#I swear to god he had more than two brain cells before he met his wife

[keyofshadows]

Okay, so I finally told my brother about my autism diagnosis. Like half an hour ago. It went...almost how I expected, and now I’m wishing I’d kept it to myself. Beware the awkward expression, I’m kinda all over the place right now.

He called me out to the living room initially to talk to me about getting biblical counseling, despite me already seeing a therapist. He thinks it’ll help more. (I don’t.) We went back and forth over it a bit, and I ended up agreeing to at least emailing the people about the program. He doesn’t care if I don’t stick with it, he wants me to at least try it. Ha.

But when that was over, I felt compelled to finally bring up the ASD diagnosis. So I explained about how I’d always had my ‘quirks’ and wasn’t sure if it was my shitty upbringing or what, and how maybe the last five years or so I’d started to wonder if I was autistic. We have an autistic cousin, which was a surprise to learn at the time, because when he was diagnosed as a child his family hid him away for years. I only saw him again as an adult, which was when I was told, ‘Oh hey, we’re going to go see your aunt and uncle this weekend, by the way, Adam has autism. Just thought I’d tell you so you’re not startled.’ I mean, what? (Btw, my cousin is awesome, and they finally started bringing him to family gatherings. It was nice to see him more.) Anyway. I told my brother about how this year I’d finally asked my doctor how to get diagnosed, and she’d gone, ‘Yeah, I think you do have autism, let me refer you to the psychiatrist here at the clinic’, and the psychiatrist did her evaluation and said congrats! (Okay, so not like that.) 

My brother just sits there and looks at me and tells me he doesn’t believe I’m autistic, the doctors are wrong. He’s familiar with the DSM-IV and DSM-5 and everybody is a little bit autistic and he just doesn’t see it. If it’s something I want to believe and pursue, that’s fine. I had asked at the beginning of the conversation that we keep it between us because my sister-in-law sucks with this shit and I didn’t need her trying to ‘fix’ me and treating me different, and he agreed, but now he says we need to talk about this again later, all three of us, because he can’t keep something like this from his wife. So I pointed out the whole reason I asked for confidentiality was exactly this, that she’d give me shit over it and try to fix it. He goes, ‘Yeah, she’s like that.’ BUT GET THIS SHIT. Apparently several months ago she was ‘doing research’ or just tripped over stuff about Asperger’s, noticed how I matched up with a lot of it, and asked my brother if he thought I was autistic.

Are you fucking kidding me. So my primary care doctor notices shit, my sister-in-law, who has only known me for like two years notices shit, I’m officially diagnosed by a psychiatrist who only met me twice, and the dude I grew up with thinks I’m not?

I explained about masking, I don’t know if he gets it. I gave him examples of things I’ve done that I know confuse him when they happen (sometimes my meltdowns involve me losing my words and being unable to speak when he’s stressing me out), I told him some of my other bits and just...

Does this count as rejection? It feels like rejection. I did tell him I was worried that he’d treat me different or see me as a burden and he assured me he doesn’t, and he wouldn’t if I was actually autistic. But now I get to worry about my sister-in-law’s bullshit. She’s already tried to ‘fix’ my other health issues, while refusing to believe I have severe asthma and fucking spraying shit everywhere, then playing the victim when asked to stop. So I’m dreading when he tells her. She’ll probably want to kick me out, I wouldn’t be surprised.

Do you know how much fun it is to have vertigo when one of your primary stims when anxious is rocking back and forth? I’m probably going to get my cars out again and organize them into categories as a distraction.

[theonewiththefanfics]

Paranoid (one-shot)

Synopsis: Loki wasn’t paranoid. I mean, that was before he met the Reader. Ever since then, all day every day he can only think of her, what she’s doing, where she’s going and what’s happening to her. All because she’s a grade A dumb ass.

Pairing: Loki x fem!Reader

Genre: fluff, maybe toiny bit of angst

Warnings: Reader has one brain cell and even that is not used, swearing, a lil bit of sad thoughts and general idiocy.

Word count: 3430

He was paranoid about her. Always. With every step he took. No exceptions. And it wasn’t how you might think. He’s not paranoid she might find someone better even though he thinks she deserves it. He’s not paranoid to have his heart broken and smashed into pieces because she carries it on velvet palms wherever she goes. No. It’s just that Y/N has quite the knack of getting hurt. And she’s been out on a mission for a month. Without any contact. So it was safe to say Loki was more than worried.

You could say he’s overreacting, but when it comes to his girl, it’s pretty much in the range. In fact, this is the calmest and collected Loki had been during the thirty-two days she was away, all because Y/N was finally coming home, and he could lay his green eyes upon her body to assess the damage.

When they had first met, Loki had had no idea what kind of a tornado he’d let in his life. Even the Black Widow had warned him about the woman before there had been any inclination something more than a friendship could bloom.

“She’s an absolute dumb-ass without a survival instinct,” Nat had said through a laugh, a beer bottle pressed against her rouged lips. “Honestly, I can only hope you two get put together on a mission just so you could see how big of an idiot she is. Bigger than Scott, and that’s saying something.”

In the meantime, Y/N was laughing away, head thrown back and eyes closed. “No,” she’d pointed at the redhead after nearly choking on her coffee as she pressed a tissue against the liquid that had dribbled down her chin. “I do have a survival instinct. I just don’t have a self-preservation instinct.” 

“And what’s the difference?” the Asgardian prince’s black eyebrow rose in question.

“When shit goes down, I do try to, you know, get out in somewhat of a single piece. It’s the before it happens that I don’t do.”

“You mean thinking?”

Y/N clapped her hands in excitement. “Exactly! I don’t do the thinking bit!”

That should’ve been his warning for what kind of chaos she’d bring to his life. 

It started off small with her inability to walk into the adjoined kitchen area without stubbing a toe or bruising the side of her hip against the countertop. Then it evolved into him noticing how Y/N didn’t press the button to release her toast when she thought it was in at prime toastiness level, instead, she grabbed a fork and full-on jammed it down there (DON’T DO THAT), not caring whether she’d get electrocuted or blow out the fuses in the facility. It escalated all the way to her getting trapped in an ex-Hydra base, and her first thought being not to use the window as an escape route, but rather line the sides of the room with explosives and bring the whole floor down while she hid underneath a table. He was genuinely surprised Y/N was still alive. 

But with the chaos also came serenity. She’d sneak into his room with glimmering eyes and a new book in hand, slipping under Loki’s cold sheets to lay against him and explain why the new piece of literature was ‘the actual shit’ and ‘if he didn’t read it right at that moment, she’d gouge his eyes out cause he didn’t deserve them.’

Obviously, they were empty threats, and as Loki rolled the before mentioned green eyes, he’d gently take the book out of her hands while Y/N quickly scurried out of the room to come back five minutes later with two teacups in hand.

Y/N would snuggle up against him and listen to how his voice expertly wove the words into the story, but one time it was different. The day on which the nature of their relationship had flipped upside down, had followed the same routine they’d been having for around three months since they’d become friends, but then not even ten minutes later he felt her wet tongue completely press against his bare shoulder. By that point, after everything she’d done, he didn’t even question it, simply turned the page.

“Did you burn your tongue on the tea, darling?”

“Noube,” she muffled out not letting her tongue off of his chilled skin.

“You know there’s another way I could cool it down.”

“Eah? Ike aht?”

“I could kiss it better.”

Instantly Y/N had peeled herself off from him and stared at the god, the pink muscle hanging out of her mouth like a dog’s on a hot summer day. Loki just stared at the wall. 

He hadn’t meant for those words to escape him; he’d actually always meant to suppress his feelings for the girl until the day the world stopped spinning. In fact, that’s what he’d been doing ever since she’d returned from a mission in East India seven months prior, battered and bruised and his heart had lifted to the heavens at the sight of her simply smiling and breathing.

Loki could hear her swallow harshly, and then she whispered, “don’t offer something you won’t go through with.”

His head snapped to look at her because the tone wasn’t the teasing lilt he’d gotten used to. This woman sitting half-covered by his black bedsheets was no longer the self-assured, confident and no-shit’s-given person he’d grown to love. This woman was looking at him with fear of rejection and yet unmistakable hope in her eyes. 

Slowly he closed the book, not even caring to mark the page he was left on and put it on the side of the bed before leaning over and without hesitation cupping Y/N’s cheeks and pressing their lips together and they sagged against one another at the euphoric feeling. 

Her hands in his hair felt like paradise as she cradled his head in an attempt to pull him closer, and she gasped when he did slip his tongue in her mouth, eagerly accepting the intrusion. But then she just had to ruin the moment by snorting in his face, though Loki couldn’t hide the smile that appeared on his own.

“What? What’s so funny?”

Y/N scrunched her nose. “Your tongue’s really cold.”

“It did the trick though, right?”

She looked like she was pondering it for a bit, and in the meantime slid her legs up so they were now wrapped around his waist. “Dunno. Might need another treatment. You know, so we’re sure it’s cured.”

