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bts-0t-7 · 3 months

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So What? | MYG | Love-In-Making

WC: 1612, ≈1.6K

A/N: For Boongie’s bday… Here is something for us as well 😀

There was no way you would have ever believed him when he said that he never celebrates his birthday. But at the same time, you could imagine seeing him curled up in the corner of the street - a birthday was no different than any other day for him. He still needed to find shelter, still needed to rummage through to find food. It would have been just another day of survival.

You wanted to change that - to help him see how important this day was to you and others. You understood his perspective on days like these but he gladly spent effort arranging your birthdays but never his. It just didn’t seem fair.

Slowly unwinding yourself from his hold, Yoongi grumbled as his fists opened and sought your body, tail curling tighter around your thigh. Sitting back on the bed, you rubbed his ears as you silently cooed over how cuddly he looks. But you didn’t have the luxury of time today. You had planned to prepare Yoongi’s birthday surprise scheme part one. And the first thing on the list was 'breakfast-in-bed’.

As Yoongi’s seeking calmed down, you slowly extracted yourself out from his hold and headed to the bathroom. Getting yourself ready, you prepped the ingredients on the counter. Yoongi had loved the soufflé pancakes you made, so that would be the first of the dishes. You had prepped the meal list last night - First, pancakes; Second, coffee. Ice black with just a little bit of sugar in the espresso; Third, fruits. Peeled tangerines, neatly sliced mangoes, and a handful of strawberries.

Since the pancakes were his favourite, you had mastered the art of accurate eyeballing of the ingredients by now. Separating the yolk from the whites, you left the four whites and the cream of tartar to whisk at the mixer, slowly adding in three tablespoons of sugar. As it mixes, you poured in two yolks into a mixing bowl with a table spoon of sugar and whipped till frothy. Slowly sifting the all purpose flour and baking powder, you ensured that the were thoroughly incorporated.

Once the whites turn glossy and are able to hold a stiff peak on the whisk when removed, you turned the mixer off. Scooping down meirgune at the whisk, you added another one-third of meringue from the mixer into the mixing bowl and folding them together. Once they are fully incorporated, you added another half of the meringue into the mixing bowl before transferring them into the mixer and carefully fold.

Heating up one of your larger frying pans, you lightly brushed the surface with oil and spread it around using a paper towel. Rummaging through your drawers for your ice cream scooper, you slowly ensured that each portion is thoroughly cooked and wouldn’t give him a stomach ache later.

Turning to the clock, you decided to cut the fruits first. You had only half an hour to finish breakfast before Yoongi woke up. Leaving the lid on, you set your timer to five minutes and you took out a box of strawberries from the fridge.

Seokjin had brought over freshly picked strawberries just yesterday when he went to helpout at grandfather’s farm. You initially booked a train ticket with him but ended up being unable to go due to a last minute phone call. You did, however, spent a few hours last night talking to your grandfather. Yoongi knew how important he was to you but still spent that time pouting as he was deprived of his cuddle buddy.

Washing the strawberries, you sliced them in half before moving onto peeling the mangoes and cutting them into cubes. As you carefully plated the pancakes that are now topped with a sinful amount of whipped cream, you faintly heard the shuffle of sheets from the bedroom. Moving on to making his coffee, you extracted out the espresso into a shot glass. Filling his cup with ice and water, you then mixed the little bit of sugar and espresso before pouring it in. Placing the plate and cup onto a tray, you hurriedly peeled a few tangerines and placed them with the bowl of fruits. Preparing paper towels and utensils, you spend the last ten minutes cleaning up the kitchen, leaving only the pan and spatula in the sink.

Deciding that you’ll wash it later, you brought the tray into the room just to see a sleepy Yoongi sitting up on the bed, his hair sticking in all direction as his ears twitched at the scuffle of your footsteps. Yogni whined, reaching out for you. You placed the food on the bedside table, having it dangle precautiosly at the edge due to the weight difference on the tray.

“Morning, Boongie.” You pecked the top of his head. “Made you pancakes.”

“Hmmm…” He yawned, purring deeply as you scratched his ears.

You watched him eat, slowly getting more awake by each chew. It was caused by the sugar that you know will be running through his system soon, making him sugar-high and therefore causing the zoomies to appear.

Deciding that you had better get him out of the house before he starts whining about how small the house is that I can’t run much.

“Come on, Yoongi. Let’s go to the park.” You held out a hand, beckoning him to change.

He huffed but followed anyways. Smiling to yourself, you started to pack the bed - making sure that the cat stuffy was in the middle of the bed, laying neatly between the pillows. You went back to the kitchen, washing the remaining dishes and leaving them on the drying rack. Just as you wiped down the countertop, Yoongi came out of the room in a loose t-shirt and shorts.

Looking at him combing the fur on his tail, you couldn’t help but smile. He had came so far from the little kitty that was always hiding under your sofa. Seeing you, Yoongi bounded over, placing the brush in your hand. And of course, as always, you obliged him. How could you not when he always looks at you with such hope in his eyes?

Soon after Yoongi fussed about getting sunburnt and you about his ears in his hat, the both of you left and walked to the park. While much laws have changed over the few years to ensure that hybrids have more freedom, you knew that somewhere in this world, there was still much work to be done for hybrids to be seen as equals.

While you didn’t understand how people could ever treat them so cruelly, you knew that there were many standpoints you have yet to consider.

But for now, you tilted your head backwards, looking at pale blue sky above you. Closing yoru eyes, you let a small chuckle slip your lips. Let’s just enjoy this time together.

“Y/N?” Yoongi leaned over you. “You okay? Need to go home?”

You shook your head. “Just… thinking of how far we’ve came. How far you’ve came too.”

The both of you sat at an empty bench that was covered by a large tree. You leaned your head on his shoulder as the both of you watched your surroundings. Children playing, families together, elderlies exercising and enjoying the breeze - so many occasions happening in one frame at one time. But all so harmonious.

There was no slander thrown, no rocks kicked, no dull clouds.

Just pure innocence and happiness.

“Hey, Yoongi.” You decided to bring up a question. “What do you think about having kids?”

Yoongi went stiff below you before you heard his sigh. Lifting your head, you looked at him from the side. “I mean, we don’t have to have them now per say. It was just a thought. We never really talked much about our future.”

“Future…” Yoongi trails. Rubbing his ears as his tail smacked against the bucket hat on his lap, you wondered if you asked him the question at the wrong time. He was still healing and prehaps he wasn’t ready.

“What do you think, Y/N?”

You were taken aback by his question. “What do you mean?”

Yoongi turned to face you fully. “What do you think about kids?”

You blinked. You never expected him to redirect the question to you. Scratching your neck, your brows furrowed as you answered him. “Well, it’s gonna be tough. I - I don’t have the best cycles.”

Yoongi shook his head. “I mean, what do you think about kids?”

You knew what he was asking. What did you think about having a hybrid kid - a kid that could possibly be less than a cat. You knew procreating with hybrids was already as difficult as it - and it will be made tougher with your possible inability to have children. After all, hybrids are not natural to say. They were created by technologically combining genes and mutating them into what they were today.

Looking at the kids playing around in the park, you couldn’t help but smile. Who cares if they were hybrids or not?

“They’ll still be our kids. Whether they have your ears or your tail or both or none, it doesn’t matter. They are still half of me and half of you. And even if they aren’t,” You turned to look at him, staring at Yoongi. “They’ll still be our children - our child. And I would love them no less than I love you.”

At that moment, you swear that the world stopped ticking for just that millisecond.

This time, you asked him. “What do you think?”

“I don’t care.” Yoongi pulled you in for a hug, nuzzling his head between your shoulder blades. “All I need is you.”

Happy Yoongi Day!

While we wait for Jinnie to come back soon and the rest of the boys after, let's also focus on our daily lives. We are as important to the boys as the boys are to us. The future's gonna be okay - we're gonna be okay too 💜

Borahae, Army! 💜💜

#min yoongi x you #min yoongi x oc #min yoongi smut #min yoongi x reader #yoongi fic #yoongi fanfic #min yoongi series #bts fanfiction #bts fic #bts series #hybrid series #yoongi x y/n #yoongi x oc #yoongi x you #yoongi x reader #min yoongi x y/n #fic : so what?#yoongi bts

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rainbow-flavoured-skittles · 2 months

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Hey Mom, Dead Mom

Chapter 2: No more playing daddy’s game, I’ll go insane if things don’t change

I suffered for this chapter. it was fighting me every single step of the way but it’s finally finished. I can rest now. this isn’t as dark as the last chapter but Cole is running away in this, so it’s still not very happy. also I did indeed make a couple of random ocs because how else was I supposed to advance the plot? they’re not returning any time soon. as always, this is cross posted to ao3

Cole got on the plane to MOSPA at exactly eleven in the morning on a Sunday. He traveled alone — Dad was unable to come with him. Other people at the airport gave strange looks to the unaccompanied twelve-year-old, reminding him of the looks he got after Mom died. “Oh, why is that little boy all alone? So strange,” and then they’d go about their day, not giving him a second thought.

The flight attendant in front of him right now was doing just that. “No parents?” She asked, face mildly concerned.

Cole shook his head. “I’m going to visit my grandma, but Dad couldn’t come,” he lied. Cole was good at lying. He’d done it a lot these past few years; you couldn’t take care of yourself the way Cole had without at least some lying.

The attendant gave him a small smile. Maddy, her name tag read. “Well, if you need anything, just call.”

“Okay, thanks, Ms.”

Maddy nodded and continued walking, greeting the other passengers. Cole fidgeted in his seat. The fabric covering it was itchy and the seatbelt was too tight. The man sitting next to him scrolled through his phone, music blaring loudly, and the old lady behind him was snoring. Not even off the ground yet and this flight was already torture. Cole resisted the urge to groan.

It was only a two hour flight, Cole could do this. But he hated planes so much — always had. Not being on the ground made him feel ill, and every bit of turbulence was terrifying. At least he had the window seat, though that didn’t do much to soothe his nerves. Being able to see how high up he was might make Cole feel worse.

The crackling of a speaker interrupted his panicking. The sounds it made were loud and screechy. “Please fasten your seatbelts and put all devices on airplane mode. We will be taking off shortly,” the announcements said.

Finally. Cole dug through his backpack and found his book. Fish in a Tree, the title read. He’d found it at the school book sale but had never gotten around to reading it. Now was his chance.

He’d barely gotten past the first chapter before they took off. Cole actually felt it when they did — it was like getting severed from a part of him. He felt sick, though throwing up wouldn’t achieve anything. It would probably make him feel worse. Cole settled for putting the book down and staring blankly at the seat in front of him instead. He wouldn’t be able to focus on the book, or anything at all, not when his stomach was lurching so badly.

Just two hours, he told himself. Then I can collapse on a bed and sleep. He repeated those words over and over like a mantra.

As it turned out, Cole was not able to immediately sleep once he arrived at MOSPA, because he had to check in. Check in, as if the school was a hotel. Or maybe a prison, which would be much more accurate.

“It’s great that you’re here, Nicholas,” the secretary smiled cheerily as she typed on her computer. “I’m sure you’ll love this school. We’re all one big family.”

Yeah, right. Every time a school said that they didn’t mean anything by it. In fact, it meant there was probably all sorts of bullying that went ignored. “It’s just Cole, not Nicholas. Nobody calls me that,” Cole said. He hated his full name — who agreed to let his grandfather pick it out? ‘Nicholas’ was an old-person name from at least a hundred years ago.

“Okay, then, Cole. I’ve got your dorm number and schedule here,” the secretary printed out a sheet of paper. “Do you need a map of the school?”

Cole shook his head. He had spent some of the flight looking at the floor plans and they were seared into his brain at this point. “I’ll be fine, thank you,” he hurried out before she could offer to have someone show him around. He didn’t want that kind of forced social interaction.

The dormitories were not hard to find, not with the giant sign that pointed to where they were. Cole opened the door, cursing when it was stuck, and shoved everything to the side before closing it again. He didn’t see a roommate anywhere, but it was a weekend, so everyone was probably out. That was good, it meant he had a couple hours alone; he could use the time to unpack and explore the school.

Cole shoved all his clothes into the closet and shoes under the bed. MOSPA had a strict uniform policy, so he wouldn’t be able to wear any casual clothing, nor his combat boots. That was a shame — he really liked those boots. They had served well when he got into fights. And they added another sorely needed three inches to his height, another advantage.

Any books that he’d brought were put onto the desk. Items such as stationery and notebooks were placed in drawers. Miscellaneous trinkets were placed in a box under the bed and his toiletries in another box. Cole pushed the suitcases into the corner. There wasn’t anywhere else to put them, but he’d figure it out later. Right now he wanted to take a nap and not wake up for a month. Screw exploring the school, he could do that tomorrow.

Cole closed the curtains, pulled the covers over his head, and went to sleep.

MOSPA, as Cole found out in the span of a month, was its own special brand of hell. The students there hated Cole for always messing up and acting strange, as if grieving for a loved one was something to make fun of. The teachers hated him for not talking or making eye contact and always zoning out. Everybody seemed to agree that he was the weird kid who should be avoided at all costs. His roommate, a kid named John, disliked him enough that he asked to be put in a different dorm.

“Thanks for messing up again, Brookstone,” one of his classmates sneered. Brant Green, yet another asshole who existed to make Cole miserable. “You ruined the whole performance.”

It hadn’t been Cole’s fault. Another student had purposefully tripped him, causing him to fall and knock over several people. “Yeah, I did. What’s your point?” He tried not to flip off Brant. That would just cause more trouble, trouble he couldn’t risk. The teachers hated him enough already.

“How’d you even get into this school? I thought you needed to have talent to get in,” Brant spat.

“Do I look like I want to be here? I hate this place,” Cole stood up and glared at the taller boy. Brant was a good head taller than him, unfortunately.

Brant didn’t seem to know what to say to that. Perhaps he’d thought Cole was going here willingly, though how he’d come to that conclusion was a mystery. He gave Cole another sneer and walked away.

Cole rolled his eyes and went back to his lunch. For all its faults, at least this school had good food. The chicken salad was pretty tasty.

A large group chattered next to him. One of them gave him the side eye. “That’s the Brookstone kid,” she said, loud enough for Cole to hear. “His dad’s a Royal Blacksmith. Isn’t it weird how he didn’t get any of the family talent?”

Cole scowled and looked down at the table. He stabbed his lunch with more force than was needed.

“Nicholas Brookstone to the office, Nicholas Brookstone to the office,” a speaker sounded. All eyes turned to him. Cole looked down at the floor and wondered if he could just die right there in the cafeteria. It would save everyone a lot of trouble.

A kid coughed from the table in front of him. Awkward, Cole thought. What had he done this time? There wasn’t anything recent he’d done to warrant this.

It took five minutes for the school to realise he wasn’t moving any time soon. They all went back to their conversations, and Cole snuck out the side entrance. He had always been good at going unnoticed.

Cole walked through the halls briskly and knocked on the office door. He was let in by the guidance counsellor, a lady in her forties with platinum blonde hair. “Nicholas, we need to talk about your behaviour,” she said as they sat down.

“I haven’t been in any more fights,” Cole said. It was true.

“Your teachers say that you don’t pay any attention in class and that you’re not following instructions. It has nothing to do with your peers.”

“I’m trying my best, okay?” Cole snapped. Why couldn’t anyone just listen for once? He was trying, he’d been trying for ages.

“Then how come your grades are so low? This is one of the top arts schools in Ninjago, Nicholas. We expect better.” The counsellor had a mask of false concern on. Cole kind of wanted to punch it off.

“It’s not Nicholas, it’s Cole. And I am trying,” Cole gritted out.

“Your grades are barely scraping fifty percent.”

“So?”

The counsellor frowned. “If you don’t start doing better, you may get expelled.”

“Would that be such a bad thing?” Cole said under his breath. Then to the counsellor, “I’m sorry. I’ll do better.” She might be suspicious of the sudden change of pace, but Cole couldn’t care less. He just wanted to get out of the office.

The counsellor nodded and fixed her glasses. “That’s all for today, Nicholas. You can go to class now.”

She didn’t even bother to get his name right. “Thanks,” Cole marched out the door.

Cole stared down at his exam results and wondered if he was dreaming. Forty percent average, the paper said. A fail. He’d managed to do so badly that his average wasn’t even fifty.

Dad’s going to kill me, he thought. Dad expected at least nineties, and this definitely wasn’t it. He’d be grounded until his thirtieth birthday, if he lived that long.

The only subject that had above sixty was visual arts. The teacher for that class was nice — he understood Cole’s struggles and gave him all the time he needed. It wouldn’t make Dad overlook all the other failures, though.

The paper crinkled under his grip. Cole blinked the tears out of his eyes and shoved the paper into his folder. His classmates were conversing all around him, comparing grades and bragging about what they’d gotten. The teacher sat at her desk on the computer. Nobody would notice if he went to the washroom and never returned, hopefully.

Cole got up and walked to the front. “Ms. Jackson, may I please go to the washroom?”

The teacher nodded distractedly and waved her hand. “Yes.”

Cole grabbed his belongings and slipped out the door. He hadn’t taken a hall pass, not when the teacher would notice it missing. She wouldn’t know he was gone, but she would notice the hall pass. The teachers here were strange like that.

He opened the door to his dorm and collapsed on the ground. How was he going to explain his grades to his dad, much less the teachers? He could already hear the lecture. “Your mother would be so disappointed in you, Cole. What happened to all that potential?”

Then again, Dad didn’t pay attention to him. Cole doubted he even remembered that he existed; Dad was too busy partying. Maybe he could burn the report card and pretend it didn’t exist.

Or… Cole’s thoughts drifted to a snide comment Brant had made a few months ago. “Why don’t you just run away? Nobody would miss you — we’d be happy to see you gone.”

Cole had ignored him at the time. It was just another uncreative insult from the stereotypical bully. But it wasn’t exactly a bad idea. As strict as the school was, Cole knew all the weak spots in its system. It was easy to sneak out and never return. And he’d been thinking about leaving and never coming back for ages. This was just the final straw.

“All right, then. Guess Brant gets his wish,” Cole said. No one responded, of course — he was all alone. But talking to himself was a habit. Cole got up and went to the closet, finding the duffel bag he used to use for camping. He blew the dust off and packed anything that seemed useful. A flashlight, multiple sets of clothes, a reusable water bottle, that box of granola bars he’d bought a month ago, all the cash he had.

More food would need to be picked up from the school cafeteria, he decided. And he’d need to find a sleeping bag somehow. But everything else was ready. Cole could leave during the night — he refused to call it running away, he wasn’t running from anything — it was easier that way. This was the best option, he told himself.

Cole snuck out as soon as it was dark. He didn’t need to avoid any roommates, thankfully — anyone who’d been placed with him had moved out. It took a few minutes for him to write a letter to Jay. His best friend didn’t deserve to have him disappearing without warning, though they hadn’t been best friends since before Mom’s death. He put it in the outgoing mail on the way out, sealed with a blue sticker. Jay would know what that meant.

He took the back exit and walked down the road to the bus stop. The city’s streets were dimly lit, people rushing past him to get home. A couple looked at him curiously but didn’t stop him. A drunk man sat down next to him on the bench as they waited. Dogs barked in the distance and a truck drove past. It was peaceful, Cole thought. The most peaceful he’d been in a while.

