly not if I’m having to tell you to put on more clothes because it’s going to be cold!” Katsuki snarled, out of breath as he glared at his daughter. He was gripping the back of a computer chair with one hand while the other pressed to the small of his back, face contorted with as much discomfort as it was irritation. “I’m not asking. This is nonnegotiable, and I’m not in the mood to be arguing with you.”

Sumi turned up her nose, and Izuku got a very sudden and terrifying flashback to Katsuki when they’d been kids. “No. I’m not wearing it.”

Before either could snap back, Izuku stepped into the room with a smile. "Sumi, you know you're not supposed to be arguing with Papa right now." He turned to Katsuki with a smile that softened as that now familiar warmth of seeing Katsuki swollen with pregnancy filled his chest. "Kacchan, please sit down if you're uncomfortable."

"I'm fucking fine," Katsuki snapped, but almost immediately blanched and slowly sank into the computer chair. "Fucking kid." Closing his eyes, he tilted his head back and rubbed a hand over his belly. Once, twice, soothing circles.

When Izuku looked back at his daughter, he found guilt twisting her round face. "Wait here for me, Sumi, and we'll talk about the jacket. I'm going to help Papa outside."

"Okay," she mumbled, ducking her head and tugging at the end of her long braid, "Sorry, Papa."

Izuku gripped Katsuki forearm as he slowly stood back up. "Not your fault, little monster, your brother just has a lot of energy like Dad."

She didn't lift her head, and they both sighed as they made their slow way out of the room, and out to the living room.

"Shouldn't have yelled at her," Katsuki grumbled as he sat down and let Izuku slide and lace up the orthopedic boots from Cynthia on his feet.

"There was a better way to handle the situation, yes, but traveling always makes you irritable. And you've been doing really well handling your anger throughout your entire pregnancy." Task completed, Izuku pressed a kiss to Katsuki's belly and got kicked in the mouth for his trouble. "I'll talk to her, and then maybe you can talk to her about why you were frustrated later."

Katsuki made a sound above him, and Izuku lifted his head to find his husband scrubbing at his eyes. Izuku pressed gentle fingers to Katsuki’s wrist, but it only made Katsuki's breath hitch. "You're so much better at this parenting thing than I am. What would I have done if you hadn't wanted to stay with us?"

Pregnancy hormones. Even eight months in, Izuku was still surprised by how wildly Katsuki's emotions could vacillate in a few moments. Anger to guilt to tears. Tears weren't something Katsuki was predisposed to, so each time Izuku found Katsuki crying over something, he always had to stop and think about his next step. Sometimes Katsuki would cry over something that made sense; pictures of Sumi in the hospital, a news story about children being lost in a villain attack, the anniversary of All Might's death. Sometimes, they didn’t make sense; the time he'd knocked the dish soap onto the floor, doing paperwork at home instead of at the agency because he'd had an appointment that day, watching Winnie the Pooh by himself while Sumi was at school.

Everything about pregnancy fascinated Izuku, and he felt blessed every moment of it he was able to share with his mate.

Standing, Izuku pulled Katsuki into his body, rubbing a hand up and down his spine. "We're a team, love, we've always been a team. This works because we're together. Even if I weren't here, I know you'd be nothing less than amazing."

They remained like that until Katsuki’s shaking slowed. After a moment, he whispered, “Deku.”

“Yes?”

“I want you suck your dick.”

Izuku felt his entire body flush from head to toe at the blunt word choice. He laughed, rubbing at his forehead. “How about we save that for later? I thought you wanted to go to this Christmas Stroll thing Sumi and Shonetta haven’t stopped talking about. Isn’t today the last night?”

Katsuki huffed against Izuku’s chest, fingers stilling where he’d pushed them up beneath Izuku’s shirt. “I would say ‘fuck it’,” he groused, using Izuku to stand back up, “But it’s Sumi’s favorite part of the season. The whole thing’s a fucking annoyance.” Which actually meant Katsuki enjoyed it, Izuku had discovered. “The things I do for that little monster and her godmothers.”

Izuku smoothed a hand over Katsuki belly, smiling as it was kicked at rather viciously. “He’s been moving around a lot, hasn’t he? Wouldn’t it be crazy if he decided to be a Christmas baby.”

Fingers curling in Izuku’s collar, Katsuki brought their noses very, very close. “Don’t even joke about that, shithead. I’m not done baking this loaf yet.” He pressed a quick kiss to Izuku’s lips before hobbling away towards the kitchen where Cynthia and Shonetta were singing Christmas carols at the top of their lungs. “Sumi’s still waiting for you.”

Izuku put on his own shoes before returning to the bedroom. Sumi was still sitting in the same spot he’d left her, scrubbing at her eyes with the sleeve of her long-sleeved t-shirt as she sniffled quietly. "I'm sorry," she whispered miserably.

Sighing, Izuku picked up the coat -barely a sweater really- that Katsuki had been trying to get Sumi to put on and sat down beside her. "Why are you sorry?"

Her shoulders hitched, just like her father’s a moment ago, and mumbled, “Because I’m being a bad girl.”

Running a hand up and down Sumi’s back like he’d done with Katsuki, he asked, “Why do you think you’re being a bad girl?”

“Because I was arguing with Papa and made him start to yell and now he’s mad at me. I don’t want to wear my jacket because it’ll be too hot, but I just get so mad when he starts to yell. I can’t help it.”

“You’re a lot like your Papa, baby. He’s like that too, and it took him a long time to learn not to let that be his first response.” Resting his hand on the side of Sumi’s head, he pulled her into his body, pressing a kiss to her temple. “He’s not mad at you, he just wants to make sure you don’t get sick. Papa shouldn’t have yelled at you, but you shouldn’t have yelled back, okay?”

“Okay.” Sumi hiccupped, tilting her head to rest on his shoulder.

Izuku let the moment stretch until he heard Cynthia’s voice coming down the hallway. “Alright, so here’s what we’re going to do.” Lifting her head, Sumi sat back to meet his eyes, silent and resolute. “I want you to put on your jacket before we go outside, okay. No, no arguments.” He put up a finger when her mouth automatically opened to argue. “You can take it off again in the car. You have to put it back on before you get out of the car. If it’s too hot after ten minutes of being outside, you can take it back off, but I want you to carry it just in case you do get cold. Okay? Is that fair?”

After a moment of puff-cheeked disdain, Sumi huffed and muttered, “Yes.”

…..

When the others had said ‘Christmas Stroll’, Izuku had been expecting houses lit with strings of light and families marveling at them as they passed. Maybe a few groups caroling or selling hot chocolate.

Izuku was not expecting a full-on parade of floats and fire trucks and police cars with people dressed as Santa Clause and elves dancing to Christmas music over loudspeakers. He also wasn’t expecting an entire street to be shut down and blocked off to allow the crowd to walk from one booth or store to another. At either end of the street, live music played. One side seemed to be professional musicians while the other side seemed to be high school students and volunteers. Behind the makeshift stages, Christmas trees towered, dripping in tinsel and sparkling lights and handmade ornaments from the ornament making stalls off to the sides.

Each booth and store shone with lights, boasting their wares. There was a whole booth dedicated to olive oil, another to soaps made out of goat’s milk, another to hero merch that Katsuki wouldn’t let him linger at. There even seemed to be a gift wrapping stall every ten meters or so. The stores were all small family owned businesses of holistic shops, restaurants and one records shop.

Katsumi ran out in front of them in the jacket she’d been so against with Shonetta, laughing as they held hands and darted around other families. Cynthia paced Katsuki, close at his elbow to help at any moment.

“Papa, look!” Sumi shouted, pointing down the road, “The tortoise from Guisser Pets is out again! Oh, Cookie Tree has a booth! Can we please get some cookies and hot chocolate!”

“Sure!” Katsuki called back, “Go pick out what you want, and we’ll catch up in a moment. Do a baker’s dozen!”

Other patrons glanced curiously at him, the Japanese obviously foreign to their ears, but Katsuki didn’t seem to notice as Izuku pressed close against his side. “This is really nice. They do this every year?” Izuku asked.

“Every damn year. The agency usually helps out too,” Katsuki said, eyes scanning over the crowd, “Those idiots should be around here som-”

“KATSUMI!”

Izuku and Katsuki lurched forward on instinct, Cynthia’s hand shooting out to grip Katsuki’s arm, but they stopped as quickly as they’d started. Up ahead, a group of heroes lifted their daughter into the air as she screamed with laughter. “Katsumi! Katsumi! Katsumi!” they chanted, Negative already in the middle of the group not making a lick of difference.

For a solid moment, they stood watching. Then Katsuki strode forward, intent in every step. “Hey, assholes! What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Izuku had heard Katsuki use English before -at the hotel, on the phone with Shonetta, to Katsumi when she got overwhelmed- but it was a shock every time. And every time it made him hot around the collar. He watched completely dumbfounded as Katsuki stopped in front of the group, hands on his hips, and subsequently as they engulfed him into their mist. “Ah, Kat!” they shouted, and Sumi popped from the group to dart to Izuku’s side, “It’s so good to see you! Where have ya been, fucker? Holy shit, you’re huge!”

It was a group of fumbling, laughing and crowing as they absorbed Katsuki into their ranks like he’d never returned to Japan in the first place.

Izuku stood with Cynthia and Katsumi, watching his husband interact with people in a way he never had before. Katsuki’s smile was wide and unrestricted as he wrapped one of the guys in a choke hold and rubbed his knuckles roughly over the man’s crown. As he playfully pushed at the shoulder of a small wolf-eyed woman with sharp canines, large triangle ears and grey bottlebrush tail. As a pair of twins with cotton candy pink hair and thin delicate claws pressed their ears to his belly to listen.

There was an instinctual need to ward off every person standing too close to Katsuki, especially the alphas he could smell in the air, but knew exactly how well that would go over. That didn’t stop him from pumping out pheromones enough to make others attending the stroll pass him wary glances before skirting as far around him as they could. Beneath his hand, Sumi giggled and reached up to grab his arm tightly.

“Calm down, tough guy,” Cynthia told him, hand on his arm as she pushed cinnamon dreads back over her shoulder, “You’re suffocating the crowd. They’re not a danger to your mate or pup.”

Izuku groaned, turning to meet her brown eyes. “I know that logically, but that doesn’t make me want to rip off their hands any less.”

‘ Protect mate. Protect pup. Mate close to birth. Vulnerable. Must protect. Run off threats. Protect .’ The litany of Izuku’s alpha was only interrupted when the group of Katsuki’s ex-coworkers started glancing around.

“Speaking of which, where is baby daddy? You brought him, right? Of course you did. No alpha worth his salt would let a mate as pregnant as you out of their sight. We haven’t met him yet! Let us meet the person who can handle you!” a burly man shouted to a crowing of assents from the rest of the group, “Come on, Kat, where are you hiding him?”

“My mate and husband , you absolute dickhole, is right over there,” Katsuki spat, jerking a thumb over his shoulder, “Can’t you smell him? Or are you as nose blind as you are stpuid?”

The group followed Katsuki’s motion, eyes landing squarely on Izuku. Immediately, his alpha went on high alert while his face flooded with heat at the attention. Their eyes stared at him for several long moments. Eventually, it was the woman with wolf eyes that spoke up first. “Honestly, Kat, I saw the news, but I thought it was a publicity stunt. I didn’t think you had your claws in Japan’s No.1 Hero Deku. Like what is that? Sumi, how could you keep this from us!”

“I didn’t! You just didn’t believe me!” Sumi shouted back, hands still wrapped around Izuku’s forearm as she bodily dragged him towards the group.

“Hey, assholes! He’s been mine since we were kids! And we switch between the top two spots all the time! Hey!” Katsuki’s teeth snapped viciously, a snarl splitting the excited atmosphere as he knocked aside someone’s hand who’d been reaching for Izuku. “Hands off. This is a no touch exhibition, fucking got it?”

“Ah, Kat, you’re too much like a territorial alpha,” the burly man said, setting a hand on Katsuki’s shoulder.

This time, Izuku didn’t stop himself. He slotted himself between the man and Katsuki, and very deliberately picked his hand off Katsuki’s shoulder to give it back to him. “Like Kacchan said, this is a no touch exhibition.” He gave the group his widest and most lethal smile that put his sharp canines in full view. “Please stop touching my mate. I’ve been very patient up until now.”

The heroes roared with laughter, unaffected by either Izuku’s or Katsuki’s displays. The conversation devolved from there. Introductions were properly made. Chatter shot from one side of the circle to another. Santa hats were shoved onto Izuku’s and Katsuki’s heads from the good-natured group. Eventually, Shonetta dispersed the group to continue with their jobs. Sumi took off with the twins as they promised her cookies if she danced with them. Shonetta and Cynthia pulled back, and then it was just Katsuki and Izuku holding hands as they wove slowly through the crowds.

At the end of the street where the professional band was playing a slow sweet Christmas song, Katsuki allowed Izuku to pull him into a crowd of couples of every age and orientation. He wrapped Katsuki up in his arms and swayed them gently to the beat. The twins turned passed them, Sumi held on their feet, and Izuku smiled.

When he pressed a lingering Katsuki’s temple, he muttered, “You’re being gross. Stop.” Despite his words, he leaned into the gentle touch.

“I’m happy. I like it here. I like the whole celebrating together and the lights and how happy everyone else is too.”

“It’s one of the more enjoyable things to look forward to here,” Katsuki agreed.

Giggles rose from around them, and for a moment, Izuku thought it was because they were so tightly bound up in each other that they hadn’t realized the song had changed. Only, the song was still the same slow beat. They pulled apart enough for Katsuki to give the surrounding couples a dirty glare.

They weren’t looking at them particularly, but at their feet.

Sumi swooped in, eyes worried as she whispered, “Papa, did you have an accident?”

“What? No, I didn’t have an accident. I’m twenty-”

“It’s just… your legs are all wet and there’s a puddle under you,” she interrupted.

Katsuki and Izuku reeled away from each other, staring down between their bodies at the puddle beneath their feet. Izuku couldn’t understand how Katsuki hadn’t felt the wet, but he also couldn’t understand how there could be so much liquid and it not smell like urine.

Color drained from Katsuki’s face. “Katsumi, go get Cynthia and ask Shonetta to run to start the car,” he said slowly and deliberately.

“Why? Are you hurt?”

Was he hurt? Izuku was as lost as Sumi seemed to be, but Katsuki didn’t seem lost at all.

“No. Just tell them my water broke, okay, little monster?”

‘ My water broke .’ Izuku was suddenly far less lost, and both fear and excitement thrilled through him at the same time.

“Are you going to be okay?”

Katsuki seemed to struggle to smile. “I sure am, little monster. Just go tell your godmothers that okay. Tell them to be quick.” His fingers tightened exponentially on Izuku’s forearms, and as soon as Sumi darted away, he spat, “You just had to open your fucking mouth, didn’t you, Deku?” Unbidden tears spilled passed his lashes. “I fucking told you I hadn’t finished yet. Now, he’s coming and-”

Izuku cupped Katsuki’s cheeks in his hands, quickly wiping away the tears. “It’s okay, Kacchan. He’s a little early, but it’ll be okay. It’s not ideal, but we’ve got Cynthia and Shonetta, and everything went well when you had Katsumi here. It’ll be alright.”

“I know that,” Katsuki grit out, eyes squeezed shut, “But so many things can go wrong with a preemie. I just want him to come out healthy and happy. What if-”

Izuku tapped Katsuki’s cheek lightly. “Hey, none of that now. No ‘what ifs’. Taiyo is going to be just fine, alright, but we’ve got to get him here first.”

After another few seconds of just breathing and couples staring at them in concern, Katsuki opened his eyes. He was back to himself, the same hero who had faced down more villains than a lot of heroes could even boast about. With steel in his eyes, he muttered, “Get ready. I’m going to end up breaking your fingers tonight. I broke Best Jeanist’s last time.”

Izuku laughed, and then Cynthia was at their sides.

…..

Taiyo came into the world in the early hours of Christmas morning, and was almost immediately whisked away to the preemie ICU. They hadn’t even allowed Katsuki or Izuku to scent him before.

Now, with Katsuki fitfully sleeping under the sedative they’d had to administer to make sure he wouldn’t come after them, Izuku sat in silence. At first, he’d busied himself with making the phone calls he needed to. One to Inko, to Mitsuki and Masaru, to their agencies to inform them of what had happened so they would know that not only would they miss their flight, but also they’d be immediately beginning maternity/paternity leave. The last calls he made were to Ochako and Kirishima.

Hearing their voices, so cheerful and encouraging, made tears slip down his cheeks and words difficult as he explained to them the situation so far.

