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trash-writings · 3 years

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See You Then

Nanami x Fem!Reader x Aizawa

Another commission. If you're interested in commissioning me, send me a message!

Summary: Your boyfriends surprise you for your birthday. (this is not set in either jjk or bnha, just some fun smut).

Warnings: Fem!Reader, nipple play, fingering, oral (f. and m. receiving), vaginal sex, anal sex, double penetration, one (1) spank to the ass, daddy (aizawa) and sir (nanami) kink, pet names used: bunny, baby, and brat (let me know if I missed any!!)

Word count: 3k

Something was off. You knew there was just something not completely right whenever you got home, but you are still struggling to place it. It’s like an itch that you can’t scratch, constant irritation and burning while you desperately try to dig your nails into it to no avail. You set your bag down, letting it rest on the recliner adjacent to your couch.

Whatever it is, you’re sure it’s probably nothing serious. Nothing looks like your apartment had been broken into or anything stolen. Shaking your head to clear any intrusive thoughts, you open your bedroom door and find a large black gift box laid across your bed. It has a bright red ribbon wrapped around it, the stark contrast between the colors almost comically sinful. The ribbon is silky to the touch, and you almost don’t want to open it since it’s wrapped so perfectly.

Inside the box, a dark blue lingerie set with a matching blindfold sits perfectly laid out with a white rose on top. You can’t help but giggle. Whether it’s with excitement or at the absurdity of the grand way this has been placed, you’re not sure. A small note is tucked between the rose and blindfold. Picking it up, you open it to find it’s from Aizawa and Nanami.

We’ll be home at 8. See you then, love.

Checking your phone, you see you have just over two hours before they’ll be here. Your feeling was right, something is definitely up here. With your time, you decide a quick shower and time to get ready is needed, even indulging in a new sugar scrub you hadn’t had time to try out in the last few days. You had ordered a box of new self-care products since your birthday is… well, tomorrow.

This is the first year you’ve ever had someone, let alone two someones, surprise you with something so intimate. Your cheeks are starting to hurt from the permanent grin on your cheeks since opening the box, so you try and relax while applying some moisturizer after your shower.

As you slip on the lace lingerie, you can’t help but stand in front of the mirror for an extra moment or two, enjoying the way the fabric hugs your body as if it were crafted just for you. You slip on a black robe over the revealing material and tie the sash tightly to feel secure.

The urge to text one or both of them is strong, even checking if you have any messages from them every few minutes. Only an hour left before they’re home. You wish they had given you at least a little more instruction. Are you supposed to put the blindfold on now and sit with your thoughts for an hour? Should you stay in your room or go sit on the couch to wait?

Even now, you’re lost in all these uncertainties about what you should or shouldn’t be doing. Yet, a part of you knows it doesn’t matter. Both of them are happy to serve you, always following your lead and making you their priority. Whatever you choose to do before the time given, and as long as you slip on the blindfold, you know it’ll be worth the waiting and one hell of a surprise.

Deciding the bed is the best place to wait, you untie the rope, letting it hang open while you sit at the bottom of the bed, legs hanging off the edge. The blindfold reminds you of Nanami’s friend, whose name you can’t quite place at the moment. It feels soft against your skin, and not too tight which you had worried about. It doesn’t completely blackout everything in the room, you notice as you look around. It does just enough to leave some mystery behind the shadows you can just barely make out.

The clicking of the lock from your front door makes you turn your head towards your bedroom door. Your stomach turns with excitement, and every hair on your arms seems to be standing at attention as goosebumps spread. Quiet shuffling, and words you can’t quite make out make it harder to stay still.

As the door to your room swings open, you dig your fingers into the edge of the bed, trying your best not to lift the mask and jump on the two figures you can make out through the blindfold.

“Kento, would you look at that,” Aizawa’s voice makes you smile. “Our girl is so good for us.”

“She really is,” Nanami starts to move from your line of sight. You feel the bed dip, and his slender fingers caress your shoulders. You melt back against him and whimper. “Happy birthday sweetheart,” he kisses the base of your neck.

Part of you wants to correct that it’s not technically your birthday until tomorrow, but the other part is screaming at you to shut up and just be good. You’ll let that part win tonight.

Another set of hands caress your thighs, rougher than Nanami’s but thicker fingers. Aizawa’s hands always make your body react in some way as if they have magnets inside forcing your body to pull towards him. His thumb and fingers squeeze your skin, making you gasp as they move up your thighs.

“Since you’re being so good, we thought you’d like some extra attention tonight,” Aizawa tells you, his breath dangerously close to your core.

If you could squirm, you would. But with Nanami behind you and massaging your shoulders and Aizawa between your thighs, you know there’s no way you’d be able to move without them holding you still. They’re not touching you in any way that’s extraordinary, but every fluid motion of their fingers on your skin makes your body heat rise and your panties wet.

“What do you think Shouta, is she ready now?” Nanami asks from behind you.

Something about the way they don’t directly address you, even while touching you so sensually, is driving you nuts. You want to beg them to fuck you now, but something else deep inside of you is telling you to wait. They must have something planned, the way they are working together so seamlessly to work you up with such little attention proves that.

“I think she isn’t quite warmed up, what do you think?” Aizawa’s fingers softly drag over the lace of the lingerie covering your clit. You moan, pushing your hips forward and he laughs. “I think she wants something.”

“Go on, tell us what you want baby girl.” Nanami coos in your ear, while his hands slide down your chest and begin massaging your breasts.

“Want you both,” you moan as his thumbs flick over your nipples.

“That’s not very specific, sweetheart. Tell daddy what you want him to do.” Aizawa presses his fingers harder against your clit and you gasp. “How can we know what you want unless you tell us?”

“Daddy,” you whimper as he presses harder on your clit. “Want you to eat me out.”

He chuckles, his breath warm against your throbbing core. Pulling your panties to the side his warm tongue licks up your folds once, stopping and swirling around your clit. You let out a loud cry, excited to finally have what you wanted so desperately between your thighs.

“What about me baby? Tell me what you want too,” Nanami cooks between soft kisses on your neck.

His fingers focus on pinching your nipples and tugging lightly. Between this and Aizawa’s tongue, you’re having trouble thinking straight, let alone trying to come up with something to tell Nanami.

“You, Sir.” You gasp out and whine when he pinches your nipples harder.

“That’s not a good answer, brat.”

“Kiss me!” You answer quickly, your words breathy and desperate.

Aizawa’s tongue teases around your entrance, his hands pulling your ass nearly off the bed while he buries your face between your thighs. Nanami doesn’t waste any time, taking full advantage of you now laying against his chest. He tilts your head up, his lips pressing to yours and moving roughly. You part your lips, letting his tongue slip into your mouth as one hand comes up to wrap around your throat.

You moan against his mouth as Aizawa pushes two fingers inside of you, scissoring them to stretch your hole. You buck your hips once and he holds you down, sucking hard at your clit. You pull away from Nanami’s kiss, breathless and panting.

“C-close,” you moan out before Nanami shoves his tongue in your mouth again.

His free hand pulling your lace bra down and exposing them to him. Releasing your neck and lips he lays you across his lap. You hear the unbuckling of his pants, then your head is turned by his hand and your lips are met with the soft skin of the head of his cock and a wet drop of precum.

“No cumming until we tell you, sweetheart,” you hear Aizawa tell you as Nanami’s cock pushes in your mouth.

He groans as your tongue swirls around the head. Aizawa’s fingers pull out of your cunt, and you whine, making Nanami groan louder. He holds your head guiding you to suck him off while you feel Aizawa’s cock prodding at your wet entrance.

“Better get my cock nice and wet, baby.” Nanami says in a deep tone. “that way it’s nice and easy to stretch your tight little asshole.”

You clench around Aizawa’s cock as he pushes inside, the thought of finally being filled in both holes making it harder for you to contain the orgasm that’s threatening to ravish your body. It’s overwhelming already, and the blindfold is starting to slip up off your eyes and onto your forehead. You can barely make out the dark blue shirt Nanami is wearing as the fabric pushes against your nose and you choke on his cock.

“Fuck, you take my cock so well,” he groans.

“She’s so perfect,” Aizawa comments while thrusting inside of you roughly and making you whimper. “Our perfect little bunny.”

It’s too much to hold back now, you cum around Aizawa’s cock without permission. Your toes curl and your eyes water. Tear stains on the blindfold only grow while Nanami fucks your mouth through your orgasm. Aizawa doesn’t stop either, his rough pace only picking up and making you shake.

“Bad girl,” he coos. “Cumming around my cock without asking. Who gave you permission?”

Nanami pulls his cock out of your mouth and slides the blindfold off your eyes. You look up, his normally stern face softer and smiling at you while he strokes your head and cheek.

“Are you ready?” He asks you softly, and Aizawa slows down until he’s stilling inside of you. “You have to tell us if you are.”

“Don’t feel pressured either, baby. We only want to make you feel good.” Aizawa tells you, his hand stroking your thigh softly.

“Just tell me what position you need me in,” you joke looking at them both.

Aizawa pulls out of you and laughs as you pout. “Do you want us to position you or not?”

“Brat,” Nanami teases while standing you up at the end of the bed before sitting where you had once been. “You have to tell us when to stop or slow down, okay bunny?” He kisses your back gently.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good girl,” Aizawa kisses your lips softly while backing you up between Nanami’s thighs.

Nanami sucks on his middle and forefingers before slowly pumping them into your asshole. You whine and squeeze Aizawa’s arms while he holds you still. He spreads his fingers, prepping you for his cock while you stroke Aizawa’s cock in front of you.

“Sir, please,” you moan.

He pulls his fingers out, pulling you down by your hips and sinking you down on his cock. The stretch burns before feeling unbelievable as you roll your hips. He lets you set the pace at first, holding your hips while you ride him.

“You love his cock, don’t you baby?” Aizawa coos, kissing your foreword and reaching down between your thighs to toy with your clit. “Of course, you do. You’re soaking wet.”

“W-want you too,” you rasp as Nanami begins to thrust up into you. “Please daddy!”

“I love watching you beg for more,” he smiles.

Nanami leans you back against him, giving Aizawa access to your cunt while he holds you still. Aizawa pressing inside of you is nearly enough to make you cum again, nearly. You can’t help but close your eyes and let out a lewd sound as you’re filled completely. They alternate thrusting inside of you, their pacing almost too perfect and leaving you never wanting.

Nanami’s grip on your hips is tight, and you can’t help but imagine the pretty purple bruises that’ll grace your skin in the morning, if not a few hours from now. Aizawa sucks on your nipple, the other being assaulted by his strong fingers pinching and massaging.

Each thrust of their cocks is intense, Aizawa’s hitting your cervix, and Nanami incredibly deep in your ass is overwhelming.

No, it’s ethereal.

A sharp smack to your ass from Nanami’s hand makes you yelp, and he laughs. You feel yourself reaching your second orgasm, the threads threatening to snap inside of you. The way their cocks throb inside of you makes you aware that they are incredibly close too. If you cum, they might too.

Aizawa releasing your nipple and rubbing circles against your clit sends you over, you cum crying out a slur of curse words and words you can’t quite make out. They both stop inside of you, leaving you completely full as you clench around their cocks.

“Fuck, fuck,” Nanami curses before releasing inside of you, cum dripping out of your ass and around his cock.

You have no time to breathe, Aizawa pounding inside of you a few times before he cums as well. He’s rougher, fucking you through his orgasm and leaving you breathless. They hold you still, everyone breathing slowly and recovering.

Aizawa pulls out first, kissing your forehead and disappearing to your bathroom. Nanami lifts you up gently, sitting you down on the bed and ribbing your arm to soothe you.

“You did so well, bunny. We’re so proud of you.” He kisses the back of your shoulders, continuing to rub your shoulder and arm.

Aizawa bends down in front of you, smiling at you. “Feeling okay, sweetheart?”

You nod, tired and not wanting to use the energy to speak just yet.

“Can I clean you up?” He holds up a damp washcloth and you nod again.

He gently lifts your leg up and wipes you clean while softly rubbing your leg. He doesn’t take too long, letting you recover and relax on the bed. He sits beside you, pulling your head onto his lap so he can comfort you along with Nanami before you’re ready to move. Your body is tired, but your mind is still buzzing; making it easier for you to snap back quickly.

“Okay, I’m good now.” You tell them both giggling. “That was amazing,” you laugh louder.

They both laugh, getting off the bed. Nanami leaves the room, heading towards the kitchen and you raise an eyebrow to Aizawa.

“Kento is going to go start a late dinner. I’m going to treat you to a nice bath first, though.” He Pulls you up by your hands and helps you to the bathroom.

You hadn’t noticed the water running before, but you see the tub is nearly full when you get inside. Aizawa helps you out of the lingerie set, tossing it into a laundry basket before setting you in the hot water. He gets in behind you, letting you lay against his chest while he holds you.

“What is Kento making?” You ask with a giggle.

“Oh, not interested in my bath?” He teases and you smack his arm. “I think he’s making some pasta you like; I can’t remember if I’m honest. I just picked out the cake.”

“There’s a cake?!” You sit up, turning to look at him.

“Of course, there’s a cake! It’s your damn birthday, brat.” He kisses your nose, and your smile laying back on him.

As you relax you begin to smell the food from the kitchen wafting into the bathroom. Your stomach growls, and Aizawa laughs.

“Let’s get out now then,” he helps you out and dries you off before leaving you to get dressed.

He leaves your bedroom while you’re dressing, helping Nanami in the kitchen. As you peer out the bedroom into your kitchen beyond the living room, you can’t help but wonder how you got so lucky to not only have one but two perfect boyfriends.

“----?” Nanami calls your name, eyes bright and a smile on his face. “Dinner is ready.”

“Get in here, brat,” Aizawa adds while setting the table.

You giggle skipping to the dining table to join them.

#jjk smut #bnha smut #nanami kento smut #aizawa shouta smut

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gofancyninjaworld · 3 years

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OPM Manga Chapter 147 Review: Toxic

Story: Preview to a catastrophe

I’m going to do something a little unusual. Rather than give a summary of what happened, I’m going to save everything else that happens that for the meta and focus the story itself on just one thing. Garou’s return.

For a guy of many many words, Garou here is wordless, a creature of instinct, rage, and an unstoppable desire to put down any hero he encounters. Social niceties be damned.

no, Fubuki, you don’t belong in this battle

Bomb realises very quickly that this isn’t going to be a fight that he can afford to not engage fully with. He wastes no time unleashing his trademark long-range offensive move, although he’s no slouch in close- up fighting either. I love how the panel below superimposes several snapshots in time in a single image, as if the cameraman hasn’t enough time to separate the action into individual frames. It sells the speed and fury of the fight better than many blurry images. Also Murata is flexing on us with regards to his portrayal of fight choreography, he’s allowed. :)

For his own part, Garou flows effortlessly from conventional to unconventional in his fighting, bending improbably out of the way one moment, parrying in an orthodox manner the next. Eventually the seeming balance between the two breaks inexorably in Garou’s favour, leaving Bomb marvelling at the former’s incredible evolution.

Nothing for it, there’s no choice but to kill Garou if possible. Bomb hides a hand behind his back as he readies his iron-cutting fist one last time. It’s unfortunate that Garou has long since intuited how to do the same when he faced off against the Monster King, half a day ago ( I know, it’s been years for us), and does exactly the same, matching up timing and intensity perfectly with Bomb’s, thus cancelling it out.

Bang finally catches up to where the two are fighting to find his elder brother defeated.

Just as at the end of chapter 83, master and disciple face off. But the atmosphere between the two could not be more different, and the stakes are about as high as they could possibly get.

What new awakening will come from the next fight? Portents are dire.

Meta: Elsewhere

What doesn’t kill me has made a tactical mistake

For a story whose big schtick is that surviving what should have killed one makes one stronger, it’s surprising the amount and variety of mileage it gets out of that idea.

Making light of the idea, we have Genos literally rocketing back to his feet and casually dusting himself off after being smashed into a hole in the ground by Black Sperm. After being thrown into or through so many bits of masonry and earth, getting up with elan is nothing to him. Damn, he’s become tough! Awesome.

On the opposite side, making dark of the idea, we have Fuhrer Ugly, whose strength of hatred and rage is such that he keeps continuously reforming despite being continually digested by Gums’ digestive fluids... and has turned that into a new ability, able to melt anyone who touches him, kill with his spit, and reform after being cut. Terrifying.

And on the other other side, a perfect hypotenuse of awesome and terrifying, we have Garou. He has disinterred himself from the remains of the Monster Association base and while apparently fighting more by instinct than reason, his moves reprise everything he’s learned to date through his life-and-death fights with incredible fluency.

And of course, there’s Tank Top Master whose tank top seems to have magically preserved his life. I wonder what Fubuki has in mind for Pig God to do to help her help Tank Top Master.

Anyway, talking about serious injury...

Let’s talk about gore, baby

I’ve said before that I’m tired of all injuries accruing to either Genos or Zombieman and wanted some flesh-and-blood to be mangled. I don’t take that back: share the pain, baby!

But even for my evil heart, hoo, the brutal suddenness with which Fuhrer Ugly ended Zambai’s life was yikes! Heroes may never die, but those next to them have no such protection. I’m sorry man. You paid the highest price for supporting a hero.

Heroes may never die but that doesn’t mean they can’t suffer horribly. If Tank Top Master being turned into a human patty wasn’t grisly enough, finding out that SuperAlloy’s famously resistant shine isn’t chemically resistant is enough to give one a shudder of horror/disgust: his hands have been defleshed down to tendon and bone.

Never mind fear; it’s going to be a while before SuperAlloy *can* fight at all. And with his chest being burned as well, I think that he will be lucky not to come away with disfiguring scars. He might start wearing a shirt after this...

ONE, have some mercy for your heroes or half of them will never work again. But not too much mercy, they’ve had it too easy for too long.

There’s more to help than rescue

If you’d told me that this day would see Genos earning the trust and respect of the heroes he has called the bitch and the witch respectively, and that feeling would be mutual, I’d have told you to stop fantasising. I’ve spent enough words talking about the unexpected compassion he showed to Fubuki when the latter was beside herself with worry for her sister.

Tatsumaki has internalised the advice Blast gave her so thoroughly that she’s come to think herself as being beyond help. But there’s more to help than haplessly accepting rescue. Help can also be someone intervening only when you most need it, respecting that you can generally take care of yourself. Help can be sharing the burden, enabling you to achieve more, more easily. Help can be having your back so you can fight without fear of ambush. All of these forms of help Genos has provided to Tatsumaki from the moment the battle pitched high into the sky. And she’s had his back too. Seeing her consciously acknowledge that and lean into it was an amazing gift I didn’t know I needed.

from allies in name only to comrades-in-arms, what a fearsome pair! Gambatte!

Of course it can get worse

The heroes’ situation seems to be getting worse and worse. Their number is being whittled down to size: Tank Top Master is out for the count, Bang is tied up, Superalloy Darkshine is maimed, Atomic is out of his main weapon, Child Emperor is lost somewhere and Puri Puri is looking for him, Zombieman and Amai Mask are still pulling themselves together, and Tatsumaki and Genos are standing more by spite than strength.