The bus arrived just after midnight. Cole got on and paid for a ticket to the next town over. He could find a sleeping bag and extra clothes there, and the further away he got the better. He was finally leaving MOSPA and his dad behind, and he wouldn’t be stopped by something as simple as not having basic supplies.

Running away wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. All the books made it seem easy — there was no mention of sleeping in alleys, or trying not to get mugged, or having to do odd jobs to get money. Thank goodness for Ninjago’s lax law enforcement; nobody would have hired a thirteen-year-old if the police were good at their job. Especially a thirteen-year-old who may or may not be on the missing persons list. Cole still wasn’t sure if anyone had noticed him missing.

Cole shouldered his backpack as he walked away from Jamanakai Village. He’d managed to find work at a local restaurant a few weeks prior and had finally saved up enough money to get somewhere else. He wasn’t quite sure where his next destination would be, but for now he planned to go back to the mountain range near Ninjago City. He deserved a break, and climbing was therapeutic. The city having a lot of people to pickpocket was just a bonus.

Jamanakai was isolated, unfortunately. It would be an entire day before Cole could get to a more urban area and find a bus stop. He knew there wasn’t a lot of point in travelling so often, of course, but Cole couldn’t shake the feeling that if he didn’t keep moving, someone would find him and bring him back to MOSPA. He couldn’t let that happen. And it kept his mind off of Mom and Dad. Nope, not thinking of that today, Cole thought. It was a good day and he wasn’t going to ruin it.

“Probably enough money for a ticket to Ninjago City,” Cole muttered. “Then it’s just some hitchhiking.”

Not a difficult journey, really. Cole continued on.

The mountain was tall. And windy. And probably dangerous to climb without proper gear. Cole tried not to think of that as he pulled himself up the next ledge. He’d already had a close calls today, almost fell off before he found a foothold. Cole thanked Wojira that he hadn’t fallen to his death. If he was going to die, he wanted it to at least be dignified.

Only a bit more to the top of the mountain and then he could rest. Cole planned to camp there for the night and then go back down, hopefully without any major injuries. The broken ankle still ached, and it had been months. He hadn’t been able to walk for two weeks the last time, and Cole wasn’t eager to have a repeat.

Huffing and sweaty, Cole reached the top. He climbed over the last few rocks and stopped, feeling pretty proud of himself, when he noticed the man sitting in front of him.

“Hello there,” the man said. He looked ancient, with deep set wrinkles and a long white beard. He took a sip of his drink and smiled.

Okay, that’s creepy, Cole thought. He had thought he was the only one climbing. How had he not noticed this guy?

“Wha— who are you?” The words exited Cole’s mouth without permission. He really should work on his brain-to-mouth filter at some point.

“Maybe that is a question you should ask, but first: why do you climb the mountain?” The old man looked at Cole with something like curiosity. Curiosity about what?

“Because it’s a good way to get exercise?”

“You can tell me the truth, Cole. I don’t judge.”

“How do you know my name? I never introduced myself,” Cole took a step back. Was this man some sort of stalker? Nobody knew where he was. If he got kidnapped, or murdered, no one would be able to find him.

“Because I know you, Cole. I was there when you were born.”

“You know my Dad? Are you going to bring me back to him? Give me another lecture on how I’m a disappointment? I don’t need to hear it,” Cole crossed his arms and prepared to make a run for it. It would be suicidal to jump off the mountain, but he was a fast climber. The old man wouldn’t be able to catch up with him.

“I knew your mother. She was one of my students,” the old man stood and held up his hands in the ‘I surrender’ gesture.

“Student?”

“I taught her to be a hero. Did you think that all the stories she told you were made up?”

Cole hadn’t thought about his mom’s stories in years. She used to tell him about great heroes who could control the very elements themselves, who tamed dragons and fought against evil. He’d loved those stories.

“You’re telling me that all those stories about ninja and dragons were real? Yeah, and I’m a giant purple unicorn,” Cole glared at the old man. This guy had to be crazy, spouting nonsense about real-life superheroes and monsters. Mom had told him those stories for entertainment and bonding, nothing more.

“You are stubborn. Also like your mother, I suppose. I can prove to you that all the old legends are real. You just have to trust me,” the man held out his hand. His face was a mixture of hope and worry and maybe a little bit of fear. Fear of what, Cole didn’t know.

Cole hesitated for a moment. There was nothing left for him back at home, if he still had one, and no one cared if he went missing. The only people he cared about were either dead or better off without him. His life truly couldn’t get any worse, and if this man had known his mom he couldn’t be too bad. Cole took the hand.

#in the very early days of my time in this fandom I saw a headcanon that Cole's full name is Nicholas and it stuck in my head #still not happy with this but it's better than the first draft #bruise childhood friends au #cole ninjago #cole brookstone #ninjago cole #cole hence #ninjago #lego ninjago #ninjago fic #ninjago fanfiction #lego ninjago fanfiction #kit's writing #bonus chapter will be coming soon!

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santhoshjothinathan · 2 years

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Home Run

Visiting actual death for the first time.

Original Article from Substack

Sanjay never knew he was on the verge of being pushed in a different direction that day. At least not in the morning when he was dressing up for the occasion. He had been given a novel for his birthday, two weeks ago. His first one. Not the birthday, but the novel. And since then, there has been no going back because he was jubilantly enthralled by the world of images that were sometimes muddled with ambiguous strings of tiny alphabets. It was difficult for him to navigate around them, but the challenge proved to be a worthy one. He had convinced his family to tag along to the book fair that happened in a part of a land that was strangely welcoming towards the unknown from any part of the world. He was intrigued and excited about the community he was embarking on. As he was being amused by his own stream of thoughts and presumptions, something broke through it. It was a scream, and it came in a much familiar voice. He hurried in the direction of the sound and there was his mother, whirling everywhere like a whimpering dog. She was being appeased by her aunt who looked at his father helplessly. His father, eyeballed Sanjay and his sister Saritha who stood there puzzled, unable to comprehend the situation. For Saritha it was the second time hearing her mom cry like that. The first being the day her cursed brother was born. Whereas for Sanjay, it was the first time seeing anyone scream like that, much less his mother. Even before they were able to put their thoughts and evaluation in order, their father entrusted them with a mission. “Freshen yourselves up. You three are going to India'' he said and exited the house in a hurry.

“What's going on?”. He asked his cousin who seemed busy scheduling something over the phone. “It is your Grandfather, it seems he has had a fall in his bathroom. He is admitted to the hospital and wants to see you”, he told him. Sanjay felt an energy whose source was unknown, rushing across his body. He felt that way only a few times before. Once when he soaked his pants and was so close to being found out and the other incident was when he heard the sound of taunting and mockery unfold just as he finished telling a secret to a group of people whom he had considered friends. This rush wasn't as intense and nerve-racking as the other two, but it had it was alienating in its own way. It had a touch of weirdness that his bubblehead couldn’t figure out. He slept over it and decided to be engrossed in mind mapping how his old man could have slipped and in the process, been injured so bad, that he had to be admitted to the hospital. Then came an answer that unleashed self-hatred at its fullest potential. It was him! He was the reason for the grand fall. It was the kneecap, which he helped his grandfather buy when they were shopping for Vesak. He remembered the conversations between them so clearly. His grandpa wanted to go for the more expensive one while he, on the other hand, was busy explaining why a free ice cream offered at a dansal could solve any problems ranging from joint pains to mankind’s long time quest for a diabetic-friendly jalebi. All these years he had been patting himself on the back for his act of deception, but now, he felt like a clown when he came to know that he was the one who was actually deceived. “It must have been those darn little things. They simply couldn’t hold up!” He was gutted. The feeling of anger suddenly transformed into a train that wreaked havoc and panic. “What will you do when those doctors and your grandfather find out the accident was due to some cheap knee caps purchased in some buzzing street of Sri Lanka”. He became petrified as he listened to this prospect whispered by his mind. It took him a while to shed it off, but when he did, it wasn't without a plan. Sanjay went for the kill. He decided that he would chant those mantras that his grandfather had nagged him to learn, as soon as he opened his moles ridden eggy brown eyes. He knew he could walk out of the situation like a breeze if the plan was executed to perfection. He thought he deserved a pat on the back for his geniuses and as expected, he got one, but a little hard and pressing. It was his father. “Hurry up, the cab will be here any minute. Make sure you don't make it any worse for mom there,” he said. “Well, what about you!” Sanjay asked, feeling confused. “I told you right, I will be there after a week. My passport is back at our home,” he said, feeling helpless in the face of the situation. Upon hearing his father's reply, his state of confusion continued for quite a while until it became something else. Something wild.

It was his massive break. He would be the hero who single-handedly carried the timid, throughout a difficult journey that transcended lands and waters, just like the protagonist of his first novel Doctor Anjaneya. This would be a story for the ages and would make the bony jaws of his grandparents drop. With a stern gaze on his face, he set out for the airport. And that gaze was intact when he painstakingly lifted the luggage and parted with his cousin. When his father ordered him to take care of the situation that prevailed, that sternness walked an extra mile and branched into an expression that screamed confidently “Don’t worry I have got this. And of course, that confidence was not baseless as he knew that his sister, whom he despised at times for her brains, would chin up and do much of the heavy lifting. He was aware that he could walk away with the cake that had the icing on its top while Saritha faced a hard time juggling the set of cup noodles bought at the airport eatery. As expected, Saritha with her poor reflexes did not fare well and failed to catch one of the cups, but she succeeded in catching the decisive plane. She ensured that her mom reached the other side in one full piece without woefully falling apart mid-air.

Sanjay was finally back in his home after a gap of two years. He rushed out to meet his grandparents who usually waited to receive him like a Rockstar. Suddenly, gravity made sure that its presence was felt as it nailed him firmly back to reality. Nevertheless, he had his preferred car on his way to the hospital. Or at least he thought so. His beloved Golden Tanned Innova in which he shared the front seat with his grandpa was not to be found. “Where is it?” He voiced his concerns to his sister who immediately dismissed him with an expression that scared the shit out of him. A man approached them and led their way towards a compact but outdated Indica. It has only been 30 minutes since arrival and things were already looking pretty much dull for the little lad. “How is he doing?”, His mother asked the man, with a throat that was drier than the summer heat. They got into the car, and after a series of frenetic phone calls, the man introduced himself as his uncle. The uncle who never showed up. As the wheels started moving, the leather seats in the car started to inhale and slowly imitate the breath of the car, Sanjay panicked and shouted “Where is it!”. The authority in his voice resurrected the god of wrath, who had always lived within his mom, but was not to be seen, till that particular moment, that day. As she was about to smack him straight to the Banks of river Kaveri, Sanjay puked into the sickness bag that was fetched from the airplane. “Jasmines! It is the Jasmines” hastily interrupted Saritha who knew that the car fresheners were about to make the mentally taxing journey, a physically exhausting one too. He had always insisted on planting sandalwood scented fresheners in any body of metal and scraps that were assigned to carry him. It was one of the very few scents that grew on him. The pockets of his grandfather and his car were always filled with the aroma of Sandalwood. What smelt too heavy for his liking and was overpowering during the initial rides slowly started becoming the nasal version of a tight warm hug from a hairy grandpa. But unlike sandalwood, Sanjay had taken an innate liking to Gasoline. He loved and longed for it while travelling. The whiff of gasoline had the knack of making long journeys on ruddy roads tolerable. A silent break at the gas stations that were painted with the highway dust and clouded with the aura from the redolent pumps was considered first aid during travels. A pause at the stations would pump him with a meter of endurance that could make him walk through a raging fire or peacefully sleep through a hail storm, but on that day, it was only needed for the final few laps of a journey. As the roads progressed the fluid levels in Sanjay regressed. There was continuous barfing on and off, which made the car reek of the residues of vomit, and it eventually fused with the smell of the jasmine coated leather bringing about visible disgust and irritation and it caused a slight uproar between the four. It took a long time for the stench to wither off and the hatred to dissolve, but when it did, it left behind a trail of fragrance that reminded the three of them there was life and hope after all in a day, that was destined to be doomed with silence, screams and moments of painful regrets that engaged the void in between.

#fiction #death #story #india #funeral #travel

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praxeus-13 · 3 years

Text

A Cold Truth

Pairing: Yaz x Reader

Word Count: 2200

Summary: After pining for Yaz since you met her, an adventure to an alien planet takes a turn for the worst and your feelings for her revealed

Warnings: injury (not described in detail)

A/N: I was going to finish another request, but after the latest episode I needed some Yaz fluff. Also, requests are closed for a short while so I can get round to answering the ones sat in my inbox 🙃

Life on the TARDIS was great, and a large part of you definitely preferred it to life on Earth. Since you had started travelling with The Doctor you not only had the opportunities to see sights that most others couldn’t even dream of, or to meet people that most people wouldn’t ever get the chance to, but you had also managed to find a second family.

Graham, of course, was a grandfather to all of you - not just Ryan - constantly checking up on the four of you, and giving his seasoned advice when needed. Ryan had become one of your best friends, and was practically a brother to you at this point, the two of you would often spend time together playing games or talking about comic books that you had both read. Obviously The Doctor was your unofficial tour guide to the universe, but she was also a very good friend, sticking by your side and always being there for you whenever you needed - even if she didn’t have any words of wisdom like Graham, you all found her presence a comfort.

But then there was Yaz, and you couldn’t deny that she was definitely your favourite from your new family, or that you had definitely developed a crush on her. Truly, she was amazing. She always found it within herself to be kind to people, even when they probably didn’t deserve it; and she had a love for the thrill that your adventures were often filled with; not to mention that you could never stop yourself from staring at her when she used her authoritative voice.

However, you hadn’t even tried to make a move, due to a combination of believing that there was no possible way she was into you, and being way too nervous to ask her out anyway. You were fine with just being friends with her if it meant you got to have her in your life.

Unfortunately, the rest of your friendship group had started to catch on. It had been Graham who first figured it out, which had resulted in a plethora of knowing looks being cast your way whenever you were unable to be subtle about your crush. Then Ryan had caught on, and you had been subjected to an almost relentless amount of teasing whenever Yaz was out of earshot - which had caused you to loose many rounds of Splatoon and Mario Kart to him. Finally, most recently, The Doctor had caught on and joined in with both Ryan and Graham.

Due to The Doctor’s lack of human social skills, you had taken her finally catching onto your crush on Yaz as a definite sign that you were not being anywhere near subtle enough. Honestly, you couldn’t really help it, you loved every little thing she did, how confident she was even when she was scared, and how she always looked out for you.

However, the rest of the fam would probably agree that it was starting to become a problem. You were a bit of a mess around her these days, and it was starting to put you in danger. At first you hadn’t minded much, since it had often led to Yaz saving you from whatever situation you had ended up in. Now though, you were starting to worry that Yaz would realise that you weren’t just clumsy.

The last thing you wanted was to ruin your friendship with her, so despite Graham, Ryan and The Doctor all encouraging you to tell Yaz how you felt about her, you refused. Opting to go about your life desperately trying to ignore these feelings seemed like a much better option than potentially ruining a great friendship.

——

In your current situation you were struggling with wether to finally tell Yaz your feelings. While you had always known that life or death situations were much more likely when you started travelling with The Doctor, you hadn’t properly considered what that might mean until now.

The Doctor had decided for a surprise trip, letting the TARDIS chose where to go (as though she didn’t already). The five of you had ended up on a very cold planet that The Doctor identified as Idilles. At first you had all been in awe of the wintery landscape, though that soon changed. The people of the planet seemed rather hostile to visitors, which you soon learnt was due to an invasion of quadruped aliens that reminded you a bit of horses (if horses had scales and very sharp teeth).

The natives had kicked you all out of their settlement, leaving you to fend for yourselves in the bitter cold. Unfortunately the strange horses - you couldn’t remember their actual name - had caught your scents quickly. The Doctor had yelled for you to all get back to the TARDIS, though given the conditions you found that rather difficult. You and Yaz had been split from the group. Just as the two of you had spotted a cave to hide in, one of the creatures had bitten down on your leg, causing you to let out a painful yell. Yaz had immediately turned round, throwing a large stick at the creature forcing it to release your leg from its grip. She had then half-dragged you to the cave.

The two of you were still huddled together in that cave, Yaz’s arms around you in a protective manner. In any other situation you would be a blushing mess right now, but right now you were bleeding out, still in immeasurable pain and freezing cold. Yaz had taken off her jacket and wrapped it around your leg to try and stop the bleeding, though it hadn’t been that effective.

You had no clue how long it had been, but you weren’t sure how much longer you were going to be able to stay awake, the edges of your vision becoming darker. If The Doctor didn’t find the two of you soon, you weren’t sure if you would survive, and despite your reluctance to tell her usually you didn’t want to die without her knowing.

“Yaz?” Your voice was barely above a whisper, but she still heard you.

“Are you alright?” Her voice gave away how scared she was for you, and you felt your heart twinge in response.

“I just- I need-“ You were cut off when a violent shiver rippled through your body, causing Yaz to tighten her hold on you. “I need to tell you…”

The world around you was getting darker and less focused, and you were struggling not to slip into unconsciousness.

“Y/N?” Yaz’s voice sounded far away, and you tried to move closer to where you could feel her warmth but it only caused you more pain.

“I love you, Yaz.”

And then you let the darkness take you.

——

When you next woke up, you were significantly warmer than you had been in that cave, and in a lot less pain. It took you a while to get your eyes open, but once they were you recognised that you were in one of the beds in the TARDIS medbay. Luckily, you had only been here a few times before for minor injuries.

Your memories of what had happened before you ended up in the medbay were hazy, though you remembered distinct feelings of coldness, fear and pain. Looking around more, you noticed that you weren’t alone in the room.

At your side Yaz was asleep, her head resting on your stomach while her hand was clasped around yours. The sight of her warmed your heart, an affectionate smile formed on your face. Part of you didn’t want to wake her, but you were confused and no one else was there.

“Yaz?” You gave her a small shake with the arm that wasn’t under her grip.

“Hmm?” She didn’t move, but seemed at least a little bit awake.

You found her sleepy disposition adorable.

“What happened to me?”

That question pushed Yaz to wake up fully, sitting up and immediately causing you to miss her warmth.

“You’re awake!” She beamed at you, though her eyes held a deep concern that worried you slightly, still you couldn’t help the small giggle that left your mouth at her reaction.

“Yeah, how long have I been asleep?”

“Nearly two days, I’ll go get The Doctor so she can check on you.”

She was gone before you could get another word in, and you were left to wonder how you had ended up in the medbay.

A few minutes later, Yaz returned with The Doctor, Ryan and Graham in tow.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” The Doctor asked you, walking over to a screen that seemed to be monitoring your vitals.

“Alright, not quite sure what happened but I feel okay.” You shrugged at The Doctor, though you were paying more attention to Yaz, who was standing next to you again.

“Do you remember going to Idilles?” The Doctor asked.

“Yeah, did one of those creatures attack me?” You could remember the vague details up until that point, but then it all got very hazy.

You could remember that Yaz was with you, but not anything beyond the alien’s painful bite.

“Yep, nasty things they are, the creature’s venom got into your bloodstream - luckily it’s not deadly to humans as long as it’s treated. Unfortunately it is known to cause memory issues.” The Doctor pulled a face as she told you. “Yaz managed to get the creature off you and keep you warm while I looked for you.”

Immediately you turned to smile at Yaz, your feelings for her probably increasing your gratefulness tenfold.

“Thank you Yaz.”

You really hoped you weren’t imagining the darker shade her face had turned at her thanks.