He didn’t argue for even a second because Loki couldn’t believe his life at that moment. It was filled with giggles, and short breaths as they stole kisses from one another as much as possible, and soft caresses that sometimes turned into biting fingers that dug in the other’s sides whenever a teasing remark slipped past their swollen lips.

His heart flipped in his chest when Y/N threw her head back in a cackle, exposing her neck to him where he laid loving kisses. 

He’d never been more scared of a feeling.

He was terrified of how easily she’d gotten ahold of his heart.

But fuck him, if Loki didn’t love it and wouldn’t dive headfirst into it again.

Though now, when she’d finally returned home after the mission, he was kind of regretting it as Y/N was being wheeled off the Quin-jet on a gurney, one of the hands that had so tenderly braided his hair just a month ago now limp over the side of the stretcher as the other covered a hole in her side that was oozing blood.

White-hot fury blazed through his veins, as he saw the Captain step down the track and onto the landing pad, though fortunately for the blond super-soldier, the god didn’t get to him as he decided to follow Bruce and Tony who were taking Y/N to the med bay. But even knowing the love of his life was being treated by the best of the best, didn’t pacify him especially when they refused him entry into her room. 

“Loki, Loki, calm down,” Nat, who’d been on the mission with Y/N and Steve, pushed against his chest to keep the god away from busting through the door. “They won’t let anyone in until she’s been stitched up, but it’s nothing big… I mean on her scale. She just decided to be dramatic and passed out on her way back.”

He wanted to fight, he wanted to make each person that stood between them crumble underneath him, but he knew it wouldn’t do him or Y/N any good. Loki huffed, letting his shoulders drop and then pressing his thumb and forefinger against the bridge of his nose. “How bad?”

“Umm, Marrakesh level, so, nothing too lethal.”

“By Valhalla,” Loki dragged a hand across his face. “That woman will kill me one day. Not directly, no, but I’ll have a heart attack just because of her recklessness.”

Nat snorted and crossed her arms. “I did warn you.”

“Not enough.”

“Hey, don’t blame me! You were the one that fell in love with her.”

That Loki didn’t have a comeback for, so instead, he just huffed and plopped down into one of the chairs that lined the wall outside of the med bay.

“Our lives would be quite dull without her though,” Nat said, joining the god on the chairs and releasing a restrained groan, as she shuffled into the seat. She most likely had a dislocated hip but had practically bitten Steve’s head off when he told her to go and get checked. She, just as much as Y/N’s boyfriend, needed to know their firecracker was alright.

“Yeah,” Loki sighed. “If only she had one more brain cell in that head of hers, maybe we could live in somewhat of a peace.”

Not even two minutes later, Tony threw open the doors and allowed them to enter, but by that point, everyone had heard the arrival of their teammates, and they wanted to check on them. For example, Thor wanted to see if Loki had murdered anyone yet, but as it turned out, he didn’t need to worry about that. Instead, he needed to worry about his brother’s girlfriend.

“Loki!” Y/N squealed seeing the raven-haired god come into her hospital room. “That’s ma man!” she said to Bruce, who only rolled his eyes already used to the way the woman was while coming out of it. “It’s ma Loki Loki, bo-boki, Banana-fana fo-foki, Fee-fi-mo-moki, Loki!”

She dramatically pointed at the other god standing beside him.

“Oh, and that’s his brother Thor, Thor, bo-bhor, Banana-fana fo-fohr, Fee-fi-mo-mohr, Thor!” Her hands slapped against her cheeks as she squeezed them and wiggled them up and down making her words shake. “My-y-y-y-y fa-a-a-a-a-a-ce fee-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-ls li-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-ke cotto-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-n.”

“That’s 'cause you’re high,” Tony said.

Y/N was instantly on it. It was like she was on crack and on steroids and a sugar rush while at the same time doing a hundred miles an hour. “Hello, High. I’m dad.”

Tony looked at the ceiling in despair. “That’s not how that even works.”

“Why’s she like that?” Loki asked sitting down next to Y/N on the bed, who suddenly busied herself with the reflections of the sun the golden cufflinks of his shirt sleeves threw. Especially as his face went to caress her cheek, but she grabbed his wrist in a white-knuckling grip and moved it in certain angles to create reflections on the walls. 

        The billionaire sighed. “We gave her a sedative cause when we started to stitch her up, she woke up and almost kicked Bruce in the nuts, but after a little breakdown of the situation by Steve, it turns out there was some gas involved in the mission, and I guess the combination of the two chemicals have flung her in the stratosphere.”

        That wasn’t a good word, as it turned out it was almost like Bucky’s trigger words, given how Y/N immediately screeched out, “Walking on air, living in the Stratospheeeeeeeeeeeeere!”.

        “Wow,” Nat sighed. “Mutemath would hate her.”

        Y/N stuck her tongue out at the redhead. “You’re mute math, how ‘bout that? No one likes to be name called, you bully.”

        “Yeah, okay,” the redhead chuckled as she patted Y/N’s foot. “You’ll survive. I’m gonna have a nap.” And with that she left limping on her way, Steve following so he could scold her into getting her hip put into place by a professional, not by him or Clint. 

        One by one the rest of the team did as well, knowing that they could rest with easy hearts as Y/N was safe, stitched up and sound. Well, as sound as being completely drugged up could be.

Tony checked her vitals one more time before turning to Loki, who’d refused to leave her on her own, one, because he loved her and wanted to know she was alright, two, because he didn’t trust normal Y/N to not do stupid things, let alone this version. 

“Speaking of naps,” Tony said, “if she doesn’t pass out in the next ten minutes please do your mumbo jumbo and make her. She needs rest. I’ve put in some pain meds with a sleepy side effect, so hopefully, she’ll be out like a light in no time.”

Loki sighed, as he felt Y/N rub her cheek against the silken material of his shirt. “Of course.”

With that, the billionaire left, muttering something about how her generation would be the last generation if they didn’t stop being so stupid. Not that Loki would disagree, his girlfriend being a prime example of that.

Y/N hummed Loki’s name quietly, which made him look down at the love-sick puppy dog eyes she was giving him. A gentle smile appeared on his face.

“Yeah, darling?”

“Mhm,” she hummed, snuggling against his side. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he muttered, kissing the top of her head. “Do you wanna lay down?”

She scoffed looking up at him and tried to shove him off the bed, confusion riddling his face until Y/N said, “I have a boyfriend who I love very much. I’ll cut you before I sleep with you.”

“Yeah.” Loki groaned standing up. “Alright.” Green seidr appeared to weave around his arms, and with a flick of his fingers, her eyes started to drop closed as she slid down the sheets and snuggled up in the place where Loki had been sitting.

He dragged a hand down his face and huffed, plopping his body in the armchair which was in the room deciding to sleep for a bit until Y/N woke up. Although he was a god and didn’t need as much rest as mortal people did, he’d sure as Hel need all the energy he could gather because once his girlfriend was awake it’d be chaos all over. 

Loki didn’t get much rest though when a light touch on his shoulder disturbed him from his sleep.

Slowly his eyes fluttered open, mouth stretching in a smile as Y/N’s face looked down on him with a happy expression. 

        “Hey there, sleepyhead.”

        “Hello, dove,” he muttered, kissing the inside of her palm. “You up?”

        She nodded, whispering, “Yeah. But do you think you could help me with all these wires? I wanna go to our room.”

        Her words were what hit him, making Loki jump up, realising Y/N was out of the bed when she was supposed to be resting.

        Gingerly, despite all the protests from her mouth, he took her under the legs and put her back in the hospital bed. 

        “But – “

        “I will tie you down here if you try to step out again.” His voice was deep and filled with a threat he fully intended to fulfil, but Y/N in her Y/N fashion just wiggled her eyebrows and Loki handed a carton of juice and stabbed the top with a straw.

        “Kinky. I like it. But let’s leave it for our own private time.”

        Pinching the bridge of his nose had become a motion Loki was now all too familiar with. Not even after all the time, he’d put up Thor’s bullshit had he had to do that. He was quite certain his fingers had left indents on his skin. 

“What happened on the mission?” he asked, placing a pudding cup and a spoon on the nightstand.

“Dude came out of nowhere,” Y/N said sipping on her apple juice. “Like he just appeared behind me and stabbed me in the side. Talk about rude, right.”

“You need to be more careful.”

Y/N raised her eyebrow. “I am careful. ‘S not like I go out to get stabbed on purpose.”

But Loki’s tone had lost all lightness, as she exasperated. “No, I need you to be more careful.”

“I am. I –“ but she didn’t get a chance to finish as Loki racked a frustrated hand through his hair, snapping at her. “No, you’re the most reckless person I’ve ever met and you think getting stabbed and inhaling chemicals is not a big deal, but it is, and I can’t do this anymore… I can’t lose you.”

And although it was said with anger and frustration, Y/N could see the underlying pain and fear. His family had all but abandoned him, and we’re not talking about his biological one. All he had left was Thor, and Loki would never admit it out loud, he dreaded the day his brother would disappear from his life.