They both said the same thing. “Don’t worry, Deku, everything is going to be fine. Taiyo is going to be fine.”

He wasn’t so sure the longer he sat there without a baby in his arms. He didn’t even have Sumi there to hold, Shonetta and Cynthia taking her home and telling him to call when he finally had word on Taiyo. So, he sat and fidgeted and stressed and cried at the side of Katsuki’s bed. Eventually, he just crawled in next to him and snuggled close.

What felt like hours later, Katsuki began mumbling and shifting, eyelashes fluttering as the sedatives wore off. “Zuku. Zuku. Izuku,” he panted, eyes struggling to open, “Alpha- where’s my pup?” His fingers curled around Izuku’s already bruised digits again, grip slowly growing stronger as he came out of the drug induced stupor. “Where’s my pup? Alpha!”

Izuku sat up in the bed, quickly reaching to incline the head so Katsuki wouldn’t have to move. After jabbing his thumb into the call button, he settled back against the bed and ran shaky fingers through Katsuki’s sweat sticky spikes. “D-don’t worry. They’re just making sure he’s healthy. I’m sure they’re almost done.”

“I want my baby,” Katsuki whispered weakly, turning his nose into Izuku’s neck. He breathed out shakily, grip calming if only marginally.

“Me too. I called the nurse. I’m sure she has an update.”

When the nurse pushed opened the door, tugging a bassinet in behind her with the doctor in on the other side, it was deathly silent. There was no smile on either of their faces, and Izuku’s stomach dropped at the silence.

He could smell Taiyo. Spearmint and brown sugar. There wasn’t anything off about it, but the expressions on the doctor and nurse’s faces told a different story.

‘ Pup. Scent. Hold. Protect. Need to scent. Pup. ’ Izuku swallowed against his alpha’s rising aggravation.

“I want my baby,” Katsuki said immediately, struggling to push himself up straighter and reaching out his arms towards the bassinet, “Now.”

“Mr. Dynamight, we need to discuss something first-” the doctor started, but Katsuki wasn’t going to let him finish.

He snarled, loud and harsh, all protective omega mother. “Give me my fucking baby before I get out of this bed and hurt someone. You didn’t even let me scent him before you took him. You didn’t let me touch him or feed him. Give me my goddamn baby.”

The nurse and doctor exchanged a glance, but after a moment, the nurse carefully lifted the abnormally silent bundle into her arms and brought him to the bedside. Hesitantly, she passed him over.

Katsuki and Izuku reached for him at the same time, bringing him in close between their two bodies. His eyes were closed, but he snuffled quietly as if he could smell them as well. There was wispy blond hair on the top of his head, and when his eyelids fluttered, there was the barest glimpse of color. Newborn baby blue eyes.

Tears tracked down Izuku’s face as he pressed a kiss to Taiyo’s forehead and then Katsuki’s temple.

“Help me get this stupid gown open,” Katsuki muttered as he shifted Taiyo closer to his chest. Taiyo made a soft barely audible sound, tiny nostrils flaring as Izuku and Katsuki got him flush against Katsuki’s chest. It only took him a moment to latch onto the offered nipple. “Why was that so much easier than with Sumi?”

The doctor cut in before they could continue on ignoring the pair. “Mr. Dynamight, Mr. Deku, please, if I could have a moment of your time. This is very important.”

“More important than me feeding my pup?” Katsuki asked, voice saccharine as he smiled up at the doctor.

The doctor swallowed, but nodded and forged forward. “I need to discuss your options with you. I know that you two are very busy pro-heroes with one child already.”

“What situation are we talking about?” Izuku asked, “You failed to mention what the problem was when you took him from us. I understand that you had to make sure he was healthy, and I appreciate the good work you’ve already done for us, but if something’s wrong, we should have been told immediately. Not hours after the fact.”

Looking chastened and rather aggrieved, the doctor nodded. “Yes, but this is a rather delicate subject. We weren’t sure how, uh…” He cleared his throat, eyes flickering toward Katsuki.

“How I would react? Is that what you were going to say?” Katsuki sneered, mouth cutting a razor sharp line. “You think anything is going to make me not want my pup, is that it? Full offense, but you don’t fucking know anything about me. So tell me what you’re so worried I’m going to react badly over.”

Swallowing again, the doctor cleared his throat. Worry and fear pierced straight through his scent when before Izuku hadn’t even been able to smell the alpha. Katsuki really was marvel. “Your baby was born with a birth defect known as spina bifeda. Do you know what that is?” Katsuki and Izuku didn’t answer, eyes now trained solely on the doctor. Clearing his throat for a second time, he gave a brief explanation before saying, “From the tests we’ve run, we have determined that it’s not a severe case. His brain seems fully functional, no sign of water.”

“But?” Katsuki snapped.

“But... it seems the mobility of his legs is non-existent. As he grows older, the condition may worsen or it may remain the same. What we know for sure at this moment is that he’ll never walk normally. There’s only so much our healers can do, but if the nervous system just didn’t develop correctly…” The doctor trailed off, looking between the two silent heroes. “He is going to need a lot of care, more than two pro-heroes may be able to give him. There are resources-”

“Shut up.” The doctor went silent with a clack of teeth, and Katsuki sighed, running a finger over Taiyo’s chubby cheek. “Not even you’re normal, baby. Sorry, but you’ll fit right in. Between the four of us, we’ve got three legs, six and a half arms, three sets of working ears and four pairs of eyes. Welcome to this dysfunctional family. Merry Christmas, you little heathen.”

Izuku was sure he’d never been more in love with Katsuki than in that moment. Laughing quietly, he asked, “I get everything else, but why six and a half arms? I’ve still got both of mine.”

Katsuki rolled his eyes, not looking up from Taiyo. “Yeah, and one of them barely functions. Hence, half.”

“Okay.” Izuku pressed a kiss to Katsuki’s cheek before turning to look back at the gawking doctor and nurse. “When can we take him home? Also, when can we get on a plane? We eventually have to go back to Japan.”

They could only sputter.

…..

“Katsumi Bakugou-Midoriya, you are not taking your brother on to the jungle gym. He’s too small right now. Bring him to me.”

With a huff, Sumi turned on a heel and returned to Katsuki and Izuku where they were sitting on the park bench with Kirishima and Mina. Their little boy, a few years younger than Sumi, pouted impatiently at the swings while Sumi very carefully unstrapped Taiyo and his papoose from her front.

“I know you want to include your brother in everything, but you have to wait for him to get bigger. It’s going to be a while before he can really play with you, alright?” Katsuki explained patiently, holding Taiyo up so Izuku could remove his papoose and sat him in his lap. Taiyo waved his fists, but had yet to kick out. Just as the doctor had said, Taiyo seemed to have no control over his legs, though he could still feel pain. After returning to Japan, they’d immediately started him on neuro-therapy, but they had no illusions that he’d ever walk normally. Now, they just planned for what they could do for him instead.

Sumi leaned in to press a kiss to Taiyo’s nose, and he crinkled his crimson eyes at her before batting at her with a closed fist. She laughed, dancing back with a whirl of skirts. “I understand. I’ll play with him when we get home then.” Spinning, she tore off across the playground and tackled her friend to the woodchips.

Mina laughed, phone at eye level as she recorded the entire debacle. “Yeah, that’s your guys’ child. Poor, Dai.”

Kirishima sighed, though happily, running a hand through his ever lengthening red hair. “Honestly.” He cut eyes towards the trio as Katsuki began to bounce Taiyo on his knee, the baby babbling nonsense the entire time. Reaching over, he allowed Taiyo to grip at his fingers. “You know, a lot of people are surprised. I keep trying to explain it, but no one ever believes Chako or me.”

“Hah? About what?” Katsuki asked, glancing away from Sumi to throw Kirishima a scowl.

“You know, that you kept Taiyo.”

“Yeah, even after all this time there are people who thought you’d give him up for adoption or something for being disabled,” Mina interjected, leaning around Kirishima to get her eyes on him, “I know you’ve been staying away from the news and stuff while you’re still on leave, but some of the headlines are absolute bonkers. When they ask me about it in interviews, I tell them straight up that everyone’s being an idiot.”

Katsuki rolled his eyes, eyelashes fluttering spectacularly, and Izuku sighed. “That would be kind of hypocritical of us, considering,” Izuku said, glancing at Sumi’s legs, bare metal because she’d refused to put on the synthetic skin or leggings that morning. “But that’s besides the point.”

“I mean,” Kirishima started, mouth skewing, “I don’t think they ever doubted you’d want to keep him, Deku.”

“And I’ll tell those vultures the exact same thing I told the doctor,” Katsuki interjected before Izuku had a chance to speak, “People don’t know fuck all about me.” He dropped his eyes back to the baby in his lap. “Taiyo was the best Christmas present I could have ever gotten. The only people who need to know that are the four of us. Everyone else can shove their opinions.”

Izuku felt heat press against his eyes, and he dropped his forehead against Katsuki’s shoulder as Mina laughed and said, “You’ve gotten soft in your motherhood, Kats.”

Instead of his usual response, Izuku heard Katsuki say, “Yeah, probably.”

Izuku laughed happily against his shoulder, grinning like the in-love fool he was.

#my hero academia #mha #bakudeku #dekubaku #decchan #bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #assorted ocs #omegaverse #a/b/o dynamics #alpha!izuku #omega!katsuki #disabled!katsuki #pregnant!katsuki #my writing #coming home #christmas preemie

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robbyrobinson · 3 years

Photo

OWL HOUSE X CTHULHU MYTHOS: GOD AWAKEN (PT. XII)

The gang waited patiently for Hypnos to return with the Blight child. While waiting, Luz decided to relay the others on their plan.

“Alright, so Amity and I will go to Earth in our astral bodies and when we find out where the book is, Eda will use this bell and bring us back.”

Eda held the bell in her hand and rang it. “Why did you need Amity in particular to travel with you?”

“I knew that Willow and Gus would be attending Hexside tomorrow, and I couldn’t bring them into this kind of situation,” Luz explained, “besides, if they notice I am gone, I am hoping that they’d protect our bodies when we are gone.”

“I am still somewhat unsure about what we are trying to accomplish,” Lilith said, “Hypnos said that you needed to take these...drugs. How are we going to get them?”

Eda flicked her hand. “Don’t worry, sis, I have the solution.”

Eda walked out of the room and loud shuffling was heard. Some potion jars were dropped on the floor and exploded upon impact. The floor began to transform into different objects and shapes when Eda returned carrying a bottle in her hands.

“Sister, that isn’t what I think it is,” Lilith started.

Eda grinned. “Yes, indeed, Lilith; apple blood from 40 years ago!”

“Eda, why in the Titan’s name would you keep that bottle around for 40 years?” King asked.

“Pipe down, dog, I was actually considering saving this brew for Luz when she graduated Hexside, buuuut we could use this to help her travel.”

Luz gagged on reflex. “I don’t know, Eda; what if that’s dangerous?”

“Luz, how I see it, one of two things could happen: either this apple blood will send your soul out of your body so you can jump dimensions, or it could kill you.”

Luz frowned. “Both options sound too risky.”

“Maybe we can use a guinea pig for this experiment,” King suggested. “Hey, Hooty!”

Hooty’s tube head popped into the room, startling Lilith. “Hoot! Hoot! Hey guys!!”

King grimaced at the annoying voice coming from the house demon. “How would you like to play a game?”

Hooty’s black eyes bulged excitedly. “Ooo, a game! What are we playing? Charades? Chess! Ooo, maybe we can see who can put the most worms in their mouths without swallowing!! Hoot! Hoot!!”

“Shut up!” King yelled, his head throbbing, “we need you to drink this.”

He took a mug and poured the apple blood into it. A dark red liquid dripped out of the bottle with a sickly nauseating plop. He placed the mug at Hooty’s invisible feet and waited his eyes growing more intense. Hooty shifted his tube body to smell the concoction. His feathers ruffled in disgust.

“That smells like a goblin soaked his socks in it for months!!”

King nodded. “I know it smells bad, but we need you to drink it.”

“Mmm...what’s in it for me?” Hooty asked.

King scratched the boney part of his head for a moment. “If you do this, then...”

Luz interjected. “We’ll listen to your stories for a whole week!”

King turned to look at Luz with a hint of frustration on his face as if to criticize her for the suggestion. He turned back towards Hooty and forced his head to nod. “Eh...sure.”

Hooty smiled. “A WHOLE WEEK!? You guys hardly ever listen to my stories; finally, I will have some acknowledgment, hoot! Hoot!”

“Ugh, fine, whatever,” King said, “just drink it.”

Hooty knelt his body down to look at the liquid in the mug. Along with the red tint that gave the beverage its name, there appeared to be green moss growing in it. “Ew...do I have to?”

King flicked his fingers. Hooty sighed and closed his eyes so at the least he did not see what he was about to drink. The tip of his beak formed into a circular shape and he took a long swig of the concoction. King and the others felt their cheeks turning green.

“He’s...really doing it,” King observed, “I was kind of half-kidding when I said that we should test it on him.”

Hooty finished the mug and looked up again at the others. He didn’t say anything to them.

“Uh...Hooty?” Luz said, “are you okay??”

Hooty’s eyes widened and glimmered from seemingly glaring into the universe itself. Before they could say anything additional, Hooty fell to his side.

“Oh cramity, I think we killed Hooty!” Luz said.

Eda knelt down and placed two fingers close to Hooty’s mouth. “Naw, he’s still warm.”

“If only he was dead,” King complained.

“Then that means the astral travel had worked?” Lilith asked.

“Mmm...looks like it had.” Eda answered. “He’s probably already going down one of those wacko dimensions as we speak.”

King poked Hooty with a stick. “He was the security system, though; are you sure we can handle things while he is gone?”

“Of course, it’s just that we have to watch two girls’ bodies while they are traveling through the vastness of space.” Eda shrugged her shoulders. “It’s not that complicated.”

Luz looked at the unconscious tube bird and then at the apple blood. “Well, Hooty’s a house demon, and I’m a human.”

“Oh, that is true,” Eda said, “some drinks in our world might do unspeakably malicious things on your system.”

“Knock, knock.”

Hypnos came in carrying Amity on his back. “I got the girl!”

“Amity!” Luz screamed.

Amity immediately blushed from hearing Luz’s voice.

“Oh, Luz! Fancy meeting you here!”

“I live here,” Luz pointed out.

“Oh, right, you live here,” Amity giggled anxiously. “And I came here to see you.”

Amity tensed up from Luz’s stare. “I spoke to much!”

Hypnos rolled his eyes and sat Amity down. “You can have your infatuation moment later on.”

“Amity, we need your help,” Luz said.

Amity slammed her fist into her open palm. “Yes, who do I have to kill?”

She scanned the room for a moment and saw that Lilith was sitting on the couch. “You wanted me to kill her?”

Lilith held her hand out. “Woah, woah, I know it looks bad, but-”

Without much prompt, Amity conjured up her Abomination and it towered over the older witch. “Abomination, kill!”

Amity’s Abomination grabbed Lilith with his right hand and started to compress her with its large fingers. Lilith squirmed underneath the grip of the blobby monster to no avail.

“Amity, wait, please!” Lilith yelled.

“That’s what you get when you tried to kill my girl!” Amity yelled. She turned to look at Luz only now realizing what she had just said. “I-I mean my friend! No one tries to kill my friend.”

Eda stood up and grabbed onto Amity’s hand. “As much as I can understand your anger, this isn’t why we called you.”

Amity’s cheeks were red again this time from embarrassment. “Oh...sorry Lilith.”

The Abomination dropped a traumatized Lilith on the couch. “So, why am I here?”

They explained to Amity everything from Nyarlathotep’s return to the Boiling Isles, and how Emperor Belos was working alongside the dark god to enact the Day of Unity. Amity sat on the couch and quietly listened. Each passing moment, Amity felt a sense of dread overtake her. She looked down at her hands.

“All the times I used magic; you mean to tell me I was actually profiting off the sacrifices of different witches?”

Luz nodded sadly. “I am sorry that you had to learn about the darker side of the Isles’ history.”

“But if what you are saying is true, wouldn’t it make more sense to infiltrate the Emperor’s Coven and steal the portal door from Belos under his nose?” Amity asked.

Hypnos wagged his finger. “Belos is far too powerful to take on at your state.” He walked over to a wall of the house. “You all would get slaughtered the moment you step foot in his kingdom.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Amity said, “but...drinking this potent apple blood. Would it be too dangerous?”

King pointed at Hooty’s lifeless body. “It worked for Hooty.”

Amity frowned. “He looks dead.”