On the other hand, the monsters aren’t out of monster by any means. There’s still lots of Black Sperm, Evil Natural Water is surely sloshing around somewhere, Vomited Furher Ugly is a pungent threat, and Homeless Emperor is watching proceedings with an amused eye. I called the monsters the sundew monsters for a reason -- they waste heroes by outlasting their efforts.

The standing heroes are going to need respite, or a diversion, or reinforcements pretty soon or they’re going to all die for real. Preferably all three. We’ll take two out of three.

Further notes: The Cyborg is Listening

The first thing Kuseno says to Genos when the latter comes back after a bruising encounter with a monster is ‘are you alright?’ That we know. The second thing has to be ‘did you bring me good data?’ Everything that happens to Genos, everything he touches, everything he sees, everything he hears, all that information is recorded for later recall and distillation into useable data. We’ve been admiring how capable and tough this new upgrade has proven to be. It’s all hard-won insights, built one on the other. Does that mean I’m discounting what Genos does? Hell no. It’s his extreme courage and willingness to step into the most hopeless situations that has enabled this valuable data to be gathered in the first place. And it’s his using these wonderful upgrades to push as hard as he can despite the risk that makes it worth Kuseno’s while to stay up late to craft them. Now I’m super-interested in finding out what new insights the pair will glean from today’s fighting.

...polite engineer for ‘fuck you’

Sure, like many serious things in One-Punch Man, it initially appears as a gag, but if you’ve not been paying attention to date, hear this: good data is like gold dust in this world. And people will kill for it. As we watch the dissipating contrails where Drive Knight was as he carries his precious samples home, don’t way you weren’t warned.

#OPM #manga #review #Garou #but not as we know him #the free fight between hero and monster gets ever more intense #despite their cooperation and numbers the heroes are getting the worst of it #this is a fight where everything changes panel to panel on all fronts

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jimlingss · 4 years

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Sugar and Coffee [18]

Chapter 17 - Chapter 18 - Chapter 18.5 OR Chapter 19

➜ Words: 4.5k

➜ Genres: 99.5% Fluff, 0.5% Angst, Pâtisserie school!AU

➜ Summary: It isn't hard to be a pâtisserie chef, but it's not a piece of cake either. It seems like for you in particular, life keeps throwing in one wrench after another. It always finds ways to make your sweets bitter. The cherry on top is Jeon Jungkook — a rival with a sensitive sweet tooth who always finds ways to complain about you.

cr.

It’s funny how things come and go in life. The longer you live and the more things you experience, you realize just how fickle living can be. The events that you anticipate the most come and go while the ones you dread linger. The people you expect to stay with you leave — and the people you expect to leave end up staying. Similarly, the internship that you had been so worried and excited for was finally finished. It was sad to say goodbye and to leave the shop behind. You genuinely loved being there, learning and spending your time perfecting your craft. Even bratty Yuna was sad to bid you farewell — the two of you had grown fond of each other over the months, so you sent her a card right when you got home yourself and you heard from Namjoon that she had pinned it on her wall. Luckily, you knew that this goodbye wouldn’t be a permanent one. It was different to other goodbyes you’ve had in the past. Namjoon and Sejeong assured both you and Jungkook a million times that it was only temporary — that they’d be happy to hire you back after your schooling is finished if you so happened to choose to work for them again. And it’s a proposition that still interests you greatly. You’re not sure what Jungkook wants to do — but you know you’d love to return and continue making wedding cakes under their mentorship someday. But for now you had to return on your path. The end of Summer was quickly approaching, and you find yourself coming back to where it started. Well. Sort of. In actuality, you were standing on Jungkook’s parents’ doorstep. Suitcase in hand. Full of hesitance and uncertainty. Fingers kept away from the doorbell. You’re not sure if this is a place that would welcome you again. But Jungkook had insisted. He pressed on, insisting that you should visit his family again, to at least come see him for a few days with the Summer that remained left. He whined about how much he missed you. And you had to admit, you missed him too. So here you were, like a complete idio— “God, okay! I’m throwing out the trash now!” The door opens. The boy freezes. He stares at you with rounded eyes as you stare back at him. He’s dressed in a worn t-shirt and gym shorts, flopping hair sticking out in all directions like he just woke up even though it’s well past noon. One hand is on the handle, the other is holding a black garbage bag. Slowly the corner of your mouth quirks. “Hi.” A stupidly big grin plasters across Jungkook’s face and spreads into his cheeks as his eyes light up with mirth. Jungkook’s voice softens. “When’d you get here?” “Just now.” He drops the garbage and is about to come and hug you, but something shoots out from between his legs to engulf you in a tight embrace instead. “Y/N!” Eunbi’s summer dress flutters in the breeze and you lift her up as best as you can with a smile. Lia follows quickly behind, wearing a big smile and she turns over her shoulder. “Y/N’s here!” “She’s here?” Someone comes stumbling from the kitchen, throwing her kitchen towel aside. Jungkook’s dad comes out from the backyard, having heard the ruckus. “She’s here.” “She’s here!” Eunbi repeats in giggles and your arms widen when Lia joins in greeting you with a hug. Jungkook sighs wistfully, separated from you by his overbearing family members. Yet, all the worries you had about being welcomed or not instantly vanishes. They greet you warmly — Jungkook’s dad asking how you’ve been, how exams and classes and the internship was. You’re bombarded with curious questions and enthusiastic answers, only spared when Jungkook’s mom pulls you to the kitchen where she has a whole countertop of food prepared. She wasn’t sure what you liked to eat, so she made everything she could when she heard you were coming and you can’t find it in your heart to reject her hard efforts. So you consume as much as you can before Eunbi tugs you aside to join her tea party with Lia. You find out their parents have gone for a last-minute trip, so they’ve been staying at their aunt’s and uncle’s, obviously having a blast by the looks of it, especially now with you here. It’s only when Jungkook turns on a Disney movie and makes them sit down to watch that he’s finally able to sneak you away. “Sorry about that.” He shuts the door to his room, sighing at how difficult it was to get a hold of you in his own house. “It’s okay. I love your family.” “That makes one of us,” Jungkook mutters and sulks. “You try spending twenty four hours a day seven days a week with them and see how they can drive you nuts.” “Aww, poor baby. Your family cares about you, how horrible.” Your voice drips of sarcasm and you feign sympathy, reaching over to pat him on the back. Jungkook scoffs but takes the opportunity to wrap his arms around you. He leans down enough to accommodate for the height difference and he props his chin on your shoulder. His nose digs into your hair, breathing in. You’re ticklish from his grip. “Jungkook…” “I missed you.” “It’s only been what?” You rest your head on his shoulder, giving into his warmth. “Two weeks?” “Long enough.” “School starts in another week. If I didn’t come, you still would’ve seen me.” “Yeah, but what if I died before then and couldn’t see you ever again?” he whines and it’s hard to resist the small smile tugging at your lips. But you manage to pull away from him and roll your eyes. “You’re so dramatic.” The boy grins and takes a seat on his chair by his old computer desk while you plop down onto the edge of his bed. “So….what have you been up to?” “You act like we haven’t called and texted each other every single day.” “Yeah, but I don’t know what the trip was like up here.” “Fair enough,” you hum. “I guess all that really happened is that I sat next to this really handsome man on the bus here who shared my interests and hobbies. And we had a hot, passionate summer fling and we decided to make this a long-term thing, so we’re getting married. Sorry to say, Jeon, but you’ve lost your chance.” You laugh and his eye twitches. In an instant, you’re being pinned to his mattress with Jungkook hovering above you. His knee wedges between your legs, hands pressed flat next to your head. The dark strands of his hair grazes against your forehead and you sink deeper into his pillows. But even in such a compromising position, you can’t help but muse how cute he looks feigning anger like this. “I’m trying to be nice here, but you’re always testing my patience, brat. You really think I won’t kill you one day?” “You wouldn’t.” You quirk your head to the side, hands grasping at his forearms. Your eyes glimmer with a challenge before they flicker up to the posters lining his wall. “Not with IU watching.” He grins, a small laugh coming from his nose. “Jieun would understand.” You snort and he helps you sit up. “Do your parents know…?” “No. Otherwise, you’d be on the phone with my grandma right now. They’re overbearing enough as it is.” You nod. “They don’t think it’s weird that I’m here?” “No.” Jungkook scoffs. “God, they love you. Isn’t it obvious? They think you’re a ‘good influence’ on me. Better than Taehyung and Jimin are, at least. Those two are just idiots no matter where they go, so my parents are always concerned that all of us will get into fender benders.” He uses air quotes when he says ‘good influence’ and you bat his arm. “I am a good influence on you.” “Uh-huh.” Jungkook eyes you skeptically. “They should see you when you get mad—” “I don’t get mad.” “—and when you start swearing. Or the amount of dirty, dirty things you can say…” “Jungkook,” your whine tapers off when he suddenly lays a hand on your upper thigh. Jungkook’s half-lidded eyes and heavy gaze flickers down to your lips. He starts to lean in, head angling and your breath catches in your throat in eager anticipation. Your eyes flutter shut. But you never feel the velvet texture of Jungkook’s lips against yours. Instead, there’s a loud knock that startles you both to death. Then, the door opens. And the boy, whose lap you were nearly perched on, is already back on his desk chair, whirling around. “Hey, Y/N.” Jungkook’s dad is smiling wide. “What are you guys up to?” “We’re just talking,” his son deadpans. “Is there something you need?” “Nope.” The middle-aged man who uncannily has Jungkook’s eyes leans on the doorframe with arms crossed casually. “Just thought I’d pop by, see what’s going on, let you know your mom thinks you two can bring Lia and Eunbi into town to pick up some groceries….” “Okay. We can do that later.” There’s a terrible, awkward silence as Jungkook’s dad hangs around. It makes the younger frown. “Is there something wrong?” “No.” He shakes his head, slowly starting to turn away before Jungkook dies in modification. But then he stops and looks back with a smile playing at his lips. “You guys should keep the door open though. House policy. Not mine but your mother’s. You know...she doesn’t want any funny business happening.” “Dad.” “Hey, don’t shoot the messenger.” His hands are lifted up in the air and he laughs it off. The older man pushes the door so it’s wide open and then waltzes away. Jungkook’s sigh is long enough to empty out his lungs and you giggle at their interaction. The walk to town is lovely. The end of Summer keeps the weather from sweltering or being uncomfortable. It’s warm with a brisk wind kissing against your cheeks. You consider just how cozy this town is, small houses and big lawns, white picket fences and scalloped shingle rooftops. The grocery store is modest too and several people greet Jungkook when he enters, asking how he’s been and if you're someone special to him. It’s a place where everyone knows everyone and it’s cute. You never considered Jungkook to be a small town boy, but it’s somehow fitting. “We need to get apples, cucumbers, scallions….” He flips over the list, trying to discern his mom’s chicken scratch as he pushes the shopping cart. “Uh…..that either says potatoes or tomatoes.” “Can we get this?!” Eunbi holds up a box bigger than her body. The doll inside is smiling. Jungkook doesn’t even glance at it. “No.” “Awww.” The four of you walk down the cereal aisle and Jungkook stops for a detour. He picks two to compare and concentrates too hard for such a menial task. “I didn’t know cereal was on our list,” you say while peeking over his shoulder. “I like cereal,” he mumbles. In spite of taking a full minute on deliberating what brand he wants, Jungkook ends up settling for both. He places them into the cart and continues pushing it down the aisle while humming. You keep a watch on Eunbi in the meanwhile to make sure she doesn’t get lost, but soon Lia comes back with something in hand. “Y/N, can we please make this together?” The seven year old has a bright, red box of chewy fudge brownie mix. Automatically, you and Jungkook’s faces twist in abhorrent disgust. “It says we just need...egg, water, and oil!” she reads off of it proudly. “No, we don’t need a box to make brownies,” you coax with a smile. “We can make it fresher. A few more steps and it’ll taste worlds better than the box.” “Really?” “Really.” “Yay!” Eunbi’s loudly cheering in the middle of the grocery store, arms in the air and hopping up and down. “We get brownies!” “What’s even in here?” Jungkook takes the box and flips it around. His eyes narrow in on the tiny letters of the ingredient list. “Sugar, enriched bleached wheat flour? What’s carrageenan? Pft, artificial flavour?” He arrogantly tosses it aside. “We don’t need that. We’re professionals.” You snort. “Uh-huh. A professional who doesn’t even know how to make a moist cake.” “At least I can temper chocolate,” he bites back without skipping a beat — without blinking or taking a breath. When Jungkook sees your shocked expression, he laughs heartily and throws an arm over your shoulder, nuzzling into you. “I’m kidding. Kidding.” You scoff, throw his arm off of you. “No, you aren’t.” “Are you fighting?” Eunbi grabs a hold of your shirt, tugging lightly. “Only because Jungkook is mean,” you tell with an exaggerated pout. It’s his turn to be offended. “You just said my cakes weren’t moist!” You ignore him. “Let’s go, children. We don’t interact with bullies.” Lia and Eunbi giggle, happy to go along with you and leave Jungkook in the dust, scrambling to roll the shopping cart behind you. Eventually, the groceries are paid for and the walk back turns out to be equally enjoyable. Once the four of you arrive back to the house, his parents are out working in the garden, so you and Jungkook put away the groceries together and pull out the necessary ingredients for brownies. “We can probably make two batches.” “I wanna do it with Y/N!” Lia immediately exclaims, jumping to your side. She leaves her younger sister frowning and on the verge of tears. “No, I wanna!” “How about me?” Jungkook stands in the middle of his own kitchen at a complete loss. It causes laughter to bubble from you. “Okay, all three of us can do it together and we can verse Jungkook. How about that?” They nod and Lia tells her cousin that he’s going down, teasing him mercilessly and you indulge them about how you’re better than Jungkook in everything at school — something he adamantly protests about. Soon, all of you get to work. You teach them how to preheat the oven, grease the pans, and watch as the half cup of butter is melted in a saucepan. Lia and Eunbi help you measure out one cup of sugar and they each crack an egg into the butter. Three quarter cups of cocoa are shifted into the mixture along with a half cup of flour, a quarter teaspoon of salt and a quarter teaspoon of baking powder. You show the two girls how to fold the ingredients gently together and you catch them a moment before they’re about to spoon the batter into their mouths. They give stretching smiles and you help them spread it into a pan instead to bake. It’s put in for half an hour, slightly underdone so it’s sweet and still gooey. “It smells wonderful in here,” Jungkook’s mom gasps as she enters, taking off her garden gloves and wiping her brow with the back of her hand. “Did you make something special?” “Look auntie!” Eunbi is jumping, hands jittery, on a sugar high. “We made brownies!” “Did you now?” She peers over the counter, brows raising. “My goodness, they look amazing.” “We helped make them with Y/N,” Lia announces, mouth smeared in chocolate. “Did you thank Y/N yet for showing you how to make them?” Both girls instantly whirl around, thanking you with bashful and shy smiles. In the meanwhile, Jungkook’s mom is unable to resist and reaches over for a brownie. She groans at the taste and smacks her lips together. “Don’t eat too much or it’ll ruin your appetite,” she says — much like how Jungkook often reminds you — and ironically bites into her brownie again. The woman turns to you. “These are delicious, dear.” “They weren’t too hard to make.” “You should show me the recipe, I’d love to bake these again.” “I’ve made these before!” Jungkook complains in a higher pitched voice, eating his own brownies when no one takes them out of his pan. But no one pays mind to him. Not his mother or his twirling cousins. “Of course, I can.” You, on the other hand, do pay attention to Jungkook. You grin at him as he glares. And only later when there’s a moment of privacy will he tickle you as revenge for making his entire family love you more than him. It’s then that he finally gets the chance to kiss you too. // Dinner with the Jeon family is as you would expect it to be. Everyone inhales all the food and chit chats with one another. There’s warm banter shared across the dinner table as his parents make him talk about the trip to Tahiti, how the internship was and if he was on his best behaviour. He gives you discreet, defeated looks to show how he’s so done with them and it’s hard to stifle your giggles. Afterwards, you help him do the dishes as his cousins turn on a movie to watch and his parents finish off the brownies you made. Not long after that, everybody begins to retreat to their rooms. “Aw, do we have to go to bed?” “Yes. Don’t you want to help plant the flowers tomorrow?” Jungkook’s mom smooths out her hair. “Only big girls can help and you can only get big if you sleep and get strong.” “Okay.” Lia sulks. “But can I at least say goodnight to Y/N?” “Yes.” The older woman offers a rather maternal smile. “You can.” Lia runs to you down the hall right as you leave the bathroom with your toothbrush in hand, catching you off guard. She hugs you tight. “Goodnight, Y/N!” Eunbi is hot on her sister’s heels and you stumble back when she throws herself at you too. “Night, night, Y/N!” “Goodnight, you two.” “Can we play tomorrow?” You ruffle the five year old’s hair. “Course we can.” She beams and hops back, following her aunt. Her uncle is already inside their room, holding up books. “Who’s ready for story time?” “Me!” Lia runs off and waves to you. At the same time, Jungkook leaves his room to see their retreating forms and scoffs. “Wow, are they not going to wish me a goodnight?” You slap his arm, laughing. “Stop being so jealous all the time. I can’t help that I’m so lovable.” He scoffs and affectionately pokes your forehead with his index finger. “I can’t even argue with that.” The corner of his mouth curls and you grin. Jungkook has that look in his eyes — the one you’ve learnt to recognize. He looks like he wants to kiss you, like he’s about to do it too, but the pair of you are interrupted by someone lingering in the hallway. “Y/N, you’re sleeping in the guest bedroom, right?” His mom looks at you and you nod quickly. “Yes, I am.” “Good.” She relaxes and bobs her head. “Jungkook, you go back to your room now. There’s a long day tomorrow.” He sighs, but doesn’t argue. Jungkook turns right back around into his room and keeps the door slightly open for a second, enough to give you an incredulous look. It makes you smile and mouth ‘goodnight’ to him before he shuts the door. His mom brings you to the guest bedroom, helping you set up for the night and asking if you need extra blankets and pillows. “Are you sure everything’s okay?” “Yes, it is. Thank you, Mrs. Jeon.” “If you’re ever cold, feel free to grab anything from the closet.” When you nod, she gets to the door. Jungkook’s mom is about to turn off the light, but lingers. She twists around to share a smile with you. “Thank you for coming, Y/N. I’m glad to see you again.” “No, thank you.” You’re caught off guard by her words of gratitude. “Honestly, I didn’t want to be such a bother.” “You aren’t. Trust me.” She laughs, a tinkling sound emitting from her chest. “I’ve always wanted a daughter like you. Jungkook is two more handfuls than I can handle sometimes, especially when he was young.” The older woman shakes his head with a fond expression. “He might not look like it but he’s still very much a child. I worry about him being gone so far for so long out of the entire year. So, I’m glad there’s someone like you looking out for him.” You’re touched by her sincerity, but you can’t help but feel like she’s gotten it wrong. You awkwardly shift your weight from one foot to the other. “Mrs. Jeon—” “You can call me auntie, if you’d like.” You nod timidly. “Jungkook actually looks out for me a lot more than I do for him. He really helped me through a lot of tough times, so really, I should be the one thanking him….” She smiles, the wrinkles around her eyes creasing. “Then I’m even more grateful that Jungkook’s not hopeless. It’s good that the two of you have one another.” Part of you wants to tell her that you’re unequivocally in love with her son. But by the twinkle in her eye, you get a sense that she already knows the true nature between you and Jungkook. You don’t need to say it aloud or make any announcements. Her smile becomes more tender in the small silence and then she finally bids you a goodnight, flicking off the lights in the room. You end up laying there for a while. You receive Jungkook’s text telling you this is so dumb and you laugh. The bright lights of your phone eventually burns your eyes too much, so you throw it aside, opting to stare at the ceiling and listen to his house. You can hear doors closing, footsteps, the flicker of the hallway light turning off and more doors closing. Silence settles in for a good ten minutes, but before you can completely drift off to sleep, your door cracks open. A familiar boy sneaks into your room with a soft sigh. He shuts the door silently and nimbly avoids all the creaks in the floorboards, knowing where each of them are after growing up and spending his childhood in these four walls. “You’re not supposed to be here.” You sit up, covers pooling around your waist. His feet slide and the mattress dips underneath his weight. “And I care because…?” You scoff. “Rebellious, aren’t you, Jeon?” “You don’t even know the start of it.” He grins. “I just want to lay with you for a while. It’s not like we haven’t shared a bed before.” “But your parents don’t know that. What happens if they catch you here?” you ask while peeling back the covers anyhow, happily inviting him in. “Nothing will happen. It’s okay.” “Yeah, but they might hate me...for tainting their son.” “Impossible.” Jungkook settles in and pulls the covers up to keep you warm. You cuddle yourself into him and he props his chin on top of your head. “And they don’t care about that. They just don’t want any Jeon grandkids, or at least not until we graduate.” “Psh. You’re going to have to prove yourself before you implant anything in my uterus, Jeon.” His nose wrinkles at your euphemism, but then he pokes your side, making you squirm. “Prove myself? Haven’t I already?” “Just cause I let you kiss me a few times doesn’t mean I have plans to make this long-term,” you tease and this time he’s the one scoffing. Jungkook rolls on top of you, pinning you underneath him. The soft glow of the lamp posts outside on the suburban street comes through the window and when your eyes adjust to the darkness, you’re able to discern a few of his features — especially that sulking expression of his. Jungkook’s such a baby sometimes. Or at least he likes to be babied by you. Yoongi, Taehyung, Hoseok, and Jimin would shit themselves if they saw him now. But it makes you happy to be the only one who can see this endearing side of him. “What more do you want to put me through, hmm?” You cock your head to the side. “Who knows, you might just get bored of me in a few weeks, Jeon. Better not to jump the gun.” “I don’t think so. What do you take me for? Someone with that low of an attention span?” “Well…” You draw out the syllable. “Last I checked, you still don’t know how to make flowers with gum paste.” His tongue clicks in annoyance and he starts to tickle you again at your weakest parts. You squirm underneath him, giggling as your legs kick to no avail. It makes the bed squeak, the headboard hitting against the wall and Jungkook laughs and quickly lets up. He covers your mouth with his palm. “Shush! You’re going to wake them up.” You peel off his hand, harshly whispering, “You started it.” Jungkook’s smile is big enough to make his cheeks hurt. He missed you — your company, warmth, the teasing banter. It’s hard to fathom that his best friend is actually here with him, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. Jungkook leans down, locking his lips against yours. Your soft mouths slots against each other like it’s the way it always should have been and he relishes in the groan you release. It’s a gentle kiss, one that merely tests the waters and then he pulls away. You blink up at him, breath leaving through your parted lips that now taste like his vanilla chapstick. “No funny business, remember?” “I know.” Jungkook gets off of you, resuming his place by your side. “But I wasn’t planning any ‘funny business’. Where has your mind gone too?” Your cheeks heat. “I’m just saying.” He chuckles softly, arm slung across your waist. You’re pulled close as he nestles in. It’s easy to relax and your hand lifts to wrap around his back. The both of you hold each other for a while in the comfortable darkness underneath the cozy covers. You’re lulled in his company. “Jungkook.” “Hmm?” “You can’t fall asleep here.” “I know,” he mumbles. But contrary to Jungkook’s words, he does fall asleep with you — sharing the same bed like those nights in Tahiti. Only in the morning, when dawn breaks and the morning light comes through the glass windows are you both naturally shaken awake. It’s then that Jungkook scratches his bed hair flopping in all directions, eyes swollen as he stumbles back to his own bedroom. And you drift back to sleep with a softened smile on your face.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #jungkook fanfic #jungkook scenario #jungkook fluff #bts reader insert #jungkook reader insert #btsboulangerie #LET'S GO Y'ALL