“Loki.” She took one of his hands and pressed a kiss to his cold knuckles. “You could never lose me.”

A bitter chuckle settled between them as he looked up at her. “But I could. You’re so carefree and fluttery while doing things that could kill you, it scares me half to death.”

“I know,” she whispered. “But I have to.”

Loki’s eyebrows furrowed. “Why?”

“Because if I don’t all the darkness will just settle on me, and I’ll never be able to get out of it.”

Loki squeezed her hand in encouragement, and after taking a deep breath Y/N elaborated. “I try to ease myself with the thought that I’m saving people, and helping humanity, but at the end of the day, I’m still taking lives. It’s not like they, you know, the bad guys’ think they’re the bad guys. They’re not doing it because they think they’re evil. They’re fighting for what they think is right. That doesn’t mean it is, but we’re all villains in someone else’s stories, and if I start thinking of it, I don’t know if I’ll ever stop.” A shuddery exhale left her lips, and this time it was Loki taking a hold of her hand. “I need to let myself be a bit crazy. Because if I don’t, I don’t know how I’ll go on. I promise I don’t do it because of some wish to get killed in the process. It’s just that… it makes it easier to look at the world, to not think for a moment about the bad.”

“Can you just promise me something?” Loki’s tone was soft as a feather’s touch as he sighed, understanding where she was coming from. More than once his own dark thoughts tended to overcome him, but in his world, it was Y/N who brought in the light to dissipate them. He hadn’t gotten to the point where he could do it himself, so he supposed he had to at least be happy she’d found a way to fight them off herself, even if it made him fear for her.

Y/N nodded. “Anything.”

“Just – just try to think before you do anything.”

That set both of them off into a fit of giggles as she raised their clasped hands and pressed a kiss to his cold one. “I can try.”

“Promise.”

“I promise to try. Though, I’d say don’t get disillusioned. I’m still the same crazy person you met before.”

A soft smile graced Loki’s, face and he brought Y/N’s hand to his lips where he pressed a kiss to her warm skin. “Wouldn’t want it any other way. Though, as much as I doubt, you’ll heed my request, you could do one thing for me?”

“And what’s that?”

 “Stop jamming forks in the toaster.”

“Absolutely not!” she scoffed. “How else am I supposed to get the bread out?”

“You wait for it to be done!”

“It takes too fucking long!”

Although Loki would fight tooth and nail to somehow keep Y/N safe and would use everything in his arsenal to make sure she took care of herself, he’d never change her even if it made him paranoid.

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):

Everything tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64​ @supernaturalbaesduh​ @breezy1415 @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl​ @sea040561​ @staryeyedgirl​ @deathbyarabbit​ @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91​ @dalilx​ @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns​ @averyrogers83​ @in-the-end-im-still-trash​ @gallifreyansass​ @dewy-biitch​ @avxgers​ @unlikelygalaxygiver​ @magicwithaknife​ @ollyoxenfrees​ @bnhvrdy​ @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl​ @sj-thefan​ @teenwolflover28 @lestersglitterglue​ @im-squished​

Marvel tags: @nerissa98​ @happyseagrill​ @asguardiansoftheavengers​ @crazybutconfidentaf​ @wishingforahome​ @pizzarollpatrol​ @desir-ae​

Hiddles/Loki tags: @marvels-queen-bee @julierousing98 @maggiesimps @horrorx570ximagines​ @luluthegreatandterrible​ @bambamwolf87​ @drakesfiance​ @artbysteph87 @beets1bears1battlestargalactica

A/N: I hope everyone’s staying home and is alright during these crazy times.

I’m back writing for ma boy Loki (I had a dream about that Loki - Tom Hiddles look-alike that is on TikTok that we were cuddling, so I’m on a Loki and Tom lovin’ wave)

P.S. my tags are always open :)

P.S.S. what did ya think?

[arty-shadow-morningstar]

A Failed Betrothal /Betrothal AU: Take Two

So here is the second part of the betrothal AU that I decided to name "A Failed Betrothal. This takes place before Part 1 which in hindsight should have been done first. Part 2 got too long so I cut it and started Part 3. I have no idea and nothing planned on how long this will go. Hope you enjoy ❤.

[Masterlist]

(Part 1)

PART 2

Marinette also wasn't having a good day or a good week.

Lila Rossi had been up to her usual tricks. You know, spewing lies from her mouth. How she met these awesome celebrities during this trip and they worship the ground she walks on for her amazing and humbling help. There were stories of these charities, trips and galas that she had been to or was invited to. She has problems with her wrists and can't do simple stuff like carry her own bag or do her homework. She has tinnitus in her ears so she needs to sit in the front where the only seat available would be next to Adrien.

And for the finale.

The desert after feeding the class a banquet of lies.

"Mari...nette..has been bullying me, she...told..me not to tell anyone..*sobs*..that she would kill me if I did.."

Lila dramatically gasped and slapped her hands over her mouth. Turning on the waterworks for a more dramatic effect. They all ate it up, jumping on the ‘let’s hate Marinette, a bad person’ train.

"She is going to kill me now and I am so scared." That snake managed to snuck an evil smirk past her glaring, oblivious classmates.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Marinette, at this point of her life, had frankly given up caring for them due to the class's lack of brain cells and Agreste's spineless 'High Road' Approach.

For Kwami's sake, she went through a brutal torture that was training in some jungle temple in Asia before Sabine Cheng, former mercenary/assassin, kidnapped her (Little Marinette took a risk. She ran away and followed her around until Sabine begrudgingly accepted that she was now the 6- year-old girl's mother because screw it, Tom said he wanted children.) to raise/train as her own while she settled down with a baker whose mother may or may not have ties with the Mafia and other illegal activities.

(Mother-daughter bonding days became much more fun once she had Guardianship of the Miraculous. Sabine was ,at first, furious at Master Fu for dumping everything on the girl and losing his memories before swearing to help protect the jewels. Adopted or not, Marinette is her daughter and no one should let a child, even one with training, fight a war. A good thing to come out of her reveal was that her mother was a great tiger to have as back-up. But now, her training regime had become harder and challenging.)

The point was that Lila Rossi would be dead and body missing since that first time she threatened Marinette in the bathroom. The Italian was in perfect health despite what she claims otherwise, because Marinette didn’t want to be the person she was raised to be and also she didn’t want to disappoint Tikki, she was fond of the little red kwami. But sometimes, she just wanted to give into the urge to kill.

She had met and dealt with unsavory characters of all types and she can safely say that Lila Rossi was a manipulator that thrives on attention and like a parasite, latches herself onto the fame of others. None of the unsavory people she had met get under her skin like Rossi had.

Marinette had enough self-preservation to drop the nice girl act and sometimes let the dragon underneath to surface. She stopped doing last-minute favors and giving away free stuff which Lila uses to her full advantage to further destroy her relationships with her ‘friends’. It was better than sticking her neck out for classmates that were no longer worth her time. Attempts to expose Lila had backfired due to the denial they are in, believing the liar to be a sweet, nice girl living the high life.

Adrien with his rose-tinted glasses firmly stuck to his eyes was not happy at all with her decision. That may also have to do where she suggested he shove his advice after he tried to reason her to take the high road for defending herself for the umpteenth time. She felt like the biggest idiot to ever have a crush on him. Every time, Rossi blames Marinette for a problem, he would shoot disappointed looks in her direction.

Alya being Lila's biggest guard dog tore into Marinette for her newfound 'bad' behaviour. The rest of Lila's supporters backed her up with "How could you do that to Lila","I can't believe you changed." Nearly all her so-call friends had turned their backs and lost all common sense to the Italian's manipulations.

(Alya was supposed to be her best friend, aren’t you supposed to listen to your ‘bestie’ over a complete stranger)

The designer took it all with a bored expression on her face, used to the lecturing which was a waste of time because her behavior isn't going to change, no matter what, Lie-la will keep up the act of being the bully's (*cough*Marinette*cough*) victim.

Her heart that cracks the tiniest bit at the accusations. A small part of her, she admits, is hurt that they think so low of her.Was she really that worthless to them? All those times and efforts helping them out on last-minute favors and giving them free treats. Were they not enough to earn their friendship? Their trust or at the very least, a benefit of doubt?

The only ones who didn’t join the berating to 'correct' the raven-haired girl’s attitude were Chloe (who had proven herself to have changed after the miracle queen incident and Lila stole the spotlight and Sabrina. There were a lot of apologizes, gifts and ‘making up to do’) Alix (she came to her senses when the supposed bullying started) and Nathaniel (Lila blatantly claimed to be the artist for the Ladybug comic to his face).

“Girl, Marinette, are you even listening to me?”Alya demanded.

“Maybe. Did you say anything that doesn’t have to do with Lila or how I did her wrong or how I am no longer the person you knew?”

Marinette knew that being sarcastic would backfire but nothing she does or says will change what they think of her. One word from Lila and they will turn back on her. As much as she hates to admit it, Lila’s threat has fallen through and she was alone. Mostly.

She still had Chloe, Nathaniel, Alix, Luka and Kagami as friends. The trust-worthy and loyal kind.