“No, he’s not dead,” King assured her, “he still has a pulse, see?”

He grabbed Hooty’s head and shook it in his hands. Amity’s fears were not comforted in the slightest. King tired himself out from shaking Hooty and unceremoniously dropped the head carelessly on the ground.

“There is no other way,” Luz said, “there is only one portal key, and that is what Belos currently has in his possession.”

“True, but...I am still worried,” Amity noted.

Luz clutched her hand tenderly. “Don’t worry; I’ll be doing it with you.”

Amity’s heart galloped quickly behind her ribs. Oh, sweet Titan, she was holding the hand of her crush. It was...soft, silky smooth like a baby’s bottom. Even though it was a mundane gesture, Amity felt that she was committing a grave sin. Her thoughts were spiraling out of control she couldn’t stand it. Dear Titan, give her strength.

“Amity, are you okay?” Luz asked in concern.

Amity quickly broke out of cloud nine still as red as ever. “I-I’m fine, Amity.”

“But you’re Amity,” Luz pointed out.

Sweat rolled down Amity’s forehead in beads along with some sweat accumulating onto Luz’s hand. “Oh, right, I am, aren’t I?”

She giggled nervously hoping to at least get the others laughing to feel less awkward. When she was met with the dead eyes of the others, she stopped laughing. “Let’s just do it.”

Outside of the owl house, the spy quietly listened and turned to return to Belos to report on what he had heard. As morning encroached on the Blight family, Odalia was already in the kitchen, having woken up earlier than the other members of her family.

“And this time, serve us something that we’d actually want to eat,” Odalia said sternly to her maid.

“As you wish, ma’am,” the maid groaned.

Odalia withdrew one of her favorite mugs from the cabinet and started to prepare some apple blood for herself. While gathering the ingredients, she heard a slight knock at the front door. Odalia groaned in annoyance. “Who can that be at this hour?”

She yelled for the maid to stop what she was doing and go to the door. She waited around a few minutes, but the same droning of the door echoed through the house. “Come on, what am I paying you for?”

Odalia rubbed her chin. Oh, right, she wasn’t paying her in snails. She thought about waking up her husband, but she couldn’t remember hearing him snore or let alone hear him move around in his bed. Maybe the twins, but they would probably do something mischievous as they often do. Amity? She was still somewhat upset at her daughter’s scathing opposition of her demands so she was likely to continue to be on her rebel streak.

The knock at the door only further annoyed the Blight matriarch. “Alright, fine, I will do it.”

She exited the kitchen and walked to the front door. “Yes, I am here; stop with your petulant, infernal knocking!”

She opened the door and was surprised with what she was seeing. There stood one of the imperial guards of the Emperor. Odalia rubbed the tiredness out of her eyes out of fear of hallucinating the event. But it was very real. In the guard’s hand was a scroll.

“Pray tell, why are you here at my house at this hour?”

The imperial guard didn’t speak. Instead, the guard rolled out the scroll in front of her and read what was on it. “Miss Odalia Blight, the Emperor has requested an audience with you.”

Odalia stepped back. “With...with me? Emperor Belos?”

“Aye; now please come with me.”

Emperor Belos was once again on his throne, passively waiting. His spy stood by the throne on the right side of it.

“Yes, my lord,” the spy replied, “the human girl is planning on arriving to the Earth before you can claim the book.”

Emperor Belos chuckled. He tentatively touched the scar on his mask that he received from his last encounter with the girl. “She is a very resourceful young lady, isn’t she?”

“As you say, my lord; what is the purpose of the book if you do not mind me asking?”

“It is an ancient book that was written thousands of years before I arrived to the Boiling Isles; it records many secrets and accesses to the dark arts. The book documents beings like the Titan and where they trekked and from where they will once again walk.”

The spy was about to say something else, but he was interrupted by Kikimora.

“We’ve retrieved her.”

Emperor Belos nodded and held his staff in his hand bidding the spy to leave. The spy understood and began to walk out. Down the corridors, he caught a glimpse of Odalia. Both of their eyes locked on each other. Before Odalia could say something about the peculiar stranger, the spy turned away and fastened his pace. Odalia shrugged and subsequently shook out any iota of suspicion from her mind. Belos stood from his throne to glance at Nyarlathotep.

“The deed is done, Master,” Belos said solemnly.

“Very good indeed,” the Crawling Chaos replied. “Leave us.”

As Belos turned to walk away, Nyarlathotep held out his staff. “I pray ask is your devotion still towards me?”

Belos lightly pushed the staff aside. “Yes, Master; I would never betray you.”

Nyarlathotep directly stared into Belos’ blue eyes for a few seconds and withdrew the staff. “Very well.”

Belos left through the back of his throne, relieved that Nyarlathotep didn’t suspect the spear he had locked away. Nyarlathotep sat down in the place of the Emperor and waited.

“Lord Belos, I’m he-”

Odalia stumbled on her words. Instead of Belos, she was instead in the presence of some...swarthy man. And yet, something about the dark-skinned man was oddly enthralling. His chiseled appearance; the intensity of his eyes; he had colored strips of linen on his head. From what Odalia could speculate, he was without a doubt of royalty.

“Welcome, Odalia, matriarch of the Blight family,” Nyarlathotep replied.

He had a smooth-way of speaking, sometimes even deliberately prolonging the last letter of his words to burrow into Odalia’s mind.

“Who are you?” Odalia finally asked.

“I am Nyarlathotep,” he replied, “I have risen from the blackness of twenty-seven centuries to deliver a message.”

“What is it that you want with me?” Odalia inquired.

“Why to join the Emperor’s Coven of course!” Nyarlathotep said extatically whilst raising his toned arms.

Odalia couldn’t believe it. Joining the coven was always a lifelong dream of hers, but due to forces outside of her own, she was forced to leave it as it was: a dream. This was the exact reason she wanted Amity to try for the Emperor’s Coven when she became of age. But with Amity speaking a lot of insolence lately, Odalia realized that she could not live through her daughter, even if she forced her to dye her hair to match her own.

“Well?” Nyarlathotep asked.

Odalia fidgeted with her fingers. “It is a great honor, my lord, but I feel that my chances of officially joining it are slim.”

Nyarlathotep tilted his head. “I am a representative of the Titan that you revere.”

Odalia raised an eyebrow. “You are?”

“The Titan has informed me that the Day of Unity is at hand: the gods have declared that there would come a new birth for the Boiling Isles, one where the weak are suppressed and extinguished from this land. The strong will rule this land and will never grow weary. Your lineage will be exalted above the heights of the clouds and will be a force to reckon with.”

Odalia tapped her chin with her fingers. That sounded like a good deal; join the Emperor’s Coven and she would reap the benefits of it. “If I do this, I will make the Blight family name the greatest in the world?”

Nyarlathotep sneered. “All of creation will know your name from the furthest parts of the galaxy to the fabric of reality itself.”

“You have yourself a deal, Nyarlathotep,” Odalia smiled.

Nyarlathotep took his finger and drew a circle. From the small portal, a book fell. The book opened itself up to reveal an empty page. Nyarlathotep took the pen fashioned from bone and motioned for Odalia to take it.

“Your blood, please.”

Odalia hesitated at first out of disgust that she would have to prick her finger and write her name in her own blood on some crummy old paper, but the promises that the Crawling Chaos promised her proved too powerful. She jabbed her finger with the bone with enough force that even Nyarlathotep was slightly taken aback by her decision. Her blood dripped through the page and onto the other pages.

“Excellent work, Odalia,” Nyarlathotep proclaimed, “for enlisting, I will bestow you with this.”

He produced a staff and placed it in her hand. “A staff.”

Odalia looked at the staff with curiosity. “But I already have one at home.”

“I know; but this staff, in particular, can collect magic, not just from your magic bile, but from any other source.”

“Hm, that would be useful,” Odalia thought, “what shall you have me do?”

Nyarlathotep turned her back into the hands of Emperor Belos and they walked down the empire. Through the doors, Belos stopped and talked to Odalia.

“It is great that you are assisting in our cause; The Day of Unity is upon us.”

They came upon a door that was locked away from the other rooms. Belos, with staff in hand, placed the tip of it on a sensor button. The door opened to allow the two in. Through the doors, Odalia saw more of the Emperor’s imperial guards walking to and fro on the stairways carrying heavy boxes. What struck her the most was the large machine in the middle of the bizarre laboratory.

“What is that, my lord?” Odalia asked.

“A gateway to other worlds,” Belos passively explained, “when the human girl came to rescue the Owl Lady, she tried to destroy the door that led to the Earth.”

“So, you managed to salvage what was left of it?”

“Very observative, Odalia,” Belos stated, “as we speak, the human and your daughter are going to go to Earth to acquire a book that I am after.”

“Daughter?” Odalia repeated.

The twins were still at home. She hadn’t heard anything from Amity when she had her talk with her which meant....her eyes doubled in size from the rationalization.

“I told Amity to not associate with that rat,” Odalia lamented, “I apologize for her; if she did something treasonous...the family line then....”

Belos held his hand out to silence her. “The Titan has told me that to stop the foolish human girl, you will lead a righteous crusade on the Earth.”

Odalia bowed her head. “It is an honor to work with you in the name of the Titan.”

Belos led her deeper into the laboratory. “As you know, the cost of treason against our way of life is petrification.”

Odalia gulped deeply as a sign of her comprehending the cost of treason.

“But you may not be aware of what becomes of the soul of the traitor, I assume?”

He opened another door in the laboratory. The imperial guards were painstakingly melding together red scraps of metal to form rows of armor. A conveyor belt carried the scraps of metal to assemble them. At the top of the conveyor belt was a large vat. It contained a scorching hot, melted down liquid and tipped itself into tubes. The hot liquid flowed through a series of pipes to a slab of metal. The slabs of metal slammed together with great pressure.

The substance sizzled and cooled remaining that way for thirty seconds until the slabs drew themselves away. In the middle were more of the scraps of metal. Odalia’s eyes twinkled.

“Armor? For what?”

“For the crusade,” Belos explained, “but does something strike you as peculiar about the metal?”

Odalia looked closely at the suits of armor unsure of what to expect. It soon became clear: armor that was being hammered into place moved about sluggishly. Each piece of metal that was hammered on made the armor jolt in excruciating pain. It was becoming crystal clear what Belos implicated with the armor: the armor was alive, and reacting in distress. The imperial guards picked and prodded at the armor suits forcing them into open boxes with their staffs laced with electrical wires.

Belos stood in front of one of the suits of armor and struck it.

“When these former witches committed treason, their bodies were left behind, but as for their souls...they were incapable of escaping their fates. So...after giving it some consideration, I had tasked my servants with collecting pieces of the stone statues and mixing them with metal native to the Isles to create a sturdier metal.”

“Then that means,” Odalia started.

“That is right; the souls of the executed witches were melted down to create the perfect metal for the perfect suits of armor.”

The armor moved around in a method similar to how Abominations are maneuvered. However, it was apparent that they still retained enough of their senses to feel pain. Shrill screams seeped out from the helmets of the metal in forced fits of air. They wobbled on their feet yet could not go one minute without falling over. Black paste oozed out through cracks of the armor making it more unsightly. And yet the imperial guards cared not one bit about the suffering of the souls and resumed work on them. Any of the armor suits that failed to be fully operational were picked up by pulleys and dropped back into the vat to be melted down again so the process could start anew.

“And you need me to lead these...things?” Odalia asked Emperor Belos once again.

“Of course! But when your daughter goes to Earth, you won’t be able to see her without this.”

One of his servants had a necklace on a small cushion. Belos thanked him for it and placed it around Odalia’s neck. “The necklace was crafted from a special type of salt that will make Amity and the human girl visible.”

Odalia took the necklace in her hand and looked at it. “Very well; and how will I lead the armor?”

“With the staff my master granted you, of course,” Belos responded, “you must collect enough magic in order to keep them under control.”

More magic she thought. It could take forever to collect as much magic as she could, and the Day of Unity might already be over. While pondering, she shook her head deeply to Belos and turned to walk away. She was hoping for Nyarlathotep to give her advice on what she had to do, but he mysteriously disappeared without a trace.

She returned home this time hearing someone else stir awake. Odalia tensed up instinctively and hid in the kitchen underneath the table. She held her breath hoping that she wouldn’t be found with the device. The staff glowed ominously sensing that magic was near.

“Mom, is that you?”

Odalia could recognize that voice as belonging to none other than her son Edric. It made some considerable sense because he would typically wake up at the time of day before his twin sister. Odalia was about to respond to him, but she saw that the staff was glowing a deeper shade. The thought crossed her mind: in order for her to control the armor suits, she needed magic. And lots of it. She did live in a house with four other residents...Belos didn’t say anything about where it had to come from.

Odalia got up from the bottom of the table and tapped the top of the staff on its flat surface. “Yes, Edric, come in here.”

Edric came in, hair disheveled and yawning deeply. He stretched his arms until there was a small, audible popping sound. “What’s going on?” He rubbed the tiredness from his eyes and caught a glimpse of the staff. “Oh, cool staff! Where did you get it?”

Odalia did not respond to her son’s inquiries. Instead, she walked closer to him with the staff. Edric felt uncomfortable and tried to step back. This did not deter his mom, however. She held the staff’s head above Edric’s head. The spear glowed crimson red and began to “feed.”

A vapor slipped out of the orifices of Edric’s face. They came together to create one green, thick puff of an amorphous, shapeless mass and was absorbed into the spear. Edric gagged and wobbled the more that the staff drew from him. He grabbed onto one of the chairs at the table to hold himself up whilst grasping at his throat with his other hand. The color in his skin began to fade away until nothing more than a paper-thin hue remained.

“Mom, what are you doing?”

He tried to reach towards his mother, but Odalia continued to hold the staff without issue. She stops draining Edric once he fell on the ground.

“That might be enough for now,” Odalia said, “but to be sure, I will have to take you with me.”

#owl house #the owl house #edric blight #odalia blight #fanfiction #the owl house fanfiction #owl house fanfiction #cthulhu #cthulhu mythos #nyarlathotep #day of unity #the day of unity

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booksalwaysandforever · 4 years

Text

Holding on to the Memories

So, this is my first time writing, so forgive me if it’s terrible. I have been in the twilight mood lately, so this is my twilight fanfic. Also, I am always open to story requests, suggestions for future chapters, and helpful criticism.

Summary: Lauren is the Cullen’s adopted baby sister. Her life has always been a dream. One day, while the everyone is out hunting, life isn’t a dream anymore.

Warnings: Self harm, bullying, very very sad and will make you cry.

Length: pretty long

Chapter 1

“You guys mean to tell me that I get to be home alone all day?!” I squealed excitedly.

“Yes, dear. We all need to hunt, and Renesmee and Jacob are down at the beach with the rest of the pack.” Carlisle said with a small smile on his face, happy that I was so excited.

“I didn’t think you’d be so happy to get rid of us, brown bear.” Emmett said as he ruffled my hair slightly. I gave him a small glare as he used my nickname from when I was little.

“I am excited, Emmett. This means that I get to control the TV for once.” Everyone started laughing as Emmett frowned at you.

“I don’t control it that much, do I?”

“Yes, you do.” Everyone said in unison.

“Plus,” I started, “I will be free of having 8 vampires watching my every move, there will be no one digging around in my head,” I scowled at Edward who gave me an apologetic look, “and no one will be able to mess with my emotions,” I finished as I glared at Jasper.

“It’s not our fault we’re vampires and you’re our human sister,” Jasper said.

“I know that, but that still doesn’t mean I like it when you mess with my emotions.” I said as I gave him a small scowl. “Nor do I like it when people dig through my head or know what I’m going to do before I even do it. I can never surprise you guys,” I pouted.

“Hey, we act surprised, don’t we?” Edward pointed out.

“It’s not the same!” I complained, earning myself a laugh from everyone. “Okay, you guys should go now. All of your eyes are pitch black. It’s kinda scaring me.”

Everyone laughed again and gave me a hug as they walked out to their cars.

“We’ll be gone until after supper tonight, so you’re on your own for meals.” Esme told me as she gave me one last hug.

“Mom, I know. I’ll be fine. Don’t worry. If I need anything, I’ll call Jacob and Renesmee and they’ll come home. And if something really bad happens, I will call you or dad or Emmett or Jasper or Rose or any of you and you’ll all come running. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be okay.”

“Oh honey, I know you’ll be okay. I just want to be sure.” She gave me another hug and kiss.

“Dad, can you come get Mom?” I called. “Unless you come and get her, I don’t think she’s going to leave.”

“Darling, Lauren will be okay. She’s 15 almost 16, she’ll be alright staying home for one day.” Carlisle said, suddenly appearing at my side.