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classic80sand90smovieloves2 · 4 years

Text

Meeting and Dating Nancy Downs

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

(I was so torn between what to do for the meeting hcs so if you want Nancy having a crush on the new girl hcs or whatever else, I’d be glad to provide)

- First things first, Nancy doesn’t like you. She doesn’t even have a valid reason as to why, she just doesn’t.

- It’s obvious that she has some sort of vendetta against you but you can’t for the life of you figure out what you ever could have done to make her hate you so much. After a while, you just stop taking it personally because; even though she seems particularly bothered by you, Nancy hates everyone.

- It isn’t until you have a rather nasty rumor spread around the school about you that she decides to change her tune.

- Deep down, Nancy is a softie and one that has a surprising amount of empathy hidden inside her. She just so happens to hear what people are saying about you while walking to class and against her own will, her mind drifts painfully back to the time when she was the one they were talking about.

- The two of you share a class at the end of the day which is where she’s able to stare at you, taking note of your deflated form and the subtle red rings around your eyes. It’s in that moment that Nancy stops hating you.

- Suddenly, She’s ready to burn the world down for you but she settles for doing something nice for once instead.

- She stalks after you at the end of the period, catching up with you outside of the school as you begin to walk home. For a moment you think she’s going to mock you like everyone else; it would’ve been the perfect chance for her to do so, but to your surprise, she invites you to go get a coffee with her.

- Even though you really don’t feel like hanging out with anyone, you agree and let her lead the way. The two of you talk for a while, awkwardly at first but soon enough you begin to warm up to her. You confess to her about all that’s happened and what’s going on, partly out of desperation and partly out of not being able to hold it in any longer. She gives you some advice; in typical Nancy fashion, and it for some reason actually makes you feel better.

- By the end of the day, you’ve lost all of your old friends yet gained a new, much more unusual one.

- Over time, the two of you grow closer and closer, hanging out more and more until you’re near inseparable. She introduces you to Rochelle and Bonny, and suddenly you have a whole new friend group with people you genuinely feel accept you. Your life is better than ever, and all it took was a little public humiliation!

- You’ll definitely have to be strange, alternative or weird in some regard for her to really fall for you. She just doesn’t really connect with people who aren’t and she certainly doesn’t fall in love with them.

- To be honest, Nancy was always a little attracted to you but she never had actual feelings for you, not until the two of you became friends. It’s then that she realizes how much she actually likes you and how perfectly the two of you fit together. After that, it isn’t long before she realizes she likes you a lot more than a normal friend should.

- Now, Nancy has no shame but this is the 90s and she likes having you in her life so she has to play her cards right. It’s gonna take a little while for her to actually confess but the two of you wind up acting like you’re dating; or at least she treats you like you’re her girlfriend, long before you actually begin to date.

- She confesses her feelings to you a few months into your friendship. It’s a bit late in the afternoon, the suns begun to set and you’re sitting with her in the little clearing that the girls do rituals in. You’re busy sleepily basking in the warmth of the sun while she’s busy watching the yellow glow of it light up your face.

“Hey y/n/n?” She calls out softly and you respond just as soft, your eyes still shut.

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too Nancy.”

“No, no, I mean I love you.” She emphasizes the word and you roll over onto your stomach, looking over at her with a small smile.

“I know Nancy, …and I love you too.” Her face doesn’t change for a long moment but then a pleased smile spreads across it and she breaks your gaze to look out at the sunset like a weights been lifted off her shoulders.

- The two of you shared your first kiss the same day she confessed her feelings to you. She was sleeping over at your house, the two of you sharing your bed like normal, the blankets pulled over both of you as your heads rested against your pillows.

- You were both facing each other and talking a bit before going to bed when she slid closer to you and connected your lips. You stayed locked in a gentle kiss before you both pulled away, her lips moving to your forehead where she pecked your skin and whispered goodnight.

- You woke up the next morning with a smile on your face and a weirdo girlfriend snuggled against you.

- Pda? All the time. Her hands? On you. Her pride? Through the roof.

- People probably don’t realize you’re dating but suspect she’s a lesbian and gay for you. You’ve most likely been warned that she has “a weird thing” for you.

- You’re like the only person she lets touch her. Whoever else tries to is on the receiving end of a grimace, glare or verbal beat down; unless it’s Bonnie or Rochelle. Occasionally, you’ll sneak up on her and she’ll turn on you with the fiercest glare before quickly dropping it once she realizes who you are.

- Getting stolen gifts. You’re always a bit scared that she’ll get caught but you don’t have the heart to not accept them.

- Walking with her arm wrapped around your shoulder. She pushes your heads together cutely before merrily dragging you along with her.

- “I like a woman in uniform” ~ a direct quote from when she came to visit you at your lame fast food restaurant job.

- Nicknames are used all the time. Sweetheart, hun, darling, baby love, doll face; you name it, she’s called you it.

- Beach dates. The two of you have probably gone skinny dipping in the ocean together.

- Bonfires. You may or may not share scary stories with each other like you’re on a camping trip.

- You need to get a leather jacket. No, no wait; she’ll get you one herself.

- Constant compliments but not the kind of compliments you’re probably thinking of. She doesn’t say normal shit like “you look beautiful” or “I like your hair”, instead, she’ll say something like “well look at you.” or just “hot.”.

- She’s probably pierced your ears or given you a stick and poke at some point; that’s just the kind of person she is.

- She would absolutely love cutting or dying your hair with you. Sitting in your bathroom and fucking yourselves up? Amazing. Life changing. Revolutionary.

- Letting her rant to you. Whether she needs to tell you about her craft not working or her home life, you always lend her an open ear. She returns the favor whenever she can.

- She crashes at your place a lot; she never really wants to go home. The two of you are constantly having sleepovers with each other.

- Sneaking out to see each other.

- Late night drives.

- Surprisingly gentle kisses.

- Long makeout sessions.

- Sitting outside with her while she smokes.

- Coffee dates. She probably drinks exclusively strong black coffee and doesn't even wince at the taste, sipping it like it’s water. You’re slightly unnerved by the display.

- Sharing sips from a stolen bottle of wine.

- Painting each others nails and doing each others makeup.

- How you cuddle really just depends on the day. Sometimes you’ll be completely wrapped around each other, other times you’ll just be lying side by side and holding hands.

- Thrifting together. What’s better than cheap, second hand alternative fashion?

- She’ll call you a dork for doing something stereotypically girlfriendy and sweet but she’ll smile and accept whatever you’re doing while she says it.

- She says “gross” jokingly whenever you compliment or do something affectionate with her. She’ll wipe her cheek like you have cooties after you’ve kissed it.

- Stifling a laugh whenever she makes a smartass remark.

- Making faces at each other. She sticks her tongue out at you or smiles exaggeratedly big a lot.

- Hickeys, love bites, and red lipstick smears.

- She’s usually the more dominant one in your relationship but whew boy does she love sitting in your lap. She just plops herself right down on you whenever she feels like it without a single care in the world.

- Helping her relax when things aren't going her way. She has a tendency to keep quiet when somethings bothering her, letting her frustration build until she can hardly take it anymore.

- She’s always quick to stand up for you. She doesn’t let anyone belittle you and always interjects when she can see you’re trying to say something but no one’s listening to you.

- The amount of times she gets in trouble for trying to talk to you in class is impressive.

- Cutting class together. You’re almost sure that she’s determined to get you in trouble.

- She cannot stand being ignored so you’ll have to be fairly good at multitasking. If you’re hanging out and she has nothing to do then it won’t work out. She’ll artfully bother you until you give up and pay attention to her. Don't worry though, it doesn’t take much to satiate her.

- That being said, when you both have something to busy yourselves with, you can just exist in the same room together for hours, barely saying a word to each other. Sometimes she’ll just sit and think about something while you do whatever you have to and that keeps her occupied enough.

- She doesn't like when you act like whatever she did for you was amazing or something special. She gets mildly uncomfortable and tries to brush off your words of gratitude, telling you not to worry about it and that “it was nothing”.

- You know how like midway into the movie she had a candy necklace or at least something that looked like a candy necklace? You were most likely the one to give it to her which explains why it’s pretty much the only colorful thing in her wardrobe.

- Being a witch is objectively sort of Sapphic so being gay kinda just comes with the territory. The two of you most likely cast spells and do rituals together all the time.

- Nervously letting her perform rituals on you. Does she need to make a joke about sacrificing a virgin? No. Will she? Yes.

- She’s pleasantly bothered by your younger siblings and/or pets; if you have any. They definitely exasperate her since they usually interrupt and harass you two, but deep down she’s fond of them. She likes to tease them and pretend to not like them while they giggle and smile at her.

- One of the most jealous girls you’ll ever meet. She’ll either completely walk away from you and whoever is “flirting” with you or rudely interrupt whenever she pleases. Sometimes she’ll even “secretly” will something to happen to the person, causing them to leave you alone. She always gives you an “innocent” look once you turn to scold her.

- She’s definitely overprotective when it comes to you, almost ridiculously so. If something were to ever happen to you, she’d be out for blood and you’d undoubtedly have to wrestle her from exacting revenge in your honor.

- She’s fairly blunt and invasive yet tactful at the same time. She may ask you about an obviously sensitive topic but knows when to change the subject and shut up.

- You’ve either gotten into a lot of fights during your relationship or little to none; there is no in-between. If you’re stubborn and stand your ground then you’ll butt heads and fight a lot. If you’re more of a submissive person who tries to appease people rather than argue, then you’ll most likely never go beyond her snapping at you for a minute.

- She really doesn't know how to apologize so oftentimes you’ll just have to take her slightly shy “wanna go do x” after a fight as an apology. It’s easy to tell when you’re forgiven or when she feels guilty for her actions.

- You may not expect her to say “I love you” all that much but she surprisingly says it a lot. It may sound more joking than sincere some of the time but she’ll still say the words just about every day.

- There’s certainly a dark future ahead of her …but maybe you can change that?

#I love her so much #Nancy downs headcanon #the craft imagine #the craft headcanons #the craft headcanon #90s movie headcanon #90s movie headcanons #90s movie imagine #90s movie imagines #Nancy downs imagine #Nancy downs headcanons

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elliewritessometimes · 3 years

Text

IT’S @mattieswheelers BIRTHDAY!!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY LOVELY WE LOVE YOU SO MUCH

beCAUSE of this, myself and @notsomightymightytiger decided to steal tea leaf’s time travelling mattie au and create a whole entire fic with their ideas and also a design that @ari-is-anxious did a while back!! hope you enjoy aaaaaaa <3333 aLSO stabbies try and spot as many starboard references as you can heheheh

this can be read on ao3 here if you prefer the format :)

tw: swearing, murder (it’s minor and resolved tho jsgh), religion (nicco my love read with care), blood, i really hope i haven’t missed anything please do let me know if i missed anything

Mattie had always been able to time travel. For as long as she could remember, her walk-in wardrobe had been lined with silver metal and held no clothes at all. As a child, this made it all the more exciting, though as she grew older and actually started to want to own clothes, it became a little inconvenient. She supposed all great inventions came with some kind of sacrifice.

Her uncle had made the time machine as a gift when Mattie was born. Her parents, like any basic adults, assumed the wardrobe-sized box was simply a toy and had taken no interest in it. Mattie, from the age of about three when her curiosity had really set in, was the one who discovered that the machine was in fact a working portal and not just a children’s toy. Since then, she had been happily travelling time and space during the darkest hours of night.

(You may have entirely valid concerns about a three year old having full access to time travel - luckily, not just for Mattie’s safety but also that of the entire human race, her uncle had set what were effectively child locks on a lot of the controls. These were diminished the day that Mattie turned thirteen. Uncle Calvin had always been a little weird, but he certainly wasn’t heartless.)

Usually, Mattie’s time travel didn’t affect her life. Sure, it made for some pretty awkward conversations as Mattie spurted some knowledge which could never have been explained through a textbook, but those could often be blamed on watching too much Horrible Histories as a child (“Mattie, I swear to God, you’re so bageling British, and yet you’ve never been there, I don’t understand.” “Horrible Histories is a masterpiece! You’re just jealous that you’re too American to have seen it.” “Actual asshole of a child.” “Farrah-!”).

It was going well until Mattie’s freshman year at Giles Corey. And then three of her fellow highschoolers were murdered. And suddenly Mattie had a way to prevent that from happening.

In some stroke of luck, she passed out at the sleepover and didn’t find out about the murders until she was sitting in the back of a cop car, driving to her house to pick up her things. She remembered thinking how weird it was that she wasn’t being taken straight to the station, but brushed that away in favour of ‘going into her wardrobe to change out of her bloody clothes’.

The time machine was cold like it always was and that forced her out of her muddled state quickly enough. She thought back to the victims. Chess. Farrah. Clark. Snapping on her goggles, she pressed a button, whirled backwards through time and space, and appeared at the gate to Riley’s neighbour’s house.

She really wished that she had actually changed her outfit - the damp blood turned cold with the breeze and sent shivers up her spine. The smell perhaps or just her sudden appearance startled the neighbour’s dogs into a frenzy. A figure, Chess, unharmed and merely confused instead of terrified, stood up from Riley’s bench, calling into the darkness. Mattie’s breath caught in her throat. The second figure, knife glinting in the dim streetlight, slipped out of the back door. Their red hair shone in the reflection of the knife with a sick kind of beauty.

Mattie could have stopped them there, taken the knife from the assailant’s grasp, prevented the tragedy of the evening. But she didn’t. She just watched.

Three minutes later, after arriving back in her present time and pressing yet another button on the wall of her closet, she watched the same scene unfold in the bathroom with a much younger victim. Twenty minutes after that, the third attack. This one was different though, an accident.

Still a little desperate and overly conscious of the police officer standing guard outside of her bedroom, she reappeared in her wardrobe, putting on a jumper before turning back time a little further. She appeared in a gymnastics centre as a girl around Mattie’s age did wolf turns on a beam. A coach entered the scene from the sidelines as the girl stopped spinning, her distinctive plait falling still against her back. Something in Mattie ached at the sight of Chess so lively and innocent, willing to give up her life for her dream of succeeding in her sport. As the two wandered into a side room, picking up water with a smile, Mattie edged forwards, collecting soft gym mats as she went. Within minutes, the area surrounding the beam had been double layered with cushioning, and Mattie could only pray that her plan would work. She’d seen enough YouTube videos to know what happened next.