“Girl,” Alya says in a disappointed tone, shaking her head,“when I look at you, I don’t see that girl who stood up to Chloe the bully-”, Chloe snorted, she had changed but they were too blind and prejudiced against her to notice her efforts, “-Picking on Lila, threatening and harassing her. This isn’t you and you know it. Just get over your jealousy on Lila being close to Adrien and apologize to her.”

If Alya had talked to her in the past 12 months other than demanding things that took away her time or anything relating to Lila, she would know that her infatuation had turned into annoyance.

Marinette sighed, too tired of this routine, tired of trying to knock heads so the brain cells can work again. Apologizing would mean that Lila had won. She was petty and stubborn enough to allow that to happen. Lila said she will take the class and Adrien. Fine, she can have them but Marinette Dupain-Cheng will not admit defeat. Bigger men had fallen to the ravenette for lesser offences. A year has passed since the expulsion and the class still hasn't regained common senses, so they can deal with the consequences after the inevitable downfall of Lila and Marinette will be there to see them lay in the grave they dug.

Steeling herself for the pain that will come with the execution of her plan,

“What if I don’t. I won’t apologize to her because I have not done anything to her or even interacted with her. If I apologize, it would be insincere and a lie. And I hate liars.” The former assassin said evenly.

“Lila is not a liar. I don’t know why you are like this.” Alya said, frustrated.

Marinette knew there would be a small chance of an akuma with Gabriel Agreste having an important meeting to attend on this day that would last for the next hour. This was the small window of opportunity to start the plan and also further confirm the identity of Hawkmoth. Killing two birds with one stone.

“Alya, this has always been me, you just never took the time to get to really know the real me.”, she replied, the last part with an icy tone.

“Well-... I- ..You-, fine, then if you can’t say those simple three words, we can’t be friends. I clearly don’t know what a selfish bitch you are. God, I can’t believe I wanted to be best friends with you. You are now replaced by Lila because unlike you, she is genuinely nice and selfless.” Alya declared. The rest of Lila’s supporters murmured in agreement.

Phase 1, complete. Lure the Lie-la into a false sense of security by making her think she won.

Marinette tried not to show how hurt she was, to be replaced by the scheming bitch. But at the same time she felt relieved, she no longer had to walk on eggshells in fear of losing the friendships of people she used to care about. It felt final as she maintained her stoic expression, hoping they didn't notice the glassy sheen her eyes had.

“Then, it is official. We are no longer friends.”

They haven’t been friends for a long time.

Mme. Bustier finally walked into the classroom to start the afternoon classes, signalling the end of the conversation. After class, Marinette resolves to inform them that she was resigning as class president which she was sure the class will be glad for. She was right.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ladybug was, as the Americans say, pissed at Hawkmoth which was nothing new. He had sent out another akuma just as Marinette was back home and trying to relax after the stressful day. The akuma was not any of her ex-friends which she wasn’t sure to be thankful for or not.

Louise Martin was a boy about Luka’s age and mad at his friends who had blamed their fifth loss-in-a-row on him despite the fact that it was his skills that were getting them any progress. They were playing one of those recently released 5V5 skills and strategy battle games. (League of Legends or Mobile Legends. Take your pick, I am going with the latter)

He was akumatized into Hayakuma as proof of Hawkmoth’s lack of creativity. Hayakuma was a bleached out version of Louise’s chosen hero avatar, Hayabusa whose outfit was basically what the media portrays ninjas to look like with some samurai aspects.

Unfortunately, he also had the hero’s ultimate special powers which were making four shadow copies of himself and being able to switch positions with them. Thanks to Rattlesnake’s Second Chance, they know that he can only make a switch once every two minute. Hayakuma also wields a sword, showing off his skills.

Just lovely.

Hydra and Ladybug were the only ones able to counter his attacks with Hydra’s sword and Ladybug’s summoned one. (Let’s go with that headcanon(?)/trope that she can summon weapons for plot convenience and the others can too but just don’t have enough practise yet.)

The others managed to dodge and shield themselves from Hayakuma’s really sharp sword.

The shadows themselves were annoying as they would distract or hinder the miraculous users by grabbing them by their shadows and making them unable to move. Until Bunnix had the brilliant idea of shadow boxing which gave the heroes gain more even ground.

With how strong and handful the akuma was, it was code ‘all hands on deck’. Ladybug, Stinger, Rattlesnake, Hydra, Bunnix, Trickster. Well, nearly every hand. Lady Mǔ lǎohǔ was busy with the bakery. Chat Noir was nowhere to be seen or very late which had been the norm for the last year ever since Ladybug wanted to form a new miraculous team consisting of permanent heroes.

(He didn’t show up for the first few months because the first permanent member was Ladybug’s mother who did not like his attitude towards her daughter. He ran away with his tail between his legs once he found out how she was related to Ladybug. His face when he realized it, was something Marinette will cherish forever)

At least when Lady Mǔ lǎohǔ was around, he would not dare act out of line. When she is gone however, he is back to his old ways.

After saving one of Louise’s teammates from Hayakuma’s sword, they gathered the rest of the team and hid them someplace safe. Using Trickster’s illusions to trick all the shadows and the original to one place, the heroes were going to surround and ambush them and get the akumatized item. The plan would have been a success if it weren’t for Chat Noir hugging Ladybug from behind, making her miss her cue.

“Hey~ Bugaboo~ Did you miss me~? Your Chaton~?”

Thwack! Smack!

Chat Noir was on the rooftop, groaning pitifully in pain. Especially his crotch area. Ladybug glared at him and looked to the ambush point to see the illusions had disappeared and everyone else gone from their hiding place.

She sighed and turned on the comms, (Thank you, kwamis)

“Sting, did you venomed the akuma?”

“No, he escaped before I could. What happened, LB?”

“A certain cat got me delayed. What’s the status update?”

“Hydra is holding him off and Bunnix found that an umbrella is a good substitute for a sword. The rest of us are keeping track of the shadows. They split up but none of them are getting near where we hid the targets.”

“Where are you? I will meet you later with back-up.”

“Near Notre Dame and tell Mama Tigress I said hi.”

“Tell her yourself.”

She looked down at Chat No-, no he is not worthy of being a hero anymore with the amount of times he had derailed and hijacked the plans to defeat the akumas just so he can ‘earn’ Ladybug’s heart.

She looked down at Adrien Agreste, who was sitting and sulking like a child that was unfairly punished. (Once she got over her crush and started looking at the right things that she managed to piece together her ‘partner’s’ identity by accident. Tikki’s confirmation sealed the deal.)

“Chat Noir, this partnership of ours,” she said, gesturing to the two of them, “ is going to change tonight. Meet me at the ‘spot’ at 11 sharp. Now, go home.”

He left with a small glimmer of hope in his eyes at her words. She felt a little bad about the subtle manipulation but with the way things were now, it can’t go on. He was hindering more than helping and the people of Paris that weren’t shipping ‘Ladynoir’ saw that.

As she jumped towards Notre Dame, she called the bakery with her yoyo.

“Mama, are you free now? I need a little help with the akuma and can you bring the horse miraculous.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chat Noir waited excitedly at what they both dubbed at their ‘spot’, in the good old days when it was just the two of them. Maybe Ladybug was finally open to the idea of dating. Or maybe she must have seen what a great hero he is and was going to get rid of the team. Or realized that having her mother on her team was a bad idea. Parents are the worst and they both can be two rebellious teenagers in love. Like Romeo and Juliet. So romantic~.

He was so deep in his daydream that he didn’t hear his lady land.

“Chat Noir.” Startled, he nearly fell off the roof. No, don’t make a fool of yourself in front of Ladybug.

“Yes, Bugaboo.” Hoping she didn’t know that he was very distracted. His attention will always be hers 100%.

“Don’t call me Bugaboo. Tikki wants to talk to Plagg about Kwami stuff. So you go over and hide behind that chimney. Then, we can talk about why I told you to be here.” Adrien frowned and then smiled. His lady must be very embarrassed about her mistake that must be why she is taking her time. He tried listening to what they were saying but the kwamis were talking in their special Guardian Language. Was it him or did Tikki’s voice sound more like his lady’s voice?

Whizz!

Adrien was tied up with Ladybug’s yoyo. “M’Lady? Bugaboo!? LADYBUG! WHAT IS GOING ON?!! PLAGG-”

Ladybug cut in, “Adrien Agreste, you have been slack in your hero duty and choosing your own feelings over supporting your partner, me, the holder of the Ladybug Miraculous and current Grand Guardian, in the efforts to defeat the enemy of Paris, Hawkmoth. Due to those reasons, you are no longer worthy to be the Holder of the Black Cat Miraculous” in one swift motion, she took the ring off his finger, “As such you are hereby revoked of Plagg’s Ring.”

“NO, YOU CAN’T. YOU CAN’T DO THIS TO ME! I LOVE YOU AND I KNOW YOU LOVE ME BACK. WE ARE SOULMATES, WE ARE MEANT TO BE-”

Adrien went slack at Lady Tigress’s pinch on his pressure point.