“Thanks. I know the drill, call Jacob and Renesmee first and then you guys. Now go! Bella and Jasper look like they’re going to snap soon.” I said as I tried to push them to the door.

“Alright, bye sweetheart. We’ll be back before you know it. Just try not to break anything. Don’t do anything Emmett would do.” Carlisle said with a small grin on his face.

“Hey!” Came a shout from outside. I started to giggle because as much as Emmett hated it, Carlisle was right.

“Okay Dad. Bye, love you.” I said as I gave him his last hug. “Bye guys! See you later! Catch a big bear for me, Emmett!”

Everyone shouted out their goodbyes and I love you’s as they drove away. I stood in the doorway for a moment longer and then raced back into the house to enjoy my day alone.

I spent a good portion of the morning wrapping and putting the finishing touches on gifts for my family. It was going to be my 16th birthday in less than a week, but I wanted to give everyone else gifts. I already had everything I could ever want, and all I really wanted for my birthday was to see everyone smile. So I decided to give them all gifts. It also gave me something to work on in my spare time.

I was going to give Alice a snow globe of two sisters ice skating. She and I had started a collection of snow globes together when I was a couple years old. We added to it every time we went on a shopping trip or anytime one of us had a birthday.

Rosalie was going to get a beautiful locket, with an inscription inside that said A sister is worth 1,000 friends. Hopefully she wouldn’t put an embarrassing picture of me in there.

Emmett was going to get the games Cards Against Humanity and What Do You Meme. Little did he know, I was going to kick his butt when I played with him.

For Bella, I got her a new charm for her bracelet. Currently, there are only three charms. Jacob’s wolf, Edward’s diamond heart, and the Cullen crest. I was giving her a small open book, because when I was a kid, she read a lot of books to me and gave me over half of the books in my collection. I owe my love of reading to her.

Edward’s gift was a bit more difficult, but I think he’ll like what I gave him. It was a handmade book of all our favorite songs. My lullaby, both Renesmee and Bella’s lullabies, some of my favorite songs, and a few of his favorite songs. I painted the front cover of the binder with a beautiful collage of music notes and pictures of him and I playing the piano. He didn’t really need the music for all the songs, what with his vampire memory and all, but this way Edward would always have a part of me.

Carlisle had always loved my paintings, so I made him one that he could hang in his office at work. It wasn’t anything too complex, just a rainbow watercolor background and a stethoscope twisted into a heart, but I’m sure he would love it.

For Esme, I made a cookbook filled with my favorite foods that she had made me over the years, and a few new ones for her to try. Like Edward, she didn’t really need the recipes, but she loved having things I made. On the front of the book, I had painted a collage of different foods like a meatball sub, cookies, cupcakes, salad, and lots of other things. Hidden in one of the back pages, were pictures of the entire family throughout the past 16 years. One when I was a baby, one when I was a toddler, when I was six, 10, 14, and a few weeks ago. It was the perfect gift for a mother.

I wasn’t nearly as close to Jacob as I was to everyone else, but I got him a gift too. He was still my big brother. I gave him my best wolf drawing, and a dog tag with a heart cut out of the middle. That heart was attached to a necklace I would keep.

For Renesmee, I made a box filled with her favorite candy, a photo album of us growing up together, and a best friend forever bracelet. To me, Renesmee was more like my best friend. We had sleepovers together all the time, watched movies all night long while stuffing our faces with junk food, and went everywhere together. Since she didn’t sparkle in the sunlight as much as the rest of the family, I could bring her to places like the beach or an amusement park on a sunny day without drawing attention.

The hardest person to find a gift for was Jasper. For as long as I could remember, Jasper had been the person I turned to for everything. When I scraped my knee when I was little, when I needed help in school, when I was bored out of my mind and wanted someone to play a game with me, it was always Jasper I turned to. I gave him a CD, and a stuffed horse. Jasper said he always loved it when I was singing. Whether I was humming to myself or singing my heart out to my favorite song, he said he had always loved it. So, the CD was full of me singing my favorite songs, and songs he used to sing to me when I was little. The stuffed horse held a speaker inside, so that whenever you squeezed it, you would hear me say “I love you”. I bet that if he could cry, he would.

When I was finished with the gifts, I played the piano and my guitar for a while. Edward was finally teaching me how to play my lullaby on the piano, and I was teaching myself all of my favorite songs on the guitar. I got bored pretty quickly, so I turned on the movie 10 Things I Hate About You, one of my favorites, and made myself lunch.

After lunch, I decided to turn on the TV and see if anything good was on. At that moment, an ad for a new movie came on the TV. I didn’t see what the name was, but I really didn’t want to know. Although I had only seen a few seconds, the image of a “vampire” holding a young girl in a headlock was enough for me. I lived in a world full of vampires and I knew the risks, but I always tried to push them out of my head. Plus, I was always with one of my siblings, or my parents, so I never really had to worry. They would protect me, no matter what. However, at the moment, I was all by myself. My family was the largest coven of vampires, aside from the Volturi, and every vampire that came through this was stopped at our house. Most of the time, my siblings were able to hide with me in my room and keep me safe. But they were probably in Colorado or Wyoming, up in the mountains at this point. What would happen if a rogue vampire came through here? What if they lost all control when they smelled me? What if Jacob and Renesmee couldn’t get to me soon enough to save me?

A million what ifs crossed my mind as my anxiety got a hold of me. I had had attacks like this before, but one of my siblings was always there to help me. Jasper could always calm me down, Edward could answer every question that crossed my mind, and everyone else would just hug me and remind me that everything was okay until I had managed to calm myself down. But I was all alone. Nobody was here to keep me from my own mind, to keep me from spiraling into a dark place. My head was spinning, my stomach hurt, and I could hardly breathe. I raced to the bathroom, running into almost every piece of furniture on my way there.

In less than 5 minutes, I had thrown up everything I had eaten that day. Currently, my stomach was heaving as though it wanted to throw up, but there was nothing left in my stomach. I began focusing on my breathing, trying to calm myself down. If I could get my breathing under control, I could work through every question in my head. As soon as I had calmed myself enough to make the room stop spinning, I heard my phone buzz. Hoping it was Alice, checking up on me, I reached up to grab it from the edge of the sink.

Much to my dismay, it wasn’t Alice. It was the complete opposite. Maggie was texting me once again. For years, she had been making fun of me and tried to bully me into doing whatever she wanted me to do. When my family moved here to Forks, when I was in sixth grade, she hated the fact that I was getting most of the attention. She didn’t do much harm for the first year and a half, but she kept looking for things to make me snap. She began breaking into my locker, ripping up my papers and writing insults about the teachers on others. The teachers never believed me, so I was always getting in trouble. After I had successfully gotten suspended at the end of seventh grade, she stopped, for about a year. Then things got worse. Way worse. Every day, I would find an insult about my clothes, body, family, everything. I tried my hardest to ignore it, but I just couldn’t. Now that almost all of my siblings, other than Renesmee who pretended to be only 2 years older than me and would graduate in May, had graduated and weren’t in school with me anymore, Maggie took that to heart. She had sent me a picture and a video of me. I knew I shouldn’t look at it, but Maggie liked to blackmail me and post crap about me online, so I looked, just in case she would try to do something. There was a message with the picture.

Wow, look at this girl in a swimsuit. She looks absolutely terrible. Look at the stretch marks on her stomach, she’s so fat!

That was the reason I never wore a bikini. I didn’t necessarily think I was fat, but I did have some small stretch marks on the bottom of my stomach. I was already self conscious, but this just made things a whole lot worse. I didn’t want to look at the video, but I did.

It was a video of me and my ex boyfriend James. We didn’t date long, but we did for a few months last year. It was a video of us making out in a closet. I remember that, we played seven minutes of heaven at Maggie’s birthday party last year. Why the hell did she video tape it? My phone buzzed with one last text from Maggie.

It almost looks like they’re having sex. Wouldn’t it be a shame if someone posted it on the school Instagram feed for everyone to see?

At that moment, there was a new post to the school Instagram page by Maggie. That bitch! Why the hell would she do that. I chucked my phone across the bathroom as hard as I could, managing to shatter the screen and a tile fell off the wall. Sobs racked my body. I couldn’t breathe. The only way to breathe again was to take my mind off what had happened. But how? That’s when I spotted my razor on the edge of the bathtub.

The only way to get my mind off everything was pain. My phone started buzzing and wouldn’t stop. I knew it was Alice calling me, but I ignored it.My phone was so smashed from being thrown across the room, it probably wouldn’t answer anyways. I looked at myself in the mirror.

“I’m sorry.” I whispered to my shaking reflection. I pressed the razor into my leg and pulled it across my skin. It hurt like hell, but that was a minor detail. I continued to cut until blood started gushing out of my last pass. Shit, I had cut my vein. I didn’t want to die, did I? I loved my family, but....I didn’t want to deal with life anymore. I didn’t want to feel pain anymore, nor did I want Jasper or anyone else to suffer with me. I didn’t want to live anymore. It was too hard. This was easier. I managed to make a few more cuts in my legs before black spots started appearing in my vision. Suddenly, I was too weak to hold the razor anymore. It fell to the floor as I fell back and hit my head on the wall. Just before I blacked out, I heard voices shouting. Someone would be here for me soon.

“I’m so, so sorry” I whispered. Not a second later, my world went black.

#twilight #twilight imagine #jasper whitlock #alice cullen #rosalie cullen #emmett cullen #jacob black #renesmee cullen #esme cullen #carlisle cullen #bella cullen #edward cullen #cullen family

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fanaticfangirl001 · 3 years

Text

The Singer And the Actor Ch 2 : The Stage

Joe Mazzello x plus sized reader

Author’s note: This might be a little AUish but after seeing Bohemian Rhapsody I wondered what music would be like if Freddie hadn’t passed away.

Ps: The song y/n sings is a song from Starkid musical called Not Alone, it’s in one of their harry potter musicals but it just fit.

“Thanks Jim, by the way.” Y/n pats Jim’s shoulder as she begins to break away from him.

“Where are you going?” Jim asks.

“I need some air and to think about stuff.” Y/n shrugs.

“Don’t think too hard, it’s almost lunch time.” Jim says before dropping her arm from his.

“I promise I won’t.” Y/n walks off away from where the band and actors are.

Jim slightly shakes his head as he rejoins the boys. There’s something special about her.

“Where have you been?” Freddie asks his husband before kissing him.

“There was a kitten petting emergency.”

“Understandable.” Freddie nods.

“Wasn’t Y/n with you? Rami saw her petting cats.” Joe asks.

“She was, she needed some air and to think about stuff about the band.” Jim answers.

“She told you about everything.” Joe sighs. He knows how much the band means to her.

“Yeah, she didn’t want to,in her words, info-dump on me. But I’m nosy so..” Jim trails off.

A few minutes of talking with the actors, Freddie wanders off until he finds the person he’s been wanting to talk to since he heard she was coming.

Y/n chews her nails while writing down a few lyrics she’s been thinking of. A sweet smelling man settles himself on the ground beside her.

“Hello, Mr. Mercury.” Y/n says without looking up.

“How did you know it was me?” Freddie asks situating his legs so they don’t get cramped.

“You’re the only man I can picture wearing Coco Mademoiselle perfume.” Y/n looks up and closes the notebook.

“Am I interrupting your song writing process, darling?”

“Uh, kind of, but it’s okay. I wasn’t getting anywhere. Besides Peter hates everything I write so..”

“Is Peter in the band?”

“No.”

“Than his opinion is irrelevant.”

“He’s our manager.”

“You say that like it means something.”

“And the guys like him,and his opinions. I think it’s because he’s older than us, and has experience with bands.”

Freddie hesitates then asks “ Are you the eldest in the band?”

“Yes, what about me told you that?”

“You give off a worried mum vibe about the lyrics”

“Is that bad?”

“No, darling, it’s not.” A small smile grows on Freddie’s face,” I was the same way.”

“So what do I do?” Y/n asks.

“That depends, what exactly does Peter say about you, darling?”

Y/n recounts the various rude things Peter has said about her in the past two years. By the end of her telling him, Freddie’s jaw clenches.

“Yeah it’s not good.” Y/n comments once realizing that Freddie seems pissed off.

“You’ve put up with that shit for two years!”

“Albums take time, Mr.Mercury.” Y/n shrugs.

“Once it is finished, fire him, or kick him in the dick, or both.”

“If we finish, at this rate, with the arguments.”

“Let me guess, he riles you up, then makes the guys think you’re sensitive, and can’t take criticism.” Freddie guesses.

“Yeah, that’s actually not the worst thing he’s done, he tried to dissolve a diet pill in my drink. I saw him do that, so I poured it into a plant. Poor plant.” Y/n shakes her head at the memories of Peter and the band on their first small tour playing bars.

“Just fire him now. Don’t wait.” Freddie suggests.

“Maybe I should call the boys to see how it’s going.” Y/n says digging through her purse.

Her phone starts ringing.

“They had the same idea.” Freddie smiles as Y/n takes the phone call.

There’s screaming in the background of the call.

“Hey Y/n, how’s London?” Brandon says quickly. “ Uh we have a problem.”

“It’s great, what’s the problem?” Y/n asks.

“Uh you know how Jake is like your younger brother. Well he’s a little protective.” Brandon says.

“What happened?” Y/n asks sighing.

“He snapped.” Brandon answers simply.

“What did Peter say?” Y/n assumes.

“How do you know Peter said anything? Did Jake call you?” Brandon says surprised that she knew.

“No, I just know Peter.” Y/n tries not to get into a fight with him.

“He’s not as bad as you say he is.” Brandon defends him.

“Brandon, stop, just tell me what Peter said.” Y/n says not wanting to get into it.

“He said that your songs shouldn’t be on the album because you took off in the middle of recording, and then Jake just sprang out of his chair, and started punching Peter, we tried to grab and then he just started punching anyone he could.” Brandon explains what happened.

“Do you agree with him?” Y/n asks raising an eyebrow, even if he isn’t here.

“No, but I understand his reasoning.” Brandon sighs.

“Brandon, I love you like a brother, but right now I don’t like you or Russ.” Y/n says trying not to get mad.

“Y/n, come on. You don’t mean that. Think about the band.”

“ I do mean it and everything I think about is the band. You know how hard it was for me to leave. I’ve only been gone for a day, and you guys are punching the daylights out of each other.” Y/n spits venom.

“Jake is the one punching our manager. Do you know how that makes us look?” Brandon asks.

“Jake is the calmest one of the bunch, how does that make Peter look?” Y/n snaps back. “ I have to go.”

Y/n hangs up and looks at Freddie, who heard everything.

“So that’s Brandon, he’s our guitarist, and we sometimes clash.” She explains.

“I heard, darling.” Freddie reminds.

“Well then now you know why my writing session here, wasn’t interrupted.” Y/n throws her phone back in the bag.

“Well darling, you said you were trying to work through some lyrics, so why don’t you try them with a piano.” Freddie points to the Live Aid set.

As it’s lunch time, no one is near it, The piano is still there with a microphone.

“I don’t think I can just sit up there and play it. Like it’s a movie set. They could like kick me out.” Y/n shakes her head.

“Than darling, I’ll go with you.” Freddie offers.

“Then we both get kicked out.” Y/n says standing up.

“I don’t think they can kick me out.” Freddie laughs standing up and walking with Y/n over to the set.

“Up you go.” He helps Y/n onto the stage and disappears behind it.

Freddie flips a few of the speakers on and connects the cable to the microphone so everyone can hear her sing.

“Uh Mr. Mercury.” Y/n calls out sitting on the piano bench.

“Right here darling.” Freddie walks out from behind a curtain and sets up a microphone at the piano.

“Remember it’s still in it’s rough stage, and I was on a plane so my voice might not be.” Y/n starts to ramble.

“Y/n just sing the words you have on the page.” Freddie says sitting on the edge of the stage.

“Okay, but if I get kicked off the set it’s your fault.” Y/n starts playing the melody.

Freddie watches and pulls out his phone sending a mass group text : Come to the live aid stage, but be quiet.

“Am I the first to hear this?” He asks.

“No, Joe heard a little of it. It’s uh about relationships, Mine with Joe, and well mine with my friends. It’s kind of funny to play this after we argued.” Y/n muses.

“Play on.” Freddie says with a hand flourish.

“I’ve been alone. Surrounded by darkness. And I’ve seen how heartless the world can be. “ Y/n sings.

Freddie could hear a few of Y/n’s influences most notably Aretha Franklin. In his mind the girl can sing. Anyone would be out of their mind to think anything else. He looks over and sees Jim,Joe, Rami, Brian and Roger walking over and sit in the front row of the audience. Y/n is too lost in the song to realize that the microphone is on and the speakers are amplifying her song to the whole production.