“Of course.” Her smile reflected yours, and for a moment you forgot there were others in the room.

Ryan let out a not-so-subtle cough, and you forced yourself to tear your eyes away from Yaz’s.

“You just need a few days rest, then you should be completely healed.” The Doctor told you, seemingly oblivious to the tension in the room.

“Best leave you to it then.” Graham nodded to you knowingly, already herding The Doctor and Ryan out of the room.

“Glad you’re okay y/n!” Ryan managed to tell you before he was pushed into the TARDIS corridor.

Though you were pleased with Graham’s intervention, you couldn’t help but be nervous left alone with Yaz.

“I’m glad you’re okay too, I were really worried.” Yaz admitted.

As you looked at her you realised that her usual confident demeanour had disappeared, replaced with a level of vulnerability that you hadn’t ever expected from her. You felt honoured that she chose to show you this side of her, and it made your heart beat a little faster.

“Sorry, I really didn’t mean to worry you.”

“It’s not your fault y/n.” She smiled at you, shaking her head a little as she took in your form.

You probably didn’t look the best at the moment due to the two days you had spent sleeping. Though it didn’t seem that Yaz minded much. In this moment you couldn’t help but wish that you could gather the confidence you needed to tell her about your feelings. Hoping that she would share them, simply so you could have her hold you and kiss you while you were hurting.

“You really don’t remember anything after you got bitten?” Strangely, she sounded almost nervous when she asked.

“No, I just remember being cold and hurting a lot. Why?”

Yaz took a deep breath, “You told me you love me.”

Oh shit.

Your mind started racing at a hundred miles an hour, trying to figure out what to say, how to go about this without completely destroying your friendship with Yaz. As you were still going over everything in your mind, working yourself up as you struggled with what to say, Yaz called your name and you looked up at her. You wanted to say something - anything - yet no words left your mouth.

Luckily Yaz stopped you from flailing around for too long, instead shocking you into silence as she leant down. Her face was barely millimetres from your own, and you weren’t quite sure what was happening due to your frazzled state. Then Yaz’s lips were pressed to yours and your brain just froze, completely forgetting how to respond to this situation - or any situation at all. Luckily it seemed to reboot quickly, and you were soon reciprocating the kiss.

Somehow, kissing Yaz was everything you had imagined and more. Her lips were softer than you had thought possible, though you weren’t surprised by the way she seemed to dominate the kiss, easily pushing you further back into the pillows and mattress. When the two of you broke the kiss she didn’t move away from where she was leaning over you, her forehead pressed to yours. The both of you were breathing heavily, but there were wide grins on your faces. You were still processing exactly what had just happened, though you could feel your entire being buzzing with happiness. Even if Yaz never kissed you again, you knew you would remember exactly what she felt like for the rest of your life.

Pulling back slightly after having regained her breath, Yaz looked down at you, a lazy yet very pleased grin on her face.

“I love you too, y/n.”

#yasmin khan x reader #yaz x reader #yasmin khan #yaz khan #yaz khan x reader #doctor who reader insert

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dainty-fingertips · 3 years

Text

a forever thing. ||kars x fem! reader

wrote this one a few weeks ago bc a friend said i should write something with kars,, ended up being too long and i don’t think she ever finished reading it;; also, spoilers for if you haven’t finished battle tendency !!

word count: 2233

summary: training alongside caesar and joseph, you end up being kidnapped by the remaining two pillar men after the death of esidisi. a closet bookworm, you end up spending most of your time cooped up in the library of the rundown hotel, though most of your time is spent thinking of the leader himself. after kars drops some undeniable hints, you decide to test the waters.

trigger warnings: none :)

Being taken for a sort of ransom by aztec gods wasn’t exactly on the agenda today.

After Joseph had killed Esidisi, the remaining two were -- as expected -- on edge. Wamuu, the youngest, and Kars, the eldest. You could grasp a fleeting understanding on why they chose you specifically, but nothing enough to make complete sense in your brain. It could have been Caesar, it could have been Lisa Lisa, but no. As of now, they were treating you quite well, actually. You figured Wamuu was the only reason you weren’t bound by rope and eating out of a dog bowl right now. Instead, you were perched upon a plush reading chair in a rundown library, clad in a comfortable robe (thanks to Wamuu, you weren’t stuck in your sweaty outfit from before). You had planned on touring to Switzerland one day after the war, but being trapped inside a rundown hotel with no real access to vitamin D was really taxing your health (mentally and physically) and never intended to be something you spent your time doing while here.

In your rough-skinned hands, you held a worn copy of In Search of Lost Time. Your reading comprehension had improved over the past few weeks, at least. A rough knock on the door pulled you from your thoughts. “I’m here.” You said calmly, hoping it was the younger Pillar Man. Of course your desires were not met. Kars stepped into the library, his headscarf absorbing some of the light from the candle lit on the table next to you. He eyed you in what appeared to be mild distaste. “Why are you awake?” You looked up from the book with an odd expression. “What do you mean?” You asked him. The god huffed softly, motioning to the boards on the windows. “The sun has gone down. Are you not tired?” You pulled your gaze over to the covered windows. “...Oh.”

You had failed to notice the absence of flittering rays much earlier. “Wait, what time is it?” You mumbled to yourself. You looked at the grandfather clock on the wall to your right and your expression dropped. “It’s 1 am.” he mumbled, crossing his arms. You pursed your lips and quietly closed the book. You uncrossed your legs and set it back on the shelf. Kars watched you slowly make your way back and forth. “What about you?” You asked, wrapping your fingers around the candle tray. He stared at you. Were you asking why he was up? “What do you mean?” He asked with a sigh. “You’re still up, but you aren’t tired.” You stated while approaching him. He didn’t move. “I’ve told you this. Neither me nor Wamuu need sleep, human. Es-” He stopped himself mid sentence and his cold expression seemed to falter for only a moment. You had learned, in your three weeks here, that the pillar men deemed it inappropriate to show emotion to anyone other than family members or mates.

Kars had never slipped up around you before.

The gears in your brain began turning. Kars wouldn’t show something like that to Wammu even, at least that’s what you’d been told. Why, even if for a split second, would he let you see that? Did he see you as someone close? The mere idea was laughable. Kars’ cold exterior soon returned, though. Simply brushing aside the sight, you continued to listen to him. “Esidisi didn’t need sleep, either.” He continued, his voice almost strained. Was Kars trying to hide his pain? You looked at him with soft eyes. Kars seemed to get minorly flustered and removed his gaze from you.

You sighed gently and gazed cautiously into his blooming red eyes, the simple sight of them making your stomach twirl a bit. He made you feel floaty when he looked at you. Your cheeks flushed and you looked away. You saw in your hazy peripheral that he had furrowed an eyebrow. “What?” He asked hesitantly, looking back at you. “Hm?” You couldn’t look back at him. “I was just wondering about something, that’s all.” You begged that the bluff worked on him, but you knew that Kars was smart. He didn’t respond for a few seconds, his eyes flickering across your face and body, looking for a hint of something in your body language.

He sighed and motioned for you to follow him. You stood there and glanced at him curiously, his back turned and footsteps echoing. He turned his head to look at you. “I’m taking you to your chambers. Come.” He said with a bored expression. “O-Oh, right.” You whispered. You jogged up to him, but slowed your pace once you were next to him. “What was it?” He asked. You furrowed your eyebrows and looked at him without moving your head. “What?” He sighed through his nose. “You said you were wondering about something.” Your mouth opened to the shape of an O. “Right. I was just curious, uh, Kars. Do you think you could sleep if you tried?” You queered hesitantly, avoiding your original thought of Kars’ sadness. You looked back ahead of you. Kars gazed to his right, thinking. “An odd question, human. Why do you ask?” You shrugged slightly. “I dunno. Curiosity, I guess.” Kars aired out a small ‘hm.’ and inhaled sharply.

“Curiosity is a dangerous fault in humans. No matter how long I sleep, that will forever remain a constant.” You cocked your head to the side a bit, working up the courage to turn to him as you both walked. “What do you mean?” He looked down at you, a strand of his hair tufting out slightly. “It’s what got that damned Joestar wrapped into this mess. If not for him, we wouldn’t need to deal with this. Our mission would be far less… complicated.” You nodded your head. “And that’s been a forever-thing?” He squinted his eyes. “A what?”

“Well, that’s what my dad used to call it.” You said with a gentle chuckle. “Y’know, a forever-thing. Something that’s been around for forever. Literally and figuratively.”

“A forever-thing?” He pressed.

“Mhm.”

“Humans and their idiotic names for simple terms.” he spat.

“Oh really?”

He scoffed. “Yes.”

“Then what would you call it?” You joked, putting a playfully heavy emphasis on your words. Kars groaned, but deep inside his old bones, he felt something. He could admire beauty when he saw it, especially for a human, but this was getting out of hand. You were completely oblivious to the fact that Kars had taken an especial liking to you, which he was grateful for. His cold demeanor felt almost immoral around you. You were similar to that Joestar boy, but you were somehow more tangible. He could… stand you, sure, but he didn’t know why. He had been surrounded by nothing but cold glares and serious attitudes his whole life, and he magnified it in the way he lived. It’s what earned him the highest rank in what now remained of the tribes, being merely him and Wamuu.

Though, having you around was a strangely acceptable change of tone. He began finding himself seeking out your attention, like 10 minutes ago. You weren’t in your bed, so he came looking for you where you normally sat; the library. You were propped in that chair, now claimed as yours, with your knees to your chest and a book in your hands. You seemed almost magnetizing, you seemed almost… well, he wasn’t sure. He’d never felt this way. Why did you grab his attention? You held him in your fingers like putty, rubbing him in all the right ways. Maybe, because of you, his opinion on the human species wouldn’t be so dire. Maybe, in your toothy grins, your glittering eyes, and your gentle hands, you would change his mind.

Only then, did he realize you had taken his hand in yours.

He quickly pulled it away. “Don’t touch me.” He spat, eyeing you. You chuckled and shrugged. “Sorry, force of habit. Whenever my dad was deep in thought, I’d grab his hand to pull him back to Earth.” Kars scoffed, rubbing his hand as though trying to get the feeling of your rough hands off of him. They were hard and calloused from training, he presumed, though it added to his simple adoration. He had never met a woman like this. His eyes lingered back to your hands for a moment before looking back ahead. “Well, I’m not your father.” You simply smiled ahead and didn’t respond.

Kars let his hands fall to his sides and the two of you make it up the set of stairs to your room. The door sat closed, and you looked at Kars. “Would you mind, Kars, if I told you something?” You questioned casually, entering your room and looking at him from the inside. He nodded once and silently asked you to continue. Your face grew warm and you looked to the side, unable to look at him for a moment. “You…” You began, unsure how to tell him. He raised an eyebrow. “I what?” He said. You knew he was an impatient man when it came to things like this; you had heard it from Wamuu whenever he’d bring you food. “Spit it out.” You sighed and looked at him, your gaze wavering and nervous. “You aren’t half bad, Kars.” You said with an awkward tone of voice. You knew you were treading on thin ice, but you didn’t know when you’d actually be able to tell him alone.

Kars’ stance was unmoved. The meaning behind your words didn’t fully strike him until after the two of you silently stared at each other for 20 seconds. His face, twisted in mild confusion, soon loosened up. Realization clubbed him like a wooden baseball bat behind his knees. His maroon eyes darted across your face and his lips parted slightly. “What -- What are you saying?” He said quietly. He was sure his brain was playing tricks, but your face, it seemed so fearfully genuine. Sweat accumulated on the back of his neck in his headscarf. Kars was a god; the most powerful pillar man. He was above this. Why did… Why did it feel wrong to act that way around you? Why did he feel almost guilty when he acted superior?

You stood motionless. “I mean, y’know. I enjoy… your… your company.” You stumbled over her words. Were you being intimate with him? He’d never seen this side of you. You noticed Kars slipping up on his own standards again, as well. His surprised emotions were clear as day, etched cleanly into his chiseled features. His fangs poked out onto his lower lip, a simple protrusion which you had wished you didn't find cute. You genuinely thought that Kars was attractive.

Then again, who wouldn’t? He stood tall, around 6’8”. He towered over most all he came in contact with, but that was simply second nature to you now. You were used to craning your neck to get a better look at those blood-red eyes that almost seemed to despise you. A dark loft of his hair would make its cameo every now and again. He’d always get flustered whenever you’d mention it, telling you that he didn’t need the approval of a human. He’d then, a minute or so later, slyly tuck it back in. It’s not that he didn’t know, of course; it’s just that he only cared enough about it if you took the time to tell him.

Wamuu had noticed his growing infatuation with you and the thought brought him a smile. After sitting down with Kars and listening to him do nothing but wax poetic about you earlier tonight, he told him to go find you. Maybe take a walk with you, if he felt like it. Kars kindly took up the offer; it seemed you had humbled him in that department, too. Normally he wouldn’t bother taking anyone’s advice, but here he was. Pulling him from the crevasse of his rushing brain was your hand, humbly wrapping your fingers around his.

Kars stared at his hands, fingers being separated by your own, in blatant shock. “You aren’t as bad as I thought you’d be.” You whispered, barely audible to him. He locked eyes with you and without thinking, going against everything he’d ever stood for in the past, he curled his fingers around yours as well. You smiled softly and looked down, avoiding his gaze. Kars’ lips pulled back together, his lips twitching, desperately wanting to smile. “I suppose.” He said hesitantly. “Why are you being nice to me?” He soon asked, turning his gaze back to your face.

He pulled his hand away, taking a step back. “I…” You murmured, retracting your hand as well. He looked between his fingers as though he’d touched gold, small glittering remnants still freckled along his palm. “I don’t know.” you finished with a heavy sigh. He closed his hand into a fist and looked at you with nervous confidence. “Well, if there’s nothing more, then I will take my leave.” He said quickly, nearly stuttering his words. He turned on his heel and began going the way he came. You gazed at his back as he swiftly left the hallway and sighed in disbelief. You had just grabbed his hand.

Kars, it seemed, had fallen in love with the enemy.

The enemy, it seemed, had felt exactly the same.

#kars x reader #kars jjba #pllar men #esidisi #wamuu #jjba part 2 #jjba battle tendency #jjba x reader #jjba fanfic #im actually kinda proud of this #but dont tell anyone ok #x reader #kars jjba x reader #romance fanfic #x reader fanfiction #anime x reader

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bonjour-rainycity · 3 years

Text

The Grandfather Clock Chimes | 1921

Pairing: Carlisle/Esme

Rating: G

Word count: 1977

Warnings: None

Summary: The first time Carlisle and Esme are alone together.

A/n Thanks to @jessicanjpa for the idea to do a solo Carlisle/Esme fic! I’m obsessed with them at the moment, so writing the first hopeful, awkward, thrilling moment when they’re on their own made my heart all kinds of happy!

In the entry way, the tall grandfather clock noted the hour.

Esme counted five chimes.

Carlisle was rarely home this early.

His arrival through the grand front door had startled Esme, who had become quite used to their little routine, but did not seem to shock the bronze-haired boy composing at the piano. No, Edward had merely smiled in that shy, all-knowing way of his, and welcomed the doctor home before announcing his intent to visit town. Esme had watched him go, shocked into physical silence, but inside, her mind raced, shouting panicked thoughts at the boy.

She had never been alone with the doctor, and had no idea what to say to him.

Stifling a grin, Edward had patted Esme’s hand in a half-hearted attempt to soothe before he took his leave, off to town to ‘collect supplies,’ whatever that was supposed to mean.

And that’s how Esme and Carlisle came to find themselves alone in an unnecessarily large house, sitting unnecessarily far apart in the unnecessarily spacious living room.

Esme sat straighter in her chair, if that was even possible.

On the sofa across from her, Carlisle mirrored her action.

The seconds ticked by.

“I was reminded of you while at work today,” Carlisle spoke suddenly. His voice disturbed the heavy silence between them, and Esme blinked to buy time while she found her voice.

“Oh?”

Though her response was minimal, Carlisle felt encouraged — the brief, thrilling moment when she spoke to him was much better than the silence.

“Yes,” he nodded eagerly, leaning forward in his seat in a futile attempt to close the space of the entire room that lay between them. “A woman visited her brother in our burn ward, and she had the same length hair as you do, with the same bounce to her curls. For just a split second, I thought it was you — but of course, it was ridiculous to believe it could be.” To illustrate this, he shook his head slightly, admonishing himself. “Regrettably, you are confined to the house and our land for the time being, so obviously, you could not have been visiting me at the hospital. Not to think I would presume that, were you to leave the house, you would visit me at the hospital,” he was quick to correct, glancing at her nervously. “No, you could be there for any number of reasons, I’m sure. Though,” his eyes darted to the wall just to her left, avoiding her slowly yellowing eyes, “those reasons are escaping my mind, at present.”

Despite nerves that made her wonder if she still possessed the ability to pass out, Esme smiled. Carlisle always seemed so proper, so put together — nothing ever flustered him.

Nothing, it seemed, until today.

Without Edward there, Esme could afford to be honest with herself in this brief moment of mental privacy. And, since she was being honest with herself, she could acknowledge that she quite liked seeing the doctor flustered.

In her silence, Carlisle continued to babble. “Once I got a better look at the woman, it became doubly clear she could not have been you. Her hair, while a shade of brown, was nothing like the unique caramel color of yours….” He trailed off once again, his gaze falling from the wall to a spot by Esme’s foot.

Esme pursed her lips against a smile. His nervousness had an unexpected effect on her — it seemed to embolden her, almost, to push past the uncertainty of her own. She attempted a slight change in topic. “How was your time at work?”

His perfectly golden eyes snapped to hers, a measure of relief in them. “Quite pleasant, to be honest. All easy fixes today. That is not often the case.”

“Is that why you were allowed to come home early,” Esme prodded, unable to fight the smile that tugged on her lips. She continued to be bold, watching his expression carefully as she spoke. “I admit, I found it a pleasant surprise to have you home before your usual time.”

Hope — beautiful, lighthearted, blossoming hope — lightened Carlisle’s eyes. He leaned forward, now in danger of falling off the sofa. “You did?”

“Y-yes,” she stuttered, caught off guard by his exuberance. She realized how her careless words could have been interpreted, and hurried to cover her tracks. For all his happiness at present, it was clear he did not share her feelings — best not to scare him off. “It is good for Edward to see you often — though he is older than me in our immortal years, he is still a boy at heart. He needs your attention, your guidance.”

Carlisle’s face sobered, though he quickly softened the lines into a small, understanding smile. “You are right, of course. I should spend more time with him. I am grateful for your insight.”

Esme’s useless heart could have melted right then. Always so polite and considerate, her doctor was, and it never failed to chip away at her carefully constructed reservations.

They fell into silence again, and Esme bit the inside of her cheek — a human gesture carried into this new life. Her hands laid over each other on her knee, touching the skirt of the light blue dress she wore — a gift from the man who sat at her opposite. Her fingers interlaced and tightened as she raised her eyes to his once more, trying to provoke her courage into gathering again.

“What did you and Edward do for fun before I arrived?”

Carlisle’s eyebrows raised, and so did Esme’s. She hadn’t planned on asking that.

Carlisle’s lips stretched into a nostalgic smile, and Esme decided right then that it was the most beautiful expression one could make.

“We spent a lot of time exploring the areas we lived in — visiting shops on cloudy days, hiking in the vast forests, even swimming in the lake sometimes.”