“I don’t what you ever saw in the boy.”

“I don’t know either. I think I dodged a bullet here. Can you carry him back to his home? I think I have dealt with enough of him tonight.” Ladybug muttered, as she erased Adrien’s memories of being Chat Noir.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tag list: @alysrose-starchild, @buginetye, @lookatthestars1, @blackroserelina, @macncheesemonster, @mochinek0, @myazael, @tonicxworld, @thewitchwhowaited, @t1dwarrior-of-earth, @kissa-chan, @iwantasecretidentity, @theymakeupfairies, @user00000003, @woe-is-me0, @kashlyn, @mochegato,@moonlightstar64 , @greatcatblaze, @moongoddesskiana, @tazanna-blythe.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

(Part 3)

[live-the-fangirl-life]

Weird? Crazy? I once thought of a meet ugly where someone accidentally barges into a stall where someone is taking a shit just for the punch line “you scared the shit out of me” “literally” or something along those lines but I can’t imagine how either person would recover from the embarrassment unless they were in a long term relationship and this was in their home or something

Scared Shitless

Aelin Galathynius x Rowan Whitethorn - Prompt

"You scared the shit out of me" / "Literally"

This is total crack. This prompt made me laugh so hard I snorted. Please, anon, tell me who you are, because this was hilarious.

Masterlist | Read on Ao3

Warnings: Language, Crude Bathroom Humor (I apologize in advance)

791 words

*******

Rowan would think by now that he’d have learned this lesson.

The lesson being: don't let Aelin cook.

He’d known her for seven years, dated her for five, and been married to her for two; he really should have known better by now.

But she was so excited to try out a new recipe she found online, something that reminded her of a childhood dish. And she looked so proud and hopeful when she put it out on the table for dinner. It didn't taste the best, but it also wasn't her worst concoction, so Rowan didn't think much of it as he ate a single serving, washed it down with a couple glasses of water, and counted it as a success.

That was before he’d spent the last hour trying to relieve himself of that night's dinner, to no avail. As much as tried, and as much as he needed to, he couldn't do it,

Whatever Aelin did to that dinner, made Rowan more constipated than he’d ever been in his life.

He was just glad his wife was still asleep and not suffering the same way he was. First, because he was not having a good time and he didn't want her to feel the same. And second, because there was only one bathroom in their apartment and if she had the same issue, well, it wouldn't be good.

Rowan groaned again, wishing he could just give up and go to sleep, but he still had the horrible feeling of needing to go, but being unable to no matter how hard he tried.

He grabbed the green bottle of Aelin’s conditioner from the shower ledge and read over the back of the bottle. He’d already learned everything about her shampoo and body wash, he might as well finish the set. Rowan made a mental note to keep a book in here for future extended bathroom trips.

A loud knock on the door interrupted him as read about how silky the conditioner could make your hair.

“Rowan?” Aelin’s voice called through the wood.

“Yeah? I’m a little occupied, Fireheart, do you need something?” he tried not to sound too strained. As much as he loved his wife he really didn't need her seeing him right now. Especially not as he finally, finally, felt like he was getting somewhere.

She banged on the door again, “Rowan, I really need to get in there! Please, open the door!” she sounded frantic; her normally cool, sometimes cocky, voice reduced to an anxious whine.

“Uh,” He looked at the locked door which was about a foot out of his reach from his current position. “I can’t really do that right now.”

Her banging on the door became more insistent. “Ro! Gods, help me, open this fucking door!” He could hear her muffled, and not so muffled, curses as she muttered about how she was never going to touch a stove again.

“Rowan Whitethorn,” Her voice felt almost as strained as he did, “Promise me, on our love, that you will never let me cook again. Oh godsㅡ”

“Aelin? I swear to all the gods listening that I’ll never let you cook again.” he managed to grunt out as he heard her steps disappearing. Good, maybe she was feeling better.

He was so close, gods he could almost feel the relief, but not quite. He tried again, using so much force his neck strained and he could feel his face getting red.

So close.

He was too focused on trying to finish this, that he didn't hear the sound of metal tinkling in the doorknob.

Come onㅡ

The door burst open, banging loudly on the wall as it crashed into it, most likely leaving a dent. Aelin was there on her knees with a bobby pin in one hand and a bent paper clip in the other.

Rowan’s eyes met hers and he was so startled that his body seemed to jump off the toilet seat. The rush of adrenaline or shock and the quick movement sent him over the edge and he felt his body relieving itself.

Aelin got to her feet and stalked towards him as he looked at her and said breathlessly, “You scared the shit out of me.”

“Literally.” She snorted, at his words or his relaxed expression, he wasn't sure. Then her smile dropped and she hastily told him, “now finish and get out cause I need that.”

He did exactly that. Finally leaving the bathroom, Rowan crawled back into bed and waited for Aelin to join him. As he tried to stay conscious, he couldn't help but think they had just covered some type of married-life milestone. Turns out that when you're married to someone, there's no shit-shaming.

***

Taglist:

@acourtofsnakes @allthebooksunderthemoon @astra-ad-mare @becarefuloflove @bisexual-genderfluid-loki @booklover41802 @charlizeed @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @danibutterr @doubt-less @emily-gsh @enormousbooklover @foughtconquered @fromthelibraryofemilyj @hakunamatatazz @i-have-but-one-brain-cell @in-love-with-caramel-macchiato @jorjy-jo @lemonade-coolattas @mariamuses @mayhemories @midsizewitch @miserablesmusings @morganofthewildfire @nehemikkele @rowaelinismyotp @rowansfirebringer @sayosdreams @sheharahu @sleeping-and-books @stardelia @story-scribbler @superspiritfestival @surielandiareendgame @swankii-art-teacher @tomtenadia @westofmoon @whimsicallyreading @ladygabrielli1997 @moodymelanist @realbookloverproblems @gracie-rosee @julemmaes @yesdreamblog

[dreamii-yume]

Heyy, step-bro Kaeya anon here. I should be asleep right now but I really want to share an idea that hitted me like a flipping (not sure if I can swear) brick.

Imagine Zhongli or Xiao (or even both) with a reincarnated darling. Darling is the reincarnation of their past lover that they lost during the Archon war and met again so many years later. I feel they both would be clingy and protective at first (Xiao maybe not so clingy but definitely protective), constantly watching over darling. In the meantime darling is just confused, why this strange yet familiar guy keep following her? Darling is just so overwhelmed by their constant presence that one day she just broke down in front of a rival of yan (I'm thinking about Childe or Aether, but I guess Venti would work too) and yan just snap. They really don't want to have you tied up in their bedroom (we all know that's a lie), but you leave them with no other choice. After all you're just a weak and clumsy mortal, how can you protect yourself? They can't afford to lose you again.

Bonus point if darling has a strong bond with the rival(s?) even before meeting yan.

Also I feel this can be also applied to Venti but he genuinely don't seem one to kidnap his darling, more like manipulate them into staying but for this I have another different idea.

Sorry for another long ask and the eventually bad English, it's something I was thinking while before going to bed, feel free to ignore tho. Have a good day/night

OOoohh ▓▒░(°◡°)░▒▓

It'll be unacceptable, imagine that the two of you were so happy together in the past and now you're telling them that you just forgotten about it all to bask in the arms of someone else insignificant? The sheer audacity you have, Darling.They suffered years of anguish without you by their side, hoping every waking moment that if they were to open their eyes, they’ll be able to see you again, and when that finally came true, this is how you repay him instead?

For Zhongli, I feel that he'll be more patient with you, honestly. Despite the pain, the anger building inside of him, he still possesses the patience of a literal god. Perhaps it had been way too long for you to bear, since not anyone could handle to sit through thousands of years like he did after all. So, he'll be gentle with you at least, slowly take you away from your normal life, and easing you up back to a relationship similar to the one you had before with him. His words alone are enough to have you forget about everything and everyone else, you don’t need them if he’s around, so won’t you be a dear and return his love all over again?

Xiao is the type to be passive-aggressive about it, I think...? This guy is violent, and he knows that more than anyone else. If he were to let this rage take over him, he might do something even more terrifying than you can ever imagine. He's bad with trying to talk it out in general, so he'll might come in and just...sweep you away in the darkest of the night, never to be seen again. There's really no use in using words against him at this point, he won't answer you directly because in his mindset, it should all be common sense on why he did this.

You were a cheater, a whore who forgot about him after providing him with so much love and care before. It's your fault, you brought this upon yourself so, go ahead…Use every last bit of your brain cells to process all that out. You are not leaving him anymore and he’ll make you realise that.

Venti~! Aaah...Venti is interesting because he's one of those guilty-type of yanderes, sweethearts really. Rather than being angry, he'd be sad, really, really sadwhen he finds out that you have someone else now and would desperately try to make you remember him. He's honest to a fault as he gives you a scared smile, holding out his hand for you to reach. It’s fine, it’s fine if you forgot about him, he’s not mad! All that matters is that he finally found you after so many years! He's here now, so won't you hold his hand like you did before and come with him instead?