As the music begins to picks up to a faster pace, Joe smiles he recognizes this part of the song.

“Cause baby you’re not alone! Cause you’re here with me, And nothing’s ever gonna bring us down. Cause nothin can keep me from lovin you, and you know it’s true.” Y/n belts.

Y/n smiles while she’s singing and gestures to Freddie.

“Oh.” Freddie says running over to help her with the duet portion.

“Now I know it ain’t easy.”(No it ain’t easy) but it ain’t hard trying. (It’s so hard trying) Y/n sings with Freddie as her backup.

They finish the last verse together, in Y/n mind this verse is supposed to be with all of her band singing.

“Baby you’re not alone! Cause you’re here with me, and nothing’s ever gonna take us down. Cause nothing can keep me from loving you, and you know it’s true, it don’t matter what’ll come to be. Our love is all we need to make it through.” Y/n and Freddie finish together.

The clapping is what brings Y/n back to earth as she realized that more people than just Freddie were watching.

#joe mazzelo x reader #plus size reader #joe mazzello #bohemian rhapsody #Queen imagines

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fandomrewrites · 4 years

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Season 2; Episode 8: Raving

Hello all! Sorry I’m updating a day late! But after last chapter you now know who (Y/N) is starting to like; Isaac! I love Isaac and as I was writing season 2 I knew I wanted them to either have a really good friendship or develop some romantic feelings for each other. I hope you enjoy this chapter and as always constructive criticism is appreciated.

Season 2; Episode 8: Raving

Pairings: Scott McCall x Twin Sister, Lydia Martin x Best Friend, Isaac Lahey x Reader

Warnings: mention of sex

Word Count: 2,598

Season 2 Masterlist

I was with Scott in the animal clinic waiting for Derek to arrive. Finally, after what felt like hours, though it was probably only about ten minutes, Scott opened the front door. He stepped aside to let Derek and Isaac in.

“What’s he doing here?” Scott questioned the Alpha.

“I need him.”

“I don’t trust him.”

“He doesn’t trust you either.” Isaac replies, sending a glare to my twin before looking back at me with a smirk covering his lips.

“And Derek doesn’t care.” Derek quickly says, stopping any arguing. “Now where’s the vet and is he going to help us or not?”

“That depends.” Dr. Deaton answers, making his presence known to the werewolves. “Your friend Jackson. Are we planning to kill him or save him?”

“Save him.” Scott and I answer together.

At the same time Derek and Isaac say, “Kill him.”

Without missing a beat Scott and I send a glare to the two, Scott once again repeats, “Save him.”

We all move to the exam room after Dr. Deaton gets reassured that we will not be killing Jackson. We watch as the vet unlocks a drawer to reveal dozens of glass jars, different grains and petals inside each.

Derek is drawn to the Celtic symbols on each of the jars: a Triqueta, an Awen, Taranis wheel and others. Isaac reaches out to touch one of the jars but before his hand reaches Derek grabs his wrist, stopping him. “Watch what you touch.” The Alpha scolds his Beta.

Deaton takes out one of the jars with a symbol of a shield knot on it and looks at the contents inside.

“What are you? Some kind of witch?” Isaac asks.

“No, I’m a veterinarian. But I do have experience treating an unusually wide variety of animals.”

I scoff, “You’re telling me.”

Deaton sends me a small smile as he places the jar back down. “Unfortunately, I’m not sure if anything here is going to be an effective defense against a paralytic toxin.”

“We’re open to suggestions.” Derek says.

“How about an effective offense?” Isaac asks.

“We tried.” Derek answers then turns his head to the vet, “I nearly ripped its head off and Argent emptied an entire clip into it. The thing just gets back up. If anything, I think it’s getting stronger.”

“Great, just what we need.” I mumble out, rolling my eyes at the thought of the Kanima getting stronger.

“Has it shown any weaknesses?” Deaton asks.

“One. It’s either afraid of water or can’t swim.” I answer, glancing at Derek as he nods in agreement.

“Does that go for Jackson as well?”

I immediately shake my head, “No. He’s on the swim team.”

Deaton pauses, thinking for a moment. He then removes a new item from the drawer. It’s an old, scratched steel pendant. “Essentially you’re trying to catch two people. A puppet and puppeteer.”

He places the odd piece on the table. “One killed the husband. But the other had to take care of the wife. Do we know why?”

“I don’t think Jackson could do it.” Scott speaks up, “His mother died pregnant too. She might have been murdered. I think he couldn’t let the same thing happen to someone else.”

“How do you know it’s not part of the rules? The Kanima kills murderers. If Jackson killed the wife, the baby would have died too.” Isaac says.

“Then doesn’t that mean your father was a murderer?” Scott questions, looking at Isaac with confusion evident on his face.

“Wouldn’t surprise me if he was.” Isaac simply answers.

I glance at him biting my lip, I can’t imagine having a parent that horrible. And my dad definitely wasn’t great but I would take him any day compared to what Isaac had to go through.

Isaac raises his eyes, feeling my gaze on him. He lightly smiles and gives me a stiff nod, like he’s telling me he’s alright and better off without him gone.

Derek’s voice breaks me from my thoughts, “But the Bestiary said if the bond’s strong enough, it’ll kill whoever the master wants it too.”

“Hold on.” Deaton replies, “The book says they’re bonded. What if the fear of water isn’t coming from Jackson, but from the person controlling him?”

Deaton pulls another jar from the drawer, this one is filled with gray ash. The symbol on it is for Rown. Deaton unscrews the lid and begins lightly pouring out the contents around the amulet he previously placed on the table.

He then continues to speak, “That could mean the same properties that affect a creature like the Kanima will also affect its human Master.”

“And what does that mean?” Isaac asks.

“It means we can catch them.” Scott answers, “Both of them.”

*_*_*_*_*_*

In school the next day I was talking with Lydia by our lockers, “So you have a date?” She asks with a smirk.

I roll my eyes, “It’s not a date. I told him I’m not ready for that but I’d be happy to go with him as friends.”

“Seriously (Y/N/N), whether you believe it’s a date or not, I’m happy you’re getting back out there. You’re gorgeous and need to get laid.”

I laugh and shake my head. “I a not planning on having sex with him. I don’t even want to kiss him.”

“Oh come on! It’s not like Matt is bad looking. Definitely not my type and you could do better. But for a little fling, it could be fun.”

“Speaking of a little fling...” I trail off, my eyes meeting Isaac’s from across the hall. A small smile falls on to my lips when he starts smirking, clearly hearing what I said.

Lydia turns her head to see who I’m looking at, “You and Isaac?”

I bite my lip and tear my eyes away, turning back to Lydia, “We made out. And I honestly wouldn’t be disappointed if something more happened.”

I glance at him again seeing his smirk grow at my words. “But you’re going out on a date with someone else?” Lydia asks, now confused.

“It’s not a date, Lyds. And I said yes, to hanging out as friends, before Isaac and I kissed.”

Lydia held her hands up, “Hey I’m not judging. I bet if you gave more people the time you would easily see that there are more than just those two interested in you.”

“Hmm.” I hum, “Probably, but you’re one to talk. Miss prettiest girl in school.”

Lydia rolls her eyes, “I think we may tie for that honor.”

I laugh, “Sure, let’s go with that.” I glance back at Isaac who subtly nods his head and starts walking away, “I’ll see you later Lyds.”

She nods as I walk away, moving towards Isaac. I look around with a small frown on my lips. “Where did he go?” I mumble out starting to move once more. I then feel a hand wrap around my wrist pulling me into an empty classroom. The door closes once I am safety inside.

“I for one, think you’re the prettiest girl in school.” I instantly roll my eyes and lightly shove Isaac’s chest.

“That was cheesy.” I reply as I wrap my arms around his neck. Before he has the chance to reply I gently bring his head down to attach my lips to his. We only break apart when the bell rings. I let out a groan at the sound, not wanting this moment to end.

Isaac lightly chuckles and nudges his nose against my neck. He then presses feather light kisses on my exposed neck and collar-bone as I hum in content and my eyes flutter closed. “We should get to class.” He finally speaks up, though he doesn’t break apart.

“It’s my free period. And you’re already late, might as well skip.” I smirk.

He lets out another laugh, his head falling back and blue eyes lighting up. It brings a smile to my face as I watch him, “You should laugh more. It sounds nice.”

His eyes meet mine once more, “Well if I spend more time with you then you’ll probably be hearing it more often.” We share a smile before he leans back down and reattaches our lips.

*_*_*_*_*_*

Later that day, I was once again in the vet clinic but this time without Derek and Isaac. In their place was Stiles instead. Deaton holds up a vial of clear liquid. We step forward to get a better look. “Ketamine?” Scott asks.

“Same thing we use on dogs. Just a higher dosage.” Deaton confirms. He then hands Scott the vial and a hypodermic, “If you can get close enough to Jackson, it should slow him down enough to buy you some time.”

“Ketamine for the Kanima.” We all throw Scott questioning glances and upon seeing our faces he mutters, “Yeah, that wasn’t funny.”

Deaton then places a glass jar in front of Stiles, it’s filled with the same gray ash from yesterday. “This is a sample of what you’ll use to create the barrier. Now, this part is for you, Stiles and (Y/N).”

My eyes slightly widen, “Does it need to be both of us? I’m not sure if I’ll be able to get away from Matt for that long.”

“No, but it needs to be one of you.”

I turn to Stiles who sighs, “That sounds like a lot of pressure. Could we find a slightly less pressure-filled task for me?”

Deaton pours a little bit of the ash into his hand to allow Stiles to get a closer look. “It’s from a mountain ash tree which is believed by many cultures to protect against the supernatural. This office is lined with mountain ash wood which makes it difficult for someone like Scott to cause me any trouble.”

“So I spread this around the whole building and neither Jackson or whoever’s controlling him won’t be able to cross?” Stiles questions.

Deaton nods, “They’ll be trapped.”

“That doesn’t sound too hard.” Scott says.

“That’s not all there is. Think of it like gunpowder. It’s just powder until a spark ignites it. You need to be that spark, Stiles.” Deaton continues.

“If you mean light myself on fire, I’m not sure I’m up for that.”

I giggle and shake my head at the brunette boy. Dr. Deaton speaks up once more, “Let me try a different analogy. I used to play golf. What’s interesting about the best golfers is they never swing without first imagining where they want the ball to go. They see it in their mind. And their mind takes over. It can be pretty extraordinary what the force of your own will can accomplish.”

“Force of will.” Stiles repeats the words the vet said.

“If this is going to work, Stiles, you have to believe it.’

Stiles nods, keeping his gaze locked on the jar of mountain ash, a determined look on his face.

*_*_*_*_*_*

I picked Matt up, having borrowed my moms car for the night. I pull into a space outside the warehouse. As we step out of the car Matt turns to me, “Sorry I couldn’t drive. My dad usually lends me the car.”

I smile, “No worries. I actually really like driving so...” I shrug as I trail off. There is a brief moment of awkward silence. Matt then holds out his hand to me, I lick my lips as I hesitantly take it, readjusting my tank top with my other hand.

Once inside the building the music blasts and my eyes move around to try and spot Jackson or really anyone else that I know.

Finally my eyes meet Matt’s “Did you want to dance?” I question with an awkward smile.

Though Matt doesn’t seem to notice how awkward I seem as he nods his head and moves with me into the crowd.

We bob along to the music, my eyes still moving throughout the room. Once my attention is back on Matt he opens his mouth to say something, but due to the loud volume of the music I can’t make out the words.

“Do you want a drink?” He asks once more, miming drinking from a cup.

“Oh, yeah. Thanks.” I nod and watch as he moves to another part of the crowded room.

With Matt now gone, I quickly move to blend in with the crowd more. Still dancing to the music so I don’t stick out like a sore thumb.

I finally spot Isaac carrying a limp Jackson, Erica right behind them. I rush over and step into the door with them, “Where’s Scott? I thought he was going to do this?” I question.

“The Argents are here. He said he needed to talk to them.” Isaac replies. Then he glances at me, “Aren’t you supposed to be on a date?”

I groan, “It’s not a date. Though I should probably go find him. You two will be okay here?”

The two werewolves nod in agreement. So I turn to leave the room and try to find Matt.

Finally spotting the photography loving boy I make my way over, “Sorry! I got a call from my dad.”

He gives me a questioning glance as he hands me my drink, “It’s fine. Though I never hear you or Scott mention your dad?”

“Uh yeah. It’s... It’s complicated.” I stutter out.

Matt just nods. Once the drinks are finished he hold out his hand once more, “Let’s dance some more? Try and get closer to the DJ?”

“Yeah, sounds good!” I take his hand once again, letting him pull me through the crowd.

We once again start dancing within the crowd. My eyes are still drifting around looking at the people around us, this time more out of awkwardness than trying to spot someone I know.

“You’re not having a good time.” Matt states.

I turn to look at him with shock evident on my face, “Sorry.” I apologize, grimacing.

“What’s wrong?” He questions.

I shrug, “I just have a lot on my mind.” I pause for a brief moment then continue, “Do you ever feel like you have the best intentions but you’re just making mistake after mistake?”

“No. Unlike the rest of humanity Im perfect.”

I smile at the joke, glad that he’s trying to distract me. But the smile is quickly wiped off my face as Matt leans in for a kiss. I lurch back in surprise, “Oh God. That was the worst mistake ever. I’m so totally sorry.”

I shake my head, “No, it’s okay. I mean, it’s not okay but I...” I take a breath and point behind me, “I’m going to go to the bathroom.”

Instead of going to the bathroom though I quickly make my way back to the storage room that Jackson is locked in. Just as I reach out to open the door, Stiles, Isaac and Erica run through it. Slamming the door shut as soon as everyone, aside from Jackson, is out.

“Find something to block the door.” Stiles says. But before anyone can follow through, the wall next to the door explodes outwards as Jackson crashes through it.

“What the hell just happened?” I question in shock.”

“He’s a lot stronger than we thought.” Stiles simply answers.

We all rush out, the three others trying to figure out what happened to Jackson while I reluctantly try to find Matt once more. Knowing that i can’t hide from him forever, I am his ride home after all.

#teen wolf imagine #series rewrite #sister mccall imagine #lydia martin imagine #isaac lahey imagine

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vateacancameos · 4 years

Text

All in the Family

Chapters: 1/1 Words: 4,150 Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Luna Lovegood/Ginny Weasley, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter Characters: Ginny Weasley, Luna Lovegood, Draco Malfoy Additional Tags: Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Both Linny and Drarry, Meet the Family, The Talk, Mentions of Ginny having tattoos, because she'd look awesome in tattoos and i just had to add that in, POV Ginny Weasley, POV Draco Malfoy

Summary: There comes a time in many romantic relationships when you have to meet the family. It’s usually nerve-wracking and awkward and something to be dreaded. Take a peek into Ginny’s and Draco’s minds during this step.

Story:

Ginny took a deep breath and squinted at her image in the mirror. She looked like her usual self, but a little neater: hair in a sleek ponytail, skin tanned from hours of practice and games, far too many freckles for her liking, but not a thing she could help, brightly colored tattoos wiggling on her arms. She smoothed hands over cropped jeans that probably sported a few too many holes. Did the green shirt make her look like a Christmas tree? No, Luna called it kelly green, not Christmas green. She said it complimented her skin and freckles, which she liked far better than Ginny did. She smiled at the thought.

“You look lovely, dear,” the mirror told her. But the mirror always said that, being owned by Luna who was (1) Ginny’s girlfriend and therefore prone to overcomplimenting and (2) a ball of sunshine even in the darkest times and would never own a mirror that wasn’t similarly inclined.

“It’s not too butch? Is it butch enough? I need to give the perfect impression here: respectable but not a floor mat. Meeting the family doesn’t happen every day.”

“You look like a beautiful summer day.”

Ginny huffed. Help would not come from this corner, apparently. She was about to call in her girlfriend, but Luna must have felt Ginny’s need, as she somehow always did, because she wandered in just then, putting on her earrings as she walked. She beamed.

“You look like a beautiful summer day!”

Ginny could feel the mirror puffing up behind her. She rolled her eyes.

“But is it good for a first impression?”

Keep reading below the cut

Luna frowned and tilted her head. “But it’s not a first impression. You’ve known him for years.”

“But not …” Ginny began, waving her arms when the words wouldn’t come. “Not like this. With romantic intention or whatever.” She wiped sweaty hands on her trousers again. “I have to give off a specific impression today. I have to be firm but, ugh, friendly.”