Then, his expression clouded, and Esme nearly had to sit on her hands to keep herself from rushing over and caressing his cheek, wanting to offer him every ounce of comfort she could.

“But I must admit,” Carlisle continued, sounding sad in a way that broke Esme’s heart, “those days were few and far between. Edward is…an introspective soul,” he decided on his phrasing finally, sounding like he chose the words with great care. “There are many days when he prefers to stay at home and lament over a choice he had no chance to make for himself.”

Esme had noticed this. Despite all the good times she and Edward had together, there was many an occasion when he would insist that they were all damned. Him and herself she could believe with little argument, but Carlisle? His damnation was a more difficult point for her to be convinced of — he seemed too pure, too wonderful, too good to be stopped at the gates of Heaven.

“I think he requires a push sometimes,” Esme reasoned, having gained great insight into Edward during these past few months of her new life. “He is intelligent, he needs something to stimulate his mind and take away from those dark thoughts. Perhaps visits to museums or—or an opportunity to play his compositions publicly, like at one of those galas you’re always being invited to.” The ideas came to her suddenly, tumbling out of some vault in her mind she wasn’t aware she possessed. “Maybe even school would be good for him.”

At this, the corners of Carlisle’s lips turned down, and Esme sucked in a breath — had she said something wrong?

But Carlisle shook his head, speaking gently. “It would not be right to leave you home by yourself, not while your control is…still in its early stages of success,” he finished delicately, always hesitant to insult even the most deserving being.

“Right,” Esme agreed, looking at her lap as she thought. A new idea sparked in her brain, and her eyes snapped to the doctor’s with enthusiasm. “I could teach him!”

Once again, Carlisle’s eyebrows raised, this time in clear surprise. “Is—is that something of interest for you?”

“Oh, yes,” Esme nodded, excitement overtaking her. “Though I don’t remember much of my career, I know I was a teacher in my human life — I would love the opportunity to rekindle that passion.”

Carlisle grinned, and Esme had to amend her earlier thought — this was the most beautiful expression one could make.

“I think that is a fantastic idea,” he enthused, hands settling on his knees. “I will go into town tomorrow morning and order all the necessary supplies. Are there any subjects of interest you yourself would like to expand upon? I would be happy to pick up the materials.”

Esme tilted her head as she thought on this. There was something, a curiosity that had always played at the back of her mind.

“Architecture,” she answered, then surprised herself when a playful smile overtook her lips. “If I learned about it, maybe I would stand a chance restoring this crumbling mansion of yours.”

Carlisle dipped his head in a teasingly bashful acknowledgement and promised to find her the proper books and supplies.

Esme leaned back in her chair, mildly embarrassed to find how far she had extended herself in Carlisle’s direction. “Perhaps you could be a guest lecturer of sorts — when your schedule allows, of course.”

Carlisle blessed her with her favorite grin once more, and Esme basked in it. He tilted his head as if explaining some inside joke. “Esme, we do not sleep. I am sure I could find time to help with your project.”

If she thought his smile would do her in, it was nothing compared to hearing him say her name! How lovely it sounded coming from his lips, resonating in the gentle baritone of his voice. She wished she could pretend she did not hear it, to ask him to repeat himself, and have the chance of hearing him say it again. Then, perhaps, she could return by speaking his own name — his familiar name, as he had used hers — something she rarely allowed herself to do.

She opened her mouth to say something, anything, when the front door opened and Edward’s scent filled the home.

The breath she would have used to speak tumbled from her mouth in a sigh. So soon…

But the clocked chimed again — six tolls, this time — and Esme was startled to discover that she and Carlisle had been together in that living room for over an hour.

How had the time stretched in an eternity, yet been over in mere minutes? What was this man’s presence doing to her?

Esme’s eyes sought Carlisle’s once more and she felt a pleasant warmth upon realizing that his eyes were searching hers with an equal fervor. They stayed like that for an immeasurable moment, locked in a gaze of unexpected intensity.

She hoped, down to the deepest parts of her useless heart, that there would be more moments like this, where it was just the two of them. Yes, part of her was relieved at being freed from this constant state of being unsure, but another part regretted Edward’s rapid return.

Part of her would have been perfectly content to sit in the hesitant, hopeful, awkward, thrilling silence with Carlisle for an eternity.

She didn’t quite know what to make of that.

Knowing their time for this evening was done, Esme and Carlisle stood and met the boy in the foyer, welcoming him home. While they inspected and praised the packages he brought — items for the house and gifts for the two he was quickly starting to consider as his parents — Carlisle and Esme avoided each other’s eyes.

Only Edward could know what the other was thinking.

And, out of respect for them both, he would not tell them that they were thinking exactly the same thing.

A/n Thanks for reading! Likes, comments, and reblogs make my day! You can find my masterlist here :)

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homeformyheart · 3 years

Note

*cough cough* 40. for the uh the LT route? :)

i am so so so sorry this took so long but inspiration suddenly hit around 10pm and finished it 3 hours later. i hope whichever anon you are gets to see this, since it's been months 🥺.

author’s note: this one hurt and takes place long after the events of the current books (and long after my canon relationship storyline). i hope the switching of tenses isn't too jarring, but it's sort of needed here given the POVs. enjoy! copyright: all characters, except the oc detective, are owned by mishka jenkins @seraphinitegames. series/pairing: the wayhaven chronicles – adam du mortain x f!detective (lyra kingston) x nate sewell (LT route) rating/warnings: 14+; angst based on/prompt: OTP angst prompts // 40. “I’m still not over you.” (in bold) word count: ~1k summary: after months spent trying to bury her feelings for nate and adam, lyra gives in before giving up.

time

nate glanced up from his tome at the large grandfather clock, the antique façade indicating that it wasn’t quite late enough for bed. he held back a sigh – time seemed to move slower these days.

he used to count down the days, when the only way to tell time was to follow the watch schedule and listen for the bells. sometimes it made the endless days at sea a little more tolerable.

other times, it was complete torture.

to know that life was passing by and yet being unable to move forward with it. he had never hoped to experience anything like that again.

and now time is one of the few things he no longer has to worry about.

time in essence, is the quintessential part of human existence that he has no right to claim.

instead, it speeds past him.

pushing the world around him toward newer heights and frightening changes, the awe-inspiring advancements never failing to strike him with renewed hope and fear.

it’s not that time is accelerating the world around him, but that he is no longer able – or perhaps willing – to go with it.

but today – and yesterday, and the day before, and so on, and he’s sure it will be the same tomorrow – he wishes he could fast forward by a decade or a century. maybe more since he’s not sure how much time it will take for the deep-rooted ache in his soul to heal.

maybe it will take nine hundred years.

his longest and dearest friend comes to mind. adam is staring out into the darkness, unmoving in body and in spirit. for a split second, nate wonders if that’s what he needs – the ability to lock away the hurt and let the centuries grow protective ivy over it.

he chases the notion away with a shake of his head, knowing that the hurt was just collateral damage for opening himself up to the possibility of a truly special kind of love with lyra.

adam tenses and nate dutifully returns his gaze to the words in his lap. a brief apology and easy forgiveness said to each other in passing months ago should’ve been enough to mend the rift between them.

but nate knows too well that time doesn’t heal all wounds. he knows the origin of the saying is locked away somewhere deep in the recesses of his mind, but he’d rather not think about how much he’s lost because of time.

it doesn’t heal, but it does provide distance.

a human-sized distance he desperately wishes didn’t exist.

* * * * * lyra’s done nothing but put unit bravo out of mind for the past few months, working diligently with agency researchers and hoping that space and time would force her feelings to pass.

for the most part, she thought she succeeded. it was easy enough to bury her head with work. in the windowless rooms she practically lived in, it was even easier to lose track of the days that turned into months.

but time still has a way of simultaneously moving too slow and speeding up when she least expects it.

and for brief moments, she thinks she understands her mother a bit better.

shut out an old life and it distracts from the pain.

she supposes there’s no need for the agency facility to track time in human hours, considering most supernaturals don’t need to sleep and everyone generally works around the clock.

truthfully, she enjoys the hourless days, her watches and old personal phone buried in a duffel bag somewhere.

except in those moments where time decides to remind her of its hold over human life and pull her down the road to memories shoved behind a door with loose hinges, creaking in the wind.

time, the friend who never calls except when they need something that takes too much, shoves memory after memory in her face and reminds her of all that she turned her back on – without a word of explanation.

just her leaving behind a couple of two-word sentences hastily scrawled with nate’s favorite pen and all of her things put into storage.

it’s a not-so-gentle reminder that time won’t let her forget and that the memory of a person is not beholden to their material possessions.

she knows this to be true when seeing a thick tome makes her long for those nights spent curled up in the library and walking by the training rooms takes her back to those combat lessons.

lyra presses her eyelids down to ease the stinging in the corners. the tears were supposed to stay behind with her things, that was the deal.

she wipes furiously at her cheeks while walking briskly towards the exit. she lets pure instinct take her down the familiar winding and hidden road through the woods, stepping out of her car just before the turn that would bring the warehouse into her sight.

she can feel their presence as she steps closer to the outside entrance, its dilapidated façade still the same and yet it now mirrors the ache in her chest.

the ache carries her forward until she’s speeding through to the inner doors, desperately seeking an answer to questions she’s still too afraid to ask.

but it isn’t fear that has her throwing the door open and panting to catch her breath, oblivious to the conflicted emotions swirling in front of her.

“i’m still not over you.”

the words ring loud and true in the otherwise quiet living room, both vampires attuned to her rapid heartbeat and pointedly avoiding each other’s gazes with practiced ease.

adam makes to leave, fists clenched tightly at his side and the movement helps nate find his voice.

“who were you speaking to, lyra?”

her name tumbles with hesitation from his lips, the tender familiarity of the sound is one he hopes to remember in its purest form, when he used to punctuate it with darling.

acknowledging the distance between them might begin to taint it but he says it anyway, his heart leaping slightly at the glimmer of hope in her eyes before dread quickly draws it back into place.

nate’s warmth and adam’s steadiness immediately draw her in and lyra grips the doorframe a little tighter in futile resistance. she knows now without a doubt that no amount of distance will lessen the pull.

but maybe time will.

after all, time is a human construct. creating the space to heal, to grow, to learn, and to love.

and vampires have all the time in the world.

* * * * * taglist: @kelseaaa; @anotherbeingsworld; @wayhavenots; @gingerbreton; @gloynporslen; @sosolenoo; @writer-ish; @alyssalauren; @takemyopenheart; @pearlsandsteel; @babycracker; @mevnraels; n sewell: @missameliep;

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steves-on-a-plane · 3 years

Text

First Date

Words: 1493 Pairing: Bucky x Reader Warning: none Summary: Reader and Bucky have been set up by their mutual friend Sam Wilson. Things start off awkward at first, but after Reader shares a bit about herself and her life, Bucky warms up enough to share some details about his own life.

“James?” You asked the man sitting at the table with uncertainty. Well Sam had been right about one thing, he certainly was handsome. He had steely blue eyes and a strong jawline. He was wearing a motorcycle jacket and a pair of riding gloves. He looked up from the book he’d been reading. “I’m Sam’s friend…”

“[Y/N].” He finished for you in a gravelly voice. “Please sit down.” He invited you to join him at the table’s only other empty seat. So you shrugged off your jacket and sat down. It was a nice enough night, just over fifty degrees out, but you’d wished you’d worn something warmer.

“I should have worn a sweater.” You mumbled mostly to yourself.

“You could keep the jacket on.” He suggested in a way he thought was helpful.

“I would but it doesn’t quite fit. It’s been too small for a while now.” You confessed. “But it’s my lucky jacket.” He leaned sideways in his seat to steal a peak at the jacket in question.

“You have a lucky denim jacket?” He straightened in his chair again.

“I’ve had this jacket since I was in high school. I took my SATs in this jacket, wore it to my first job interview. What can I say,” You shrugged. “Just because something’s old doesn’t mean it’s outworn its usefulness.” This made him laugh for some reason. “Reading anything good?” You attempted to read his book’s title upside down.

“Oh, not really.” He shrugged.

“I’ve never read Lord of the Rings. Is it your first time through?” You asked him.

“Yeah.” He nodded. “You, ah, you read?”

“Are you asking if I know how to read?” You question.

“What? No I was just…”

“Relax.” You smiled at him. “I was just teasing. Tolkien’s not my thing, though. I don’t need to read three pages about the Baggins’ legacy handkerchief collection. Now the Star Wars novels…” You let your sentence trail off as you nodded with approval.

“They have Star Wars books too?” He seemed almost exhausted by the idea.

“Hundreds of them.” You confirmed.

“Have you ever eaten here before?” He questioned, bringing his attention to the menu.

“No, I assumed you had.” You said, also picking up your menu.

“Sam recommended it.” He mumbled.

“Oh, I’m sure it’s great then.” Sam was a bit of a foodie so there was a high probability any place he recommended was good. As you skimmed the menu, scanning your options you noticed the prices were a bit over your own budget.

“This place seems…expensive.” You commented, unable to phrase it more delicately.

“Oh? You don’t find Forty-five dollars a reasonable price for pasta and chicken?” He scoffed.

“I know a place not too far away, do you maybe want to get out of here?” You suggested. James looked down at the menu in his hand, seeming to weigh the options.

“If Sam asks, we both had the steak, and it was delicious.” He smiled getting to his feet. You put your lucky jacket back on and followed James out of the restaurant. “So how do you know Sam?” He wanted to know once the two of you were walking in step together.

“Ah, work…sort of.” You told him vaguely. “You?”

“Same.” He replied quickly.

“Are you a veteran?” You questioned.

“You could say that.” He sighed. “You?”

“No, my Dad was. Vietnam.” You explained. ��I met Sam while I was helping out the VA.”

“You said was. Is your father…” He couldn’t stop himself from asking.

“Yeah. It’s been years now, so my mother and I have adjusted to life without him, but there’s not a day that goes by that I don’t feel like there was more we could have done for him.” You shook your head. “I’m so sorry, this is a terrible conversation for a first date.”

“No, no it’s fine.” He insisted. “Much better than asking me about a childhood pet or I don’t know, my favorite color. It’s refreshing to have someone share their life so openly.”

“Oh? It can go both ways, ya know.” You elbowed him playfully.

“What do you want to know?” He asked stuffing his hands in his pockets. You continued walking, taking a minute to think of something interesting to ask him.

“What is something you’d never bring up on a first or second date, but your romantic partner should know?” You asked. He stopped walking, which surprised you. You stopped too, turning to look back at him.

“I’m a hundred and three years old.” He said before continuing down the street.

“Okay, well if you’re not going to take it seriously, don’t open the door to…” You rolled your eyes before chasing after him.

“I’m being serious.” He insisted, not looking at you.

“How can you be a hundred and three years old? The only person who looks as good as you and is that old is Captain America. The internet says he’s up on the moon or whatever but either way you’re not Captain America. So how could you possibly be that old?”

“Never mind. Forget I said anything.” He mumbled. You wanted to prod some more but you’d reached your destination. “C’mon.” You tugged him by the elbow towards a small hole in the wall restaurant.

The restaurant wasn’t much. It was certainly small with only about ten tables. The décor was simple and slightly outdated. Along one wall was a mural of Italian wine makers stomping grapes. There were yards of faux grape vines winding and twisting like trim across the top of the dining room. Some sections of vine even had plastic grapes dangling from them. The tabletops were well worn, their red and white gingham patterned had faded slightly over the years. It wasn’t much, but it was warm and the food was good.

“Best pizza in the whole city, I swear.” You promised as you dragged him inside.

“This place doesn’t even look open.” He commented with uncertainty. There was no one in the dining room when you arrived, but at the sound of the bell over the door, A short woman in an apron stepped out from the kitchen. A teenage boy in all black stumbled out beside her.

“I’m so sorry, but we are closed for tonight. You come back tomorrow.” The woman started to say in her thick Italian accent.

“Ma, it’s me.” You rolled your eyes. Your mother squinted at you, before putting her glasses on. She beamed with a smile once she recognized you.

“[Y/N]? But you are supposed to be out on a date, not here.” She argued.

“Well, I brought my date here. Ma, Marco, this is…” You began to introduce him.

“Bucky, Ma’am. My friends call me Bucky.” He introduced you.

“Are you taking good care of my [Y/N], Bucky?” Your mother asked.

“Ma, leave him alone. He hasn’t even been able to eat yet.” You told.

“Not eaten?” You mother seemed scandalized. “You left an hour ago to go to that fancy restaurant! Sit, sit, both of you. Marco, go get table setting for your cousin!” She ordered the young boy.

“è bello, no?” You mother whispered to you. You wanted to chastise her, but Bucky replied back in Italian.

“Non bella come tua figlia.” He smirked.

“I will cook something special for you, Bucky.” You mother decided.

“Just pizza will be fine, Ma!” You called after her. “So, you speak Italian?” You quested as the two of you sat at the nearest table.

“You don’t?” He continued to smile.

“Not since my dad…” You confessed looking around.

“I’m guessing this was his place?” He nodded towards the large neon sign behind the bar proclaiming the restaurant as Antonio’s.

“It was my grandfather’s. Then my dad took it over and he was a terrible cook.” You laughed. “He hired my mom to be his chef, that’s how they met. They were a perfect team for over thirty years. Since then, we’ve been doing everything to keep it afloat. It’ll kill both of us to lose it.”

“I really am a hundred and three.” He said again, not knowing what else to say. “I tell people that I wear these gloves because I have poor circulation, but the truth is…” He tugged off his right glove first, then his second. You noticed, even in the dim lighting of the restaurant his left hand seemed to be made of metal. “It’s vibranium.” He told you flexing his fingers so you could see them.

“Bucky.” You repeated. “A hundred and three. Are you the guy they were looking for all those years back? The one they thought did the Socovian Accords bombing?”

“How can you be sure I didn’t do it?” He asked.

“I just have this feeling about you.” You shrugged. “Like you’d never hurt a fly. So, tell me, Bucky. How do I get to be a hundred and three and still look as good as you?”

#Bucky Barnes #Bucky Barnes x Reader #Bucky Barnes Reader Insert #Bucky Barnes Fan Fiction #Bucky Barnes Fan Fic #Bucky Barnes FF #TFATWS

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fortisfiliae · 4 years

Text

Promised Part 10 - Tom Riddle x reader

Summary: In this story, Tom didn’t grow up as an orphan, but with his grandfather and uncle. Reader’s sister got very sick and the Gaunts offer their help. But not without asking for something in return.

Disclaimer: Please be aware that I don’t condone any of this in real life. (GIF is not mine)

Warnings: Arranged marriage

Word count: 3k

Part 10 - Mors Grano

The days after Avery’s poor attempt of gathering information went by quite eventfully. Not only had Avery and Lestrange almost gotten expelled by Dippet for what they had done, but had received the worst detention you had ever heard of.

Every day, up until the N.E.W.T.s would start, they had to help Mr Carpe, Hogwarts’ caretaker, to clean every last bit of the castle. Without magic of course. And when they weren’t scrubbing floors, cleaning windows, or polishing trophies, they were copying the school rules on parchment, by hand. The amount of paper they had to fill looked like it wouldn’t even fit into an entire classroom, had it not been rolled up.

Even if they still wanted to, their new schedule didn’t even give them enough time to trail, or even think about you. They barely had enough time to finish their homework before tumbling into their beds.

You would have felt sorry for them, but Tom’s snarky grin, which he wore every time you saw the two in the hallways, reminded you that you didn’t have to.