Chess emerged again with her coach, hopping back up onto the beam with practiced ease. Again, Mattie was forced to just watch as she went down into her wolf turn, then rose up, did a split leap across at least half of the beam, and jumped into a twist to land on the floor. It was a messy landing, the gymnast’s ankle caving in on itself, knee twisting unnaturally in the air, before coming down hard onto her side. But, unlike in the previous videos, there wasn’t a resounding crack, only a weak cry of pain as Chess stumbled back to her feet.

Mattie grinned despite herself as snippets of conversation drifted her way.

“-not broken, don’t worry-”

“The Olympics seem out of the picture…”

“Get her a drink to numb the pain! Yes, limeade’s perfect-!”

Mattie arrived in her room again with a whole plethora of new information just inserted into her mind like it had been there all along. There was no longer and never had been a police officer outside her door. Her shirt was clean, her head undamaged. Chess didn’t go to the Olympics, but still did gymnastics in her spare time as her knee made a full and quick recovery. Farrah wasn’t dropped. Riley, in some weird twist of fate, went to the same therapist as Mattie. Life was… good for the Giles Corey Tigers.

Across town, the sleepover was still going ahead as normal. From what weird memories she just gained, Mattie knew that the team was at a rocky patch, their personalities still clashing in any iteration of the evening. But, with some relief, she knew that it would never in this timeline be bad enough for murder to even be considered as an answer. Her phone buzzed. The lies came easily as she covered up her mysterious disappearance from the sleepover she should currently be at.

Reese (school): Where are you???

Mattieeeee: I went home :( not feeling good

Reese (school): :((( that sucks

Mattieeeee: Ikr. I think it was the ice cream.

Reese (school): I told the others

Reese (school): They all say get well soon apart from Kate and Cairo who actually agreed on something for once haha

Mattieeeee: What did they say skjghdjh

Reese (school): “Tolerate the lactose, Wheeler.”

In her short-but-actually-quite-long-given-all-the-time-travel life, Mattie had witnessed a number of key historic events (and had caused about 85% by some small accident, but that’s a story for another time). The one which ended up unveiling her secret to someone in her actual life occurred overnight one February. Or maybe July. Depends. Time is weird.

She stepped into a small room, luckily through the doorway and not awkwardly through the window, as done many times before. A man sat hunched over a desk by the window, dressed in brown and using a pen-but-not-really-a-pen to craft a page of writing. From Mattie’s extensive historical knowledge, it could have been anywhere from 1000 BC to the 16th century.

“Hello, excuse me,” she began, “But I’m a little lost.”

The man startled, his not-really-pen skidding across the page and leaving a trail of thick ink in its wake as he blinked at her in the doorway. “Who are you?” He seemed perplexed as to how a young girl was standing there, in the opening to his room, in clothing not of any time now or before.

Something that Mattie had realised after travelling not only to different times, but also to a vast number of different settings around the world, was that somehow, she was never stumped by a language barrier. Instead she was always able to fluently converse with those she met in what appeared to her as American English. It was really weird; she tried not to think about it too much or it made her head hurt. She’d also learnt that it was best not to explain her full situation to her companions, becoming accustomed to pulling the classic ‘I’m not here, you’re just dreaming’ excuse. So that was exactly the tactic she applied here. “A dream figure. You don’t need to be afraid.”

The man narrowed his eyes, glancing down at the paper and then back up to Mattie’s face. “That’s a good line.” He scribbled her words down onto a scrap piece of papyrus. “Maybe I can use that later.”

Mattie grinned, sensing her chance to fuck up history just a little bit. “What are you writing?”

“How the world came to be,” the man explained. “God.”

“Ah, of course. The Bible, huh?”

“Pardon?” The scribe locked eyes with Mattie for the first time, confusion etched clearly on his face. She shook her head in response, having learnt that it was hopeless trying to explain events of the future to people who could never even begin to imagine the future that she came from. Seemingly satisfied, the man continued. “As the vision you are, I wonder if you’ve been sent to answer my queries.”

“Of course. Go ahead.”

“I’m struggling for a name. Not for the book itself, but just for this chapter.”

Mattie smiled as wisely as she could. “What do you have so far?”

“‘Generational Crisis’. The chapter describes how our world came to be - the creation of natural elements, the first humans, the beginnings of emotion. ‘Generational’ as it shall be carried on for generations, and ‘crisis’ as it’s a huge event, a crisis for the higher powers.”

Mattie choked. Her mind imagined a world where the entry chapter to the Bible was named as so, and it was a world of chaos and highly differing language choices. “That is very wise, sir. I have one suggestion: how about shortening it? Make it snappier, more catchy. I’m thinking…” She paused, feigning deep thought, “‘Genesis.’”

The man gasped, scrawling her word down at the top of the papyrus. “Genius! Thank you, child. I should write your name in my finished book, to show my gratitude for your kindness.”

“Mattie, sir, Mattie Wheeler. It’s been lovely to meet you and see your studies.” Over the centuries, Mattie had learnt to leave those she met with some kind of reassurance as the humane aspect of her hobby. “Before I go, I may be a dream spirit, but I can assure you that the work you have done right now shall be greatly appreciated for thousands of years to come.”

“You really are a wonder, perhaps a child sent from the power above.”

Unthinking, she snorted, replying, “Oh, boy, you are not ready to hear about Jesus.”

“Jesus? You mean my sister’s husband? I do hear some curious rumours about the man…”

Mattie hid her laugh behind a hand. Of course, this was hundreds of years before Jesus Christ came to be thought of. “I know, right? Jesus? More like JeSUS.” The scribe didn’t reply, mind clearly tired of its confusion and instead turning back to something it knew well. He picked up his writing patterns again. Mattie turned away, back to the doorway. “I will leave you to your writing again. Sleep well.” Leaving a small vial of dissolved sleeping pills on the desk, she stepped out of the door.

The only class that Mattie knew she would see Eva in was Religion. They didn’t actually share the class, but Mattie’s Religion teacher was Eva’s form tutor and the older girl often used the classroom as a quieter study area for her free period. Not that Mattie would call a class of thirty sophomores particularly peaceful, but apparently she hadn’t heard the noise of the senior study area, you genuinely don’t understand, last week Jacob Thomas tried to make toast using the sun on a desk and then, bam, the entire of senior year are creating chants about sun bread, it was so weird, Mattie, I transferred to a school of crackheads.

After her travel to the 7th century AD, Mattie sparked a sudden interest in her Religion classes. Eva, being the older sister that she was, watched closely as the sophomore stayed behind after class to search the Bible for something in particular.

“What’re you looking for?”

“Nothing!” Mattie didn’t look up from fervently turning the pages.

“Well, that’s a fucking lie.” Eva perched on the side of a desk, sliding across to snatch the book out of the younger girl’s hands. “Why the hell are you looking at what is essentially the movie credits for the Bible???”

Eva watched as Mattie bit her lip, eyes darting around the empty classroom. She thought for a long moment, visibly debating points in her head, before leaning over the top of the book to run her finger down a list of names. About a third of the way down the page, she stopped. Eva’s eyes followed her finger as it drew a circle around a certain name. Matte Wheyler

“See. I was looking for that.”

Eva didn’t say anything for a while. Mattie waited with baited breath as Eva’s brain tried to make sense of what they saw. “Mattie Wheeler, what the bagel.” It didn’t bother to even be a question.

“It’s a really long story.” Mattie slumped onto the desk as well. “Hey, did you know that ‘Genesis’ would have originally been called ‘Generational Crisis’ if it wasn’t for me?”

After a glance at both of their timetables, they decided that their next lessons (biology and latin respectively) were worth missing. Instead, they stayed seated on a desk in the Religion classroom, as Mattie explained in detail how her name came to be in the Bible. It was refreshing to finally spill her secret after fifteen years of complete silence, and Mattie wondered vaguely in the back of her mind if one day Eva might be able to share in her time travelling adventures. That might take a little more explaining though, because Eva sure did have a lot of questions.

“So, you don’t change anything?”

“Not anything major. Like, I can’t stop Hitler or anything, that would change too big an event. Little things, however, like names and stuff, it’s fun to mess around with. Ever wondered why the Italian city, Pisa, has its name? I delivered pizza to the guys who were kind of like the government at the time of its naming. Hence, the Leaning Tower of Pizza.”

Eva cackled. “Wait, what?! God, dude, that’s nuts. What the fuck.”

“What can I say, all I really want in life is a little bit of chaos and also mozzarella sticks.”

Mattieeeee sent a photo.

evanescence: is that??? abraham lincoln????

Mattieeeee: Abraham Lincoln was an otter.

evanescence: how so?

Mattieeeee: Point one: look at him.

Mattieeeee: Point two: no seriously. Look at him.

evanescence: oh my god

evanescence: i cannot believe you have a literal selfie with abraham lincoln that’s fucking wild

Mattieeeee: Perks of the job :D

evanescence: literally hire me i want a selfie with cleopatra

farrah o’satanic ritual: yall i got out of the shower like an hour ago and i still haven’t changed

Imposter: What can I say, bath robes are in fashion rn

farrah o’satanic ritual: ive told you before clark stop pretending you know how to dress

Mattieeeee: Farrah did you not die in the shower?

katherine: ????mattie???????

farrah o’satanic ritual: no?? i didn’t

SmileyRiley: dang it

katherine: riLEY-

caicrow: riley i thought we’d moved on from murder

Imposter: Plot twist: Mattie was the murderer all along

katherine: CLARK-

Mattieeeee: oops-

It wasn't meant to happen, she swore up and down it was a mistake. A true and honest accident. And it kinda was? I mean Mattie hadn’t intended for the scaffolding on the new tower being constructed in Pisa to wobble, she’d already fucked up Pisa once in her career, but… Well, that's what she got for letting loose Giles and Corey (her occasional time travelling companions, who also happened to be cats) in the middle of a Italian city in 1252. She could have sworn the catnip was safely concealed in one of the pockets inside her jacket (which was filled with all sorts of trinkets from her travels in the space-time continuum), yet somehow the two had still gotten into it. She guessed that's what she got for not hydrating-feel-greating and eating-to-defeating.

An old citizen eyed her suspiciously, taking in her struggle with the two cats. Or maybe she was just more focused on Mattie’s goggles - she doubted anyone in 13th century Pisa had seen such a bold fashion statement before. The tower continued to lean in the background.

Finally, Giles and Corey settled down, each in a pocket of her trench coat. Mattie breathed a sigh of relief, which only got halfway out of her before she was sucking it back in as the old lady from across the street began to approach her.

“Young lady.”

Mattie smiled sheepishly. “Hello, ma’am. Is everything alright?”

The lady looked mildly amused. “I couldn’t help but notice your two cats going mysteriously close to the tower before it started collapsing. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

“Oh, no, ma’am. My cats are very well behaved.” Giles gave a resounding yelp at exactly the wrong time. A hiss from Corey echoed from the opposite pocket.

“Well,” the lady grinned, “If that’s the case, why don’t you leave the animals with me? You seem fairly preoccupied with the tower - perhaps you can try and assist its reconstruction?” She held out a hand.

Mattie thought for a moment and then handed across the two cats. “Thank you ever so much, ma’am. I’ll try and be quick.” The woman nodded and Mattie sped across the square to the drastically swaying tower.

When she arrived back at the woman’s table, there was a second lady in animated conversation with her. As Mattie approached, she stood up to take her leave, pressing a kiss to the first lady’s hair as she left. Something was definitely fruity there.

“All fixed!”

“I’m glad.” The woman nudged the cats back to their owner, looking intensely over Mattie’s shoulder to the stabilised tower. “It certainly looks sturdier.”

“I should hope so.”

The woman narrowed her eyes. “Sometimes,” she said, staring pointedly at an area on the structure, “I think about crabs.”

“Oh?” Mattie tilted her head. “Do you?”

“Yes. And often when I think about crabs, I think that they shouldn’t be in Pisa, and they most definitely should not be crawling over the tower.”

Mattie gasped and followed her gaze, muttering curses under her breath. “I didn’t realise I’d brought a whole crab with me! I thought I’d taken the sea life off the rocks!”

The woman chuckled. “You seem to be a strange character. Child, where on Earth did you find not only rocks large enough to support a tower, but also a live crab in Pisa?”

Accepting her fate, Mattie decided to tell the truth. “They’re from Egypt.” At the woman’s questioning look, she expanded, “I’m a traveller of sorts.”

“Oh. Well, child, you’re a gift of a traveller. Brightened my day. Italy these days is far too serious. Maybe we should put more crabs on the leaning tower, huh?”

Tucking her cats back into their respective pockets, Mattie allowed herself to laugh. “Maybe we should.” With a nod and a smile, she wandered off, eagerly awaiting her portal.

“Why were you in Egypt anyway?” Eva asked as Mattie recounted yet another of her time-travel-gone-wrong experiences.

“Library of Alexandria.”

“Oh, yeah, because that explains so much.”

“Shut up.” She rolled her eyes. “It was 48 BC, Caesar was burning shit, this random Roman dude set fire to the library.” She pulled a book out of her backpack. “I saved this and stashed away a few of the slabs of rock. And apparently a crab.”

Eva took the book in awe. “Jesus Christ… This thing is, like, thousands of years old…”

“I know, right? Weird.” She watched as Eva flicked through the pages, tracing her finger over certain words or illustrations. “But it was such a beautiful library, I couldn’t let it just burn. So, I retaliated. Burnt the house of the soldier who set the original flame.”

“Mattie!”

She shrugged. “Setting someone’s house on fire is a survival skill.”

“Oh my God.”

“I would have done something more dramatic, but I had to get home. I had a cake which would need to come out of the oven.”

Eva laughed, the sound echoing around the empty classroom. They were skiving class again, this time PE, the one class they had which coincidentally fell at the same time for both year groups. “How are you so normal in school, but so badass when you time travel?”

“I dunno. All I can say is that cake and spite are my only motivators.”

“You’re like a superhero. ‘Time Travelling Mattie: The Only One Who Can Lead A Dual Life Successfully’!!!”

Mattie blushed, shrugging. She definitely needed to take Eva with her one day. A superhero duo. “Okay, that name needs some work. How about: ‘Sanchez And Wheeler, The Ultimate Time Travelling Duo’?”

“I think I like the sound of that.”

“Yeah?”

Eva nodded, shaking her hand like they were signing a business contract. “Yeah.”

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mzminola · 4 years

Text

Thinking about @lullabyknell‘s analysis of how the Deathly Hollows hecked up HP, how to do stuff better, and the questions boiling down to “What do you want to include? Where is this going?” and personal preferences. So okay, here’s my take on a potential redo that includes them:

For starters, I don’t wanna introduce actual after-life-controlling entities to the series, but I do think the Hollows had potential for wizarding cultural worldbuilding, so introduce the story and the idea of them way earlier.

I also think the wand-lore was cool, and was being laid down in Philosopher’s Stone and came back in Goblet of Fire, but didn’t really get used much outside Harry and Voldemort’s duels. We had background issues with Neville’s inherited wand not working well for him (Ron’s own inherited wand did until it got busted). But even while setting up the trail of Elder Wand transfers in earlier books, we didn’t know about it properly until Deathly Hollows, and our only solid practical demonstration was Hermione not being able to use Lestrange’s well because she hadn’t defeated her herself.

Harry Potter is a fantasy mystery series that was mostly book-specific mysteries and only a few overarching ones. Harry was always going to defeat Voldemort, and I think whether it was by a more practical-actions version of “Power of Love” or the string-of-ownership of the Elder Wand needed to be decided earlier and then built up through most of the series.

You can combine them, such as making it super clear that acts of love get Harry into place to use the Elder Wand (which arguably his self sacrifice did, his own love for others, but I do like other characters love for HIM, and not just his dead mom). Or have a divination expert go “Oh yeah, the Prophecy already got fulfilled when your mom protected you, you’re destiny-free now, just kick Riddle in the junk.”

Or maybe by having someone else who got the Elder Wand ownership explicitly giving Harry their normal wand because he lost his. A combination of “I love you, I will give up my own weapon so you can protect yourself” and “Harry is their Champion” because that’s a thing and it’s a cool thing that I like. Come on, the boy was Champion of Hogwarts.

(I would be verklempt if it was McGonagall to do this.)

You know where the perfect place to introduce wand ownership transferring by battle is? Chamber of Secrets. They had a dueling club! It didn’t last, but they had it, and a spate of “Hey, my wand is acting up! Why is that?” after the first meeting when dozens of students disarmed each other (or failed to) is a great intro!

You can set up “you have to win it back” (students agreeing to duel secretly, or maybe the club having a second meeting to facilitate it) or the idea of peaceful returns or loans being possible. Or just sheer “I know I lost this wand but I will keep using it until it remembers me” determination from some students.

Anyway, back to the Deathly Hollows as cultural worldbuilding.

You know what people do with amazing tools? Try to recreate them!

Mention the Hollows offhandedly in the first three books a few times, while also introducing objects that might be them, or are clearly attempts at recreating them. Put the symbol in the margin doodles of an old textbook, or even in the background of Dumbledore’s office (a reminder to himself not to fuck up again, but making him look hella suspicious later).

Put the story itself in Goblet of Fire, when we have the international students. People like Viktor Krum who have a very different view of their symbol than the British wizards. Give us an opening for Ron to tell Harry and Hermione the tale (and the debate whether the Hollows were gifts from Death or were just normal but powerful enchanted objects made by humans).

An opening to learn more about the Grindelwald war, and why Dumbledore is considered such a big fucking deal for defeating him. Some children and grandchildren of survivors sharing family stories to drive in why the older generations are so fucking desperate to stop a second Dark Lord from getting that powerful.

And now once we’ve told the tale of the Three Brothers and their Deathly Hollows, we revisit those introduced objects from the first three books.

Like...the Mirror of Erised! An attempt to view and speak with your lost loved ones like the Stone, but it failed. It shows your heart’s desire, which maybe for the builder was their lost loved ones, but isn’t for other people.

Maybe add other ghost-related objects, like ring that can summon them, or talk to them with summoning them, which the teachers just use to have the castle ghosts help them keep an eye on students.

Rumors that Grindelwald had the Elder Wand! Combo this with the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students being angry about this rumor. “Why do you think he had to have a legendary wand to do evil? Evil is not special.”

Harry’s invisibility cloak. You could have it be passed down through the Potters for generations, and when he asks Sirius he says “Oh yeah, your dad and grandpa used to joke it was a Hollow, but they’re pretty sure it was some skilled ancestor too many generations back to remember who was trying to recreate it.”

Or you could use Lullabyknell’s idea of James Potter crafting the cloak itself, showing his skills tangibly aside from the Map and Animagus transformation, and offering Harry a protection.

(Dumbledore doesn’t even need to have borrowed it, he could have just dug it out of the rubble with some other belongings that survived, and gives Harry a shoebox of magical items when he gets to Hogwarts.)

Okay yep I think that’s the thoughts for now.

#HP tag #Deathly Hollows #fic ideas #series overhaul

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f0rever15elf · 3 years

Note

Could you please do headcannons on an S/O or lover who is taller than the boys? Would they find it hot or think you're intimidating?

Thank you so much, I love your headcannons!

Hi there lovely!! I’m so sorry this took so long!! I hope you enjoy it!