“You’re always friendly.” Luna smiled dreamily. “I remember when we first met, when your family invited mine to dinner. Your brothers were so loud, and you were too at first. It was overwhelming. But then you stopped fighting with them and came over to me. You smiled like the sun and said, ‘I like your hat.’”

“It was a very cool hat.”

They hadn’t seen much of each other before Hogwarts, but Ginny had always liked the rare occasions she got to spend with the odd, quiet little girl who was one of her nearest wizarding neighbors. She was so much the opposite of the rowdy Weasleys—calm, thoughtful, so very smart, and most importantly, a girl her age. It was peaceful and fun being with Luna.

Realizing how good being around Luna felt was what made Ginny finally break things off with Harry the year before. Harry was always in slight opposition to whatever life threw at him. Yes, he weathered storms durably, but he was never … comfortable. Content. Even after she talked him out of joining the aurors—which had at least taken off some of the pressure to be the perfect Boy Who Lived Twice—he still seemed restless. Even with Ginny. Especially with Ginny. So she’d let go of her dream of marrying the boy she’d had a crush on for as long as she could remember and soon after had fallen into the arms of someone who made her feel more wanted and loved and perfect than she’d ever felt before. Life was better now, with Luna to help ground her. Perhaps Ginny had been at odds with life too. She and Harry were very alike in some ways.

Which brought her back to her current dilemma.

“I’m not going for happy summer day vibes, though.”

Luna’s eyebrows crinkled. “What vibes are you aiming for then?”

Ginny rubbed an arm. “Ummm. Respectable but intimidating?” At the skeptical look from her girlfriend, she continued. “I can be intimidating.”

Luna smiled softly and laid her hands on Ginny’s cheeks. “Of course you are. You wouldn’t be a starting chaser for the Holyhead Harpies if you weren’t intimidating.”

Ginny snorted. “Are you ever going to get tired of stating my full position title? I was moved up to starter, like, four months ago.”

“Never!” Luna said with a grin.

After giving her a quick peck on the lips, Ginny turned back to the mirror, and Luna put her arms around her waist from behind. “Why do you need to be intimidating for family dinner?”

“Because it’s not just family dinner. It’s meet the family dinner. I have to give the right impression.”

“Which would be intimidating?” Luna’s breath and the vibration of her voice tickled Ginny’s neck. She liked it.

“Yes.”

“Even though you’ve met before. Many times.”

“Yes.”

There was a pause. “I still don’t get it.”

Ginny sighed and turned in her girlfriend’s arms. “This is Harry.”

“Whom you’ve known since you were ten. Whom you’ve dated. Twice.”

“I don’t want to intimidate Harry.”

Understanding smoothed out Luna’s face and widened her eyes. “Oh. You’re protective of him.”

“Yes!”

“Is Draco intimidatable?”

“Is intimidatable a word?”

“It is now.”

“Then yes, he is. I remember his pointy little ferret face completely blanching when I threatened him with hexes.” Good times …

“Your bat bogey hex is pretty frightening. Also, you should be nice.”

“It’s fucking Malfoy. I’m still not sure how Harry is even dating him. And I’m ninety percent sure I don’t like that they’re dating. Ugh. Malfoy. I’m getting annoyed just thinking about it.” She buried her face in Luna’s shoulder. She smelled like lilacs and sparkles. Ginny wasn’t sure how she managed the latter, but it was true. She smelled like sparkles. It was nice.

“You promised Harry you’d stop hating him. And you promised your father before that.”

“Ugh. I know. But it’s Malfoy. He’s an arse!”

“Ginny.” Luna’s voice turned stern, as it only rarely did, so Ginny straightened up.

“Sorry. I really am trying. It’s just … Harry hated him for so long, and he used to say such mean things to us, especially to Hermione. My brain has trouble believing he’s changed enough for Harry to fall for him. Are you certain he’s not under a spell or love potion?”

“Ginny.”

“Yeah, I know.” She sighed. “He helped you when you were a prisoner at the manor. And he kept Harry from being recognized. It’s just …”

“It’s hard to flip around what you knew about him all through school.”

“Mmm,” Ginny grunted in agreement, going in for another hug. Luna hugs were the best. She always felt so protected and calmed in a Luna hug.

Luna tightened her arms in a squeeze before letting go and stepping back. “I think the dark gray button-down and the obsidian necklace I got you for your birthday, if you’re going for intimidating.”

Ginny raised her eyebrows before shucking the green tee and rifling through the wardrobe for the suggested top instead. “You’re helping me?”

“Well, I was actually going to suggest it anyway. George told me that since Bill isn’t able to come, you should give Draco the ‘you hurt him, and I break your kneecaps’ talk. Ron can’t give it, because he’ll just get yell-y, and he’s not terribly intimidating even like that. And George is afraid he might actually break Draco’s kneecaps, and he can’t go to Azkaban right now, what with the baby on the way. And Percy would just put him to sleep explaining the details.”

Laughing as she buttoned up her shirt, Ginny privately agreed. Being a professional athlete meant she’d had to learn rein in her temper, and she’d always been closest to Bill in temperament anyway. “We could ask Charlie to swoop in on a dragon. That might work.”

“George asked, but apparently he’s busy watching over this year’s births. He offered to send a howler though.” Luna’s expression said that she thought these were perfectly reasonable suggestions.

That sounded about right for her brothers too. “We’ll keep that tactic on reserve in case my intimidation doesn’t work. I dunno about being the one giving the talk, though. I thought I was just going to glare at him across the table all through dinner …” She finished rolling up her sleeves to her elbows, letting the bottom half of her tattoo sleeves show on her forearms. She eyed her image critically. “Better? Are you sure about the necklace? I need to be more butch, don’t I? To be intimidating?”

Luna shook her head, taking the ends of said necklace to clasp them behind Ginny’s neck. “Draco likes classy. He’d probably be more impressed if you wore black trousers, but then you wouldn’t be you.” She wrinkled her nose, and Ginny agreed with the sentiment. She lived in jeans and trainers, only owning black trousers to wear at semi-formal events for work. Not to mention that her brothers, Harry included, would take the mickey if she showed up in something beyond her regular clothes.

She sighed a final time and turned to her girlfriend. “Okay, let’s get this over with. Ugh. But I swear, if he is at all acting like an arsehole, I will cut a bitch.”

***

Draco wiped his sweaty palms on the sofa fabric for the eightieth time in the twenty minutes he’d been at the Weasley abode. He’d met them all before, of course. Most of them had attended school with him. And he’d seen them at his trial. Arthur had even been kind enough to shake his hand after he’d been cleared of the worst of his charges. Granted, it hadn’t been completely out of kindness. Draco’s community service sentence had been to work in Arthur’s office for two years after his release, so he’d also been officially introducing himself as Draco’s supervisor. But even with the formality of it, Arthur had seemed kind. Serious, yes, but not in any way malicious or aloof, which was more than how the Malfoys had addressed the Weasleys in the past.

And Draco had quickly become comfortable around the eccentric man. Arthur might come off as a bit kooky, but he was ever the professional at work, and Draco appreciated that, along with being so thankful that the man wouldn’t continue to punish him for his past (terrible) choices. So yes, he’d worked with Arthur for two years, and gone to school with most of the other Weasleys, but this was different. This wasn’t just dinner with friendly acquaintances (though only Arthur fell into that category), this was meeting the family as the romantic partner of their practically adopted son/brother.

He and Harry hadn’t been dating that long, and the only Weasleys he’d interacted with since the relationship had begun were Percy and Ron. Percy was fine, if a little dry, and even Ron had graduated from angry scowls to only looking like he had a slightly upset stomach. But the other Weasleys were more unknown. Luckily Bill and Charlie were busy, so tonight that only left Molly, George, and Ginny (“if you call her the Weaselette, Draco, I will hurt you,” Luna had warned during their latest tea date). At least he’d had some interactions with Molly and George back when he and Harry were still just friends and he had with Arthur for two years, but Ginny he probably hadn’t said a dozen words to since they’d left school.

So even though the brothers might be intimidating, Ginny was the unknown. Harry swore they were completely over each other, and closer now as almost siblings than they had been as paramours, but Draco wasn’t sure what to think of her. He’d tossed out jealousy pretty early. Harry only ever spoke of her in the fond way of close friends/family. But that still left a lot of unknowns. He’d been on the wrong end of her hexes on several occasions, and she was a chaser for a professional quidditch team (one of the scariest teams out there, no less), so he knew she had both bark and bite. It was likely she’d employ some intimidation tactics, but would it stop there? Was she jealous of him? He didn’t think so, hearing Luna wax poetic about her constantly during their tea dates. But there could still be some genuine hate from her. Nothing he didn’t deserve, though.

He wished Luna and Ginny would just show up already, so he could get this dinner thing over with. Harry warned that there would probably be a “hurt him and I’ll hurt you” threat taking place that evening, but he didn’t know who had drawn the short straw on that. Unless they went in for a four-pronged attack from all of the present siblings. Merlin, he hoped not.

As if he’d summoned them with his thoughts, the two women burst through the door, calling out greetings to everyone else. Ginny headed for the kitchen without a glance at Draco, but Luna brightened further and made a beeline for the sofa.

She gave him a quick hug. “I would say you clean up well except …”

“Except I always look this good?”

“I was going to say except that you could still use some work, but if you want to go with yours, that’s fine. What’s important is that you believe it.” Her smile was deceptively serene, and the glitter in her hair and the fairy necklace didn’t help present her as anything other than innocent. But Draco knew better after years of slowly cultivating their friendship.

Draco clutched his heart in mock hurt. “Harsh. When does the girlfriend start full-time training again? I think you’re spending too much time together.”

Luna’s effervescent smile dimmed a little. “In three weeks. This will be our first full season as a couple. From what I gather, I’ll barely see her between the start of training and their first season game.”

Draco felt similar trepidation. School would be starting soon, and Harry would be a full-time professor for the first time this year. He’d spent the last few years tutoring and job shadowing while waiting for the current DADA professor to retire, so they were somewhat used to being apart as friends, but never as a couple.

(It was odd knowing that Hogwarts had employed the same DADA professor for six years running; odder still to think of perpetual disaster Harry James Potter as a professor. Draco really wished he’d use the hair potion Draco had bought him a few weeks ago; he needed to look more professional, but Harry had argued that if Dumbledore and Snape could get away with long, shaggy hair, so could he. Draco knew a losing argument when he saw one, so he’d given up after a week.)

Beyond Harry’s soon-to-be-full schedule after a summer of freedom, the two of them had only been dating for a few months, and Draco wasn’t sure how the change in daily routine would affect them. Harry tried to subdue the worries, but Draco saw that he was hiding some qualms of his own. They’d each only been in one prior relationship, so there was a chance that any change would break them apart.

Luna, reading his mind, as always, swooped in for another hug. “It’ll be fine,” she whispered in his ear before pulling back. How did she do that? “Your face, silly. You’re an open book. Not to mention, I got to hear you list your worries ad nauseum during tea last week.”

She had him there. “I just want tonight to be over already.”

“Mmmm,” she hummed in sympathy. “I remember how my meet-the-family dinner went. Oh! I wanted to warn you. Ginny’s giving you The Talk tonight.”

Draco leaned back in surprise. “Just her?” If any single one of the Weasleys was going to give him The Talk, he’d have expected one of the older ones, or maybe Ron, because he and Harry were best friends. But Draco had never expected The Talk from solely the youngest (and only female) sibling. Her status as the baby should have kept her out of the running. Just because Draco lived in constant slight terror to this day of being hit by one of her hexes, he didn’t expect the others to feel the same.

“Well, she’s most similar to Bill, isn’t she. The others know you’d respect it more coming from her.”

“Yeah, I reckon. Do you know when she’s going to do it?”

Before she could answer, Ginny entered the sitting room and addressed the others who peppered the space. “George and Ron, Harry and Dad need help outside.”

The two men looked up from where they were brainstorming new ideas for the shop, shrugged, then left the room. Hermione looked up from the baby jumper she was knitting for George and Angelina’s upcoming baby—at least, she said it was a jumper; it looked more like a lumpy blue snowball with arms.

“They’re not still trying to charm the new car, are they?” Ginny gave her a “what do you think” look, and Hermione sighed, dropped the knitting, and followed the others outside.

“I’m going to see if Molly and Angelina want help in the kitchen,” Luna added with a sympathetic look at Draco before hurrying out as well, the traitor.

Draco took a deep breath. “So it’s to be you, then? Lose a bet?”

Ginny looked a little stunned, then reluctantly amused. She dropped down onto the coffee table across from him. “I’d like to think I won.”

She leaned forward to rest her elbows on her knees, and the dragon tattoo on her right arm blew out an inky flame, as if to back her up. She looked more serious than usual, which was enhanced by the dark button-down she wore, so in opposition to her usual bright but scruffy t-shirts. She still sported holey trousers and her grungy trainers, though, but she made it work. Or maybe Draco was just getting inured to the sloppy look, dating someone who wore the same style like a uniform. He looked down to see that he still had on his own high-end trousers and button-down and relaxed a bit in relief.

He waved a hand so she’d get started. The sooner they talked, the sooner they’d be done, the sooner dinner would be done, the sooner he could get back home and revel in the warmth of Harry’s body in bed next to his (Harry called it cuddling, but Draco never would, ugh).

She raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Look. I know Dad respects you, so I learned to stop hating you a while ago.” She sighed. “And for whatever strange reason, Luna likes you, so I can admit that you’ve probably changed from the utter fucking dickhead you were in school.”

Draco choked on his own saliva. He’d forgotten she had the same sailor mouth Harry did. Or maybe he’d never known. It shouldn’t have been a surprise, given her whole … persona. Still, Luna was all rainbows and puppies about her, and Harry talked about her like a little sister, so he forgot sometimes that she was an adult and a quidditch star with the mouth to go along with it.

She glared, and he cleared his throat. “Yes, thank you. I appreciate that. Go on.”

“Thanks,” she said with so much sarcasm, he could practically hear the “I hate it” she didn’t voice. “So yeah, you’ve changed. You’re a new fucking man. Bright and shiny new leaves turned over. Whatever.” She sat up straight, her eyes boring through Draco so hard, he expected to feel two dots of heat on his forehead. “I’ll even say I’m okay with you two dating, even though it’s completely weird. I never thought I’d see the day someone in our family dated a Malfoy.”

She spit out his name out in a way that made him think back to an altercation their dads had had in Diagon Alley years ago. Harry had been there too, now that he thought about it. Her tone now was the same as Arthur’s had been then. Trying so hard to be a respectful adult, but barely hiding anger underneath. He didn’t think she was quite as okay as she claimed. He really didn’t blame her. His family was bad news. He shrugged, hoping he’d convey that the idea was still weird to him too. Him. Dating Harry Potter. What alternate universe had they fallen into?

“But Harry really likes you,” she continued, “and I trust him. I think.” A wrinkled eyebrow said otherwise, but Draco kept mum. “He’s an adult, and so if he wants to date you, that’s his prerogative. But know this.” She leaned forward again. “You even look at him wrong, and I’ll dropkick you so hard into last Tuesday, that even if we hadn’t destroyed all of the ministry’s time turners, you still wouldn’t be able to get back. Got it?”

He tried to tell himself they were just words. This was a ritual every new boyfriend went through. It was normal. But then again, this was Harry Potter. Nothing about him was normal, and that included his family. Draco had seen Ginevra Weasley in battle, and he’d been subjected to her hexes in school. She’d dated Harry and must therefore know the feeling of wanting to wrap him in cotton fluff and hide him from the cruel world. They weren’t just words to her. She meant business, and he appreciated that. They both wanted the best for Harry, and if Draco failed to be that, he deserved whatever punishment she and her clan would mete out to him.

“Thank you.”

She jerked her head back and frowned. “What?”

“Harry deserves to have the fiercest warriors in his corner. I’m glad he has friends and family who will be that for him.”

“Hm. Yes, he does.” Despite her words, she looked suspicious.

“And, in that vein,” he continued with a spark of realization, “you hurt Luna, and it’ll take them a month remove all the curses from you.”

She cocked her head for a moment, then relaxed her shoulders and almost smiled. “Deal.”

She held out a hand, and he took it, wondering if his own was about to be crushed so hard, he’d need SkeleGrow to knit his bones back together. Her grip was firm to the point of being uncomfortable, but after they shook, all of his bones still seemed to be in place and whole.

A call came from Molly in the kitchen then, so they both stood, back to feeling slightly awkward with each other. Just as they were about to head through the door, Ginny put a hand on his wrist. Draco looked over at her face in question.