Thank Merlin you hadn’t told Avery much when he had disguised himself as Tom. You had just confirmed that the engagement had been arranged but thankfully hadn’t said anything about your sister. There had been worse rumours going round about Tom and you.

Camille almost didn’t believe you when you told her what they had done. After a lot of head shaking and “no, they didn’t”s she just stared at you with her mouth open and proceeded to laugh for a full minute or two when you told her about their punishment.

It was a lucky coincidence that she had found an interest in Ben, as she didn’t mind now that you were spending a lot more time with Tom. She was preoccupied as well by the looks of it.

After the accidental sleepover, you had stayed in Tom’s dorm overnight more often. Not on accident though. It had become a routine to you, to have another quick chat with Camille after classes, arrange some dates for when you wanted to study together and then make your way to the Slytherin common room, where Tom’s dorm was.

Tom was sitting at his desk when you entered the room, apparently deep in thought and studying the Potions book he had gifted you.

“Alright?” you said when you closed the door.

He nodded as you went up to him.

“Found anything interesting for the Moly?” you asked. “It still looks quite healthy to me.”

“Not really,” he answered and turned towards you. “Nothing specific.”

“Oh, I just got an owl from my parents. ” You crammed the letter out of your bag and handed it to him. “They’ve fixated the date. For the wedding.”

Tom read the letter quietly, his eyebrows twitching slightly once or twice.

“June 30th,” he said.

“That’s only one day after we graduate,” you stated and tried to lighten the mood by joking. “Seems like they can’t wait for the big day.”

He nodded as he gazed into the flames inside the fireplace, a tiny grin pulling on the edge of his mouth before he looked up at you. “Can you?”

To prevent the chuckle that built up inside of you from bursting out, you took Tom’s hand, lightly pulled on it and gestured towards the couch, where you wanted to sit. He closed the Potions book, but kept one finger inside it and took it with him when you led him over.

“Well, I don’t know,” you said as you let yourself fall onto the cushion. “It still doesn’t feel real, does it?”

“True,” he simply agreed.

“I can’t wait to try on the dress, though. That’ll be exciting,” you went on and noticed him smiling. “And then there’s the most important part, of course.”

He gave you a look as if to say he didn’t know what you meant.

“Elsie,” you explained. “Your uncle will lift her curse completely then. Or so I hope at least.”

Morfin had to, didn’t he? It was part of the pact after all. Tom and you would get married so that they would free your sister. As much as you wanted to believe that the Gaunts were trustworthy, there had been a nasty sting in your stomach ever since the engagement. Would they really give up, even when they had won? They wouldn’t be able to control you anymore afterwards, or Tom, or anyone but themselves. Marvolo’s filthy grin appeared in your head. Would he ever give it a rest?

“He will free her, won’t he?” you asked.

Tom looked into your eyes for a moment, then cleared his throat. “Well, it’s what they agreed on.”

“But?” you asked.

“But,” he went on, “You’ve seen how they are.”

An invisible weight seemed to pull on your limbs and the sting in your stomach got more intense.

“They’ll never let go,” you breathed. “But how-”

Tom shook his head and exhaled slowly. “I have to show you something.”

He gave you the Potions book and opened it at the page where he had put his finger before. “I thought you’d come across it on your own, but as I noticed you wouldn’t… Just see for yourself.”

You stared at him for a moment, wondering what Morfin’s book had to do with anything, before looking down at it. Tom pointed at a recipe, written in scrawled handwriting:

Mors Grano or The Dust Of Slow Death The dust is used to be scattered over an item and will cling to the first person that touches it. Vanishes the second the victim comes in contact, which makes it very hard to be detected and cured. Victims will suffer from a distinctively harsh cough, as well as pain and flu-like symptoms, which will worsen each day, until they become fatal. Average time until death is around three weeks after the first encounter with Mors Grano. In most cases, the victim will lose their life before the appropriate antidote can be given.

You didn’t bother reading the list of ingredients, as your hands were shaking far too much to even detect another word. You had heard of Mors Grano before. Professor Dippet had brought it up in History of Magic when you had learned about the Passing of Men in 1760. Hundreds of witches had poisoned their abusive husbands with it when the dust had been invented. It had taken years to figure out what had caused such an increased amount of deaths, which happened to involve male wizards only. The potion and most of its ingredients got banned afterwards and you had never heard of another case since.

Until now. It suddenly all made sense. The Gaunts had sent the letter and had coated it with Mors Grano. They had known how to cure Elsie all along and had patiently waited, days and weeks, had let your sister suffer until Father had contacted them. No wonder the owl had given the letter to her, even though it had been addressed to Father. They had specifically chosen her. A ten year old, innocent, little girl.

You weren’t sure if you had to throw up, or just needed to punch something really hard, but your stomach did twists and turns that you had never felt before. A thin layer of sweat had formed on your forehead and your hands were still shaking.

“They…” you whispered. “And you knew?”

Tom swallowed thickly. “I didn’t at first. But then I came across it when Morfin prepared the poison.”

“And you never told me?” you asked, your voice loud and on the verge of breaking, while you attempted to get up from the couch.

“Let me explain,” Tom said and grabbed your hand. “Sit down.”

“What is there to explain?” you asked, trying to pull away from his grip. “You’ve known for months. Even before your first visit. Before Elsie got sick. And you never tried to prevent it, nor did you tell me.”

Tom’s grip around your hand got tighter the more you tried to get him off you. “I said let me explain. I let you explain yourself when I saw you with Avery, didn’t I? Imagine I just ran away then. Now sit down.”

Finally, Tom’s grip loosened, allowing you to tear your hand away from him. Not knowing what to think or say, you sat down but couldn’t bring yourself to even look in his direction.

“Yes, I knew,” he began with a sigh. “And I didn’t care until I found out what they wanted to use the potion for. But I couldn’t tell you. Or anyone. I still can’t. I’m unable to talk about it. They were a step ahead. Understand?”

The Gaunts were a step ahead. They always wanted to be. Just like on Christmas Day, when they wanted you and Tom to do-

“An unbreakable vow?” you asked with wide eyes. “You had to vow not to tell anyone.”

He nodded. “I vowed not to tell. But I didn’t vow not to show.”

He turned one page inside the book and handed it to you again.

Mors Grano - antidote

Ingredients:

The skin of a snake

2 fresh Foxgloves

3 blossoms of a Moly

4 drops of Moondew

5 tears of a Banshee

“The antidote,” you mumbled. “Full with an ingredient list and instructions. Morfin brewed it already then? They gave it to Elsie, otherwise, she wouldn’t have gotten better.”

“He didn’t complete it,” Tom answered, apparently trying not to say something that would interfere with the vow.

“He left out something? They gave her an unfinished antidote?”

Tom nodded.

“The tears?” you guessed, solely because it was the most powerful and rare item on the list.

“I’m not sure. They never let me into his chamber after the engagement.”

“Can we… Can we steal it from him? And add the last ingredient?”

“Marvolo has the flask on him at all times. He’s suspicious, even of Morfin.”

Bloody hell. Marvolo’s paranoia was a real pain. You scanned the antidote again, thinking of all the ways you could get your hands on that potion.

“But I could brew it myself. Most of the ingredients are easy to find. Foxgloves are for sale in Diagon Alley, I’ve seen them countless times. The Moly, we have it here,” you listed and looked at it standing on the desk, finally realising why Tom had tried to keep it alive so badly. “Snakeskin from Nagini. We just wait for her to shed. Moondew and the Banshee tears will be tricky, however.”

Tom nodded at every new thing you had said. “You figured it out.”

Your stomach had stopped squirming at the glimmer of hope you had for saving Elsie. You carefully read the recipe for the antidote again, understanding how long it would take and how hard it would be to get the potion right. If everything went well, it would be finished mid to late June at the earliest. Besides, Slughorn had never taught you such advanced techniques.

Now that you were thinking of your Professor, it began to dawn on you. “Do you think Slughorn has Moondew and Banshee tears in his chamber?”

“Possibly,” Tom answered. “But do you really want to steal from him after what Avery and Lestrange did? I’m sure he’s got it all locked up in his office now.”

“Well, I have to try. Where else would I get those things from? And I better try soon. The antidote will take months to make as it is and the earlier I start, the better.”

Tom took the book, got up from the couch and put it into the drawer of his desk, closing it shut slowly.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

“We’re going to Slughorn then, aren’t we? Come on.”

You followed him out hastily, trying to sort out your thoughts. Frankly, you had not expected to get the ingredients this quickly.

“Wait, how are we going to do it?” you asked, struggling to keep pace. “We can’t just sneak in and grab the things we need. He might be in there.”

“Even better then,” Tom said, not deigning to look at the other students strolling along the hallways. “I talk, you get the stuff.”

As Slughorn’s office was located on the sixth floor, it took some time to get there. Your mind was still racing around the facts you had just been given and you needed to talk about it.

“I can’t believe they made you vow,” you muttered. “Marvolo and Morfin are…”

“Bastards,” he finished your sentence when you stepped from one of the moving staircases to another. “I’m aware.”

“Well, yes they are.”

You were the only people on the staircase, floating higher up towards your destination. Tom looked over his shoulder to double-check if anyone could hear him.

“You know what,” he said pensively. “I actually expected people to ask me what I, or my family, had done to make the engagement happen. Seeing as it was them who got the ball rolling. But everyone suspected you. They all thought your parents bribed us.”

You thought about what to answer for a moment. A sour smile had formed on your face. One that, for all you knew, every woman had worn at least once in her life.

“A woman's intentions will always be questioned a hundred times harsher than those of a man, Tom. What else is new?”

He pressed his lips together, nodded and kept quiet until you reached the sixth floor.

“Wait,” you said and got a hold of his hand when you had entered the corridor of Slughorn’s office. “I wanted to thank you. For helping me. The book, the Moly and now this. You know you don’t have to.”

He squeezed your fingers lightly in response.

“Trust me, no one hates Marvolo and Morfin more than I do. If I can make their lives a bit harder, I’ll gladly do it. And besides, I want to see your sister become Quidditch captain one day. That will really piss them off.”

There wasn’t a lot of time to take in Tom’s words, as you had arrived. There it was. The door to Slughorn’s room.

“Get behind me,” Tom ordered. “Make sure he doesn’t see you.”

You did as he said, pressed your back against the stone wall and watched from a small distance how Tom knocked on the door and Slughorn opened it.

“Oh, Tom,” the Professor said. “Good afternoon. What brings you here?”

“Good afternoon Professor. I hope I’m not disturbing you. I have some questions about Avery and Lestrange. I’m trying to sort out some things for Professor Dippet. Would you mind letting me in?”

Slughorn opened the door fully and stepped back. “Of course, boy, of course. Come in.”

Tom had left the door open for you to slip in behind them, which you instantly did. He lured Slughorn to the far end of his office, walking backwards and keeping an eye on you. Slughorn’s potion stock was right next to the entrance, where you knelt down between the shelves, in case he would turn around unexpectedly.

The small drawers weren’t tagged, but you noticed that their contents were sorted alphabetically. As you silently roamed through them, you could hear Tom and Slughorn speak.

“So, Professor,” Tom said. “Do you know if Avery and Lestrange have taken anything else? Apart from the Polyjuice Potion?”

The Professor hummed. “Not that I’m aware of, no. Why?”

Every single one of the drawers was filled to the brim with ingredients, some vials even had completed potions in it, but you still hadn’t seen the things you were looking for. It was a delicate act to go through everything so quickly, while being quiet at the same time and making sure not to miss anything.

“Well, there were some items found. Residues of Moondew and Banshee tears,” Tom explained.

“Banshee tears?” Slughorn asked.

“Yes. We can’t be sure if it was them, but I thought if you missed those things from your supply, the two might have something to do with it.”

“No, everything else is there, I counted it myself,” Slughorn assured. “What baffles me are the Banshee tears.”

Tom was an excellent liar, even though Slughorn would have probably bought anything his favourite student said. The bottom drawer at the penultimate row was stuck. You pulled the handle tightly but it only opened up an inch and gave a screech while it did, making you freeze from fear.

“Did you hear something?” Slughorn asked, his voice echoing your way.

“No, I didn’t,” Tom answered and coughed. “Why are you surprised about the Banshee tears, sir?”

“Well, those tears are rare,” the teacher answered, his head directed towards Tom again. “Very rare and also not very legal, boy. I’ve never seen them anywhere in my whole life. They couldn’t have been from me.”

No Banshee tears from Slughorn then. You pulled out your wand and cast a nonverbal spell to loosen up the stuck drawer. Should have done that right away, you thought to yourself. Eventually, it opened smoothly and your eyes went over all the flasks and their name tags. Mollowsweed, mandrake, maw, mistletoe berry... Moondew. Thank Merlin! There were over ten vials of it in the drawer, so you hastily took out one and put it into your pocket.

You peeked over the counter, locked eyes with Tom, and pointed towards the door to let him know you would leave.

“I see,” Tom went on, his eyes back on Slughorn. “We’ll have to look into that. Anyway, if you do notice some Moondew missing, against all expectations, I’m going to have another talk with Dippet about Avery and Lestrange.”

“I’ll let you know, boy. Thank you.”

“Enjoy your evening, sir.”

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professorsnape394 · 3 years

Text

The Potions Master’s Apprentice

Chapter Eighteen: Faith

A/N: This is the Eighteenth part to my fanfiction ‘The Potions Master’s Apprentice (Severus Snape x OC)’. Chapters 1-18 can also be found already uploaded on Wattpad under the same name. Feel free to leave requests in my inbox for anything Snape related you want me to write. Leave a comment below or send me a message if you wish to be added to my tag list.

Pairing: Severus Snape x OC (Dumbledore’s Granddaughter)

Summary: A talented young witch is employed as an apprentice professor at Hogwarts, but who will she be working under? Severus Snape is not best pleased with his new responsibility of taking on an apprentice, however she is relentless to create a friendship between them. Will she be successful? Or might the friendship just go a little two far? With the eyes of her grandfather constantly watching over them, an attempt at a relationship might not be in the cards for Aria Dumbledore and Severus Snape.

Word Count: 4199

Warnings: n/a

Credits to Gif Creator

The rapping of knuckles against the old oak door echoed throughout the potions master's office. Breaking through the thick silence that had engulfed the room, a wave of anxiety washed over Severus Snape.

"Can I not go one day without you bothering me, Miss Dumbledore." Snape complained, trying to hide slight crack of nervousness in his voice.

"Sadly, Severus, it is not your beloved Miss Dumbledore." A thick Bulgarian accent announced.

Admittedly disappointed by the unveiling of his visitor, Severus lowered himself back down into his chair, not willing to make an effort for anyone but his apprentice.

"Why are you here, Igor. You should have learned your lesson by now to leave me alone." He said, rubbing his eyes back into focus and running a hand through his hair lazily.

"I have something you'll want to hear." Karkaroff divulged mysteriously, plopping himself down on the chair across from the professor.

"I do not imagine anything you have to say is of any interest to me."

"Then lucky for you Snape, I won't be the one talking."

Unbothered by the man's deliberate awkwardness, Severus allowed him to ramble on, too exhausted to argue with him.

With a flick of his wand and a small puff off smoke, the space between the two men began to whirl and spin, slowly forming a picture-like image in the air, the scene beginning to unfold. Revealing a staff room full of unusually dressed professors, the focus turned to a small cluster of teachers gathered in the centre of the room. Recognising both Igor Karkaroff and Aria Dumbledore sitting side by side on the old couch, Snape grew suspicious of the man's intentions.

"Why are you showing me this?" Severus asked, unsure of whether he wanted to see what was about to happen.

"Just listen." The Durmstrang headmaster hissed.

"How do I feel about Snape?" Aria wondered, the scene enclosing in on her.

"He's... curious. He has the capacity for love and friendship just like the rest of us, yet he chooses to be mean-spirited."

"I don't want to hear this." Snape declared, turning his eyes away from the woman.

"You must." Igor demanded.

"...he can be mean and arrogant and cruel. And despite it all I try my best to show him kindness, but where does that get me? He calls me out in front of practically the whole school? That was so fucking humiliating, and I'm just supposed to forgive him? I think it's safe to say I'd live a happy life if I were to never see that man again."

Severus felt his heart drop in his chest, unable to process what he had just heard. Slowly a sharp ringing in his ears grew louder and louder, deafening him to the scene before him, as well as the reality in which he existed. He refused to believe the woman he cared so much about, the woman who had demanded to be his friend, had lied about everything. Did she truly hate him beneath her annoyingly cheerful demeanour, was it all a façade?

He wanted to insist Karkaroff had fabricated the whole thing, but he knew exactly what spell he had cast, there was no way he could have faked it.

A deep rage grew within the man, an anger he had not felt in a number of decades. Severus Snape prided himself on having a monotone disposition, void of all emotion. But that familiar feeling of being betrayed by someone he trusted brought forward a plethora of pent up emotions, namely anger and frustration.

A wide, devilish grin spread across Karkaroff's face, satisfied by his colleague's reaction.

"You see now what she is truly like, Severus. You see now that she was playing you all along. That girl pretends to be your friend to keep her job, not because she likes you." Igor laughed maliciously. "You and I both know what is coming, and when it does, Dumbledore is prepared to replace you. Even he knows where your true loyalties lie. Do not be fooled into thinking the Dumbledore's are your friends. They use you for their own advantage, but the second you are no longer useful, or you become a threat to them, you'll be taken down by any means necessary."

"You're lying." Snape tried to convince himself, refusing to meet the professors gaze. "You're scared of what he will do to you if he returns. You need an alliance with someone on the inside."

"He has returned, you must feel it just as I do." The ex-deatheater practically screamed.

"I will not be manipulated by you Igor. This changes nothing, the girl was nothing but a distraction."

"We both know that isn't true." He sniggered, attempting once last time to convince Snape. "Do you know what she said to me, the last time I was in this office? She told me she could never be with a man like you, she told me your actions were unforgivable. I can prove that as well if you don't believe me."

"Get out, Igor. Just leave." Severus exhaled, starting to pace slowly behind his desk. He knew Karkaroff was trying to manipulate him, he was not stupid enough to fall for that. But proof does not lie, and the facts remain. Everything he was saying true, there was no denying it.

With a short bow, Igor danced out of the room. Completely satisfied with the havoc he'd reeked. He'd successfully toyed with what little emotions the great dungeon bat had left. And who's to say what can happen when Severus Snape's feelings get hurt?

Hoot. Hoot.

The bird bleated as it swooped through the open window.

"Another letter for the pile?" Aria sighed to herself. "Will he ever stop?"

Whoo.

It purred in response.

The witch couldn't help but laugh at the coincidence.

"You know exactly who." She giggled, plucking the envelope from the creatures beak, and throwing it on the ever growing pile.

"I just wish he would give me some time to think, you know?" She asked turning back to the barn owl, only to witness it taking off, disappearing into the distance.

Look at me. I'm talking to a bird. She thought with a roll of her eyes. I need to get some sleep.

Catching a glimpse of herself reflection of the window, Aria decided she needed to freshen herself up with a little pamper time, finishing the day off with a very long and well deserved nap.

Dumping almost a whole bottle of bubble bath into the tub, topping with springs of lavender and dried chamomile, Aria plunged herself deep into the warm water.

Relaxing for approximately 2.5 seconds, the woman flew out of the bath, her naked body sopping with bubbles, dripping puddles of water as she explored her quarters impatiently.