Head Canon Masterlist

When you’re taller than them

Whiskey: Please, please wear those tight jeans he bought you for horseback writing. He loves the way you look in them, how long your legs look. Leading up to meeting you, Jack didn’t know he enjoyed being the little spoon, usually being taller than his dates so it just made sense to him that he was big spoon. Then one night you wrapped yourself around him and the man very nearly started crying. Now, it’s his preferred place when y’all are sleeping. He loves the fact that you’re taller than him, especially when it comes to hugging you. Easier access to grabbing the booty, and it’s easier to nuzzle into your neck. Jack is infatuated with you and will gas you up any time you feel self-conscious about being taller than him.

Javi: height doesn’t really matter to him, honestly. Tall, short, same height as him... it really doesn’t bother him. He’s still gonna cuddle you the same way, he’s still gonna stick his hand in your back pocket the same way. he’s still gonna praise you and fawn over you like you’re the most gorgeous creature he’s ever seen. And that’s cause you are. Plus, it’s an advantage, cause if he ever loses you in the crowd, you’re fairly easy to spot. He won’t lie though, you being taller gives him easier access to the booty, and just like Jack, Javi GREATLY appreciates that.

Frankie: “I love my tall partner,” is probably his most used phrase. The man says it at the most random moments too. Like, you’re out at the grocery store, reaching for something on the top shelf and you just hear him sigh and say he loves how tall you are and you turn around and he’s staring at you with these big goo goo eyes. The man is absolutely helpless when it comes to you. He has absolutely no issue with asking for help reaching things, either. He makes ample use of your height, in fact, but in reality it’s just a reason for him to thank you with a kiss (he likes kisses.)

Ezra: The man won’t be quiet and will 100% be comparing you to the Amazons. Grace and beauty and height unparalleled. He writes poems about you, absolutely. He also clings to you like a koala any and every time you’re laying down together, big spoon or small spoon, he doesn’t care. If you ever had any sort of self-conciousness about being taller, he’s gonna double down on erasing it. No love of his will ever look down on themselves for such regal beauty. He’s still of the mindset of doing everything on his own, even with the loss of his arm, denying your help. that is, until you come up behind him and reach over him to get whatever he needs for him. Then, he looks up at you with bright red cheeks and he swears his heart is gonna beat out of his chest. He acts purposefully stubborn after that just to get you to do that too him again.

Oberyn: The gods made you, and it delights him. Everything about you, but especially your height. He’d make sure you’re outfitted in the finest garments that accentuate your height, and you’ll never miss how his eyes rake over you when you do. He likes things his way, but sometimes his way is you in control, over him, taking advantage of your height over him. Only for you, would he ever allow this, much less crave it. When he introduces you to the sand snakes, they’re also in awe of your height, just as much as he is. The term “godly or heavenly” is thrown around a lot in reference to you, after all, such regalness could only exist in the heavenly realms, right?

Din: He adjusts things in the crest as best he can to compensate for your height, apologizing the whole way that the craft is smaller and has the potential to make you uncomfortable. You assure him it’s ok, but whenever you’re on a relatively safe planet, he makes sure to find a place to stay where you can effectively stretch out. He secretly really loves the fact that you’re taller than him, but he’ll not say it out loud. Not that he needs to with the sounds he makes when you come up behind him and rest your chin on his shoulder or head. It makes him weak in the knees and he tries to cover the sound with a cough, but you know what you’re doing to him. And boy do you enjoy it.

Pero: A tall partner is a strong partner. You must have been well fed as a child to grow so well. Your height means you have a longer reach too, which is good for sword fighting, which he will definitely be teaching you. He feels a sense of pride walking with you, that his lover is taller than him. Tall and strong and powerful. He feels nothing like intimidation or envy, he could never feel those things about you. He still encourages you to cuddle with him at night, tucking you under his chin to keep you safe and warm. He’s also incredibly stubborn, still demanding that he reach the things on the top shelves so you don’t need to, even though you can reach them much more easily. HOnestly, it’s endearing.

Max: He buys you clothes that show off your ass and long legs because he LOVES them. Easier access to grabbing your ass? Yes please! Easier access to shoving his face into your chest when he hugs you? He can die a happy vamp. He’s also a heat leach and WILL koala to you every chance he gets. Because of this, more often than not you end up wrapping around him at night while you sleep and he is in heaven. Expect many ass smacks because it’s right there and how could you expect him to resist?

Maxwell: At first, he’s a little self-conscious. He doesn’t have a good self image, and feels like he needs to appear bigger than he is. He definitely wears shoe inserts for a while until you convince him to stop when he complains about how they make his feet hurt. He’ll take lots of gentle motivation and confidence boosting to be able to accept that it’s ok that you’re taller than him. When he’s finally comfortable, it’s like there’s a whole different side of him. He likes tucking himself up against you, feeling safe and comfortable. He gets rid of his inserts, not put off at all that you have some height on him as he walks you around parties on his arm. He decides he needs to make up for lost time, praising you and telling you how much he loves your height, especially at night when you’re cuddling and he’s super sleepy.

Marcus Pike: Perfect boyfriend loves his tall partner. Heart eyes, all the time. It’s adorable, really, to be walking with him and looking down to see him smiling up at you. The only time he ever really shows any sort of self confidence was one time when the two of you were just chilling, and he asked if you ever wished that he was taller. He had taken your no at face value, smiling at your confirmation. He’s the type to play at the fact that he’s always having to move the seat up in the car when he drives after you, but it’s always in good fun.

Marcus Moreno: Marcus kinda glitches out sometimes when he looks at you (much to Missy’s embarrassment). He likes tall people. He likes them a lot. His jaw falls open and he kinda just stares while you go about your business until you look at him and he snaps out of it. It doesn’t matter how long the two of you are together for, it’s gonna keep happening. Sometimes, when you come up behind him he loses all manner of brain function until you press a kiss to his cheek and move from behind him. It’s honestly pretty incredible how you can render the leader of the Heroics positively speechless. Missy jokes that that’s your superpower, and Marcus is inclined to agree. When it comes to cuddles, Marcus prefers the small spoon 9 times out of 10. Gods, he just really loves his tall partner.

#hcs #marcus pike #marcus moreno #oberyn martell #frankie morales #agent whiskey #din djarin #ezra #max phillips #maxwell lord #pero tovar #thekingofthegoats

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underatedcharactersunite · 4 years

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Driving Home For Christmas!

Summary; You work for Baratheon Jewellers, Jon Snow is apart of the Stark family company who creates many beautiful pieces that are sold in your store. However, Jon is a notorious flirt and arrogant git, but what happens when you see Jon walking down the street after an horrible encounter with Catelyn. Modern AU. Pairing; Jon Snow x Female Reader WordCount;1,730 Warnings; Strong Language

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Jon Snow was a man who antagonised you to no end. Every day he can into your jewellery store delivering a new pieces of jewellery that he crafted. Jon Snow appeared every bit arrogant as he was rude. Jon entered every room believing he owned it To top it off Jon continuously threw flirtatious comments in your direction.

Stark jewellers were one of your largest clients, so you couldn't afford to anger your bosses by being rude to Jon Snow the illegitimate son of CEO Ned Stark. You needed this job, you couldn't afford to lose your job on top of Christmas.

Besides, apart from your negative interactions with Jon, you truly loved your job. Your boss Robert Baratheon was the best boss you'd ever had. He was kind, understanding and extremely funny. If you needed anything you knew you could turn to your boss As well s your interactions with the other members of the Stark family were never negative. You would go as far to consider, Sansa Arya and Robb as friends of yours.

As Christmas drew closer, busier you became. Customers came in there hundreds if not thousands trying to locate their perfect gift for their love one. You lost count of the number of customers you'd wrapped gifts for after their consultations. You were definitely on your way to achieve best seller for that extra Christmas bonus.

"Love, Jon will be coming in today to drop some more stock. Would you be able to handle it for me? I'm up to my eyes in paperwork and Joffery's decided to ditch once again. Honestly, you try to teach your son a trade. At least Gendry and Tommen want to learn the family business."

"Yeah of course I will. Don't worry about anything, I've got it covered" You continued to wipe down one of the many glass cabinets. Robert approached you carefully as he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

"Thank you, Love. Remember if you need anything all you need to do is ask. I see you as one of my daughters. Alright, I'll see you later, call me if you need anything."

"See you later, Robert." As he left, you suddenly felt a sinking feeling. Another day would soon be destroyed by the presence of Jon Snow. You could only hope your interaction would be short.

A couple of hours later, you were attending to an elderly gentlemen who was currently searching for his wife. Thy had been together for nearly thirty years.

"I don't know what I'm doing. There are so many options." Smiling, you hadn't be relieved to interact with such a sweet customer.

"It's okay Sir, feel free to take all the time you need. I can make you something to drink if you like. Picking the right present for a loved one ne can be difficult."

"Thank you for being so patient with me. Do you have someone special to buy a gift for this holiday season?

"No Sir, not this yearr" A frail hand rested ontop of yours, as you were met with a kind smile.

"You will meet your person, you mustn't give up hope"

"You could always buy me a special present." You fought the sudden urge to roll your eyes, Jon finally decided to make an appearance. Two hours late.

"Hello, Jon. I'll just hope this gentleman, and then I'll be over to you" Jon quickly took a seat in one of the leather chairs located in the centre of the room.

"I don't mind waiting, not for you Sweetheart." Jon sent you an overzealous wink. Shrugging him off, you returned your full attention to the elderly gentleman.

Never before had you been grateful for an indecisive customer. Throughout, you felt Jon's eyes running all over you. You friend from snapping at him. Although Jon's passive-aggressive antagonization couldn't halt your alation when the elderly gentleman chose a beautiful matching set of ruby earrings and necklace. The gentleman was ecstatic he managed to combat his indecisiveness.

Although the moment he left the store, you were forced to place your full attention onto Jon. As he strode up to the counter, you quickly forced a smile onto your lips.

"The way you engaged with that old man just now was pretty sexy"

"Thank you Jon. It's called being a personable human, perhaps you should try it sometime."

"I'll try it, if you let me take you out on a date"

"ell it looks like your staying as the arrogant, childish rude man child that you are. Robert mentioned you were here to deliver more stock"

"Straight to business, there I thought we were getting somewhere"

"Jon we are never going to et somewhere. Now can we just get on with it, so I can go home."

"Have a long day, if you let me I could make it longer."

"You're disgusting" You pulled the keys out of your trouser pockets as you open the door to the backroom.

As you marked off all the brand new stock from Stark Jewellers, Jon continued to stare at you. Honestly, did he need a picture?

"You can leave now. I'm closing now so I can go home."

"I thought we were having a good time" Walking directly past jon, holding the door wide open.

"Now get out!" Reluctantly, jon left leaving you alone to close, you knew it was only a matter of time before your next interaction.

*****

"I can't wait to go. The Bahamas is the most beautiful place" Sandy beaches, crystal blue oceans, amazing cultures. I wish you cold to come with us, you'd have a great time." Sansa's excitement could light up a whole room. The Stark's worked extremely hard, so the trip would act as a well deserved break.

"Maybe, I'll be able to go one day." Wiping down the glass cabinets you try desired to go the Bahamas one day, unfortunately,y this year is not it.

"Are you doing anything for Christmas? I don't want you to be alone. You're the last person who deserves to be alone on Christmas."

"i'll be fine, beside's you'll have a great time. Enjoy your vacation you deserve it. I'm just having a quiet Christmas this year. Everyone's off doing their own thing and my sister will be around for Boxing Day."

"As long as you wont be alone"

"I won't I promise."

It's Christmas Eve, after a grueling shift all you wanted to do was get home and relax. To make matters worse, it had started snowing. With the roads slipery and traffic choatic, everything appeared to be a snail's pace.

As you were driving home, you saw familiar silhouette waling in the distance. Rolling down your window, you confirmed your suspicion. Jon Snow was indeed sulking down the street with a suitcase in tow. Sansa had informed you there plane would take off at six that evening. So why was Jon walking down the street?

You had no idea what conspired in you to do what you did next. Perhaps it was the Christmas spirit, but you pulled over. Stepping out of the car , you quickly ran cautiously to catch up to Jon.

“Jon, why are you not on the plane?” You called out, Jon immediately stopped upon hearing the unusually soft tone of your voice.

“Why do you care? Just go home! It’s Christmas Eve, be with your family”

“I don’t have anywhere to be. Get in the car, it’s cold out and the paths are beginning to get dangerous”

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

“Call it the Christmas spirit. Now get in the car your coming home with me.”

“Are you flirting with me?”

“Jon just get in the car!”

*****

The drive home was slow and cantankerous. Everyone trying to get somewhere and they were impatient about it. Now with Jon in the car, you were even more anxious.

“This is not the way to my house” Jon mentioned as you turned the heating on higher. Was there no end to this drive home?

“We’re not going to your house. We’re going to mine. No-one, not even you is going to spend Christmas alone.”

“I won’t be alone. I’ll go stay with Sam or Tormund”

“Bullshit! Sam is taking little Sam and Gilly to Lapland and Tormund is gone home this Christmas. So are you gonig to meraciously get a flight on Christmas Eve”

“How do you know what they’re up to?”

“There is this wonderful thing called social media. I also attend most Stark parties and I think your friends are pretty nice. You know between the Stark’s, the Baratheon’s and my sister, they are all the family I have.”

“They treat you more like family then they do me. I must be something truly pathetic when the woman that hates me is the only one who has bothered to be nice to me.”

“Jon, I don’t hate you. I never have. So what happened at the airport?”

“At least that’s one of you. Catelyn still sees me as nothing more than the result of my Father’s mistake.

“Jon, you’re way more than that. You are creative and talented, kind to everyone else. So in this instance, Catelyn is very wrong.

“I was looking forward to go to the Bahamas, but I guess I’m stuck here now.”

“Hey! I don’t think I’m not that bad of company”

“No your not.” The silence in the car echoed loudly, the atmosphere was thick and tense unlike any emotion ever conveyed between you both. Suddenly, you found yourself questioning, why you despised him in the first place. Here you were stuck in a car driving home on Christmas Eve. How more of a Hallmark movie could you get?

Being stuck in traffic wasn’t helping. Suddenly, Jon’s arms wrapped around the back of the chair.

“Looks like we’re going stuck in this traffic for a while”

“Yeah it does” The tension between was beginning to get overwhelmed your hands resting tightly on the steering wheel.

“Fuck it!” As if the two of you were thinking the something both of you leaned over the counsel as your lips clashed with one another. Jon’s hand gripped the back of your head as you pulled on his shirt. An eruption of a car horn broke your embrace apart.

Moving your car forward, you struggled to catch your breath.

“Was that my Christmas present” Rolling your eyes, you couldn’t help the smile that it caused.

“You can have more when we get to mine”

“I’ve never been more glad that Catelyn let me of family plans.”

#jon snow imagines #game of thrones imagine #jon snow imagine #game of thrones imagines #jon snow oneshot #jon snow one shot #game of thrones one shot #game of thrones oneshot #Got imagines #got imagine #got one shot #Got oneshot #Ficmas2020 #Day 4 #Christmas posts

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henpendrips · 4 years

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Top Ten #1 - Final Fantasy X (PS2)

Yup, it's this'n. So let's get right into it.

Boy, oh boy, Final Fantasy X. Is it the best entry in the series? No. Is it a better game than God of War 2? Definitely not. Yet as I struggle to write this summary, there is no other game that I can think of that would fit the #1 spot. And that's because, not only do I love the turn-based RPG genre, but... it was also the first Final Fantasy game that I really got into; from first coming into contact with it to finally buying and playing it for myself, a game that easily consumed five years of my life.

The story and world in FFX might be the most blatant in terms of points made, and as the last SquareSoft Final Fantasy, it also marked the end of an era, while being the start of another, more superficial and uninspired future for the series (with the MMOs and FF12 barely scootin' by, considering what was to come). However, that doesn't stop me being enamored with the two protagonists and the journey they go through: Tidus, the energetic blitzball superstar that functions as the audience surrogate; and Yuna, the reserved summoner carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders.

While most previous FF games start out small, and opened up as you progress, FFX presents you with big questions right from the start, and Tidus' clueless ass is the perfect vessel for players to take in this adventure one step at a time. His own confidence and playful nature also helps set the audience at ease, rather than feeling lost amidst the chaos. But it is through Yuna that the story of this game moves forward; she is the reason the party (and through Tidus, the player), continue this journey, her pilgrimage across the land of Spira, in the hopes of achieving a means to stop the cataclysmic monster Sin. And that's also why Yuna is my favorite character in the entire franchise (Zack Fair is a close second), as her determination and drive are apparent even through her shy and meek demeanor when you're introduced to her initially; and given how, unlike Tidus, she DOES understand what her journey might entail, she is aware of the consequences that might present themselves, and how her faith is challenged every step of the way, really showcases a strength not just in the character, but the writing as well.

In terms of exploration and level design, while FFX might have been a big step forward for the series, shedding the pre-rendered backgrounds of the PS1 era, Spira is left quite linear and restrained. It's no FF13, thankfully, as you're allowed to revisit almost every area you go to, and after a later point in the game, unlocking an airship gives you free range on where to go, including some optional dungeons and secret areas. It's no grand expanse, but you're given plenty of reasons to explore every nook and cranny for sidequests, extra gear, and additional skills. The equipment mechanics are interesting in concept, the ability to craft and graft specific abilities to your weapons and armor, but given the limited models for it, and the existence of Celestial Weapons, like a lot of aspects in the game, it comes off more like a means to extend gameplay needlessly, as several other games of that time did.

The combat system, meanwhile, is undoubtedly my favorite in the whole series, because it embraces the fact that it's a turn-based RPG. I've never been too keen on the ATB, and have definitely disliked the real time/turn-based hybrids that are leading the franchise further and further away from its roots, but FFX knows what it is, and fully embraces it. Based on specific stats, the Conditional Turn-Based Battle (CTB) system places every participant in the fight on a specific order, and every action taken by a character will affect how subsequent turns play out. Spells such as Haste will accelerate and give a character more turns, crippling abilities will push enemies further away from taking their own turn, and with the ability to switch party members on the fly, you have an approach dedicated to the player controlling the flow of combat, by taking advantage of enemy weaknesses and impeding them from attacking at all, something that, as the game progresses, especially with optional superbosses, develops into quite the challenge that is still all in control of the player.

Probably the most distinct aspect to FFX combat, however, is how summons, called Aeons, act as their own characters, all with stats and abilities of their own. All of them are informed by Yuna's development, and spamming them will definitely leave your other party members lacking, but it's always thrilling to drop yor giant monsters on the field and let them lay waste to your enemies. This also provides you with the Summoner fights, where Aeons can't be summoned by both parties at the same time, and how several bosses can easily destroy your summon, leaving you to plan out when it is most appropriate to use them. A very nice touch that is in line with the story of the game.