“Um, Harry. He’s … he’s really happy these days. The happiest I’ve ever seen him. Thank you.” Her face was soft, and the most open Draco had ever seen it.

“I’m glad you think so.” Uncomfortable with the serious mood coming from a Weasley, he smirked. “Luna seems to be rubbing off on you as well. I think this is the most cleaned up I’ve ever seen you. Not bad, Weasley the Youngest.”

She barked out a short laugh, then got an evil glint in her eye. “I’m glad you approve, since I stole this shirt from your wardrobe. Who wears such drab colors voluntarily? I’d be getting hives from it if I didn’t have my tats to liven it up.”

He let out a surprised laugh of his own, which was drowned out by the lively mess of humans crowding around the kitchen table. He’d survived The Talk with the scariest Weasley (besides Bill). He felt confident he could survive the rest of the family.

***

After they’d apparated back to their flat, Luna jumped on Ginny to give one of the octopus hugs Ginny loved. After a quick peck on her cheek, Luna snuggled closer. “I love you.”

“I love you too. Any particular reason at this moment, or just my general awesomeness?”

Luna giggled. “You are pretty awesome, but it’s not just that this time.”

Realization dawned in Ginny. “Were you spying on my talk with Mal- Draco?”

“No.” Luna shook her head vehemently, eyes wide. “But I saw the way you two looked when you came into the kitchen afterward.”

“Which was …?” Ginny prepared herself for any number bubbly adjectives about to come out of her girlfriend’s mouth.

“Like two adults who have come to an agreement of mutual respect.”

Eyebrow raised, Ginny only said, quite intelligently, “hmm.”

“But also adorable and chummy. I saw the way you were smiling, Ginevra.”

“And there’s the girlfriend I know and love,” Ginny said drily, but she gave said girlfriend a kiss.

“I’m proud of you.”

Ginny grinned. “Good. I like making you proud.”

Luna hummed. “My respectable, beautiful, starting chaser quidditch star girlfriend.”

“That’s me.”

***

Thank you for reading! If you’d like to leave kudos on ao3, find the link in my reblog.

#harry potter #linny #drarry #fanfic #meeting the family #meagan writes #ginny x luna #harry x draco

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bluewatsons · 3 years

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Claudia Roth Pierpont, A Raised Voice: How Nina Simone turned the movement into music, The New Yorker (August 4, 2014)

Simone with James Baldwin in the early sixties. Her intelligence and restless force attracted African-American culture’s finest minds. Photograph courtesy New York Public Library

“My skin is black,” the first woman’s story begins, “my arms are long.” And, to a slow and steady beat, “my hair is woolly, my back is strong.” Singing in a club in Holland, in 1965, Nina Simone introduced a song she had written about what she called “four Negro women” to a young, homogeneously white, and transfixed crowd. “And one of the women’s hair,” she instructed, brushing her hand lightly across her own woolly Afro, “is like mine.” Every performance of “Four Women” caught on film (as here) or disk is different. Sometimes Simone coolly chants the first three women’s parts—the effect is of resigned weariness—and at other times, as on this particular night, she gives each woman an individual, sharply dramatized voice. All four have names. Aunt Sarah is old, and her strong back has allowed her only “to take the pain inflicted again and again.” Sephronia’s yellow skin and long hair are the result of her rich white father having raped her mother—“Between two worlds I do belong”—and Sweet Thing, a prostitute, has tan skin and a smiling bravado that seduced at least some of the eager Dutch listeners into the mistake of smiling, too. And then Simone hit them with the last and most resolutely up to date of the women, improbably named Peaches. “My skin is brown,” she growled ferociously, “my manner is tough. I’ll kill the first mother I see. ’Cause my life has been rough.” (One has to wonder what the Dutch made of killing that “mother.”) If Simone’s song suggests a history of black women in America, it is also a history of long-suppressed and finally uncontainable anger.

A lot of black women have been openly angry these days over a new movie about Simone’s life, and it hasn’t even been released. The issue is color, and what it meant to Simone to be not only categorically African-American but specifically African in her features and her very dark skin. Is it possible to separate Simone’s physical characteristics, and what they cost her in this country, from the woman she became? Can she be played by an actress with less distinctively African features, or a lighter skin tone? Should she be played by such an actress? The casting of Zoe Saldana, a movie star of Dominican descent and a light-skinned beauty along European lines, has caused these questions—rarely phrased as questions—to dog the production of “Nina,” from the moment Saldana’s casting was announced to the completed film’s début, at Cannes, in May, at a screening confined to possible distributors. No reviewers have seen it. The film’s director, Cynthia Mort, has been stalwart in her defense of Saldana’s rightness for the role, citing not only the obvious relevance of acting skills but Simone’s inclusion of a range of colors among her own “Four Women”—which is a fair point. None of the women in Simone’s most personal and searing song escape the damage and degradation accorded to their race.

Ironically, “Four Women” was charged with being insulting to black women and was banned on a couple of radio stations in New York and Philadelphia soon after the recording was released, in 1966. The ban was lifted, however, when it produced more outrage than the song. Simone’s husband, Andrew Stroud, who was also her manager, worried about the dangers that the controversy might have for her career, although this was hardly a new problem. Simone had been singing out loud and clear about civil rights since 1963—well after the heroic stand of figures like Harry Belafonte and Sammy Davis, Jr., but still at a time when many black performers felt trapped between the rules of commercial success and the increasing pressure for racial confrontation. At Motown, in the early sixties, the wildly popular performers of a stream of crossover hits became models of black achievement but had virtually no contact with the movement at all.

Simone herself had been hesitant at first. Known for her sophisticated pianism, her imperious attitude, and her velvety rendition of “I Loves You, Porgy” (which, like Billie Holiday before her, she sang without the demeaningly ungrammatical “s” on “loves”), she had arrived in New York in late 1958, establishing her reputation not in Harlem but in the clubs of hip and relatively interracial Greenwich Village. Her repertoire of jazz and folk and show tunes, often played with a classical touch, made her impossible to classify. In these early years, she performed African songs but also Hebrew songs, and wove a Bach fugue through a rapid-fire version of “Love Me or Leave Me.” She tossed off the thirties bauble “My Baby Just Cares for Me” with airy insouciance, and wrung the heart out of the lullaby “Brown Baby”—newly written by Oscar Brown, Jr., about a family’s hopes for a child born into a better racial order—erupting in a hair-raising wail on the word “freedom,” as though registering all the pain over all the years during which it was denied. For a while, “Brown Baby” was as close to a protest song as Simone got. She believed it was enough.

And then her friend Lorraine Hansberry set her straight. It speaks to Simone’s intelligence and restless force that, in her twenties, she attracted some of African-American culture’s finest minds. Both Langston Hughes and James Baldwin elected themselves mentors: Simone, appearing on the scene just as Holiday died, seemed to evoke their most exuberant hopes and most protective instincts. But Hansberry offered her a special bond. A young woman also dealing with a startling early success—Hansberry was twenty-eight when “A Raisin in the Sun” won the New York Drama Critics’ Circle Award, in 1959—she had a strongly cultivated black pride and a pedagogical bent. “We never talked about men or clothes,” Simone wrote in her memoir, decades later. “It was always Marx, Lenin and revolution—real girls’ talk.” A milestone in Simone’s career was a solo concert at Carnegie Hall—a happy chance to show off her pianism—on April 12, 1963, which happened also to be the day that Martin Luther King, Jr., was arrested with other protesters in Birmingham, Alabama, and locked up in the local jail. The discrepancy between the events was pointed out by Hansberry, who telephoned Simone after the concert, although not to offer praise.

Two months later, Simone played a benefit for the N.A.A.C.P. In early August, she sang “Brown Baby” before a crowd gathered in the football stadium of a black college outside Birmingham—the first integrated concert ever given in the area—while guards with guns and dogs prowled the field. But Hansberry only started a process that events in America quickly accelerated. Simone watched the March on Washington, later that August, on television, while she was preparing for a club date. She was still rehearsing when, on September 15th, news came of the bombing of Birmingham’s Sixteenth Street Baptist Church, killing four young African-American girls who had just got out of Bible class. Simone’s first impulsive act, she recalled, was to try to make a zip gun with tools from her garage. “I had it in my mind to go out and kill someone,” she wrote. “I didn’t yet know who, but someone I could identify as being in the way of my people.”

This urge to violence was not a wholly aberrant impulse but something that had been brewing on a national scale, however tamped down by cooler heads and political pragmatists. At the Washington march, John Lewis, then a leader of the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee, was forced to cut the word “revolution” from his speech and to omit the threat that, absent immediate progress, the marchers would go through the South “the way Sherman did” and “burn Jim Crow to the ground.” James Baldwin, in a televised discussion after the bombing, noted that, throughout American history, “the only time that nonviolence has been admired is when the Negroes practice it.” But the center held. Simone’s husband, a smart businessman, told her to forget the gun and put her rage into her music.

It took her an hour to write “Mississippi Goddam.” A freewheeling cri de coeur based on the place names of oppression, the song has a jaunty tune that makes an ironic contrast with words—“Alabama’s got me so upset, Tennessee made me lose my rest”—that arose from injustices so familiar they hardly needed to be stated: “And everybody knows about Mississippi, goddam!” Still, Simone spelled them out. She mocked stereotypical insults (“Too damn lazy!”), government promises (“Desegregation / Mass participation”), and, above all, the continuing admonition of public leaders to “Go slow,” a line that prompted her backup musicians to call out repeatedly, as punctuation, “Too slow!” It wasn’t “We Shall Overcome” or “Blowin’ in the Wind”: Simone had little feeling for the Biblically inflected uplift that defined the anthems of the era. It’s a song about a movement nearly out of patience by a woman who never had very much to begin with, and who had little hope for the American future: “Oh but this whole country is full of lies,” she sang. “You’re all gonna die and die like flies.”

She introduced the song in a set at the Village Gate a few days later. And she sang it at a very different concert at Carnegie Hall, in March, 1964—brazenly flinging “You’re all gonna die” at a mostly white audience—along with other protest songs she had taken a hand in writing, including the defiantly jazzy ditty “Old Jim Crow.” She also performed a quietly haunting song titled “Images,” about a black woman’s inability to see her own beauty (“She thinks her brown body has no glory”)—a wistful predecessor to “Four Women” that she had composed to words by the Harlem Renaissance poet Waring Cuney. At the time, Simone herself was still wearing her hair in a harshly straightened fifties-style bob—sometimes the small personal freedoms are harder to speak up for than the larger political ones—and, clearly, it wasn’t time yet for such specifically female injuries to take their place in the racial picture. “Mississippi Goddam” was the song of the moment: bold and urgent and easy to sing, it was adopted by embattled protesters in the cursed state itself just months after Simone’s concert, during what they called the Mississippi Summer Project, or Freedom Summer, and what President Johnson called “the summer of our discontent.”

There was no looking back by the time she performed the song outside Montgomery, Alabama, in March, 1965, when some three thousand marchers were making their way along the fifty-four-mile route from Selma; two weeks earlier, protesters making the same attempt had been driven back by state troopers with clubs, whips, and tear gas. The triumphant concert, on the fourth night of the march, was organized by the indefatigable Belafonte, at the request of King, and took place on a makeshift stage built atop stacks of empty coffins lent by local funeral homes, and in front of an audience that had swelled with twenty-five thousand additional people, drawn either by the cause or by a lineup of stars that ranged from Tony Bennett and Johnny Mathis to Joan Baez. Simone, accompanied only by her longtime guitarist, Al Schackman, drew cheers on the interpolated line “Selma made me lose my rest.” In the course of events that night, she was introduced to King, and Schackman remembered that she stuck her hand out and warned him, “I’m not nonviolent!” It was only when King replied, gently, “Not to worry, sister,” that she calmed down.

Simone’s explosiveness was well known. In concert, she was quick to call out anyone she noticed talking, to stop and glare or hurl a few insults or even leave the stage. Yet her performances, richly improvised, were also confidingly intimate—she needed the connection with her audience—and often riveting. Even in her best years, Simone never put many records on the charts, but people flocked to her shows. In 1966, the critic for the Philadelphia Tribune, an African-American newspaper, explained that to hear Simone sing “is to be brought into abrasive contact with the black heart and to feel the power and beauty which for centuries have beat there.” She was proclaimed the voice of the movement not by Martin Luther King but by Stokely Carmichael and H. Rap Brown, whose Black Power philosophy answered to her own experience and inclinations. As the sixties progressed, the feelings she displayed—pain, lacerating anger, the desire to burn down whole cities in revenge—made her seem at times emotionally disturbed and at other times simply the most honest black woman in America.

She recalled that racial anger first arose in her when she was eleven. Born Eunice Waymon, in 1933, she was the sixth of eight children of John and Kate Waymon, who were descendants of slaves and pillars of the small black community of Tryon, North Carolina. Her mother was a Methodist preacher, a severely religious woman who made extra money by cleaning house for a white Tryon family; her father, who had started off as an entertainer, worked at whatever the circumstances required. Even during the Depression, the Waymons made a good home. Simone’s earliest memories were of her mother singing hymns, and both the house and the church were so filled with music that no one noticed little Eunice climbing up to the organ bench until, at the age of two and a half, she played “God Be with You Till We Meet Again,” straight through.

Yet as rare as the little girl’s musical gifts is the way that, in that time and place, those gifts were encouraged. She began playing for her mother’s sermons before her feet could reach the pedals, and was soon accompanying the church choir and Sunday services. She especially enjoyed playing for visiting revivalists, because of the raptures she discovered that she could loose in an audience with music. At the other end of the spectrum, she was five years old when the woman for whom her mother cleaned house offered to pay for lessons with a local piano teacher, Muriel Mazzanovich. The British-born Miz Mazzy, as Eunice called her—and also, later on, “my white momma”—inspired her love of Bach and her plans to become a great and famous classical pianist. Giving a recital in the local library, at eleven, Eunice saw her parents being removed from their front-row seats to make room for a white couple. She had been schooled by Miz Mazzy in proper deportment, but she nevertheless stood up and announced that if people wanted to hear her play they’d better let her parents sit back down in the front row. There were some laughs, but her parents were returned to their seats. The next day, she remembered, she felt “as if I had been flayed, and every slight, real or imagined, cut me raw. But, the skin grew back a little tougher, a little less innocent, and a little more black.”

Her skin was very black, and she was made fully aware of that, along with the fact that her nose was too large. The aesthetics of race—and the loathing and self-loathing inflicted on those who vary from accepted standards of beauty—is one of the most pervasive aspects of racism, yet it is not often discussed. The standards have been enforced by blacks as well as by whites. Even Harry Belafonte wrote, in his memoir, about his mother’s well-intentioned counsel to “marry a woman with good hair,” and he added, in unnecessary clarification, “Good hair meant straight hair.” (Reader, he married her.) But Nina Simone, strong and fierce and proud Nina Simone? “I can’t be white and I’m the kind of colored girl who looks like everything white people despise or have been taught to despise,” she wrote in a note to herself, not during her adolescence but in the years when she was already a successful performer. “If I were a boy, it wouldn’t matter so much, but I’m a girl and in front of the public all the time wide open for them to jeer and approve of or disapprove of.”

Countering the charge of physical inferiority, in her youth, was the talent that her mother assured her was God-given. Music was her salvation, her identity. Thanks to a fund established by a pair of generous white patrons in Tryon, she was sent to board at a private high school—she practiced piano five hours a day, and graduated valedictorian—and then to a summer program at Juilliard, all with the unwavering aim of getting into the Curtis Institute of Music, in Philadelphia, where admission was terrifically competitive but tuition was free. Her destiny seemed so assured that her parents moved to Philadelphia before she took the Curtis exam. The fact that she was rejected, and believed that this was because of her race, was a source of unending bitterness. It was also a turning point. In the summer of 1954, in need of money, Eunice Waymon took a job playing cocktail piano in an Atlantic City dive—the owner demanded that she also sing—and, hoping to keep the news of this unholy employment from her mother, turned herself into Nina Simone, feeling every right to the anger that Nina Simone displayed forever after.

At times, it seemed that she could outdistance her feelings. In 1961, after a brief marriage to a white hanger-on at the Atlantic City club, she married Stroud, a tough police detective on the Harlem beat whom she initially sized up as “a light-skinned man,” “well built,” and “very sure of himself.” The following year, she gave birth to a daughter, Lisa Celeste, and Stroud left his job to manage Simone’s career; they lived in a large house in the leafy Westchester suburb of Mount Vernon, complete with a gardener and a maid. Although she complained of working too hard and touring too much—of being desperately exhausted—her life was not the stuff of the blues. And then, before a concert in early 1967, Stroud found her in her dressing room putting makeup in her hair. She didn’t know who he was; she didn’t quite know who she was. She later remembered that she had been trying to get her hair to match her skin: “I had visions of laser beams and heaven, with skin—always skin—involved in there somewhere.”