"Why can I never find any of my books when I need them most!" She groaned, shivering from the sudden change in temperature as goose bumps formed all over her arms and legs.

Letting out a single yelp of excitement, Aria grabbed the first book she laid eyes on and dived back into her tub.

"Pride and Prejudice, of course." She mumbled, thinking back to that night Severus visited her quarters.

As she read and her mind wandered, Aria found herself making unconscious comparisons between the infamous, brooding Mr. Darcy, and her stern, yet lovable Potions mentor, Severus Snape. They were both mildly rude and arrogant, determined to never show their true emotions, but deep down it was quite possible that they loved more fiercely than anyone ever could.

Elizabeth Bennet enchanted Darcy mind, body and soul. If only there were someone brave enough to do the same to Professor Snape. Aria thought, as she allowed herself to drift off to sleep in the water.

Hours later a thunderously loud 'Bang' frightened Aria awake.

Although not positively sure of how much later it was, she could be certain a decent sleep was had given the icy temperature of the water.

Aria allowed herself a moment to come to, bracing herself against the cold, her was body aching from the ceramic constraints of the tub.

A series of bangs came this time, chapping very loudly on her chamber door. Who ever it was was clearly extremely impatient, forcing her to hurry herself up.

Wrapping herself in nothing but a white cotton towel, the witch slid her way through her rooms to the door. Clearly she wasn't even awake enough to remember where she was, and that answering her door half naked wasn't exactly professional.

Bang. Bang. BANG.

The knocks reverberated through her body, sending shivers down her spine.

Gingerly she opened the door, revealing a more than pissed off Severus Snape.

"Severus." She yawned. "What's wrong?"

"Don't act dumb with me, girl. I am not falling for this act any longer." He snapped.

"What act, Severus? Why are you here?"

"Just tell me why?" He seethed. "Why did go to so much trouble trying to convince me to be your friend, only to confess to Karkaroff, as well as the rest of the Hogwarts staff, your true feelings. Why couldn't you just leave me alone."

"Severus listen, I think we need to talk about this in private. Please come in."

"So you can try and seduce me again? I don't think so. Jesus, look at the state of you, are you really that desperate to entice me? What's next, showing up to dinner completely naked? You really are just as I thought." The potions master growled, his pitch back eyes looking her up and down.

"Severus stop" Aria begged. "I thought we had moved past all this."

"So did I. But considering you have deemed me as "unforgivable" then there doesn't appear to be much point in trying to redeem myself, does there?"

"But you're only going to make everything worse. Let me explain myself, please."

"There is nothing to explain, I shall be putting in a formal request for the headmaster to employ a separate tutor for your apprenticeship in the morning, so you never have to see me again."

The professor stormed off, just as quickly as he had arrived, achieving exactly what he had come to do; humiliate Aria Dumbledore.

Desperate to apologise for her cruel words, Aria made to follow Severus to his classroom.

Forgetting her attire, or rather lack of, she was soon reminded of it when a crowd of Slytherin students erupted in a fit laughter with its fair share of cat-calls and whistles. Clearly they had emerged from their common room to investigate the noise, but stayed for the show of the two arguing potions professors.

"Nice legs, Miss." One of the older boys called, sending a wink in her direction.

Shit. She mumbled under her breath, rushing back to her quarters to change.

Hair still dripping wet, Aria shoved it into a bun on top of her head and pulled on some shorts and an oversized t-shirt, before hunting down the potions master.

"Severus, open the door." She called, upon initially finding it to be locked.

He didn't even bother to reply.

Fine. She thought. I'll do it myself.

"Alohomora." The lock burst apart, allowing the door to slowly creep open, revealing a dishevelled and distressed professor sitting at his desk.

"Severus, please." She whispered softly, realising he had clearly come down from his short outburst of rage.

"Get out." He commanded, though he didn't make any effort to remove his head from his hands.

"Let's talk about this." The woman pleaded, pulling a chair up next to the man. "Let me explain everything."

Snape stirred from his position the closer she came, until finally he was able to look her in the eye.

"Go on." He droned. His eyes red and blood shot, whether it was from lack of sleep or tears was unclear.

"You know more than anyone that Karkaroff cannot be trusted-"

"Don't try and lie to me, Miss Dumbledore. I saw the whole thing with my own eyes." Snape snapped.

"Will you let me finish. I'm not lying to you, Severus." Aria promised. "I said what I said because I didn't want them to know the truth, Karkaroff especially. I don't know what his problem is but I know he's up to something and it involves you. You really think I'd answer any question he asked me truthfully. You're my friend, Severus, I care about you, and that man is a snake for trying to turn us against each other."

"Why should I believe you. I've barely known you a few months, I've known Igor decades."

"That is precisely why you should believe me. He's not your friend, Severus. If he was he'd be able to see the real you; the man behind the mask." She urged, begging for his trust.

Reaching out her hand to take his, Aria stroked a thumb over the cold and calloused hand of her friend.

"And who might that be?" Severus questioned in return, feeling slightly nervous under her touch, but not enough to want to pull away.

"A man." She stated simply. "Not a beast, as you and many others may presume. A good, and decent man. Perhaps he's a even a little bit scared, of what I'm not entirely sure yet. But I will find out one day, if you'll allow me, that is. Let me be your friend, Severus. Let me see what you hide from everyone else. And I promise, I'll be there for you when it matters most."

Her sweet soft tones encapsulated Severus. He had become so lost in her words and her touch that without realising he found himself falling for her speech wholeheartedly. He even risked settling his remaining hand upon hers, clasping her delicate fist between his palms.

"Well then I suppose an apology is in order. I believe I may have acted rather rash and unprofessional."

"There's really no need. You reacted just as you should have to the things you heard. I would have done the same thing in your circumstance." Aria admitted, removing her hand from his, as she made to stand up. "Though there is one thing you could do to make it up to me." She suggested.

"Dare I even ask?" Severus joked.

"I want to know what Karkaroff's after. Tell me how you know him. Why does he care so much about your life?"

Snape practically laughed in response.

"We may be friends now, Miss Dumbledore, but I'm afraid that information is rather personal. And I am not convinced we are quite at that stage in our friendship, just yet."

"I respect that." She shrugged, knowing he wasn't about to give in that easily. "I suppose that just means we'll have to get to know each other a bit more." She smiled almost ear to ear at the prospect.

"What do you have planned for your lesson today, Professor Dumbledore?" Severus queried, finally using the woman's rightful professional title.

"Ooooh 'Professor' now, am I?" She smirked, sashaying in front of her co-worker, balancing a handful of potion ingredients in her arms.

"I suppose that is your given title after all, I might as well start using it."

"Hmmm I'm not sure. I think it make's me sound too much like my grandfather. I'm not sure I could pull of the beard quite as well, what do you think?" She giggled, holding her long hair in front of her chin, imitating the old wizard playfully before clumsily dropping another dozen bottles on the table.

Severus tried his hardest to conceal his smile, busying himself with paper work, but however hard he tried he could not hide it from Aria. Every so often she managed to catch him off guard, with a silly joke, or a quick witted comment, in those rare times he allowed himself a glimmer of emotion she always managed to notice. Most of the time Severus found himself smiling at the woman for no reason other than she was simply smiling too.

Finally turning her attention away from the potions master, Aria finished setting up her table full of small bottles and vials.

"We're going to play a game." She announced cheerfully spinning on her heel.

"A game?" Severus asked, unable to stop himself turning his nose up at her idea.

"Yes. It's like a test, but more fun." She persuaded, sensing his judgement.

"And what, might I ask, is wrong with a traditional test." He queried bitterly.

"The students need motivation, Severus. The word 'test' makes people nervous. With nervousness comes panic, and with panic comes mistakes. Fear is not an accurate motivator, however competition is. The students will be less inclined to make mistakes, if they are rewarded for their efforts." The apprentice hypothesised.

"And this reward is?"

"I haven't decided yet."

Severus fought the urge to roll his eyes, but allowed her to do her thing uninterrupted.

Since their little 'heart to heart' that night in Snape's office the two professors were finding working with each other a lot more amiable. Severus had given Aria a little more free reign with her portion of the lessons, which in turn, allowed her to respect Severus' strict theoretical practices without causing too many interruptions. The pair had almost started to enjoy working together.

Student by student the class trickled in, each of them intrigued by the new set up of the class room.

"Everyone please take your seats, do not touch the table at the front of the room, class will begin momentarily." Miss Dumbledore announced.

A moment of panic set in as Aria scrambled around Snape's desk, looking for her list of possible potions. This may not have been her first time teaching solo, but it was, however, her opportunity to prove her practices are successful in front of her mentor, Severus Snape. The man in question could see the fear in her eyes, and that she was desperate to impress.

"Here." He mouthed, handing her the piece of parchment. "Relax."

Brushing fingers, as she took the parchment from him, Aria grinned.

"Thank you." She whispered, once again turning to face the class, now with a little more confidence.

"Now today, as you may have guessed, we are going to do something a little different. Professor Snape and I have chosen to take this opportunity to allow you, our promising young N.E.W.Ts students, to show off your skill set to the best of your ability's. On this table in front of me you will find a select variety of potions ingredients that correspond to a number of potions all very much within your capability, your task is to complete one of these potions within the allotted time, at the end of which, a winner will be selected by us."

"What do we win then, professor?" One eager student asked.

"A potion of their choice." She declared, impulsively.

A murmer of chatter instantly broke out among the class, intrigued at the prospect of winning such a thing.

"That all sounds very exciting, Miss Dumbledore." Snape cut in, unwilling to take a backseat quite so easily. "However, sadly as an apprentice professor you are not permitted to take anything from my stores to use so frivolously. The prize will have to be decided at a later time."

Unsurprisingly the students weren't too pleased with Snape's intervention causing for a series of disappointed groans and heckles.

"Then I shall make it myself." Aria concluded.

Another bout of cheers erupted.

"Collect your ingredients, light up your cauldrons, your time starts now!"

Immediately the students jumped from their seats, swarming the table to get what they needed. The professors moved away from the crowd, giving the class a moment to get started.

"Miss Dumbledore, this is not a wise decision." Severus spoke in hushed tones. "I understand entirely the prize of a potion chosen by you, but to give them a choice could be extremely dangerous, think of the chaos that will ensue."

"How about you have a little faith in them for once. Trust that they will make the right decision."

Looking down on the woman, Severus couldn't help but trust she would be right.

"I have faith in you. Not in them." He made clear.

Severus made to walk away, leaving Aria to relish in her small victory, until he was suddenly pulled back by the young woman's hand in his. Not saying a word, Aria Dumbledore gave him an appreciative squeeze, before releasing him back to his desk.

The first hour of the classes passed by effortlessly, the students worked quietly and Severus found no reason to complain. All in all, Aria was quite pleased with how her lesson was going.

That was until...

"Oh shiiiiit."

"Language Mr. Lawrence." Severus warned, briefly looking up from his marking.

"Right, sorry sir. But what the fuck am I supposed to do when this thing starts bubbling like crazy." He freaked out, completely ignoring the potions master's warning.

"What?" Aria gasped, only just becoming aware of the situation.

"Yeah like this thing looks likes 'bout to blow, to be honest with you." The seventh year Hufflepuff boy informed nonchalantly.

"Step away from that cauldron students, quickly!" Aria ordered, ushering them to the sides of the classroom. "You were attempting a wit-sharpening potion, is that correct?"

"Yup."

"I'm afraid there's no saving it now, Mr. Lawrence, the best we can hope for is that it does not turn to acid and burn through bench."

"Out of my way." Severus huffed impatiently, forcing his way through the crowd of students that had formed around the cauldron.

"Pass me that root of ginger" Snape demanded, positioning himself in front of the ever growing cauldron of bubbling green liquid. Aria obeyed hastily, as the professor performed what she could only describe as a miracle on this horrifying concoction. "Some more newt spleens." He requested, holding out a hand expectantly, while the other gripped onto his wand, casting an enchantment over the potion.

The potions master continued adding a bit of this and a dash of that to the potion, all ingredients Aria Dumbledore would never have considered to associate with this particular brew. Jars of herbs, spices and animal parts were passed through the classroom in order to reach Professor Snape who continuously stirred the potion, muttering all sorts of charms and spells.

However skilled Aria had assumed she was at the art of potion making, it was made clear to her that she was no match for Severus' skills, brewing potions was second nature to him now. Within minutes he had achieved what Aria Dumbledore had deemed impossible, and thus the potion was brought back to it's natural state.

"Severus..." The apprentice gawped. "That was amazing."

"That was nothing." He replied curtly, removing himself from the scene. "Everybody back to work, this is not an excuse to slack off."

Still in awe at the pure artistry she had witnessed, Aria trotted sheepishly back to the front of the class.

Blissfully unaware of the pure talent they had just seen, the students continued on with their work. The Hufflepuff boy did not even have the decency to thank his professor for salvaging the mess he called a potion, let alone be grateful he never received a detention, or deduction of house points.

"What are you staring at, Miss Dumbledore, is there no better way you can spend your time?"

"I'm sorry Severus, but that display was just... brilliant." She beamed.

"Like I said, it was nothing. It comes with the job, I refuse to have any of those delinquents burn through my entire store cupboard because they cannot brew a simple potion, a year below their level no less."

"Well, at least we know who definitely won't be winning anyway." Aria giggled.

"The most we can hope for from that boy is that he manages to finish his potion, god knows he'll need it."

Playfully slapping Snape on the arm for his cheek, the witch perched herself on the edge of the professor's desk, attempting a quick sketch on a scrap piece of parchment, while the students begun to finish off their potions.

"Professor Snape, the winner?" Aria asked, turning to her colleague for a verdict once all of the potions had been completed.

"You want me to choose?" Severus replied, skeptical of her offer.

"Of course. I don't think it would be fair of me to do it, considering I've been giving all of them tips this lesson."

"Very well." He droned, stepping forth to analyse the contents of the cauldrons.

"This one." He announced, pointing a single finger to the cauldron of a young Slytherin witch. "Given that it was the only potion brewed to complete perfection, there is no other possible candidate. I suggest the rest of you get studying before your N.E.W.T's exams, at the rate you lot are going, none of you besides Miss Johnstone here is likely to pass." Snape scolded.

"Well then, congratulations Miss Johnstone, you are the winner of a potion of your choice. See me after lessons tomorrow and let me know your decision."

The girl practically beamed with pride, expecting nothing less than first place.

"Class dismissed."

Taglist:

@ayamenimthiriel @lizlil

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prismatales · 4 years

Text

Through our lifetimes

Word Count: 2.7K

Bingo slot: Reincarnation

Pairings: Kirishima Eijiro x Reader

Tag/Warnings: Fluff, Slight Angst, Soulmates AU.

Synopsis: According to legends, when both soulmates turn eighteen, they start remembering their past lives together. You’ve known about that story ever since you were a small child. The question is....are you ready to meet your soulmate?

Another entry for the bingo event, hosted by the @bnhabookclub ! This time with the Reincarnation prompt! This is also a birthday present for my dear friend @pixxiesdust , who’s one of the most precious friends that I’ve ever had the chance to meet! Happy birthday Zeze! We love you!

Beta readers: @todoscript & @etegomanere

Credits for the Kirishima cap goes to @eraserhead-transparents!

There’s an old myth about soulmates. One, that only a handful of people could tell you about.

An old story your grandparents have always talked about ever since you were but a small child that was just starting to learn how to speak, let alone memorizing things.

According to the stories, when both soulmates become close to turning eighteen, they start to remember their past lives together. They’ll keep seeing glimpses of these moments in the past the closer they get to this age, and when the day finally arrives they will start to remember each and every single moment of their past lives.

How was it possible that an old couple that always showed their family nothing but unconditional love and support, was able to tell you about this old myth like it had been something that they had experienced themselves?

It was pretty simple...It was because they had experienced it themselves.

Every single summer, you’d spend it visiting that small, cozy home in the fields. It almost felt like you were living inside one of those fairytale books that your parents would always read to your younger self before going to bed.

The days would go by listening to the stories about their past lives. You’d enjoy the nice breeze of summer, accompanied by an ice-cold pitch of sweet, tangy lemonade your grandfather would happily prepare for his two favorite ladies in the world.

It was a routine deeply engraved into your memories. Two tiny hands holding a glass way too big for them, filled to the brim with the sweet drink while you sat over your grandmother’s lap. Her wrinkly fingers would always caress the top of your head softly as she kept talking, and talking, and talking about the memories of her past lives with enthusiasm.

Despite being ridden to a wheelchair, your grandmother always made an effort to help her husband in their beloved fields. She would always help out by holding this huge basket over her lap, a way to help out the man standing in front of her, who was too busy choosing the best of their crops for their daily meals.

If there was something they took pride in, it was teaching you not to be a picky eater. There was something about their crops that made them so delicious, so different from the ones that your mother would always bring home from the supermarket.

It created some precious memories for everyone in the family when they saw the pictures of a small toddler, barely learning to walk, yet she already had her tiny, chubby face buried in a tomato.

As you grew up, it became a habit to come back during summer with the happiest smile on your face while helping out, carrying that huge basket filled to the brim with the delicious crops.

And many years later, once you finally started visiting them on your own, the habit of visiting the old couple every summer never died down. Some people your age would rather go to parties during the summer, or vacation to relax somewhere else.

But not you.

Each summer break would be spent visiting that same house, enjoying the nice breeze with a glass of tangy lemonade, smiling at the old couple as they kept telling you about the stories of their past lives.

Sighing deeply, you stared at the sliced tomato in your fork. Its color is pale in comparison to the ones from your grandpa’s fields, but even if their taste doesn’t even come close, food must never go to waste, so quickly, you start eating the delicious meal.

It’s just a typical lunch; a plate of pasta laid before you, carefully served in the shape of a small spiral, covered with a fine portion of tomato sauce, a sprinkle of parmesan cheese, and basil adorning the plate as the finishing touch.

The dish came accompanied by two slices of bread, toasted to perfection with a nice touch of melted, garlic butter.

Lastly, a nice portion of salad drizzled in balsamic vinegar as a side dish that, even though it was delicious, it couldn’t come even remotely close to those hand-picked crops back at those precious, grassy fields.

The taste of the salad may be bland in comparison, but it’s the company all around you that made the meal taste way better than what it was.

After all, it’s your very first get together after graduating from UA a few months ago. And the best part? It’s all happening during your birthday.

Being surrounded by your former classmates was always a nice way to pass the day. After mentioning how this would be the first summer you’d be unable to visit your grandparents, all of your friends came up with a plan to cheer up the dejected, young woman patrolling the city with a melancholic smile.

It was expected that you would feel this way after spending years visiting the old couple in that lovely house, but you knew it was bound to happen the moment you chose to become a hero.

So the morning your birthday came up, everyone had quickly dragged you out for the day, barely giving you the chance to get ready before being taken to one of the longest outings you’ve ever experienced.

From shopping sprees to a nice restaurant for lunch, and many other kinds of activities, the day literally flew by surrounded by those that could be considered a second family.

But as much as you adored the effort they put to raise your spirits, nothing could distract you from the dreams that you kept having for the past days.

Like the one where a young woman kept sneaking out of her house at night. A beautiful dress, that judging by the intricate design and the puffiness of the skirt was from the victorian era, was carefully dragged around as she walked cautiously through the dark, empty streets. She just kept walking, occasionally turning into a different direction, until a hand shot out through an alleyway, dragging her yelping self with little effort.