The progression system in FFX also deserves a highlight. The Sphere Grid replaces the usage of EXP with AP, and each character is placed upon a giant grid with slots to fill up, so as to increase their stats and learn new skills. Special key slots keep your characters on set paths at first, but you'll eventually be able to cross characters onto others' sections, allowing you to increase each party member's usage beyond their initial limitations, while minimizing their weaknesses and shortcomings as character-locked roles. It's definitely another aspect of the game done to extend gameplay, especially given how you can customize the entire Sphere Grid for all seven characters, but after playing FF12, I'm much more content with a system that provides unique roles to characters, letting you familiarize yourself with them, and then expanding their arsenal and abilities later on. Seriously, if you want to play FF12, which I recommend as my fourth favorite FF game, play it on PC with a merged License Board mod, it'll be so much more satisfying.

And to close it off, given how most of the positives above also provide some detail on the negatives, the art direction in FFX is just the right amount of overly-detailed before going down Belt Buckle Avenue. There's an overall ocean theme to the designs, with a lot of spirals and natural patterns to the architecture, character design, and even the monsters, that I enjoy massively (and the PS2 limitations probably kept it from going balls-to-the-wall insane). There's an obvious jank when it comes to facial animations and how a lot of voice lines are delivered, but the emotional peaks are all there, a prime example of both the good and bad being one of the speeches later in the game, how the animation and delivery contrast immensely with all the other characters in the scene. And of course, how can you forget the ridonkulously catchy tunes such as 'Hymn of the Fayth', 'Challenge', and 'Otherworld' (the song that until recently, I still believed had been composed by Ramnstein).

With that, it's done. Years ago, when I first thought of which game was my all-time favorite, I definitely had a big thunk on whether it was God of War 2 or Final Fantasy X. But in spite of all that has happened since, the state of the games industry as a whole, and how I changed in terms of standards, taste, and preferences, putting FFX on the #1 spot of this list is not a regret. It defined me as a person, as an enthusiast, I'm very happy that it opened so many doors and how it motivated me to push forward as an artist for several years now. Also, Rikku with X-2 costume was top tier first waifu, fite me.

#art #artists on tumblr #final fantasy x #final fantasy #FFX #tidus #yuna #top ten #videogames #fanart #illustration #print

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royallyprincesslilly · 4 years

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Title: Partners {2}

OA Zidan/Zeeko Zaki x Reader

Warning⚠️: Cursing, Small Angst, Slow Burn

Words: 5.1k

Summary: You’re a damn good FBI agent in your own right. It is definitely partly to do with how well you’ve been trained and partly to do with you not letting anything or anyone distract you. You have a six-year plan that you’re fast-tracking for four. After being transferred from your office in Tampa you’ve been sent to New York which you’ve labeled the “big leagues”. On your first day there you were introduced to your new partner OA Zidan. It was then you realized you’ve moved out of the frying pan right into the pot of distraction. A year later and your rising attraction for your partner still hasn’t been snuffed out.

Note: If you’re thirsty and you know it clap your hands. Clap-Clap. If you’re thirsty and you know it clap your hands. Clap-Clap. I have no shame. This is a first for me writing about a TV show and interjecting into it. Let’s see how this goes. I hope you guys enjoy this mini-series.

***Loosely Edited/Proofread***

~~~~~~~~~~~

-Three Days Later-

You weren’t supposed to be back at work until the following Monday, but you’d gotten tired of sitting on your ass and pacing your apartment. You’d watched all the Netflix and Hulu you could stand. You’d gone through episodes you were behind on and even gone through several movies you’d missed in theaters because you lived, ate and slept the bureau. You were so antsy that you’d even begun watching cop shows like Law and Order: SVU, Criminal Minds, and even a show called FBI. That was the only show that actually calmed your angst to return to work.

On several occasions, you’d ignored the orders of the doctors aside and worked out much longer than thirty minutes. It hurt yeah but you also knew codling yourself would make recovery a lot longer. It wasn’t a full-on shot to the gut, but it was a deep enough graze to keep you in the hospital for two days.

In those two days, you’d had plenty of time to think. Plenty of time to replay your conversation with OA. The thing with having nothing but time on your hands was that you were able to look at every interaction and conversation in a different light. After going over a year’s worth of endless time spent with OA you’d zeroed in on a handful of them that your imagination was working overtime seeing something that possibly wasn’t there.

He’d always been kind to you, always gentle and helpful. He took his time teaching you the ropes of how New York ran, tricks of the bureau he’d picked up since he’d been out of Quantico. When you were in the thick of things he always looked out for you. In the moment and thereafter you always deduced it for him looking out for his partner. Who wanted to live with a dead partner on their conscience? You’d thought it was him acting normal.

After a few months he’d started bringing you coffee in the mornings, each time it was something different, a vanilla latte, black coffee, cappuccino. You thought maybe he was bringing you whatever he got that day. When you thought about him giving you your exact coffee order your imagination began to think he’d done it all these months trying to figure out how you liked your coffee. When you thought that everything was under analysis.

You panted out as you bent forward trying to catch your breath. Today you’d run five miles and you were already feeling the pain in your stomach. It was four miles more than you’d been given the okay to do.

“Shit!”

It took you a good five minutes to catch your breath enough to keep going. After four days, you were now in that weird limbo place, where you were fifty percent sure and fifty percent thinking you were crazy. You didn’t know what to think. You did know that this was not what you were supposed to be thinking about. You didn’t leave Miami for a better opportunity to fall for your partner, especially not when you were so close to possibly a promotion. Still, it didn’t stop the butterflies in your belly every time you replayed his words in your head.

“I thought I’d lose you. I thought that was it and I lost my shit, Y/N.”

“I don’t want to lose you.”

The way he’d said them with a quiver in his voice and the wild look in his eyes. The look of a man at his wit’s end. You’d seen the look before, several times, but on perps who felt they’d lost everything and were out of options. He had that look because you were hurt. More butterflies filled your stomach and you hated it.

“Shit, Y/N. Get your shit together. Do not make this a thing. It is not a thing,” you drilled out loud as you stared at yourself in the mirror. Your words were full of firmness and authority, but your face was anything but. You didn’t even believe your own words. Deep down you knew it was a thing because you’d fallen for your partner months before he’d spoken those words.

“Shit!”

An hour later you were walking into the office. A few people saw you and gave you a welcoming but concerned smile. You nodded your head and walked toward your desk. OA’s desk was empty as was Kristen’s. Oddly enough the office was quiet, or quiet compared to normal. Once you put your things away it began to bug you. even this was strange for the office.

“Hey Scott, where is everybody?”

“Emergency briefing in the boss’s office.”

You nodded, grabbed your coffee cup and made your way to Isobel’s office. Through the glass, Isobel saw you and beckoned you in. Once you stepped inside all eyes fell to you.

“Y/N. What’re you doing here? You’re not supposed to be here until Monday,” Jubal inquired.

“Yeah I know but I’m good. I am literally going insane at home.”

“I get that, but we have these rules in place for a reason. You need to heal,” Isobel protested.

“Isobel I’m good, I swear. My doctor even said I can go back to work when I felt ready. I’m ready,” you hammered home.

Kristen looked at Jubal and Isobel waiting for their response while they stared you down. When their eyes met they exchanged brief nods.

“Okay. Glad to have you back,” Isobel said as she signaled toward a seat. You sat and made sure to keep your eyes firmly away from OA.

Isobel continued to speak about a new case, an abduction. She gave all of you the details of the case and how they wanted to play it. You tried to focus on the case and not the sexy ass man that was in the room. It was difficult especially since you could feel his eyes on you and the unspoken tension in the room. You flipped through the composed file and familiarized yourself with the victim, a seventeen-year-old girl, daughter of one of the richest men in the city who’d been abducted in an alley in Hell’s Kitchen.

After the briefing, everyone poured out of the room off to their assignments. When you got to your desk you took up your lite FBI jacket ready to get a move on. When you turned, OA was right there. The two of you stared at each other for what felt like a minute but was only seconds. Neither of you spoke.

“You guys good?” Jubal stood to the side watching the two of you. You cleared your throat and side-stepped OA.

“Yeah, yeah, all good,” you stuttered.

“Good, get to the family’s house, see if they can shed some light on this.”

“Got it.”

You felt like driving so you’d have something to busy yourself with, but you knew OA liked to drive so you sat in the passenger side and skimmed the file again. When he got into the truck he hesitated for a few moments.

“Y/N--,” OA began before he paused. He turned the car on but didn’t pull out.

“Are you sure you’re good? I need you to have my back.”

Half of you was annoyed at him implying that you didn’t have his back, you’d always had his back.

“I always have your back. That’s what partners are for.” His eyes met yours for a second before he gave his signature tight-lipped, clenched jaw scowl and pulled out of the parking spot.

The forty-five-minute drive out of the city and into Hudsons on Hastings was relatively quiet. Besides the talk about the case, the two of you were silent. You wondered what he was thinking especially since that scowl didn’t slip once. He focused on the road and never geared his eyes off of it. Every so often your eyes skimmed his frame beginning at his tightly clenched hands on the steering wheel along his muscular arms and down to his bulky thighs. God, he was crafted to be a distraction, you thought. He was good looking to a fault, tall as hell, muscular like a God and was from what you could tell a great guy. He was a good catch—a great catch.

“All right we’re here.”

The two of you walked up the pristine walkway to the palatial house that was literally at the top of a hill.

“What’s a seventeen-year-old girl doing all the way in Hell’s Kitchen from here?” OA’s question made sense. What was she doing so far from home?

“Are you the FBI agents?” A redhead woman in a multi-colored wrap dress asked as she stepped out onto the porch with a taller gentleman with blonde hair on her heels.

“Yes. I’m special agent OA Zidan and this is my partner special agent YFN/YLN.”

You greeted the couple as they ushered you into their home.

“You have a beautiful home. You’re quite a far way outside the city,” you audible observed.

“Yes, we think it’s great to be outside of the madness that is Manhattan,” the blonde gentleman said.

You looked back to see OA scanning the interior of the home. He’d nonverbally given you the cue he was going to be the observer during this visit. The coupled showed you to another large room with matching seats. The home looked perfect as if it was magically created to be perfect. From experience, you knew impressions of perfection usually always came with deep dark secrets. You spent the next several minutes going through questions with the couple about their daughter, her home life, and school life. They candidly answered your questions and gave no hints to them being anything but deeply concerned parents of a missing child.

“Do you have any idea what your daughter was doing in Hell’s Kitchen?”

The couple looked between each other but neither spoke. OA asked the question again.

“We don’t know. Her school is here, it’s a private school. I don’t know,” the father said.

You believed him.

“Can we take a look around your daughter’s bedroom?”

The couple showed you to the room and you and OA slowly went around to find anything you could.

“I don’t know what to make of the mom,” OA voiced in a whisper.

“Why?”

“Too perfect. Did you see there was nothing out of place? Not on her and not in the room. Anyone who appears too perfect always has something to hide. You get that, right?”

Something about what he said rubbed you the wrong way. Turning to him you watched him moving from bookshelf to desk.

“What do you mean by that? Why would I get it?”

“You know, from experience.”

He definitely meant something by that. “If you have something to say OA, say it.” He turned to you but didn’t respond. He just had that scowl on his face.

“Nothing. Let’s go, found what could be our smoking bullet.” He held up two cell phones before he dropped them in Ziploc bags and walked out of the room. You were now annoyed.

~~~~~~~

Two hours later you’d spoken to the victim’s friends and checked the crime scene. Now you were at headquarters waiting for Kristen to come back with whatever was in the phones. You couldn’t get OA’s words out of your head. He was purposely digging on you. he thought you were too perfect, thought that you had something to hide. You didn’t know if you were more annoyed that he could see through you to figure that out or the fact that he could say that to you.

“You okay?”

Kristen walked beside you in the break room and placed her hand on your back.

“Yeah. I’m good. Thanks.” Kristen nodded and made a move to walk out.

“Kristen wait.” You sighed and shook your head before you began again. “Do you think I’m boring or too perfect?”

Kristen smirked and took you in for a few moments.

“Why?”

“No reason just—something someone said. Am I boring?”

“I don’t think boring is the right word. Maybe—focused.” You gave her a cold glare that she laughed at.

“Really? Focused is the best you could come up with?”

“Yes. Okay look, you are focused. It is clear to see you take the job seriously and have goals and a plan for yourself. There is nothing wrong with that. You take the job so seriously that you come off standoffish and—serious.”

You scoffed and shook your head. “Ah-ha, so not only am I boring but I’m a bitch.”

“No, no one thinks you’re a bitch,” Kristen corrected. You shook your head and rubbed your forehead.

“What does it matter what people think about you?”

“I don’t want people thinking I’m boring and a goody two-shoes who is this perfect straight arrow. I’m not perfect, I’m not a goody two-shoes either. I’m a mess, I--,” you stuttered.

“Y/N, calm down.” You took some deep breathes and composed yourself.

“Okay. Thanks, Kristen.”

“Y/N, we got a break,” Jubal informed peeking his head from around the corner.

Thirty minutes later you and OA were in a seedy part of town hunting down a lead in the abduction. CCTV caught images of the potential suspect. You could see movement at the front of the restaurant and saw your suspect walk out. He was laughing and talking as if he had no care in the world. In the back of the truck, you and OA were strapping on your protective vests getting ready to approach. You flinched as you came back up from your hunched over position and sucked in a breath. Looking over, you saw OA watching you with concerned eyes.

“You up for this?”

“Yep.” You pulled on your shirt over the vest and then your jacket.

“Y/N, before we head out there maybe we should talk,” OA began.

“No time.”

“Just like last time, no time?”

Your eyes met and again there was so much to say and no time to do it. Even if you wanted to talk you had no idea what to say.

“OA--.”

“I’ll take lead.” OA was the first to climb out of the truck and begin his slow walk to the restaurant. You followed behind making sure to check behind you. The two of you walked inside the restaurant, him surveilling around while you made it to the counter.

“What can I get ya?”

“A number seven, two and two number nines. Hmmm, what else, anything Pablo?”

OA looked at you with a “really” look. You knew he hated the name Pablo because of a case you worked with another agent who kept calling him Pablo since OA wouldn’t tell his whole name.

“Add a number ten on there, I love that garlic sauce.”

You nodded and looked back to the man behind the counter. He didn’t move, he just stared at the two of you until he made a move to throw a metal napkin holder to you. Ducking out of the way you reached across the counter to grab his head and bang it onto the counter. You heard the scuffling behind you and knew OA was taking on the two creeps that were sitting at the table to the door.

“I’m never talking!” You shuffled over the counter and kicked the perp sending him a few feet back. The fight was a dirty one, he threw things at you and was clearly out for blood. When he pulled a gun you kicked it out of his hand and brought his head to your knee. He groaned and got in a punch to your gut before sweeping his leg under you making you crash to the floor. The pain in your midsection distracted you long enough for him to make a run for it. OA was beside you a few seconds later checking if you were okay.

“Go after him, go!”

You still tried to catch your breath and get the pain under control as you secured the two idiots that dared fight a man that was clearly well over six feet tall and two hundred pounds. Every second that passed you worried about OA. You should have been with him running down the asshole, but you couldn’t. You were supposed to be watching his back and you felt like shit that you couldn’t. It didn’t take you long to recognize that the reason why wasn’t because he was your partner and you were supposed to be with him but because you were worried about his safety, you were scared for him and it went way beyond platonic.

When backup came around they loaded the idiots in the car. The bulletproof vest you wore felt restricting, so you peeled off the jacket and the vest to reveal your white tank underneath with a fresh coating of blood. A paramedic took you to the back of an ambulance and cleaned your wound that was now bleeding again.

When you walked back to the sidewalk it was then OA came around the corner carrying a young girl—the victim.

“Medic, I need a medic!” You hurried over to him; his shirt was covered in blood. You didn’t know if it was the girl’s or his. Panic set in again.

“OA, what happened? Are you okay?”

Two paramedics rushed over with a gurney in time for him to place her on it. once his arms were free you proceeded to check his body for wounds. You touched all over his chest, abdomen, and arms before circling his back to scan even more.

“Hey, hey, I’m fine.”

“You’re bleeding,” you frantically announced.

“It’s not my blood, I’m fine.” Your eyes met and his words finally broke through. You felt his hands on your arms steadying you.

“Are you sure?” He nodded and you finally felt like you could breathe. You dropped your head and took several breaths. OA’s hand fell to your waist, you flinched then groaned. When he saw why his eyes were piercing into yours.

“Are you hit?”

“No, stupid stitches busted. I’m fine.”

“We have to get her to the hospital,” one of the paramedics announced. You watched as they wheeled the seventeen-year-old girl away.

“How did you--?”

“He led me right to her. He was trying to move the truck she was cuffed inside. Turns out her mother is her stepmother and she wanted her out the way so she arranged all of this,” OA informed.

“What?”

“Yeah. I told you behind perfection lies secrets. Come on, let’s get you checked out.”

An hour later you were back in the hospital getting checked out. This time OA didn’t let you out of his sight. Thankfully they allowed you to go home that night and OA was right there to take you. The two of you were in the elevator riding up to your floor in silence. When the doors opened, slowly led the way.

“You don’t have to do this. I’m a big girl, I can get myself home.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you can but I’d feel a lot better knowing I saw you get inside,” OA answered. Nodding you continued walking. You knew better than to try to argue with him. he was just as stubborn as you.

You unlocked your door and walked inside and turned to face him. “Safe and sound.” OA stood there silent just watching you. you watched as he sucked in his bottom lip and nodded.

“I’m sorry.” Confusion decorated his face.

“What? For what?”

“I didn’t have your back. You had to chase him by yourself. I was so winded I couldn’t—I should have had your back and I didn’t. I’m sorry.”

“Y/N, it’s fine. You got knocked on your ass. You needed a minute.”

“I needed a minute because I probably shouldn’t have been out there.” You groaned and rubbed your forehead.

“You felt ready, I’m not going to argue with you about it. I’m fine.”

“What if you weren’t? I thought that blood was yours and I was scared,” you admitted. Silence fell between you and the butterflies in your belly picked up.

“Why were you scared?” His voice dropped a few octaves and it made goosebumps tickle your skin. God, it was sexy.

“Because.” It was a whisper; it was all you could muster. Lowering your head, you averted your eyes. OA took a step to you, but it wasn’t enough to crowd you.

“Tell me.” You took a deep breath and began.

“I thought you were hurt, and I was worried, really worried.” Your eyes met again and neither of you spoke for a few moments.

“Did it feel like your heart was being squeezed? Like no air could come in and because of it there was a burning sensation but also a sharp pins and needles feeling? Did you feel like your life was slowly bring drained?” Every word he spoke fit how you felt to a T.

“Is that how you felt?” Slowly you nodded even though right now you felt overwhelming fear.

“Yeah, I felt it too. I felt it when I saw you take that bullet and every second until you spoke in the hospital. I felt it and so much more, Y/N.”

You had no words, so you remained silent. You just stood there staring at him and listening to your pounding heart.

“Jesus I don’t know how much more I can take,” OA began before he took another step to you. “For a whole year, I’ve tried to keep a wrap on this and remain professional with you. For a year I’ve had to pretend as if I don’t watch you in awe and amazement every day you do something incredible. For a year I’ve had to be this whole different way with you when all I want is the opposite.”

With every word, your breathing became even more erratic. You couldn’t believe he was saying what he was.