The full medical facts of Simone’s mental illness became public only after her death, in 2003, thanks to two British fan-club founders and friends of Simone’s, Sylvia Hampton and David Nathan, whose account of the singer’s career was aptly titled, after one of Simone’s songs, “Nina Simone: Break Down & Let It All Out” (2004). Subsequent biographies—the warmly overdramatizing “Nina Simone,” by David Brun-Lambert (2009), and the coolly meticulous “Princess Noire,” by Nadine Cohodas (2010)—have filled in terrible details of depression and violence and long-sought but uncertain diagnoses: “bipolar disorder” appears to be the best contemporary explanation. Excerpts from Simone’s diaries and letters of the nineteen-sixties, published by Joe Hagan (who got them from Andrew Stroud) in The Believer, in 2010, added the news that Simone’s personal hell was compounded by regular beatings from Stroud. The marriage dissolved in 1970, but it was many more years before she received any helpful medication.

All the more remarkable, then, the strength that Simone projected through the sixties. As the decade wore on, she began to favor bright African gowns and toweringly braided African hair styles; she became the High Priestess of Soul, and though the title was no more than a record company’s P.R. gambit—Aretha Franklin was soon crowned the Queen of Soul—she bore it with conviction. It would be wrong, however, to give the impression that her songs were mostly about civil rights. Stroud, with his eye on the bottom line, was always there to keep her from going too far in that direction. In concert, she even pulled back on “Mississippi Goddam,” singing “We’re all gonna die, and die like flies” in place of the gleefully threatening “You’re all gonna die . . .” Although she did record the classic anti-lynching ballad “Strange Fruit,” in 1965, and she could give the most unexpected songs an edge of racial protest (listen to her harrowing version of the Brecht-Weill “Pirate Jenny”), she had a vast and often surprising musical appetite. By the late sixties, she was so afraid of falling behind the times that she expanded her repertory to include Bob Dylan, Leonard Bernstein, and, covering all bases, the Bee Gees. One of her biggest hits of the era was the joyously innocuous “Ain’t Got No—I Got Life,” from the musical “Hair”—which, in her hands, became a classic freedom song.

But womanly strength was in everything she sang: in the cavernous depths of her voice—some people think Simone sounds like a man—in her intensity, her drama, her determination. It’s there in the crazy love song “I Put a Spell on You,” in which she recasts the crippling needs of love (“Because you’re mine!”) into an undeniable command. It’s there in the ten-minute gospel tour de force “Sinnerman,” when she cries out “Power!” like a Southern preacher and her musicians shout back “Power to the Lord!,” and especially when she takes the disapproving voice of the Lord upon herself: “Where were you, when you oughta been praying?” If you’d never before thought of the Lord as a black woman, you did now.

The civil-rights songs were nevertheless what she called “the important ones.” And the movement is where she gained her strength. It’s also where her private anger took on public dimensions, in the years when patience gave way entirely and the anger in many black communities could no longer be tamped down. Onstage in Detroit, on August 13, 1967—two weeks after a five-day riot had left forty-three people dead, hundreds injured, and the city in ruins—Simone, singing “Just in Time,” added a message to the crowd: “Detroit, you did it. . . . I love you, Detroit—you did it!” She was met with roars of approval, which one Detroit critic said he presumed had come from “the arsonists, looters and snipers in the audience.” Another critic, however, wrote that her show let white people know what they had to learn, and learn fast. Was she the voice of national tragedy or of the next American revolution?

And then King was shot, on April 4, 1968. Sections of Washington, Chicago, Baltimore, and more than a hundred smaller cities went berserk. Despite her rhetoric, Simone was profoundly shaken, and her views of what might be accomplished in this country only grew more bleak. At an outdoor concert in Harlem, the following summer—it’s available on YouTube—she went for broke.

Majestically bedecked à l’africaine, she opened with “Four Women,” singing now before a crowd where an Afro was the norm. After several other stirring, politically focussed songs—“Revolution,” “Backlash Blues”—she closed with something so new that she had not had time to learn it, a poem by David Nelson, who was then part of a group called the Last Poets and is now among the revered begetters of rap. She read the words from a sheet of paper, moving across the stage and repeatedly exhorting the crowd to answer the question “Are you ready, black people? . . . Are you ready to do what is necessary?” The crowd responded to this rather vague injunction with a mild cheer, prompted by the bongos behind her and the demand in her voice. And then: “Are you ready to kill, if necessary?” Now a bigger, if somewhat incongruous, cheer rose from the smiling crowd filled with little kids dancing to the rhythm on a sunny afternoon. It had been five years since the Harlem riot of 1964, the granddaddy of sixties riots; New York had largely escaped the ruinations of both 1967 and 1968. “Are you ready to smash white things, to burn buildings, are you ready?” she cried. “Are you ready to build black things?”

Despite her best efforts, Simone failed to incite a riot in Harlem that day in 1969. The crowd received the poem as it had received her songs: with noisy affirmation, but merely as part of a performance. People applauded and went on their way. There are many possible reasons: no brutal incident of the kind that frequently set off riots, massive weariness, the knowledge of people elsewhere trapped in riot-devastated cities, maybe even hope. Simone had her unlikeliest hit that year with a simple hymn of promise, “To Be Young, Gifted and Black,” based on the title of a play that had been put together from Lorraine Hansberry’s uncollected writings. Hansberry, who died in 1965, had used the phrase in a speech to a group of prize-winning black students, and Simone asked a fellow-musician, Weldon Irvine, to come up with lyrics that “will make black children all over the world feel good about themselves forever.” Indeed, it is a children’s song (or it was, until Aretha took it over). Simone’s most moving performance may have been on “Sesame Street,” where she sat on the set’s tenement steps wearing an African gown and lip-synched her recording to four enchanting if slightly mystified black children, who raised their arms in victory toward the end.

It was not a victory she could believe in or a mood she could sustain. By the end of the sixties, both Simone’s career and her marriage were in serious trouble. Pop-rock did not really suit her, and the jazz and folk markets had radically shrunk; the concert stage still assured her income and her stature. And if the collapse of her marriage was in some ways a liberation she was also now without the person who had managed her finances and her schedule, and who had kept her calm before she went onstage (by forbidding her alcohol, among other means), and got her offstage quickly when the calm failed. She was left to govern herself in a world that suddenly had no rules and, just as frightening, was emptied of its larger, steadying purpose. “Andy was gone and the movement had walked out on me too,” she wrote, “leaving me like a seduced schoolgirl, lost.”

Looking back on the historic protests and legislative victories of the sixties, one may find it easy to assume a course of inevitable if often halting racial progress, yet this was anything but apparent as the decade closed. When, in 1970, James Baldwin set out to write about “the life and death of what we call the Civil Rights movement,” its failure seemed to him beyond contention. As for the black leaders who had “walked out” on Simone, they were in cemeteries (Malcolm X, Medgar Evers, King, Fred Hampton), in jail (Huey Newton, Bobby Seale), or in Africa (Stokely Carmichael), or else had “run for cover,” as she put it, “in community or academic programmes.” White liberals had diverted their efforts to Vietnam; this was now the war being fought on televisions in living rooms every night. According to Simone, “The days when revolution really had seemed possible were gone forever.”

She left the country in 1974. Travelling to Liberia with her twelve-year-old daughter, she stayed for two years, during which she performed hardly at all. She left Liberia for Switzerland in order to put her daughter in school there. Eventually, she moved to France, alone. It seems to have been only the recurrent need for money that spurred her to perform again in the United States, although she took great pride in an honorary doctorate that she received from Amherst, in 1977, and insisted ever after on being called “Doctor Nina Simone.” Meanwhile, her concerts tended increasingly toward disaster. As she now sang in “Mississippi Goddam,” “the whole damn world’s made me lose my rest.”

The remainder of her life, some twenty-five years, is a tale of escalating misery. At the worst, she was found wandering naked in a hotel corridor brandishing a knife; she set her house in France on fire, and once, also in France, she shot a teen-age boy (in the leg, but that may have been poor aim) in a neighbor’s back yard for making too much noise—and for answering her complaints with what she understood as racial insults. Yet the ups of her life could be almost as vertiginous as the downs. In 1987, just a year after she was sent to a hospital in a straitjacket, her charmingly upbeat 1959 recording of “My Baby Just Cares for Me” was chosen by Chanel for its international television ad campaign. Rereleased, the record went gold in France and platinum in England. In 1991, she sold out the Olympia, in Paris, for almost a week.

She toured widely during her final years. In Seattle, in the summer of 2001, she worked a tirade against George W. Bush into “Mississippi Goddam,” and encouraged the audience to “go and do something about that man.” She was already suffering from breast cancer, but it wasn’t the worst illness she had known. She was seen as a relic of the civil-rights era, and on occasion she even led the audience in a wistful sing-along of “We Shall Overcome,” although she did not believe her country had overcome nearly enough. Once she became too sick to perform, she did not return to what she called “the United Snakes of America.” She died in France, in April, 2003; her ashes were scattered in several African countries. The most indelible image of her near the end is as a stooped old lady reacting to the enthusiastic cheers that greeted her with a raised, closed-fisted Black Power salute.

Thirty-four years after Simone released “Young, Gifted and Black,” Jay Z reused the title for a song that describes the fate of many of those gifted children—“Hear all the screams from the ghetto all the teens ducking metal”—in twenty-first-century America. The rap connection with Simone is hardly surprising, since rap is where black anger now openly resides. Simone disliked the rap she knew, however, in part for displacing so much anger onto women—or, as she put it, for “letting people believe that women are second class, and calling them bitches and stuff like that.” Back in 1996, Lauryn Hill rapped an anything-you-can-do retort to a male counterpart, “So while you imitatin’ Al Capone / I be Nina Simone / And defecatin’ on your microphone,” but no one has really taken up the challenge of Simone’s example. There was a minor uproar last year over Kanye West’s sampling of phrases from Simone’s recording of “Strange Fruit” (with her voice speeded up to an unrecognizable tinniness) in “Blood on the Leaves,” in which Simone’s evocation of lynched black bodies is juxtaposed with West’s personal concerns about “second string bitches,” cocaine, and the cost of paying off a baby mama versus a new Mercedes. Some people have seen a social statement here, but one can’t help recalling Simone’s broader reaction to rap: “Hell, Martin and Malcolm would turn in their graves if they heard some of this crazy shit.”

As for jazz, Simone was largely excluded from the history books for decades. Will Friedwald’s seminal “Jazz Singing,” of 1990, mentioned her only in passing, as “off-putting and uncommunicative” and as the center of a cult “that only her faithful understand.” But Simone’s eclecticism has slowly widened the very definition of jazz singing. And, ever since Presidential candidate Obama listed her version of “Sinnerman” as one of his ten favorite songs of all time, in 2008, the cult has gone mainstream. There’s now a burgeoning field of what may be called Simone studies—Ruth Feldstein’s “How It Feels to Be Free” and Richard Elliott’s “Nina Simone” offer two highly intelligent examples—and Friedwald’s even more authoritative volume of 2010, “A Biographical Guide to the Great Jazz and Pop Singers,” includes a lengthy entry on Simone that pronounces her “more important than anyone” in her influence on twenty-first-century jazz singing.

Last year, two Broadway shows depicted Simone as an inspiration for a couple of unexpected figures: in “A Night with Janis Joplin,” she helped to provide her white soul sister with the gift of fire, and, even stranger, in the crude but enthusiastic “Soul Doctor”—which reopens Off Broadway this winter—she was the force behind the “rock-and-roll rabbi” Shlomo Carlebach. Nutty as it seemed onstage, Simone’s acquaintance with the rabbi appears to have some basis in fact, and helps to explain the Hebrew songs she performed at the Village Gate (where he also performed) in the early sixties. While it may be a show-biz exaggeration to suggest that the rabbi and the jazz singer had an affair—the show featured an Act I curtain clinch that, on the night I saw it, had its largely Orthodox audience literally gasping—the point was the universality of Simone’s message about persecution, the search for justice, and the power of music.

Back in 1979, at a concert in Philadelphia, Simone followed a performance of “Four Women” by scolding the black women in the audience about their changes in style: “You used to be talking about being natural and wearing natural hair styles. Now you’re straightening your hair, rouging your cheeks and dressing out of Vogue.” In 2009, the comedian Chris Rock made a documentary titled “Good Hair” because, he explained, his young daughter had come to him with the question “Daddy, how come I don’t have good hair?” For an African-American child, nothing had changed since Harry Belafonte’s mother’s advice, more than half a century earlier. (According to one contented businessman in Rock’s film, African-Americans—twelve per cent of the population—buy eighty per cent of the hair products in this country.) As for skin tone, the cosmetic companies have been expanding their range ever since Iman established a line of darker foundations, in 1994, although in March, 2014, a former beauty director of Essence, Aretha Busby, complained to the Times,“The companies tend to stop at Kerry Washington. I’d love to see brands go two or three shades darker.”

The question of skin tone and hair and their meaning for African-American women exploded on the Internet with the announcement of the casting of Saldana in the Hollywood bio-pic about Simone. When the idea for such a film was initially floated, in the early nineties, Simone herself gave the nod to being played by Whoopi Goldberg. When, in 2010, the present film was announced in the Hollywood Reporter, Mary J. Blige—the reigning Queen of Hip-Hop Soul—was announced for the lead. Once Blige was replaced with Saldana, however, a woman whose skin tone is more than two or three shades lighter than Simone’s, the cries for boycotting the film on the basis of misrepresentation—on the basis of insult—were instantaneous. Why not cast Viola Davis? Or Jennifer Hudson? Production photographs showing Saldana on the set with an artificially broadened nose, an Afro wig, and—inevitably, but most unfortunately—dark makeup that is all too easily confoundable with blackface rendered any hope of calm discussion futile. It’s been suggested that the filmmakers might as well have cast Tyler Perry in full “Madea” drag.

Simone’s daughter has come out against the film because its story focusses on an invented love affair as much as for the casting of Saldana, although she is quick to point out how much her mother’s appearance shaped her life. (Lisa once told an interviewer that her mother would sometimes “traumatize” her because she is light-skinned—“and I’d remind her that she had chosen my father, I didn’t.”) The fight over the film ultimately extended to a lawsuit filed by the director, Cynthia Mort, against the British production company, Ealing Studios Enterprises, on the very eve of the screening at Cannes. Since then, though, the suit has been dismissed, so “Nina” may yet show up in a theatre near you. And Saldana may give a compelling performance—may well prove that she can play not only women who are sci-fi blue (as in “Avatar”) or green (as in “Guardians of the Galaxy”) but real-life black. Still, there is no escaping the fact that her casting represents exactly the sort of prejudice that Simone was always up against. “I was never on the cover of Ebony or Jet,” Simone told an interviewer, in 1980. “They want white-looking women like Diana Ross—light and bright.” Or, as Marc Lamont Hill writes in Ebony today, “There is no greater evidence of how tragic things are for dark-skinned women in Hollywood than the fact that they can’t even get hired to play dark-skinned women.” Well beyond Hollywood, these outworn habits of taste reverberate down the generations, infecting all of us.

Simone’s favorite performer in her later years was Michael Jackson. She brought cassettes of his albums with her everywhere, and recalled having met him on a plane when he was a little boy, and telling him, “Don’t let them change you. You’re black and you’re beautiful.” She anguished over his evident failure to believe what she’d said: the facial surgeries, the mysterious lightening of his skin, the fatality of believing, instead, what the culture had told him, and wanting to be white. Simone appeared onstage with him just once, amid a huge cast of performers gathered for Nelson Mandela’s eightieth birthday, in Johannesburg, in the summer of 1998. She was sixty-five years old, and photographs of the event show her standing between Mandela and Jackson, overweight yet glamorously done up, her hair piled in braids and her strapless white blouse a contrast to the African costumes of the chorus all around. But she was also very frail. In one photograph, Jackson—in his glittering trademark military-style jacket, hat, and shades—holds her left hand in both his hands, in a gesture of affection. But in another shot he has put one steadying arm around her, and she is grasping his hand for support. Few people seem aware of what is happening. The stage remains a swirl of laughter and song, a joyous African celebration. And at its center the two Americans stand with hands clasped tight—one hand notably dark, the other notably fair—as though trying to help each other along a hard and endless road.

#nina simone #greats #performing artists #civil rights #embodiment #culture #the black experience #art #music #self-expression #self-image #civil rights movement

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