Venti would never have the heart to kidnap you, the guilt would eat him alive. If he ends up committing to that act, he wouldn't have the right to call himself the god of freedom, would he? That’s why, you’ll just have to trust him, he swears he’ll make you even happier than you were before! Please…?

But it's a different story for your supposed significant other right over there. Oh, how mysterious would it be if their wind glider suddenly malfunctioned during an expedition near the cliffs...huh, weird. It seems like the wind doesn't like them very much.

[ragingbookdragon]

A Lifetime In The Dreams Between

Hal Jordan x Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 3.1K Warnings: Explicit Lanuage, Angst!

Author's Note: I have completed an idea! Enjoy! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

He didn’t know what happened. One second he was throwing up a shield to protect himself from the blast and the next his eyes were widening as the black magic passed through the construct and hit him straight in the chest. Shouts echoed all around him, but all Hal understood was that the world was swirling black and blue around him, figures blurring faster and faster, and he finally understood what it was like to see the world when Barry would run. And all he remembered was feeling the blood drain from his face as he dropped to his knees, and pitched forward, falling into darkness.

***

He could hear voices above him, stressed and frantic.

“He’s going into cardiac arrest!” Barry.

“Shit! Flash shock him!” (Y/N)?

“He won’t survive that much generated electricity!”

“Hal won’t survive if you don’t! Damn it, Barry! Shock him!”

Hands pressed to his chest and a shock jumped Hal’s chest, and he descended back into darkness.

***

His eyes snapped open, and he winced, raising a hand to his head, but someone grabbed his arm. “Don’t try to move, Hal.”

He lolled his head, eyes rolling as the metal ceiling flowed above; he felt so far away and so weak, brain fuzzing, and Barry appeared in his sight, searing his gaze.

“He’s having a seizure. His brain can’t handle the stress.” He looked at the woman across from him. “We have to get him to the med bay.”

She nodded, folding Hal’s hand back to his chest as she worried, “Hang on, Hal. You’re going to be okay.”

(Y/N)’s voice was so comforting, so warm, so trusting, and all Hal could do was shut his eyes, his brain imploding on itself.

***

He rolled over onto his side, burrowing his face in the soft pillow, exhaling deeply. Sleep welcomed him again and he was about to fall off the deep end when someone’s hand caressed his hip, lips pressing against the space between his shoulder blades.

“Good morning,” they murmured, trailing kisses up his back to his neck and to his ear. “Sleep well?”

He moaned lowly in his throat and turned his head, blinking blearily as their face came into clearing—actually her face, and suddenly his eyes went wide as he flailed, pulling away from her. “(Y/N)!”

She cocked a brow as he fell over the side of the bed, immediately shooting up, eyes shocked and very confused. “That’s my name, Hal.” Propping herself on her elbow, she asked, “Everything alright?”

Hal’s mouth opened and closed, and he looked down, his eyes widening all over again as he realized he was nude; he jerked the sheet to cover himself, an action not really in his repertoire. His coffee eyes went to her body, and she was there too, bare as the morning day.

“You’re naked. We’re naked,” he blurted out and she huffed a laugh.

“Yeah? Traditionally, married people typically get naked every other night when they make love.”

“Married?” Hal’s eyes shot to his left hand, and he almost collapsed on the floor again; sure enough a gold band was around his ring finger. “Holy shit,” he breathed, and he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to be more shocked about, the fact that they were married or that he didn’t remember it.

“Hal?” (Y/N) was crawling over the bed, her hand coming to cup his cheek. “Is everything alright?”

He gazed into her eyes, so stunned that this woman that hated his guts was so concerned for him. “I…I don’t know.”

Her brows furrowed and she shuffled, sitting on the edge of the bed, and maneuvered Hal’s head until it was resting in her lap, his back against the side of the frame. She carded her fingers through his hair and bent down, gently pressing kisses where she could reach, to his forehead, his nose, his cheeks, his lips, everywhere; then she smiled against his lips. “Something tells me you and Barry got so drunk last night you forgot you married me.”

“What?”

(Y/N) snorted, pulling away and with her free hand, she caressed his cheek. “You and Barry went to Aviators last night and came back at like three AM hammered out of your minds.” Her smile was ridiculously bright, and it made Hal’s heartbeat flutter against his rib cage. “You,” she started, but broke into a giggle. “You looked at me and said, ‘Hey pretty mama, wanna fly with me?’.”

Laughing again, she continued, “And when I said that I was your wife, you went, ‘Holy shit, I scored.’.” (Y/N) sighed wistfully and kissed his forehead. “Barry collapsed onto the couch, and you left a trail of clothes from the living room before collapsing in the bed.”

Tugging a strand of his brown hair, she said, “I had to maneuver the covers underneath your body in order to get into bed last night.” She pressed one more kiss to his forehead. “You’re still hungover though, so get back in bed and sleep a little while longer while I go make sure Barry’s up and awake, okay?”

Hal could only nod and when he tipped his head up to let her stand, he stopped her and pulled her down, pressing his lips to hers. (Y/N) responded eagerly, already forgoing checking on the Speedster as she lowered herself into his lap, and Hal immediately wrapped one arm around her waist, the other planting itself on the bed as he shifted his legs, giving himself some leverage to pick the two of them off the ground and shuffle back onto the bed.

And the second Hal’s thighs connected with the mattress he found himself being shoved down onto it, (Y/N)’s hands smoothing down his chest and abs, a flirtatious look on her face.

He couldn’t help but feel cocky. “See something you like?”

She grinned, splaying her fingers on his abdomen. “Actually, I feel something I like.” (Y/N) ground down on his hips and Hal inhaled sharply, causing her grin to turn into a downright evil smirk as she quipped, “And it seems like you feel it too.”

His hands came up to grasp her hips when someone stumbled through the bedroom door. “Hey, do you guys have any toothpa—oh dear God, you guys are fonduing!” They both jumped and looked at Barry who was busy shoving a hand to cover his eyes, the other fumbling for the door frame. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I swear I didn’t see anything, (Y/N).”

Hal snorted. “How come you’re not swearing you didn’t see any of me?”

“Because I’ve seen all of you before, Hal. Multiple times in fact.” Barry retorted, speeding out of the bedroom.

(Y/N) chuckled and pressed a kiss to Hal’s collarbone, starting to shimmy out of his lap, only stopping when he started whining at her. “What?”

“Why are you leaving?” he questioned, and she flicked his shoulder.

“Because you need to get up and cook some breakfast before all of us have to get back out and go to work.”

Hal blanched. “Work?”

(Y/N) tossed him a look as she pulled on some pajama bottoms and one of his t-shirts. “Yes, Hal Jordan, you have to go into space and be a space ranger.”

“Oh, Green Lantern, right.” He sighed in relief. “I thought you meant the airfield.”

She snorted. “Oh, that too. Carol called and asked if you’d come down and fly one of the new F-18’s they got recently.”

Hal perked up. “How fast?”

“Fast, fly-boy. Now get up and go cook while I shower.” And she was off into their bathroom, shutting the door behind her.

***

Hal wandered into the kitchen, watching as Barry lifted his head from the refrigerator. “Morning.”

“Mornin’,” he replied, flicking on the coffee maker. “So…can I ask you a question?”

“I’m not checking your dick again to see if it’s above average, Hal,” Barry deadpanned and Hal about fell to his feet in laughter.

“What! No!” he chuckled and wiped his eyes, pouring water into the top of the coffee maker. “About last night…what…exactly happened?”

Barry looked at him, pulling out the pack of roast beef. “You don’t remember?”

“Well, from what (Y/N) said, I’m surprised either of us remembered how to get back here.” He met Barry’s eyes. “Everything’s a little fuzzy. I was just wondering if you could fill me in.”

The Speedster nodded, shoving a piece of meat in his mouth. “Well, I got off patrol and came over here, and then you said we should go out. But (Y/N) had some things to take care of, so she told us to go have fun. And then we went to that military bar you like, and we got dared to drink some marines under the table, and you can’t say no to a dare from ‘warthogs’, so you just had to drink more pitchers than they did.”

He snorted. “I barely had enough functioning brain cells to remember how to get back, but we just crammed into a cab and drove back here.” He wiped his eyes. “You kept telling the cabbie to play Danger Zone the entire time.”

Hal wasn’t somebody who was embarrassed easily, and as much as he loved Top Gun, he felt flustered that he was drunkenly belting out the main song the night before.

“And when we got here, I fell asleep on the couch, but (Y/N) was already chasing you down the hall because you were stripping left and right.”

Barry had all but fallen into hysterics as Hal merely set the coffee pot under the drip. “Yeah…about that too.” He felt confused. “You didn’t happen to like…change the timeline again, did you?”

The Speedster stopped laughing at that, blue eyes wide and concerned. “What? No. Why do you ask?”

Hal shook his head, twirling the gold band on his finger. “Because I don’t really remember marrying (Y/N)? But I do remember how much she hates my guts.”