“You’re the crazy thing, Y/N. I know the rules and what I’m feeling are definitely against them, but I don’t care. I care about you.”

You plastered your hand across his mouth to shut him up. “Stop, don’t. Just don’t. We can back away from this night and pretend like it never happened and move on and keep things status quo. We can stop right now, and no one would have crossed any lines. We can do that just—don’t say those words.”

From the look in his eyes, you could tell he was not going to back down. He was going to commit and commit fully. Using one of his colossal hands he took your hand from his mouth, but he held on to it.

“I don’t think I can keep pretending. I’ve always known life is fleeting being in the military and in Iraq I saw how tangible life was and come here doing what we do day in and day out, I know life is precious. Seeing you hurt hammered it home. I don’t want to pretend anymore. I don’t want to leave anything unsaid, or anything undone. I want to do the crazy things I dream of. I want to live—but only with you. So I can’t keep things status quo and if you were honest with yourself you don’t want to either.”

Damn it, you thought. He’d spend a year learning you, reading you, doing everything they’d taught him at Quantico. He knew you; you didn’t want him to, but he did. Since he did he took another step to you. There was no professionalism between you now, that last step erased it all.

“I have feelings for you, Y/N, feelings I’ve held on to since damn near the day you walked in and brought Florida sunshine with you. I can’t go back,” OA confessed. In the process, he took your breath away.

The day you met him you knew he would be a distraction. You’d put up a good fight, but it was always a losing one. You saw that now, in this moment, with him less than a foot before you, waiting patiently for you to say the words he knew you felt.

“Tell me. Say the words,” OA whispered.

“This is crazy.” OA smirked and nodded. His hand fell to your waist and rested there barely touching you.

“Be crazy with me. Be imperfect with me.” His encouragement made the butterflies in your belly flutter more erratically. It was useless to fight it and fight your increasing feelings.

“I—have feelings for—you too,” you whispered. He searched your eyes as if trying to make sure there was no lie behind the words. Slowly he pulled to you him closing the gap between you. Your bodies barely touched but you could feel the heat coming off of him. slowly OA inched his head closer to yours until his forehead rested against yours. He released a relieved breath before taking another deep one.

“I have feelings for you, real ones that I’ve never felt before,” OA added. You nodded agreeing fully. “You too?” Again, you nodded. His smile was beautiful, it was the first thing that you fell for.

Slowly your lips move closer until they touched, but neither of you moved. You just remained still taking it in. After a few seconds OA was the first to really kiss you. The kiss was slow, timid and exploratory and you reciprocated every second of it. His hand on your waist held you tighter until your bodies were touching. The hardness of his muscled torso against your soft one had you moaning on his lips. OA mimicked the moan which had you both intensifying the kiss. OA’s free hand cupped your cheek before you felt his tongue delve into your mouth. It was like a dam broke. You passionately kissed him, holding onto his waist with one hand and gripping his back with the other. The feel of his moan against your lips made you want more. Slowly you pulled away.

“I’m not boring.” OA smiled.

“I know.”

“I can do crazy,” you continued. Again, he smiled and nodded.

“I bet you can.” You smiled and kissed him again while gripping his tie holding him to you. The two of you stood in your doorway full on making out not caring who saw. Every second that went by the more you wanted him and the more you were tempted to pull him inside your apartment. OA’s hand slid to your hip where he squeezed sending a fresh wave of arousal to sweep through you. Before the kiss got any more carried away OA pulled back from you.

“Wow. That’s what I’ve been missing.” You smirked and pinched your lips.

“I don’t want to rush you or take advantage. I’m not after just this, I want more.”

“How much more?” Again, his smile took your breath away.

“Everything.”

His confession brought you back to reality. While it was sweet it was also an awakening. He was your partner. Was everything possible? The bureau had rules, regulations, and policies. Dating your partner was strictly frowned upon. This could break your career and set you back years. Both of you must have thought the same thing because he even nodded his head while he looked down. He didn’t move though, he still held you to his body.

“So many nights I’ve had this dream. So many nights I’d stare out my window over the horizon and think about you here wondering what you were doing. I want this Y/N. I want you.”

Your eyes met again, and it was like looking through glass, his feelings were so evident so transparent. It spoke to you. you softly caressed his bearded cheek then kissed him while pulling him into your apartment. Reality could wait until sunrise.

You dropped onto the couch in your living room and made out for hours. His hands explored your body while remaining respectful as he got familiar with your lips and the sensitive skin of your neck. In between kissing, he confessed his true thoughts of you when he first met you, confessed how beautiful he thought you were. It was then he made you confess your thoughts too. From there the two of you went through your interactions together that both of you thought your feelings were so obvious.

It made you feel closer to him and even more attracted than ever. To think you both had felt this way from the very start and had denied it for so long was insane. Everything between you felt as natural as breathing, it never felt weird. You just fell into step like it made sense—you made sense. When talking was pointless you allowed your lips and hands to take over in the conversation. Of course both of you were tempted to go further but neither of you did. Besides dry humping on each other and kissing over places of each other’s bodies everything remained very tame. Every time you felt his hardness you were even more tempted than you ever imagined you would be. From what you felt you knew he was blessed in more ways than just appearances.

By the time you finally pulled apart from each other and stopped whispering, giggling and cuddling together it was nearing four-thirty in the morning.

“I’m going to leave to let you get a little bit of sleep,” OA whispered in between kisses.

“Okay.” Your response should have been the end of it, but it wasn’t. you kept kissing and caressing each other until another five minutes passed and you were back on the couch. This happened four times without accomplishing anything.

Finally, he walked to the door alone thinking it would be smarter for you to stay on the couch. When he turned to look at you again he smiled softly. “We’re doing this—you and me?”

You didn’t know what to say so you smiled like a schoolgirl making him smile widely. “All right,” OA said before he walked through the door only to come back to kiss you once more before hurrying out.

“See you soon.”

When he was gone you couldn’t stop smiling for a good ten minutes. You squealed in your couch and giggled like an idiot. It was impossible to stop. It was also disgusting how bubbly you felt. You felt lite and full of energy. It wasn’t until you’d managed to take out your badge and place it on your nightstand did reality come creeping back in. For the first time, your bubbly feeling slowly faded leaving a very sobering feeling that was very similar to dreadful worry.

“Fuck!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

***If you want to be tagged please SEND AN ASK SO IT WILL BE EASIER FOR ME TO KEEP TRACK OF. Thank you for reading!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

TagList:

@titty-teetee @bamakakechick @bellaamore88 @theblulife @sunjashunterbugjohnson @tonilaney @lo-cheu @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety @ajspencer1892 @dangerouslovefanfic @alyxkbrl @melaninhawtie @simplyyamberr @airis-paris14 @ashanti-notthesinger @afraiddreamingandloving @wakanda-inspired @chillavesss @drsunshine97 @cleothegoldfish @builtalongthewayside @theunsweetenedtruth @geeksareunique @aykanna @hanasamara @profilia @ollieveracity @autumn242 @missyperle @sup3rn0va13 @chaneajoyyy @forbeautyandlife @kreolemami @designerwriterchic @theskullgoddess @maxcullen @disaster-rose @bugngiz @winchwm @jovanaprime

#partners mini series #zeeko zaki #Zeeko zaki fanfiction #oa zidan #oa zidan fanfiction #FBI fanfiction #oa zidan x reader #oa Zidan x you #oa Zidan x black reader #zeeko zaki x reader #black fanfiction #slow burn fanfic #partners fic

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whitewolfofwinterfell · 4 years

Note

if prue had met paige how would they get along and what do you think would happen? and do you think they have any similarities? I would love your full meta on this

Honestly, anon, I’ve thought about this a lot over the years and I still struggle to imagine what would’ve happened if Prue and Paige had met and what their relationship would’ve been like. There are so many possibilities and factors to take into consideration. If you ask me on another day, you might even get a different response, but here are my thoughts on this topic.

If Piper had died instead of Prue in All Hell Breaks Loose and season 4 started in the exact same way, I think Prue would’ve reacted to Paige the same way as Piper did. Recently, I’ve become more and more aware of the ways that Piper was turned into Prue 2.0 from season 4 onwards and this is what demonstrates it most for me. Piper’s reaction to losing Prue and finding Paige is exactly how I’d imagine Prue’s would be. The only difference is that Prue would’ve been worse. As the eldest sister, Prue felt it was her solemn duty to protect her sisters. She shouldered the burden of responsibility and was devoted to keeping them safe. If either one of them had died on her watch, the damage it would’ve done to her would’ve been irreparable. Prue would not have been grief stricken, she’d feel like she’d failed, that it was her fault and she would’ve been adamant that she was going to do something to bring Piper back, no matter the cost. If that failed, she’d turn her attention to revenge. All of this would’ve made it very difficult, if not impossible, for Prue to accept Paige or even remotely open herself up to the possibility of having another sister. Prue would be enraged - at the injustice of Piper’s death, at herself for failing Piper, at Leo for not being able to heal Piper, at the Elders for not doing more and at Penny and Patty for lying to her about Paige her entire life. Her emotions would be overwhelming and because of her stubbornness, it would most likely take her longer to push past that than it did for Piper. The one thing that would bring Prue around to Paige would be her being in danger. Knowing that The Source/Shax was after Paige would make Prue determined to stop him. That’d most likely result in a transference, whereby her anger and grief became an unhealthy obsession with hunting Shax down and killing him for revenge. I could really see Prue going completely rogue like Leo in season 6 with Gideon. She would stop at nothing to avenge Piper’s death.

Prue’s resistance to Paige wouldn’t be because of Paige, it would be because of herself - because of her grief and identity crisis as the eldest sister. But I think once she started to accept Piper’s death, she would’ve gone in the complete opposite direction and embraced Paige fiercely to overcompensate for the loss of Piper. This would involve her taking Paige under her wing, being overly protective, teaching her about the craft and acknowledging that Paige was an innocent. Paige would be Prue’s second chance in a sense - a chance to be the eldest sister again and to forge an eldest-youngest sibling relationship more positive than the one she had with Phoebe. Prue’s growth and foresight from her experiences with Phoebe would allow her to be more patient and understanding regarding Paige’s recklessness and impulsivity. It would also improve her relationship with Phoebe because she’d turn to Phoebe for advice and guidance, and to keep her grounded. Phoebe would fulfil that middle sister role perfectly. I think Paige’s inferiority complex with Prue in canon would’ve transformed into her viewing Prue as a role model if Prue had survived. Prue’s natural flair and dedication to witchcraft would’ve inspired Paige and allowed her to develop her skills and powers at an even faster and greater extent than she did in canon. There’d definitely be a power struggle between them, particularly in the early days, because both of them are stubborn and independent. In the original dynamic, Prue was used to having control and making decisions for the group, but Paige wasn’t the sort of person to sit back and take orders. Overall, I think the two of them would’ve butted heads a lot and had a very rocky start, but eventually it would evolve into a beautiful dynamic. Prue would’ve taken more time to guide Paige, not just as a witch but as a person. In season 4, Paige was a lost soul. She was an orphan without a family, she was working a job that she believed in but wasn’t satisfied with and she had a lot of ‘what ifs’ and ‘maybes’ going on. Prue would’ve helped her with this. Furthermore, their similar personalities and approaches would instil them with a mutual respect and understanding, whilst their strength and dedication to witchcraft would lead them to be a powerhouse duo.

Regarding their similarities, Prue and Paige’s main similarity was their perspective on magic. They saw their duties as witches as important and they were devoted to saving innocents. Prue and Paige considered being a witch a proper job as much as any other traditional job. They always went that step further in practising or perfecting their craft, and never wished away their powers or perceived magic as a burden. They were also both incredibly strong willed and operated on their gut instincts, which were nearly always right. They had a creative streak - Paige with painting and Prue with photography - and this is something that would bond them. Prue and Paige were also the two sisters out of the four that felt the least traditional. By which I mean they never seemed as concerned with motherhood or marriage as Piper and Phoebe did. They were more driven by their careers and being a witch (and/or whitelighter in Paige’s case). I’d also say that Prue and Paige were natural leaders. Their drive, determination and skill when it came to witchcraft meant they were full of ideas and actively thrived on their work as witches. Both also had the confidence, intelligence, power and empathy to take the lead. Obviously, this is the one similarity that would’ve caused tension between them as they grappled to be the leader. However, I think it would’ve led to growth for both of them. Prue would’ve learned to let go a little more and to trust Paige to take over, and Paige would’ve learned to respect that although she had ideas and drive, Prue was the more experienced and wiser sister.

Overall, Prue and Paige are a complex dynamic to analyse because it’s all based on guess work. The fact that I feel like I know both characters quite well does help to some extent, but not enough. However, I think if you look to Piper and Paige’s relationship you’ll see almost a carbon copy of what Prue and Paige’s relationship would’ve looked like. That’s really because the sister dynamics on Charmed aren’t shaped by the characters personalities as much as they are by the sister hierarchy. Allow me to explain.

There are two main sister groupings:

1. Prue, Piper and Phoebe 2. Piper, Phoebe and Paige

Within these two groupings there are always 3 sister pairings: eldest-middle, eldest-youngest, middle-youngest. Now let’s look at the pairings that fall under these headings and compare.

Eldest-middle

Prue and Piper

Piper and Phoebe

Both dynamics are characterised by mutual love and understanding. These two pairings get on very well - their relationships are loving, affectionate and are best friends as well as sisters. The eldest has a level of responsibility and burden that comes from being the eldest, that only the middle sister can fully appreciate and understand. The middle sister is fully allied with the eldest and supportive of what they do and how they do it. This leads the eldest sister to lean on the middle sister to be in her corner and to keep her grounded. For the eldest sister, the middle sister represents consistency - somebody who will always be there. The eldest sister feels protective about the middle sister whom they feel a deep bond to and at various points the eldest sister feels she has let down the middle sister in her duty to protect her (1. Prue lets Piper down in Coyote Piper and 2. Piper lets Phoebe down in Queen of the Underworld). Overall, the eldest-middle dynamic is a plain sailing dynamic of two best friends who are extremely close and rely upon each other.

Eldest-youngest

Prue and Phoebe

Piper and Paige

Both dynamics are characterised by an initial clash of personalities and power struggle. The eldest struggles with the youngest’s recklessness and lack of responsibility. The youngest finds the eldest judgemental, mean and too serious. As a result, the eldest sister chastises the youngest sister, pushing the youngest sister further away, making her want to rebel and go off on her own. Nonetheless, despite surface level disdain, the eldest sister is fiercely protective of the youngest and the youngest seeks the eldest’s approval and respects them immensely. Tensions prevail between the two; they disagree on how to approach situations and struggle to work together without clashing. However, over time, the eldest and youngest are able to push their differences aside, empathise, develop patience and appreciate the other sister for how she is different to herself.

Middle-youngest

Piper and Phoebe

Phoebe and Paige

Similar to the eldest-middle, this relationship is one between friends. However, it operates on the basis that the middle sister understands the youngest sister where the eldest one fails. The middle sister probably finds the youngest sister’s naivety irritating at times, but mostly they find it endearing and accept them for who they are. The middle sister strives to bridge the gap between the eldest and youngest, as a result the youngest relies on the middle sister as her greatest ally. If the youngest sister is in a tight spot, she will turn to the middle sister for non-judgemental support and advice.

So you see, the sister dynamics follow this same formula no matter who happens to be in the duo. The nuances of these sister relationships do differ, but the foundation of them is rooted in these outlines which were established by Constance M. Burge when she first created the show. Therefore, Prue and Paige would fall into the eldest-youngest and have a similar dynamic to Piper and Paige or Prue and Phoebe. Although I personally believe Piper and Paige is more reflective of the relationship Prue and Paige would’ve had, particularly in the beginning.

#answered #anonymous #charmed #prue x paige #my meta #charmed meta

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mor-beck-more-problems · 4 years

Text

Special Delivery || Morgan & Otto

TIMING: the recent past, during the reign of Shroomdre

LOCATION: Morgan & Deirdre’s house

PARTIES: @gravityfissure @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: Deirdre’s husband stops by bearing gifts.

CONTAINS: Discussions of fairy ring binding

The sling was a hindrance and one Otto was surely ready to be done with, but apparently a grade two ACJ sprain obtained in the duty of fulfilling this mushroom marriage shtick needed a few weeks of immobilisation in this fashion to repair. He’d managed and there were things he could do to work around it but it was starting to get annoying. But at least he was fulfilling his end of the bargain. Unfortunately, it did mean the bike was out of the question and he’d had to pay the Uber extra to not ask any questions about the large netted pile of toasters that were shoved into the back seat on route to their destination. Pressing his temple against the cool glass, for a moment he simply closed his eyes Deirdre’s words playing over in his head.

You’re going to be a devout husband and serve the mushrooms with me, am I clear, you pathetic human?

Maybe this wasn’t the best distraction he could’ve come up with in the face of everything else going on lately. But it was the only one that had been provided to him and the one he’d taken. Plus, at least with Deirdre he had some guesstimation of what he was getting involved with. So she wanted to murder him? Get in line. He’d dealt with murderers before, knew their type and their ego. They were easy enough to maneuver around if you knew what you were doing no matter what species they were. At the end of the day their goal was the same.

Arriving at their destination, Otto hefted the netted haul out the backseat. The toasters clattering on impact with the sidewalk and screeching as he made his way up the drive to ring the doorbell and wait for Deirdre.

Morgan jumped to the door, hoping it was Urk with her fresh brains from the butcher. Deirdre, or Mushroom Deirdre, whoever her girlfriend was today, was getting up to a lot these days, but picking up brains after work wasn’t really one of them lately. She had his customary glass of lemonade ready (Urk liked it extra watery for...some reason) and opened the door, a relieved, “Hey!” on her lips when she realized...this was not Urk. But Not-Urk did seem to have a heck of a lot of toasters on hand, which could really only mean one thing. “...You must be Otto.” She did her best to salvage a smile. This was...probably not his fault, although from what she’d heard, he did deserve some of this. “You can leave those at the door. Your mushroom queen isn’t home right now.”

Otto was lost in his own thoughts over recent events as the door opened, but he pulled some semblance of his typical exuberant energy around himself. It was an easy enough facade to fall into. Excessive energy that seemed almost boundless in its enthusiasm and bolstered his own mood. Though where his mouth opened with a cheery greeting, it died away into a look of mild mannered confusion. “Oh uh-” it felt rude to ask who this person was, someone Deirdre lived with, which didn’t bode well. Both because of what he was currently stuck in and considering he didn’t even have an honest clue who she was because Deirdre had never- it took a few before his memory clicked. Or maybe she had. Once in passing. But the name eluded him. Too lost in the mesmerising fae display at the fairy ring. Meg? Moore? Moray? “Yeah! Um hi...” he half debated offering his hand but figured that might be rude and presumptuous, he ended up dropping a few of the propped up toasters with a clank to raise his hand in a small wave instead. “Yeah… I ahhh- didn’t know what she actually wanted any of these for,” he glanced at the small mountain of plastic and metal reflection behind him before he looked at the figure in the doorway once more “she just ordered me to get them. So… I thought I’d just… bring them over… I got more than expected this mime lady gave me like a hundred for the mushrooms-” he caught himself mid-ramble shaking his head and blinking away the haze of thoughts fast spiralling. “Sorry- I didn’t mean to uh, disturb you ma’am.”