As terrifying as the gesture seemed, nothing but warm laughter came out of her lips when a pair of arms wrapped themselves around her, holding her body against a firm chest.

“You’re late!” A voice exclaimed from above, resting their jaw against her head lovingly, their bodies swayed together as they enjoyed the other’s presence in their little hiding spot. “Did you have a good day?”

Pulling her head back, she looked at her lover’s face with a tender smile, wrapping her own arms around the stranger’s waist. “Much better now that I am with you.” From the way she stared at this man, the love they shared was more than obvious before they shared a soft, tender kiss.

But through your eyes, it was impossible to see what this stranger looked like because every time you had one of these dreams...there was a black blur over his face.

And of course...not all of these dreams had a happy ending.

Like that one couple, that despite trying their hardest to be together, their love became impossible the day she was betrothed to someone else in order to pay off her family’s debt. Her beloved, in a fit of heartbreak, went traveling overseas...and he was never seen again.

And then there were others, where the lovers never got a chance to meet, spending their whole lives waiting for the moment they could finally meet their special someone, just to realize, that in the end, faith had taken their loved one away before they could finally find each other.

“What do these dreams mean exactly, grandma…?” You asked this to your grandmother during a sunny day, pushing her wheelchair around the fields while she carried the same, worn-out basket in her wrinkly hands that were still full of strength. In the meantime, your grandfather was too busy picking some crops.

The moment you mentioned these strange dreams to the older woman, her face lit up with the same brilliance as that of a lighthouse in the middle of the darkest night. The basket fell out of her hands from the surprise, much to her husband’s surprise.

“Oh, my goddess! Honey! She has a soulmate! Our little girl has a soulmate!” She almost hopped out of her wheelchair from the joy. Seeing her being so excited that she almost stood up despite her legs being so frail, made the news even more exhilarating for the family.

You snapped out of the little trails of thoughts by a hand waved in front of your face. Blinking in surprise, you came face to face with a pair of red eyes and a slightly concerned face.

“Everything okay?” Kirishima asked, standing by your side while everyone else was engaged in their own conversation. “You’ve been spacing out for a while now.”

Warmth began creeping up your whole face, embarrassed about spacing out on your friends. You smiled awkwardly at the red-headed guy at your right side before giggling softly as you looked up at the vast and clear orange sky, filled with some of the fluffiest clouds you’ve ever seen as they took different shapes, some of them being cuter than others. It was amazing how fast time would pass by when you were surrounded by good company; it was already starting to get dark.

“Sorry, I was thinking about my grandma. We usually sit in the garden at this time of the day while she tells me this story.”

In the middle of your little speech, you failed to notice the way Kirishima kept staring at you fondly, knowing from past conversations at high school just how much you adored the old couple.

“You really look up to them, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I do.” Looking back as everyone kept walking in their own groups after today’s outing, your attention then shifted back to the guy walking alongside you.

Who just happened to be your high school crush, but after all the hardships that occurred three years ago; such as the constant fighting against groups like The League of Villains, The Shie Hassaikai, and others. Dating became the least of your worries.

Especially now that you were on your way to become official pro-heroes, starting out first as sidekicks, of course. Your love life could probably wait...and hopefully, your future soulmate would understand…

“It’s getting pretty late, let me walk the birthday girl home!” He offered with that characteristic smile of his that could light up an entire room by itself.

“You really don’t have to!”

“I insist! What kind of guy would let a girl walk alone at night?”

Sighing in amusement, you gave in to his offer. Aftersaying goodbye to everyone else, both you and Kirishima began walking together in the direction of your small apartment.

The sky had already turned dark by the time you reached a small lake near the building.

“Hey, Kiri…Do you believe in past lives?” It was his turn to look back at the sky, stretching his hands behind his neck with eyes closing deep in thought and eyebrows half furrowed as well.

“Well...It’s not something I’d lose sleep over, but it could be interesting!” He opened a single eye and looked in your direction, the small grin together with those cheerful, red eyes could easily rival the beauty of the sunset itself. “You believe in them?”

“Well, yeah! I’ve heard so many stories about people who are able to remember their past lives, I think it would be amazing to know about ours!” He hummed quietly, nodding to himself in thought.

“What kind of stories have you heard?” He was genuinely curious. That, and seeing the joyful look on your face the moment he asked about it made it all worth it because seeing his crush happy was enough to make Kirishima equally joyful.

“Oh! This is my favorite one! According to the stories, when both soulmates turn eighteen, they see their past lives together!”

You kept explaining every detail to him, unaware of just how quiet he had become the moment you mentioned that once both soulmates turned this age, the hidden faces from their dreams, belonging to their lovers from a past life could finally be seen.

“What if they had an age difference? Say, five years?” He was starting to become more interested in the idea of these soulmates.

“Then they’ll start having the dreams once the youngest of the two also turns eighteen!”

“But what if one of them...dies before meeting each other?”

“Well...they’ll never know their soulmate...not all lives have a happy ending…”

“Oh, that’s...pretty sad.”

“Yeah, it is.” You looked back at the street, muttering softly to yourself. “Hope I can find mine, though…”

“Did you say something?”

“Ah! N-nothing important!”

After some slightly awkward silence, you finally came close to the building where you lived.

“Well...Here we are!” You stood in front of the gates. A bright smile was directed to Kirishima, who stood a few feet away, but still close enough that if he lifted his hand, it could easily brush against yours. “Would you like to come in? I have some matcha cake waiting inside!”

“You sure it’s okay?”

“Of course, silly! I’m a firm believer that birthdays must always be celebrated with cake!” He couldn’t help laughing at your enthusiasm.

But you didn’t get the chance to say another word before something flashed before your eyes. A burst of images began flashing at an overwhelming pace, different memories began coming all at once at an alarming rate that made you hunch, leaning on the gate and holding your aching head, throbbing painfully from the sudden wave of memories coming at all once.

Everything came so suddenly; all those dreams from your past lives came rushing like an avalanche.

That couple embracing each other in the darkness of the alleyway. The one that got separated because of a family dispute and the one that ran away together, everything just kept coming back.

And when they finally stopped, the very first one that you remembered stayed still before your eyes. The couple from the victorian era were embracing each other tenderly before he grabbed his lover’s face by their chin to give them one of the sweetest kisses you could ever witness.

His face was no longer hidden by shadows, and it was like a burst of colors painted this seemingly dark room filled with nothing but black and white with the brightest of shades. Like the sun itself had stepped inside that room.

Because that smile, that bright smile that could easily rival the sun...it was Kirishima’s smile.

Turning your head back slowly with eyes wide open, the first thing you noticed was that your so-called friend was hunched over, holding his head painfully before slowly opening his eyes to look at you, with the same look of absolute shock in those bright red orbs that were always full of life, despite everything he had gone through.

Neither of you moved for a solid minute and just stayed in place looking at one another before a tearful smile began appearing on your face.

“It’s you…!”

Carefully, your hands pushed against the wall for impulse, at the same time that he took a single step, before breaking into a short sprint until he reached you, taking you into a heartfelt embrace that was eagerly reciprocated.

“How did I ever get so lucky?” He whispered, voice nearly breaking from everything he felt in that moment. Neither of you had the willpower to let go, not caring about anything, or anyone else.

“All this time...all this time, you were always right in front of me.” You whimpered. “We’ve been having the same dreams for a whole year and didn’t know it!”

“You’re not going to leave this time, are you?” You nuzzled closer to him, hugging him as tightly as possible and completely afraid of losing your soulmate all over again like in those past lives.

“Never, I could never do that to you!” He kissed your temple lovingly. “Nothing will tear us apart. I promise!”

@bnha-ra @bnhabookclub @gallickingun @godtieruwu @hanniejji @mysticalite @savagetrickster @shoobirino @songsforbnha @sugacookiies @unbreakableeiji @wesparklebitch @pixxiesdust @hawks-senseis @yikerb

#bnhabookclub #bnha imagine #mha imagine #bnha imagines #mha imagines #kirishima x reader

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justcourttee · 4 years

Text

And They Were Roommates-Pt 4

The weekend flew by and before Marinette knew it, she was on her way to her first final that Tuesday. She spent the rest of Sunday and Monday avoiding Damian, choosing to barricade herself in her bedroom surrounded by textbooks.

“When was the American Revolution?”

“From 1775 to 1783, give me something a little harder Tikki.”

The kwamii huffed as the two of them sat huddled in the back of the shuttle bus.

“I’m trying Marinette, I’m reading straight from your textbook!”

Marinette giggled, stroking Tikki’s head with one finger.

“Thank you for your help Tikki. I know I’m ready for this test, but I still feel stressed for some reason.

“You know Marinette, you should ask Damian to study with you in the Spring! He’s a history major too right?”

The girl rolled her eyes, shaking her head.

“I think I’ll take my chances with you Tikki.”

The bus halted to a stop in front of the Student Union as Marinette jumped up, closing her backpack in the process. She walked across campus, breathing in the brisk winter air, trying to calm her nerves. She reached for the door when a tingle spread across her wrist. Pulling up the sleeve of her coat, Marinette peered down with a smile.

“Good Luck today Angel, even though I know you don’t need it.”

The brisk air numbed her skin, but she could feel the warmth spreading in her chest. She moved indoors before uncapping the pen holding her bun in place. Soft curls framed her face as she scribbled on her wrist, making small steps in the direction of the closest bathroom.

“Thank you mon amour, I’ll write you in a few hours.”

She stood over the sink, watching intently as she waited for his handwriting to disappear before she washed away hers. Grabbing a paper towel, she exited the bathroom, drying her wrist furiously as she raced to the classroom. Tossing the towel in the nearest trash bin, she barely looked up before colliding into a still object, crashing to the floor.

“Ow,” she rubbed her head, looking up at the man who barely moved.

“Are you always such a klutz?” Damian reached out his hand, a smirk stretched across his face.

“You.” Marinette narrowed her eyes, swatting his hand away. With great effort, she pushed herself up, crossing her arms to stare down her roommate.

“What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“I asked first.”

Damian scoffed, rolling his eyes as he turned back toward the entrance to Professor Lupez’ classroom

“I’m here to take my final for American History.”

“You weren’t in my class this whole semester. Did you take it online?”

“Nosy and perspective, your soulmate must be overwhelmed with joy.”

His smirk returned to his face as he watched the smaller girl turn bright red. Marinette pushed past him and into the classroom, ignoring his jabs of laughter. Taking her usual seat, she exhaled slowly, trying to push away her interaction with the boy. There was no way she was going to let Damian Al Ghul mess up her perfect GPA.

Minutes later, Damian entered the room chatting idly with the professor as if they had known each other for years, his smirk still evident on his face. Marinette felt her blood start to boil again. Professor Lupez was her favorite teacher on this entire campus, there was no way that he could take that from her. She stood up to intervene when she felt a light pressure in her back.

Sitting back down, Marinette let out a soft groan before reaching into her backpack to grab her pencils. Tikki reached up, offering them to her while shaking their head. The kwamii made a motion to inhale deeply and let it go and much to their delight, Marinette did just that.

“Alright class, any last minute questions before I hand out the most important grade of this semester?”

Professor Lupez glanced around the room, her eyes landing briefly on Marinette’s, offering the girl a warm smile.

“Well then, if everyone is so prepared, I wish you all the best of luck. As always, cheating results in a 0 and please, try to place your tests in one neat pile. I know you are not savages!”

Marinette exhaled one last time as her seatmate handed her the pile of tests. Picking the one from the top, she passed on the rest, risking a look at the boy seated two rows down from her. He was already on the second page, his face stretching into a smug. She looked back at her own test, a smug expression of her own forming.

This test would be a breeze.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Walking out of the classroom, Marinette breathed a sigh of relief. She had finished the test in a mere twenty minutes, shocking many of her classmates when she drifted past them to turn it in. She pulled out her phone to send a text to Chloe when she heard the voice she was dreading.

“Took you long enough. I thought for a second that you could be on my level of intellect, but your performance proved otherwise.”

“What are you still doing here Damian?” She let out a sigh, averting her eyes to the ground.

“I thought we could walk home together, after all, we do live together.”

Her eyes darted up as she crossed her arms, watching Damian with a renewed curiosity.

“Yeah, with Adrien and Chloe. Don’t make it sound like we’re a couple.”

“As if you could earn my respect Dupen-Chang.”

She frowned at his smirk, unable to tell if he was joking, unable to tell if she cared.

“Yeah, well, let’s go then.”

She didn’t wait for an answer as she pushed past him, exiting the building, leaving him to trail behind her in the cold winter afternoon.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The walk home was awkward to say the least, neither one saying much. Marinette tried to ask him about his family and his home, but he brushed her off, declaring that he did not like the idea of small talk to fill in the silence. She jiggled her key into the doorknob, pushing lightly to break through the slight ice that had formed around the frame.

“Do you want some-”

She didn’t even finish her sentence before his bedroom door slammed, leaving her alone in the kitchen. Marinette let out a sigh, unzipping her backpack for Tikki to fly out.

“Well, I guess hot chocolate for one then.”

Tikki let out a giggle as the girl pulled down a mug. She placed the mixture of chocolate and milk on the stove when her phone began to buzz. At the sight of the caller id, a warm smile stretched across her face.

“Maman! How are you?”

“How am I? How are you?! Your first final was today! Tell me, will I have another history buff in this family like your grandfather?”

Marinette shook her head, trying to keep the laughter from bubbling out.

“I’m considering a double major Maman, but you know I love designing and nothing can change that.”

“I know sweetie, I just want to make sure you’re exploring your options! That’s what college is all about!”

“I know Maman, but I’m exploring business, that’s exploring enough.”

Her mother chuckled, sending a warm feeling straight to the girl’s toes. The sound of bubbling liquid caught her attention as she moved to turn off the stove, ladling the chocolate into her mug.

“Maman, I love you, but you don’t usually risk an international call unless it’s something urgent. What’s going on?”

“Oh sweetie, it’s nothing bad. It’s just that your father and I were talking about your winter break. We know you’ll be busy working on your portfolio for Professor Brookes, but if there was an opportunity for us to fly over for Christmas, would you want us too?”

“Oh my god, are you serious? Maman I would love that! Both Adrien and Chloe will be flying back so I’ll have plenty of room!”

The women chatted excitedly for several minutes before they finally agreed to hang up, neither wanting to pay the phone bill that they were wracking up. Swirling her hot chocolate in her mug, Marinette felt on cloud 9. It was the inspiration she was waiting for to get back to her designs and she wasn’t going to waste it.

Tag List:

@damianette-is-life @ladybug-182 @fusser90 @thestressmademedoit @dast218 @thezestywalru @jardimazul @olynix @dorkus-minimus @xahriia @kris-pines04 @urbanpineapplefarmer @moonlightstar64 @itsmeevie01 @little-lady-bird @alexandriamw @lozzybowe @emmdaenovice @loysydark @toodaloo-kangaroo @jessigurl-design @aegyobutpsycho2 @stark-morgoona @tis-i-beanbandit @rebecarojas07 @abrx2002 @ash-amg @loveswifi @heaven428 @dreamykitty25 @marinettepotterandplagg @smolplantmum @clumsy-owl-4178 @books-and-left-behind-journals

#daminette #maribat #roommates

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liladiurne · 3 years

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Brighter Than Bright - extract from chapter 14

Look at me, with chapter 14 already underway barely a week or so after posting 13. Isn’t that a good omen?

Once more, here is the beginning bit, because I don’t have anything at this point that wouldn’t spoil too much for you. I thought this would be perfect, because it announces a little what’s coming in the chapter without actually introducing the new characters. There is so much good stuff coming this chapter! I may share another extract before it’s finished, but we’ll see, because this is a bit longer than what I normally share, I think. Either way, I think this is going to be a long chapter!

This extract may change and differ a little in the finished chapter, as I tend to move things around when I edit. I have proofread this a bit quickly, so there may be some typos, which you can disregard because they will surely be fixed at some point. I hope you enjoy!

EXTRACT FROM CHAPTER 14

While Harry’s second heat does not last quite as long as the first one did, a few more days must pass before he feels strong enough to leave his bed. Charlie remains by his side throughout, drawing while Harry reads or sleeps. From the way he dutifully attends to Harry’s every need, constantly asking if he is hungry or thirsty or tired, it is evident that he still feels guilty at having left his little brother to such torment, regardless of how many times Harry has told him that it was probably for the best.

When Harry thinks back to those dreadful few days, he is filled with a combination of fury and shame. Perhaps worse than the memory of his suffering is the knowledge that, although he does not remember it, he seemingly called out for Mr Snape. Fanny said that the heat is meant to coerce him into mating, and he tries to console himself with these words. He suspects that this irrepressible, forceful longing does not discriminate between one Alpha and the other, and for this reason, he is nearly grateful that Charlie was absent. As he is so often reminded, he is not truly related to Charlie after all. If his reason can be so addled, if this strange instinct inside his chest, this part of him that does nothing but crave and crave, can resort to yearning for a despicable Alpha such as Mr Snape, Harry dares not imagine what could have happened if his brother’s scent had been nearby when he was in the throes of the heat. The oestrus has a mind of its own. If it can turn abhorrence into attraction, who knows what it can make of brotherly love.

Most of what occurs during the heats does not stay with him for long. He cannot recall much apart from the pain and some vague, feverish recollections of waking up and then sleeping again. He knows that he dreams, sometimes vividly, sometimes rather hazily, in wisps of thoughts and images, but all remembrance of what those dreams contain leave him swiftly as the fever fades. He is unsure whether these lapses in memory are caused by the fever itself or simply by the laudanum. Perhaps it is a combination of the two. But it is just as well that he cannot remember. Harry has no desire to know what feverish delusions might have resulted in him saying Mr Snape’s name.

At least he did not ask for Mr Malfoy. He does not think that he could live with such ghastly knowledge.

When Harry finally leaves his room for good, he finds that a thick blanket of snow has covered the world, thus putting an end to horseback ventures with his brother until spring. He is somewhat disappointed at having missed the last days of autumn, but as soon as he is well enough to leave the house, he heads outside with Charlie and the two of them engage in a great snow battle, to which even their father participates. Later in the afternoon, as the sun sets, they construct a great snowman in front of the house and dress him in a scruffy hat and scarf before retreating inside for some mulled wine.

Harry usually finds winter most inconvenient. As beautiful as snow can be at the beginning, it never takes long for him to miss the smell of the warm summer air, the loud humming of the cicadas, the wide, green expanse of his field. Unable to retreat to his habitual refuge under the shadow of the beechwood tree or to go on long walks by the river, Harry must spend most of winter confined to the house, forced to read every book he can find, often ones that he has already read countless times before. When he is truly unable to find entertainment, he sometimes sits at his desk and writes short little stories for his own amusement, or he plays with Hedwig, sprawled on the floor and throwing a ball of twine around for her to catch.

This year, of course, with Charlie present, there is no such lack of distraction.

On the first week of December, after a particularly heavy snowfall, Charlie spends at least an hour rummaging through the shed behind the barn until he finally unearths the old sleigh that Hagrid made for them years ago. It needs a little fixing, having been buried under some tools and refuse for nearly a decade, but as soon as it is good to use, it is attached to one of the draft horses’ harness. Once they are dressed thickly and warmly enough, Harry and Charlie settle on the sleigh, which is barely big enough to hold them both now that they are grown, and spend the afternoon being dragged around speedily through the snow, laughing and yelling and causing quite a raucous through the village, for which they are promptly scolded at supper. Their mother is not shy in expressing her disappointment at finding out that she has not, as she believed she had, raised respectable young men, but rather careless little ruffians.