“Well, yeah, but that death scare you gave her a few years ago really made her realize that as much as she hated you, she loved you just as much.” Barry rested a hand on his shoulder. “Now that I think about it, you did take a bad blow a couple days ago. Maybe you’re still reeling.”

The pilot nodded, listening to the coffee pour. “Yeah…maybe.”

Footsteps sounded from the living room and (Y/N) appeared in the entryway, a towel wrapped around her head, a bathrobe around her body; she scowled. “Hal, you were supposed to start breakfast.”

He blinked. “I haven’t even had coffee yet.”

“Lazy,” she griped, yanking the roast beef out of Barry’s hands. “That’s for sandwiches, not to eat out of the package, you bottomless pit.” Shoving the meat back in the refrigerator, she said, “There’s eggs…ham…I could omelets?”

“Omelets sound good,” Barry replied, taking the coffee mug out of Hal’s hands who in turn glared at the Speedster. “Do you have onions and peppers to add?”

“Mmm…I dunno…Hal used the last of the onions and peppers the other night to make steak with.” (Y/N) looked back at him, lips parting to speak when a beeping came from the living room.

Barry darted out and back in with a blinking device in his hands. “It’s the League Communicator.”

Immediately, she and Barry suited up and her eyes found Hal’s behind her blue mask. “Highball, get your head in the game. We’ve got a mission.”

He shook himself out of his stupor and the green suit formed to his body, though he muttered, “I still haven’t had my coffee yet…”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes. “Race you guys to the Watchtower.”

“You’re on.” Barry chirped, the two of them disappearing in flashes of yellow and blue.

***

It seemed like much more routine patrol than it was a mission, but still, when Hal and (Y/N) finally made it back to Coast City, they all but collapsed onto the couch. Her suit faded from her body, and she rolled onto her back, laying her head on his thigh.

“I’m so tired,” she groaned, shutting her eyes.

Hal stared down at her, the green suit receding. “You look tired,” he murmured, resting his arm comfortably on her chest, his fingers rubbing soothing circles in her collarbone. “I still can’t believe you socked that bank robber in the face like Guy.”

(Y/N) giggled. “Hey, that man can teach anyone to throw a good punch.” Her eyes opened, and she reached up, tracing the dark circles under his eyes. “You look more tired than I am, husband of mine.”

Hal smiled, turning his face to press a sweet kiss to her wrist. “I’m just glad we’re home for the evening.” He expected her face to rest in relief, but it only clouded, and he murmured, “(Y/N)? What’s wrong?”

“Do you remember what we talked about a couple week ago?”

No, he did not.“You know I have a terrible memory, babe.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, a knowing sigh passing her lips. “Your memory is almost as bad as Barry’s ability to be on time.” Blinking at the ceiling, she said, “You know, what we talked about…having a family? How you said you wanted to try?”

Hal’s heart dropped into his stomach. “Yeah? What about it?”

She looked up at him. “I’m pregnant.”

“What?” His eyes immediately darted to her stomach, and he reached down, pressing his hand to her abdomen. “Are you really?”

(Y/N) nodded. “Yeah. Took a test last night.” Snorting, she added, “I was going to tell you, but you went out and got drunk, so I figured I should wait.”

Hal simply stared at her stomach. “Holy shit. You’re pregnant?”

“Yes, Hal. I’m pregnant.”

“I did that?”

“No, Bruce did.”

He scowled at her. “That’s not funny.”

(Y/N) winked. “No, it’s not. It’s hilarious.” She rose from the sofa, stretching her arms above her head. “I say it’s probably time for bed.”

Hal watched her. “You go on ahead. I’ll be there soon.”

“Yeah?” he nodded, and she bent down, pecking his lips. “I love you, Hal.”

“I love you too, (Y/N),” he replied, watching as she walked down the hallway, disappearing into their bedroom.

It was so weird. To be married to her. He knew this had to be some giant hallucination from his subconscious desires of wanting her, but still, even this “dream” seemed so real. Usually, she and Hal were at each other’s throats; they’d fight at the drop of a hat just because the other looked at them funny, and yet, other than him and Barry, (Y/N) was the only person that could keep up with Hal. To keep him on his toes. The only person smart enough to keep in his six. The only person he trusted to be his wingman. And he realized through all their fights that he cared for her.

Hal looked down at the band on his finger, and something warm spread through his chest when he thought about a little kid running around the apartment dressed in a baby flight suit, squealing “daddy!” at the top of their lungs. He wanted that. As much as being a father scared him, he wanted that. And he wanted it with (Y/N).

He smiled widely and got to his feet, but the second he did, the world shifted, and his vision darkened, body becoming weightless as he dropped to the floor.

***

Something was stroking his hair, gently smoothing it across his forehead, and a voice whispered, “Wake up, Hal. C’mon.”

He tried to open his eyes, but they were so heavy.

“If you wake up, I’ll watch Top Gun with you until you’re thoroughly convinced I could fly a jet.”

That made him want to smile and the hand shifted, cupping his cheek.

“Just open your eyes for me, Hal. Please. I…I need you.”

“You do?” he murmured, managing to crack one eye open, taking in the sight of (Y/N) sitting there beside his med bay bed, tears in her eyes.

She gave him a watery laugh and leaned forward, pressing her lips to his cheek. “Yes, you stupid ass.” (Y/N) pulled away, running her hand over his cheek. “You’ve been out almost an entire day.”

Hal inhaled deeply as she helped him sit up. “What happened?”

“You took a blow of dark magic to the heart and almost died on us. Twice.” She took his temperature and heart rate. “You went into cardiac arrest on the field and then had a seizure when we got you here in the Watchtower.” Meeting his eyes, she said, “You owe Barry a thanks for shocking your heart and J’onn for getting your mind to calm during your seizure.”

He blinked, completely dumbfounded. “Wow…that’s…I took a lot of damage, huh?”

(Y/N)’s eyes flashed with anger, and she socked his shoulder. “You’re damn straight you did. What the fuck were you thinking? Using constructs against a black magician?”

“Well, what’d you want me to do? Stand there like a jackass?” Hal retorted with a glare.

“Maybe you could’ve moved?” she met his glare head on. “You almost got yourself killed.”

“People die every day, (Y/N). I’m going to die one day.”

“And who would you leave behind if you did, huh? You’d leave behind your family and friends. You’d leave behind Guy and Kyle and John. You’d leave behind Barry. You’d leave me behind.” (Y/N) searched his eyes. “Don’t you know how heartbroken we’d be if you died, Hal? How devastated I’d be?”

Hal’s jaw went slack, and she shook her head. “This is just like you. Always flying headfirst into danger without a single regard for anyone else. You are so foolish and stupid and—”

He grabbed her chin and pulled her to him in a searing kiss. It was over as fast as it happened and when he pulled away, he smirked at the stunned expression on her face. “Oh? So that’s what it takes for you to quit yelling at me? Man, I should’ve done that a long time ago.”

(Y/N) blinked in shock, one hand coming to press against her lips. “What…what was that?”

“That was a kiss, (Y/N). You see when two people care about each other very much they—”

The meeting of a palm and a cheek echoed through the med bay, and he grabbed his face, gaping at her as she scrambled up.

“You don’t just kiss people, you ass!” (Y/N) shouted, though she looked more flustered than angry. “That’s—It’s not right!”

She spun and ran for the med bay doors, and he called out, “Wait! You didn’t tell me if you loved me!”

“Go to hell, Hal Jordan!” she shouted in return and Hal grinned wide and smug as he reclined on the pillows, eyes directing to the glass window, giving him the view of space.

That dream didn’t seem too far out of reach now.

[triviajeongin]

hands; izuku midoriya ¹

ship: izuku x reader

word count: 1.4K

genre: ♡☾☹

content: college, no quirk au all characters aged up, smut , fluff, angst (maybe)

content warnings: smut , body issues, anxiety, depression, nsfw content

notes: probably won’t be that long, pls give me suggestions & i opinions I would love them :D

summary: midoriya had always know people would stare at his hands that were filled with scars and not the prettiest but he didn’t pay it any mind. until he met you, praising his hands and the person they’re attached to. he realizes maybe he isn’t always strong and it’s okay he has you to make him feel like he put the starts in the sky.

it was the beginning of the second year at ua. you had transferred 3 months ago. it was easy to adapt to the new school and everyone was friendly.

however it was starting to get closer and closer to a very dreaded time, midterms. looking at your schedule, you could see all the study sessions scheduled. you could already feel all your brain cells screaming for help.

right now, you were busy going over chemistry with kirishima. to be honest, you sucked at chem. all the math made it even more difficult.

he was a little better at it than you. but you we're waiting for the rest of your friends to get here.

mina & bakugo were both the best at this class. they both had interest in learning about it for some reason.

after a while everyone had arrived and you all started to chatter.

"ugh i'm over this. I should just drop out already."

with a snicker bakugo said, " yeah sure and what are you gonna do be a stripper?"

"wow your so smart, that's a great idea. i'd be making bank."