Morgan arched a brow. This was a lot less impressive than what she had expected, but maybe Deirdre had been more on the money than Morgan had realized when she said the humans brought into the ring were usually pretty pathetic. She frowned, grimacing inwardly as she remembered Emma Mushrow. She fit the description as well as Otto seemed to on the surface, but she hadn’t deserved anything like what had happened to her. She was a fucking kid. Learning how to be more was her job. Otto...well, maybe his ‘husbandly duties’ were wearing on him. She probably didn’t look like hot shit either in her house sweats. Morgan held out the glass of lemonade she’d made for Urk. There was more in the pitcher, getting waterier by the minute. “I don’t know what they’re for either,” she shrugged, “But, you can have this before you go. I’ll take good care of the toasters myself.”

Otto’s eyes flickered between the glass of lemonade and back to her, there was uncertainty in the glance. Trying to figure out what angle was being played here, because everyone played some kind of angle. Eventually though he reached out and took it with his one good hand “thanks” he took a sip and suddenly had to fight the urge to pull a face at how watery it was. Who made watery lemonade? “Oh-- wow, that’s good!” a lie but lying came as easily as anything else to him and it was easy to make it convincing, he lifted the glass up to study the contents “is that homemade? I’ve never been able to make good lemonade.” A true story and weird considering his daytime occupation. It was then that he heard the gobble, and his head turned in the direction they came from and his expression significantly brightened in disbelief and plain as day amusement “oh no way… Deirdre was serious?” he glanced at Morgan when the turkey gobbled again, walking into view and Otto stared at it for a moment “sorry- is this that damn bird she keeps calling her son? Is this another fae thing?”

Morgan’s face scrunched up with disgust. “...You...what?” Reached to snatch the glass back. “I was just giving it to you to be polite. And because you look sweaty and...” She made a face, indicating the unspoken gross. “ I know it’s extra watery, because that’s how my delivery guy says he likes it. And, you know, polite gratitude is one thing, but don’t play it up like that. It’s just...weird.”

Butterball’s plucks and gobbles from the garden he was hell bent on destroying added another dollop of perfect to the afternoon. Of course Butterball now had a reputation to precede him, and, really, wasn't it better for Mushroom Deirdre to spend whatever time she did with Otto talking about the turkey than about whatever details of their personal life she happened to remember. Morgan winced. “Yeah, that’s Butterball. Consolation prize for the craft fair. She uh, submitted a photo of herself in the Fine Art category, because she’s crafted her own fine, artful beauty.” Even in relating the small anecdote, Morgan’s temperament warmed. A fond smile softened her face and she found herself going on, saying, “Obviously I don’t think Butterball counts as just compensation, but she’s crazy about him for now. Listen, you don’t look like you’re in mortal danger, which is great, and I really need you off my front step as fast as your Otto-y legs can take you and to see you again as seldom to never as possible. But, if you want, I can whip you up a snack or a drink that actually tastes good first.”

“Sweaty?” his eyes narrowed in indignation, something that carried over into his tone sharp and sudden in place of the relatively mild-mannered politeness that had been fronted. “And I drank it because I was trying to be polite when it tastes like pi- horrific, who the hell drinks lemonade like that?”

Clearly this was a bad idea, not that he’d known this was going to happen when he turned up. All he’d wanted was to drop these bloody toasters off and get the hell out of dodge, instead he now faced being called sweaty when it wasn’t even warm out? Otto could tolerate a fair bit, but random accusations that were bloody well unfounded just weren’t something he could stand for. “Clearly you’re mad, and I’m sorry for this. I am” he stated quite sincerely despite the indignation that lingered following the accusation. “But I’m not sure why you’re blaming me when I didn’t do anything other than show up when a friend asked me to. Seven hells lady, Deirdre invited me, told me it’d be a fun time, how the hell was I supposed to know I’d end up bound to her every bloody desire?” He grimaced at the claim of a lack of mortal danger standing there with his arm in a sling, that apparently if it’d been worse might’ve needed pinning back in place, “sure, because there was no risk in her bloody toaster obsession that I ended up falling four storeys out of a window for it. Thanks for the apparent concern for the person who’s your girl’s living slave.” He really hadn’t foreseen things going quite to this extent. “I am genuinely sorry for any distress I’ve caused but if you’ve got an issue take it up with the one that instigated this whole thing in the first place. Which was not me.”

He glanced at the bird, a consolation prize. Though typical of Deirdre to send in a photo of herself for the fair. But it did little to provide an alternative topic to discuss. “I’m fine thank you. Apologies for infringing on your time and watery lemonade.”

“I’m...not blaming you, Otto. Or her, for that matter,” Morgan said, pinching the bridge of her nose. She supposed he was entitled to his anger, copious and sudden as it seemed, but she didn’t want any part of it. Or him. “And I don’t know what this uh...four storey window misadventure is or how gnarly it was, but, you’re not dead and mostly able. Not everyone who gets brought into a fairy ring gets to say that. But I can appreciate your exasperation. If you need a bail out, or some medical bills covered that’s related to this, you can let me know. I can try to take care of that for you. I don’t not-care, okay? I just don’t want to have to look at the guy calling himself Deirdre’s husband.” She bent down and started piling up the toasters in her arms. “Maybe get some rest and stay offline for awhile, huh? She can’t boss you around if she can’t reach you, right?”

“It sure as hell feels like I’m being blamed for all this.” Otto grimaced, shifting his weight onto the balls of his feet and then rocking back again tired and frustrated with everything that was going on. “She has no control and this person with no control has total control of me - she’s bloody well told me I have to be a perfect husband and I can’t help but say those things because that’s what a perfect husband would say wouldn’t they? I don’t want to bloody well say that shite and I am sorry for it- truly.” He shook his head a little, “it’s fine, I can cover my own bills and I’m not here to extort anyone.” Otto glanced back at the house but ultimately a forlorn look was given to Morgan, slightly pleading at that “when is she gonna be back? Because I really was hoping to ask her to just end this. Please. Or… Can’t you talk to her? Try and convince her this is a bad idea and to end it?” He wasn’t sure it would work, but if Deirdre truly loved Morgan maybe it was worth a shot.

“Are you asking for my pity?” Morgan asked, balancing the toasters on her hip as she opened the garage to put them away. With the pile started, she trekked back to Otto’s pile to grab the rest. “Because I have a couple of designated spoons for pity, but you can’t have ‘em all. I don’t know when she’ll be back. I don’t make it a habit to supervise my girlfriend’s movements at the best of times, and at a time like this, well, I think sometimes she tries to tell me but it doesn’t make any sense. And I’ll be honest, I don’t even know if she can let you go. Mushroom rings are uh, next level stuff. But, I can ask her about it. See what happens.” She set the last of the toasters down and dusted her hands. She didn’t rightly care if it had all looked suspiciously too much for one tiny woman to be carrying. She had housework to get back to and a floor that was calling her name oh, so seductively with its freshly polished shine. “No promises, but I’ll ask. Worst that could happen is you have to stay in this as long as she does, and it’s only a week or two.”

“No, jus’ me saying I hope you can understand this isn’t personal or- I dunno, that it’s not done with any kinda intent to hurt you or anything like that… ‘cause I don’t even know you. I’m not a homewrecker, I’m not I swear. Deirdre’s a friend. Or, she was until this.” Otto wasn’t sure why he even felt compelled to explain himself, that was a newfound development. Deirdre was fun, but she was trouble all in one and he wasn’t sure this was the kind of fun he could really get used to. He tried not to look too disheartened at the prospect of Deirdre not being able to let him go but it wasn’t easily done. “Please. I’d appreciate it if you would. I’d seriously owe you for it if you could get her to end it… I really don’t want to be an issue for you and I’d be willing to try almost anything to get this stopped.” And considering some of Deirdre’s remarks Otto wasn’t sure a week was something he’d honestly survive.

“I know you don’t,” Morgan grumbled. It would have been a lot more convenient if he was, but she knew from the sheer inconvenience of this all if not from all the horror stories that true human consent was rare. Even if they did go in willingly, mushroomed fae had a funny way of not making the terms and conditions clear. “That doesn’t mean I want to see you at our house.” She wasn’t sure how, but having a face to the name made everything harder and twice as painful. Morgan held herself tight, chewing on the unfairness of this all, a piece of gum in her mouth that never had its flavor in the first place. “For the record, she is your friend. Not like this, this isn’t who she really is. But if she was your friend before, she’ll want to be again. She’ll be sorry, I think, if that makes any difference to you.” Morgan crept backwards into the house. “I’ll talk to her, see if the part of her that doesn’t belong to the mushrooms can hear and change her mind. Good luck til then.”

#special delivery #wr otto #wr chatzy #wr otto chatzy #wickedswriting

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dinrelsanddragons · 3 years

Text

A drabble I wrote in early December. Takes place prior to Twilight Princess.

In her little dress, Noel carefully peered around the corner, hoping no one would see her. In truth, several people saw her, but not the two she meant to avoid, for they were quite distracted with each other.

Mama. Papa.

It had been a while since they had talked. Vair hadn't come home for a week now, choosing instead to sleep in the barracks with the other knights. Shanzira couldn't fathom why he would do this– she hadn't done anything, not a thing in years, that would drive him away from her. After first realizing her attractions to him, she'd attentively noted his dislikes so as to avoid them.

"Vair?"

Even as she approached, on those ginger tiptoes that pointed inward with anxiety, she feared this wasn't going to go well. "Vair, please talk to me. What's wrong?" In his years of experience at his post, Vair knew how to ignore distractions and focus on his job. Never before, however, had that distraction been so personal– his wife, the mother of his daughter, his beloved. On the verge of tears, at that. He didn't know what to say, and it was only the thought of his duty that kept his expression straight.

Shanzira gave him a few seconds for good measure. She wondered if he needed a moment to compose what to say to the wife he had been avoiding. But that seemed not to be the case; he seemed intent on shunning her as if they'd never met. "What did I do, Vair? What's going on? Noel misses you." Not returning to the arms of his wife meant not seeing his daughter. His eyes flicked to a corner, around which he could just see a tinge of red hair– oh, goddesses, the girl had followed her mother here. In truth, Vair didn't know what to do. Avoiding Shanzira had been the simplest solution to his problem, but a temporary one, apparently.

He wondered how 'temporary' this marriage was to be.

His wife was under investigation. They had met on the field of battle years ago, Vair saving Shanzira from the horde of monsters and gifting her his halberd for her own protection. But there were absolutely no records of her existence prior to that. None of residence, none of birth, not even gossip about a red-haired, round-eared woman. Anywhere.

He had wondered how this had not been apparent before. How it was that this literal nobody had been able to create an existence for herself, a comfortable life in a crucial position– married to one of the king's guards. She had never spoken of her past, but focused solely on the present. Never of the future, though. Vair had been the one to bring it up, when he had proposed to her. He had never once thought to look the other way...

She had crafted the perfect position for a spy. That was the king's fear. Vair was the perfect conduit to receive information about the royalty from. He was careful never to repeat any sensitive information he accidentally overheard, and he thought he had vetted Shanzira for any sign of a volatile temperament.

In truth, he couldn't imagine her to be anything but who she said she was, who he had seen her be. An artist, a wife, a mother, a storyteller...

"Vair, can't you even look at me?" Her voice shivered with grief from what felt like some distance away as he was in his thoughts, despite there not being so much as a foot of distance between them. A small hand rose up as if to touch his face, but pulled back quickly, as Shanzira feared what his boundaries on the job might be. "Please stop this. Please come home. Talk to me again. Spend time with your daughter, let her see her playmate again."

Zelda. Goddesses, the princess and Vair's daughter got along like two peas in a pod. Shanzira would recite stories to them and the children would listen attentively, mesmerized by every word. Those stories were laced with information only the royals could have known, was what the king told Vair. Shanzira knew such facets and details that it was as if she had personally lived through those events... Vair had had to choose where his loyalties truly lay, and they were with the king. But it was a painful choice to make, and every night he had lost hours of sleep thinking, wondering: Had he been right? Should he have protested further the king's decision? To do so would have been to risk his livelihood... but now he risked his heart.

Out of the corner of his eye, Vair witnessed tears snaking down his wife's face. He had only that brief moment of warning before she turned around and began to sob, unable to stand looking at his face anymore. She tugged her hood over her face and exited, walking briskly to the point that the now-apparent Noel had to run to keep up.

From behind the door Vair guarded, he faintly heard something. If he had to take a guess, it was a deep sigh... from none other than the king himself.

He felt a twinge in his chest. Even the king had his regrets. Perhaps, then, he would be willing to listen to reason, assuming the investigation bore no fruit that would incriminate Shanzira. Perhaps traces of an idyllic past could be brought up, but from what Vair had been able to tell, there was simply nothing to find. As if she had sprung into existence on the day they'd met.

A cry rent him from his thoughts. A child's wail, filled with pain. His child's wail. "Paaapaaaa! Want Papaaaa! Mama, pleeeeeease!"

He closed his eyes, gently as he could when he was so aggrieved. Tears streamed down. Would that his uniform had the luxury of a hood like his wife had, that he could have hidden them...

PART 2

For over a week, Shanzira had been unable to bring herself to put pen to parchment. Inspiring as emotions could be– even the negative– there was nothing artistic about what she felt. She could not continue to write her stories– she had no motivation when she had only Noel to tell them to– and she had thrown out every charcoal sketch she had thus far made. There was nothing to do regarding her work but place her head to her desk and try not to cry. If she hadn't had Noel to look after, she might have gone mad. Something about being responsible for another person kept her sanity in check.

As the little one napped in a chamber adjacent to Shanzira's study, she heard a click. The distinct sound of a doorknob turning. Shanzira twisted around in her chair, wondering who it could be. Perhaps someone had arrived with divorce papers. She prayed not. Or she was under arrest. Or something worse yet... As the door began to open, Shanzira leapt to her feet with a hand on the hilt of her dagger, ever prepared to defend herself. Her thoughts went to the halberd displayed on the wall, with a twinge of pain– the same halberd her husband had given her so long ago.

The door swung wide, and Shanzira dropped her arm by her side in shock. How could she have seen this coming, a visit from the king himself? Trembling in fear and anticipating the worst, she hurried to a kneel– praying that a show in sincerity and loyalty would mitigate whatever punishment lay in store for her.

She betrayed a single glance back up, and noted her husband behind him. What was this? What could it be?

"Rise, Lady Shanzira. I would speak with you."

It called back to her youth, of being summoned to authority figures to be scolded and punished. When being in trouble was the worst imaginable fate. Regardless, Shanzira stood back up, unsteady at first but regaining her balance quickly enough. Averting her eyes, she didn't see the king's expression. Nor did she really know his face that well. She had no indication apart from tone of voice of what his intent might be.

"You have presented quite the quandary of late, a quandary that we should have seen long ago. You are the spouse to a royal guard, and on occasion a caretaker of Princess Zelda. Yet there is no information on you prior to five years ago. Your history cannot be tracked by any means imaginable, though prior to now it has not been a problem. Thus you have eluded any kind of investigation... until your role as my daughter's storyteller began."

With that final sentence, a revelation hit Shanzira like a blow from her husband's claymore.

The dazed look on her face must have betrayed her thoughts, as the king cleared his throat before continuing. "Your tales began as fanciful and clearly works of a creative imagination, though at the apparent request of your daughter turned more historical. So historical, in fact, that they hit the nail on the head. They could not be more accurate. Or detailed. Such information has been privy only to members of the royal family until you appeared. You have paid few visits to the royal library, and you could not possibly know the location of the secret library. This was why I ordered my agents to look into your past. I do not like unanswerable questions."

"They have found nothing. There are no records of you, or anyone like you, existing anywhere. Even one so close to you as your own husband and daughter have no inkling of where you came from. My final recourse is to turn directly to you. So, you will tell me... and we will be here as long as it takes to hear the truth out of you."

A silence followed.

Where to begin. Shanzira thought briefly of Noel, still asleep in her crib, and wondered if she might wake before she finished telling her tale. A tale she had no choice but to share, at this point. She chanced a look to Vair's face, over the king's shoulder, and noted a regretful expression, his eyes cast down and to the side and his brows tented.

"I don't know if you'll believe the truth." She wanted to be clear with that. "I hail from a very strange and technologically advanced world, with no magic or monsters. There is but one intelligent species of life. In this world, the world of Hyrule is known but considered entirely fiction. Stories are told from the viewpoint of the hero, of his struggles against evil. They span many different eras and ages. They are stories that I followed intently.

"I didn't know what to think when I awoke on a battlefield, surrounded by monsters. If Vair hadn't been there that day, I would have died without a clue. I did my best to blend in to my environment and say nothing about this bizarre place I came from, or I'd be written off as a madwoman. I was extremely lucky in that the same man who defended me from monsters also found me a place to live and gainful employment. Not to mention, we ended up falling in love and having a kid. I suppose I couldn't have it all for long, though."

Her eyes drifted downward at the last sentence. She didn't believe it likely, even now, that the king would believe her. And Vair, his regretful expression? It could have meant anything.

"So you do not know how you came to be here." The king scratched his chin thoughtfully. Shanzira had definitely explained the cause of her knowledge, but her presence was a mystery. "Very well."

Eh? Shanz risked a glance at his face, but failed to read his expression in the brief time she saw it. "I am not satisfied, but for now, it will be enough. I understand this investigation has caused your husband and you much grief. I will allow you to resume watching over my daughter... if you know Hyrule as if it were a book, then perhaps your knowledge may come in useful."

"Your Majesty," Vair piped up, "does this mean–?"

"Yes, Sir Vair. You may return to the arms of your loving wife."

Oof!

Shanzira almost fell over from the force with which Vair collided into her, one of his arms wrapped tightly around her upper back and the other resting atop her head. Shanz could barely breathe with her face trapped in her husband's chest. She pushed against him just enough to look at his face, and saw radiant joy upon his features, to the point of tears glistening in his eyes.

"I'm never doing that to you again. Never."

Shanz still needed a moment to process it all, but for now... it was welcome to have Vair back.

"He ordered me not to say a word," he explained at the quizzical look on Shanz's face. "He tried to hide the whole thing from me... but I could see you were being watched."

"Indeed." The king almost chuckled, or perhaps scoffed. "He was beside himself when he came to me with his little discovery. I have work to return to."

"Of course, Sire." Vair didn't so much as turn his head to the king, but kept his eyes focused on Shanzira. Silence followed but for the king's footsteps as he exited, and once those faded from earshot, Vair released Shanzira. "I'm so sorry."

She wasn't a hundred percent sure she had forgiven him yet, but... he'd been between a rock and a hard place. If nothing else, Shanz could forget. She raised a hand to rub out the tension between her eyebrows. "I'm still upset over it, but I at least understand. And you might like to know that Noel is asleep right now..."

Vair blinked. "What... does that have to do with this?"

"I will tell you," Shanzira answered lowly. "It has to do with the fact that you're coming with me to the bedroom. And we're going to be there for a bit while you pay me back for over a week of loneliness..."

#Out of Claymores

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