As much as he loves the warmer weather, Harry is rather looking forward to the colder days, hoping that the river might freeze, because Charlie has also found their old ice skates hanging in the back of the shed. At present, however, the water still flows merrily, with no sign of stopping.

“It is so unfortunate that you were not here last winter. It was frozen for months,” Harry says regretfully one morning as they stare at the river, having taken advantage of the sunny day and the melting snow to walk alongside it.

“It is not cold enough yet. Perhaps in January.”

Harry shrugs. “It may not even harden enough for skating.”

“Do you remember that big pond in Hampstead, behind the marketplace?” Charlie muses, nudging Harry with his elbow to try and shake him out of his sombre mood. “It was always fit for skating. Do you remember? Grandfather would take us there when we visited in the winter.”

“I remember,” Harry says distractedly.

His mother never wanted him to go. She would insist that his brothers and cousins were too rough and that he would get hurt and that it would be better if he remained at the house with the girls. But Grandfather would not hear it. He had never once left Harry behind, even if it meant arguing ceaselessly with his daughter. It is true that the boys were terribly rough, however. Harry remembers how they darted around dangerously on their skates, crashing into one another at terrible speeds, and Grandfather was aware of the danger their carelessness posed for Harry, who was much smaller than they were. He would pretend that he was afraid to fall and hurt his old bones, and he would ask Harry to remain nearby and please not let go of his arm while they skated around the edges of the pond safely. Harry should perhaps have been upset at being subjected to this protective treatment while his brothers were free to play however they wanted, but he took a sort of pride at being kept close as the favourite. He still remembers how Grandfather’s steady hand would hold him up whenever he lost his balance or whenever the blade of his skate would catch into the ice and threaten to trip him. All of his brothers and cousins would get regularly hurt whenever they went out skating, but even if Harry had never been a good skater, he had never fallen once with Grandfather by his side.

“It must be nearly ten years since I last saw him,” Charlie adds disbelievingly. “Eight years, I believe. Yes, since I joined the military. It will be good to see him again.”

Harry turns to his brother in confusion. “Again? Are you going to Hampstead?”

“Yes. All of us shall be visiting for Christmas,” Charlie reveals with a grin.

Harry grips his arm suddenly, a bit roughly perhaps, but Charlie only laughs. “What? When was this decided?”

“I told Father that I would need to leave for a few days next week,” Charlie says in a more serious tone. “I was going to perhaps find a room in Hatfield, but he suggested I go to Hampstead. I have done so in the past, after I came of age, if you recall.”

Harry nods, looking away in embarrassment. When they were younger, Bill and Charlie both would visit their grandfather whenever the time for their rut was near. Harry has always felt a certain guilt over this, especially now that he knows how much easier it is to be at home during such a trying time. But they would both rather leave The Burrow than have Harry being sent away, even for a few days. Besides, Grandfather Prewett is himself an Alpha, and he was always in the best position to provide a comfortable environment for them.

“And so, I wrote to Grandfather, and he was the one who suggested everyone should follow suit after me. I shall be leaving on Monday, and Mother, Father and you should join us the week after. Everyone will come for Christmas as well. Uncle Fabian and Aunt Mable, with Catherine and Caroline. And Ron and Ginny. And Percy, Fred and George will certainly come as well. I believe even Robert will come with his wife and the children. Are you happy?” Charlie asks, quite unnecessarily, because surely it is obvious from Harry’s wide eyes and grin that he is ecstatic. “We shall have a big family Christmas, just like when we were little.”

“I am happy,” Harry can only mumble, holding Charlie’s arm tightly still and pressing his cheek against his brother’s shoulder. “It will be just like before. As if nothing had changed.”

Harry is nearly certain that his brother smiles sadly at this, but Charlie does not reply as they continue walking, the soggy ground squelching under their feet.

#snarry #snarryfanfic #myfics #ficextracts #brighterthanbright

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worryinglyinnocent · 3 years

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Fic: Family Matters

Summary: Belle and Gold spring into action after Neal calls them in an emergency, and Belle reflects on the meaning of family.

Written for the @a-monthly-rumbelling January non-smut prompt: Dealing with a family crisis.

Rated: T

CW: Medical themes, pregnancy loss.

Family Matters

It was a perfectly normal Friday night when they got the call. The only sound was the ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner. Belle was curled up on the chaise longue with a book, and Gold was sitting in his armchair browsing the catalogue for the auction he was going to in Boston the next week.

His phone ringing wasn’t normally a cause for alarm, but it was rare enough for someone to call him at eleven o’clock at night that it sent a current of worry through his veins, and the current of worry increased when he looked at the caller ID and saw that it was Neal.

Belle looked up, her brow furrowing in concern. “Who is it?”

“It’s Neal.”

“Strange for him to be calling so late.”

“Very.” He answered, and almost immediately, the current of worry turned into a full torrent.

“Dad, Emma’s in the hospital and I don’t know what to do.”

Neal's voice was choked, on the verge of tears, and Gold took a deep breath, trying to calm the torrent. Neal was an adult now and a father himself, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t also still need his own father to rescue him every now and then.

“Ok, what happened?” He beckoned Belle over so that she could hear as well.

“She’s had really bad stomach pains all day, she thought it was just something she ate. It just kept getting worse and worse until she passed out… I saw her drop, I barely caught her in time… I called 911 and they took her into the hospital, they think she’s got some internal bleeding somewhere…”

“OK. We’re coming. How’s Henry doing?”

“He’s ok, just a bit shaken, he doesn’t really understand what’s going on.”

“Just hold on for a little while. Belle and I are coming.”

“Thanks Dad. I’ll see you soon.”

Belle was already in the hallway pulling on her coat and boots, and Gold took a few moments to check that the house was secure and grab the insurance paperwork from his office - Emma should have been covered by the Sheriff’s office but it paid to be prepared. The drive across town to Neal and Emma’s apartment did not take long, but every moment of it was spent in tense silence. Neal was standing on the doorstep waiting for them, an anxious-looking Henry balanced on his hip, aware that something bad was happening but that it was too much for his one-year-old brain to try and comprehend.

“Hey Henry,” Belle cooed, taking him out of Neal’s arms and giving her stepson a little peck on the cheek, whispering it’ll be ok, I promise in his ear. “Why don’t you come with Nana Belle and we’ll let Daddy and Grandpa get everything sorted out, eh? You should be in bed, it’s very late. I guess all the commotion woke you up.”

Belle took Henry back into the apartment and Neal, no longer having to worry about staying calm and focussed on his son, crumpled against Gold’s shoulder. Neal had never been the most physically affectionate of people, not really a hugger, and the fact he was crying on his father’s shoulder stood as testament to just how scared he was for Emma.

“Let’s go to the hospital,” Gold said. “I think you need to be there. I can always come back and get anything that Emma might need.”

“I’ll be ok, I just needed someone to come watch Henry, I can go…”

“Neal, I don’t want you ending up in the hospital as well.” He held up Neal’s hand, which was still shaking. “I’ll drive. Belle’s got Henry. We’re all here.”

Neal nodded, going back inside to grab his things before following Gold out to the Cadillac.

“Thanks for dropping everything,” he murmured as they set off towards the hospital.

“It’s what families do. You’d have done the same if it was Belle.”

Neal nodded. “Yeah, I would.”

The rest of the drive to the hospital was made in silence. As worried as he was about Emma, Neal gave Gold something to focus on, knowing that he had to be strong so that Neal could be afraid. He thought back over all the family crises that they had lived through so far; mercifully, there were few of them. This was certainly the first time any of them had been in the hospital since Henry was born, and whilst Neal had done his fair share of panicking at the time, that had ultimately been a joyous occasion rather than a crisis.

Gold could only hope that the outcome here would be a good one in the long run.

Belle settled herself in the armchair in the corner of Henry’s room, cradling the tired toddler on her lap. She opened the picture book that she had selected to try and get him back to sleep, but she didn’t start reading it for a few minutes, wondering what could have happened and hoping against hope that Emma would be ok. She was certainly in the best hands, but that didn’t stop Belle from worrying.

Still, there was nothing she could do to help Neal and Gold and Emma, and the most useful thing she could do was to stay here with Henry. The poor boy could obviously tell that something dreadful was going on, and if she could reassure him and get him off to sleep so that his parents didn’t have to worry about him as well as everything else that was happening, then that was what she would do.

She knew that children were far more intuitive than everyone gave them credit for, so Henry would probably be picking up on her unease even if he couldn’t actually give voice to that, so she took a deep breath and tried to keep her voice nice and even and sing-song.

“Ok Henry. Let’s see what Spot the Dog is up to tonight.”

By the time they finished with Spot, Henry was asleep again, curled up against Belle’s chest, and she sighed, deciding to sit with him for a while instead of putting him back to bed. His warm weight was a comfort to her, keeping her grounded and reminding her that there was a little human relying on her to keep him safe whilst his parents were dealing with other horrors. As long as she was holding Henry, Belle knew that she wouldn’t go to pieces.

She didn’t know how long she sat there in the dim light, listening to Henry’s soft breathing as she wondered what was happening in the hospital, looking at her phone every couple of seconds. It was on silent to avoid disturbing Henry, and she was nervous of somehow missing a call from Gold or Neal. The hours kept ticking by until she finally heard a key in the lock and someone tiptoe into the apartment.

“Belle?”

It was Gold’s whispered voice, and a moment later, he stepped into Henry’s room. He looked dead on his feet, but he smiled when he saw her sitting with Henry, and Belle took that to be a good sign.

“What’s going on?” she asked. “How’s Emma? Do they know what’s wrong?”

Gold nodded, coming over and leaning against the chair.

“It was an ectopic pregnancy.” He sighed. “Emma didn’t even know she was pregnant.”

“Is she going to be ok?”

“Yeah. She’s stable and on painkillers and they’ll operate in the morning. The doctors are quite confident.”

“How’s Neal holding up?”

“Well, he’s just about holding it together. He calmed down a lot after we could get in to see her. We both did. I forgot how much I hate hospital waiting rooms. He’s still there; I just came back to get a few things for Emma, I’ll bring him back later.” He was unable to stifle a yawn. “Sorry. The adrenaline’s wearing off now and I’m exhausted.”

“Yeah. I know the feeling. Still, at least it looks like the worst is over.”

They stayed there in silence for a while until Henry shifted in Belle’s arms and she decided that it would probably be a good idea to put him back in his bed so that he could get some better sleep. Hearing the news had lifted a great weight of uncertainty off her mind. Of course, they weren’t out of the woods just yet, there was still the operation in the morning, and it would take time for Emma to recover, but for now the crisis was, if not over completely, then at least manageable now.

She followed Gold out of Henry’s room, helping him pack bits and bobs for Emma’s stay in the hospital. It was one of the marks of what made a family a family, she thought, the way that they all acted in a situation like this. Belle would be the first to admit that theirs was not exactly the most conventional of families, since she was less than ten years older than her stepson and already happy to be an honorary grandmother, but she and Gold had swept in to help without a second thought. It was just what families did for each other.

In the hallway, as Gold was getting ready to make the trip back to the hospital, Belle slipped her arms around his middle, going up on her toes to kiss him.

“Thank you for making me part of this family,” she said.

Gold gave a soft laugh. “Even when you end up staying up half the night watching your step-grandson in the middle of a medical emergency?”

“Even then. I wouldn’t trade it for the world.”

“Me neither.” Gold kissed her again, and Belle closed the door after him with a little wave.

As long as they had each other, they’d weather any storm that life threw at them.

#A Monthly Rumbelling #rumbelle fic #rumbelle #Belle French #Mr Gold #Floof Family #background swanfire #toddler!Henry #Fic: Family Matters

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futurewriter2000 · 4 years

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If we are not this, then what are we? - Epilogue

“Excuse me! EUUEUU!” Sirius shouted as he walked with a large box through the door into a tight hall where you stood. Like a siren, he let out noises, beaming and bringing in box of plants- mostly your boxes.

“Wait! Wait! Wait!” You ran after him, taking the box from his hands before he decided to throw it on the floor. “Delicate.” you said as you gently took it from his arms and walked to the kitchen.

You put the box on the table and started pulling out your plants.

“I didn’t know you were a plant person.” he walked after you, grabbing the apple from the basket and taking a bite.

“I’m not- I mean they are great for aesthetic but my mom was the one who always took care of them.” you smiled at him, taking the orchid and placing it on the window shelf. “I never had much talent for Herbology anyway.”

“Aren’t you a nature kind of person?”

“Aren’t you a box bearer kind of person?” you turned to take the cactus as he only narrowed his eyes at you and lifted his apple.

“Matriarchy.” he pointed his finger at you, then pulled him self to sit on the counter. You leaned on the table with your both hands on it, leaning your weight as the two of you stared at each other.

You were curious to know what he thought to say next. Maybe something offensive, something sexist- you were prepared.

“I can respect that.” he jumped down and threw the apple in the trash, walking back to get some more boxes as you walked after him, surprised by his comment.

“Sirius Black? A feminist?”

He turned around and laughed, tilting his head back. “I’m an Equalist, dear. I don’t believe in black and white, stripes and dots. I believe in colours and shapes and windings-” he stopeed, narrowing his eyes at the ceiling. “I don’t know what I meant to say by that but I think you get the point.”

“He’s also an astrology freak.” said James as he walked with another box, followed by Remus.

“Tarot and jewels.” Remus added as Sirius laughed.

“I believe time and energies are like a net, connecting everything and everybody.” he opened his arms and started backing away, meanwhile Remus approached you, stepping to your side and whispering to your ear.

“It’s actually kind of scary how intuitive he is.”

You looked after Remus who left to put the box gently on the coffee table and then leaving to help Sirius with the furniture.

James, who was waiting and watching them to finally leave and let you be alone with him, walked to you and wrapped his arms around you from behind. You smiled as you felt his embrace, leaning back into his warmth.

“Graduate. Check.” he whispered in your ear but continued to look at the living room. “Apartment. Check.”

“Should I be expecting a ring soon?” you turned around and let your hands play with his hair.

He felt goosebumps spread from your touch down his whole body. He placed his hands on your hips and swayed side to side with you. “Maybe, yes. It is part of the big plan.” he leaned his forehead on yours.

“Then what?”

“Maybe a kid or two...or three or five.” he smiled and you pulled away with your eyes bulged out.

“What do you think my uterus is?!”

“A gorgeous baby maker.” he winked than turned you back to his chest, pointing at the corner of the couch before you could argue. “There, you see?”

“I’m not the one with bad eyesight, James. I can see it’s a couch.” you teased and he chuckled, rolling his eyes.

“It’s not just a couch, silly.” he kissed your cheek, nuzzling his head closer into your neck. “It’s a corner where you will be sitting with our firstborn, reading him his favorite book that uncle Remus will buy because he has bad taste in clothing.” he said and you laughed, seeing a blurry picture in front of you. It wasn’t there but you could see it still- as if you were looking through a fog.

“His?”

“Or her. It really doesn’t matter. As long as she got your eyesight.” he joked and you laughed, taking his hand that was firmly wrapped around your arms.

“What else do you see?”

“Well, when the storytime is over he’ll be - or she-” he corrected himself. “- be asleep in your arms peacfully and I’ll come home from another succesfull Auror’s mission, being the hero to that kid-” he started to boast and you slighty kicked him, bringing his ego back on the ground. “Jeff will wake up-”

“Jeff?”

“What’s wrong with Jeff?”

“I am not naming my son Jeff.”

“Jeffrey Potter is a nice name.”

“No.” you argued, turning around and taking his chin into your palms. “I won’t curse my child with the name Jeff. Plus maybe it’ll be a girl.”

“Jeffina.” he started to joke and you pushed him away, laughing.

"How about Karen?" you asked out of the blue and he was the one with the grimace on his face.

"I am not naming my kid Karen."

"What's wrong with Karen?!"

"What's wrong with Jeff?!"

...

The two of you stared for a moment at each other, leaving you to surpress a smile as you- as both of you realized what was happening.

"I see your point." you laughed, walking to the sofa and sitting down. He sat down beside you.

He wrapped his arms around you one more time, both of you just looking at that specific corner of the sofa.

“How about Willow?” he asked, whispering in your ear and smiling as he saw you stop breathing for a second. “If it was a girl- Willow Euphemia Potter?” he asked and could feel your head nodd agressively.

“And if it’s a boy?” you asked and he leaned his head back to think.

“Henry?” he asked and you turned in his arms, watching him and asking him of why that name. You didn’t even have to ask for him to answer. “It was my grandfather’s name and before he passed away he used to come over when I was a kid and bring me these little chocolates- you know the ones-”

“The ones with caramel and those jelly candy?” you smiled, laughing. “We used to call them-”

“Granpa candy.” he finished and the two of you just laughed, reminiscing on the days of your childhood.

“He was really kind.” you said and he let out a snort.

“He was strict. Not to you but to me he was one of the strictest people I met.”

“But he was so nice and calm-”

“He called me out on my spoiled shit.” he confessed and you turned around with your mouth agape.

“That’s why you wanted to egg his car so many times!?” you laughed out loud and he shook his head in shame.

“I did, yes but never did just because I was terrified of him.”

“Then we are definetly naming our son Henry.”

“But we’re letting Sirius do the dressing, right?”

“Sirius the dressing and Remus the babysitting.” you said and he laughed in agreement.

“Definetly, Remus the babysitting.”

“You two are absolute traitors!” Sirius walked in and threw himself on the sofa. “I’d be a wonderful babysitter.”

“You don’t even know how to make scrambled eggs, let alone take care of a baby.” said Remus, also coming in and sitting on the sofa.

“Hey! I took care of you after your furry little problem every month!”

“Yeah by bringing me chocolate.”

“Are you complaining?”

Remus stared at him for a while, unable to know what to say then slowly and resentfully answering Sirius question. “No.”

“That’s what I thought.” he threw his nose in the air then looked back at the two of you. “So Henry, huh?”

“Not a fan?” you asked and Sirius quickly shook his head.

“Met the man once and he almost made me cry.”

“He did make you cry.” James laughed and Sirius rolled his eyes.

“He made you cry too.”

“Everybody knows that.”

“How about instead of Henry, you name him Remus.” Remus said all of a sudden and all three of you turned your head to him. “It’s a wonderful name. Remus, the founder of Rome.” he beamed with pride.

“Wasn’t he killed by his twin brother?” Sirius looked at Remus and Remus gave him the same resentful look as before. “Plus if we are naming your kid from anybody in James’ life, I’d say Sirius is a unique name- plust the looks.” he boasted and continued to talk. “Brightest star.”

“Wouldn’t then there be two?” James asked, starting to tease as you joined.

“I mean a baby Sirius? You wouldn’t be the brightest star anymore. You’ll be old.”

Sirius looked mortified at the realization. “You’re right! I would be the old Sirius! Just name him Harry, I don’t care. As long as it isn’t my own goreous uniquie name.”

“You mean Henry?” asked Remus meanwhile you and James only exchanged looks.

“That’s what I said.”

“You said Harry. It’s-”

“I don’t know.” you cut in, looking at James, who shared the same look. “I kind of like Harry.”

“I like Harry too.”

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter imagines #remus lupin #remus lupin imagine #sirius black #sirius black imagine #marauders #marauders era #marauders imagine #maruaders x reader #marauder x reader #marauders imagines

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