"i swear your a fucking idiot."

with a shrug you reply, " yeah but at least i'm a hot idiot.

"anyways, can we talk about something else."

with a glint in her eye, mina asked "so y/n, anyone catch your eye yet?"

"hmn, maybe, maybe not."

"y/n, come on you've been here for months and not once have you told us you liked someone."

"i haven't even been paying attention to the guys here. i've been trying to get used to school here."

"well i hope you find someone interesting."

you just nod, and like that the conversation ends and the studying continues.

after the studying session, you decided to go to the cafeteria to buy some food before going back to your dorm to sleep.

you got your water and ramen, then sat down and began eating. as much as you loved your friends you also liked being alone. it was nice and peaceful.

you didn’t really like opening up to people, preferring to be left alone. of course you wanted to have friends , most people do. but there just times when being alone is also good.

you were drinking water when out of no where you head a voice say, "can i sit here ?"

to say you were scared was an understatement. you jumped at the noise and started choking on your water. you barley managed to swallow it when you started coughing uncontrollably.

honestly, you shouldn’t even have flinched at the noise, considering who you hang out with. but your we’re doing deep in your own thoughts you didn’t even notice anyone around you.

"oh my god. i-i'm so sorry here let me help."

the stranger gave you a napkin, and was patting your back trying to help.

through your teary eyes you could see the persons hand. it was covered in scars.

when people asked one another what they noticed first in a person. the replies are usually, eyes, face, body. your answer was hands.

you liked them. you had no idea why but you did. you probably had a hand kink. you knew it was something people were insecure about.

as soon as you had calmed down, you looked at the stranger who almost gave you a heart attack.

it was a boy, with curly green hair and matching green eyes. he had cute freckles as well. he gave off a very innocent facade.

when you got a look at his body, it didn't match his face. he was muscular but still lean. you looked at his arms and hands. they were covered in scars.

with a cough you said, "y-you made me choke."

"i'm so sorry. i didn't mean to, i-it was an accident—"

"look all I'm saying is if you were gonna make me  choke, you should've used those gorgeous hands."

"what the fuck."

with a laugh you add, "sorry i just think your hands look super cool, it was a joke i'm—"

"is that how you talk to everyone you meet?"

"no, not usually."

there was a moment of awkward silence, before you began talking again.

"anyways i'm leaving so you can sit, it was nice to see you. goodbye. "

with that you grab your things, throw out the trash and head back to your dorm.

as your body hits the pillow, you look at the ceiling, remembering the guy you met tonight.

with a yawn you say to yourself "hmm i hope i see him again." and with that you immerse your self in sleep, till your alarm wakes you to begin another day.

wednesday. your favorite day of the week. you only had one lecture today and it was a class you did well in naturally so there would be no issues.

usually when you walked in, you just sat at the front of the class. you didn't even pay attention to the other people in your class.

keeping mina's words in your head, this time you looked up at your classmates. you look through the rows, not noticing anyone familiar.

until you looked next to the window, seeing the same guy from the cafeteria. i mean this must be a sign, so you quickly ascend the rows until you reach the seats near the window.

"excuse me, can i sit here."

"oh um yeah sure."

you sat down, getting out your notebook for the class lecture. looking over at the boy he was doing the same thing.

soon enough, the professor arrived and started going over the lesson. you tried to listen to what he was saying and write them down.

but all you could see was this guys hands. he twirled the pencil between his fingers when he wasn't writing, a nervous habit you assumed.

he had long fingers, bit skinny but not super thick either right in between. you didn't want to dwell on the length of his fingers or you'd be getting other ideas.

you decided to just snap out of it and finish the class. not that you didn't sneak a glance or two his way.

you didn't even realize the class was over until he closed his notebook and began putting his things away.

you started doing the same. "thanks for letting me sit here, hands."

with a slow nod he replied, "o-oh yeah no problem." not really registering the nickname you used.

you began going down the stairs, with a smile on your face. you could tell the boy was right behind you.

you we're about a foot from the door when you heard, " um you know i have a name right."

you giggled lightly before turning to face him. "sure, but i don't know it."

"well since you left yesterday, i wasn't able to introduce myself. i also felt bad about making you choke. i would never guess you scare so easily"

"yeah, i understand. it's okay it's not like it's a big deal , it was an accident."

"anyways my name is y/n, it's nice to meet you."

"oh likewise, my name is iz—"

you were interrupted by the classroom door slamming open. you both turned to see bakugo, looking pretty unhappy.

"oi, you idiot i've been waiting for you for a while. what's taking so damn long, i'm fucking hungry. i was about to leave your stupid ass behind."

"sorry, i was just talking to—"

grabbing your hand and dragging you away he started yelling, " i don't care what extra your talking to, we're leaving now."

and just like that you never got to hear the boys name. stupid bakugo, you thought.

at least he was paying for your dinner. you both were the only ones who liked spicy food so you went to eat every wednesday, it was a tradition you both put in place.

not only did you not hear his name, you also missed the slight frown on his face as he saw bakugo drag you away.

he couldn't even tell why he felt upset you had been dragged away. he just hoped he got to see you again, even if you made him feel a little shy.

touching his hand, he recalled your words. after everything he had been through he didn't voice it but he could always feel the uncomfortable stares of others of his messed up and scarred hands.

he liked that you didn't look at him with disgust or pity. you were like a breath of fresh air. made him want to show off his hands, that he had been trying so hard to hide without realizing.

[mintaka14]

Locked Out

A Miraculous Ladybug fanfiction

By Mintaka14

Chapter Two - Unlocked

 The knock came again, and Luka sighed, dropping the towel that he’d been rubbing over his damp hair around his shoulders. He padded out of the bathroom and over to the front door, yanking it open.

“Jules, if you’ve forgotten your keys again, I swear –“ the words died as he met the insanely blue eyes that he’d been dreaming about ever since he’d first seen them. Her gaze slid over the towel around his shoulders, and dropped to the towel around his waist, and then jerked back up to his face again, which he was pretty sure was turning all sorts of red.

“Here!” she squeaked. “For you. If you want them, the box, I mean. Not the underwear. That’s Juleka’s, obviously, not that she can’t have what’s in the box too. Because I made enough for both of you, and oh God I’m going to just stop talking now.”

With a strangled sound, she shoved a pair of silk and lace underpants at him, and a box with them. He caught box and underwear by reflex.

Unfortunately, the movement dislodged his towel, and he could feel it sliding. There was a confused moment when he grabbed for it, bobbled the box, and heard Marinette squeak. Through the dim mists of his awareness, it occurred to him that she’d probably automatically tried to catch the towel before it could go too far south. That was not, however, where her hands ended up.

There was a frozen moment when Luka became very conscious of small, warm hands on his bare skin, the towel caught and scarcely preserving his modesty as her palms pressed into the dip under his abdominal muscles. Wide blue eyes lifted to stare up at him in horror. Luka drew in a slow, calming breath and let it out, desperately trying to think unsexy thoughts. Those gorgeous blue eyes of hers were not making that easy.

“Out here? Really?” his sister’s voice drawled. “Are you trying to get us kicked out of the building for public indecency?”

Yep. That would do it. Luka looked up to find Juleka in the hallway, her hands full of shopping bags. Marinette squeaked again, and snatched her hands back, and somehow Luka managed to catch at the towel, the box and the underpants still perched on top without losing any of them. He ended up wedged awkwardly against the doorframe with the towel trapped between the wall and his hips, and the box wobbling precariously as he tried to tuck the towel more firmly into place, while his sister stalked towards him and Marinette turned a brilliant shade of red.

“Oh, hey, Marinette,” Juleka said casually. “You’ve met my idiot brother, right?”

She edged past them both, plucking the pair of underpants off the box in Luka’s hand as she went past. He felt a hand on his back, and a sudden shove, and then there was the sound of the door closing and Juleka’s evil cackle on the other side.

“Jules! I’m going to kill you,” he growled. His sister laughed harder.

Luka knew, even before he put his hand on the door handle, that it would be locked. It didn’t stop him from frantically jerking at the handle while Marinette watched with wide eyes. Finally, he accepted the inevitable, and turned back to his dream girl with a sigh.

“If I strangle my sister, will you testify that it was justifiable homicide at my trial?” he asked. Marinette gave a choke of laughter.

“For the right offer, I’ll help you hide the body.”

“What would you consider the right offer?” His worldly goods. His songs. His heart… she could have all of it.

That beautiful smile turned a little mischievous. “I’m sure I can think of something.”

One of the neighbours emerged from their door and threw them a scandalised look, and Luka remembered that he was still a little less than fully attired as the neighbour scurried away. He glanced back at Juleka’s door, which was still firmly closed. He sighed.

“In the meantime, I guess I’m stuck out here until Jules decides to take pity on me.”

Marinette held up a finger in the sign for wait.

“Give me a minute,” she told him, and before he could say anything, she’d disappeared down the hall and up the staircase to the next floor.

About the point when he realised that it was rather chilly in the corridor in nothing but a towel that was feeling smaller all the time, it occurred to him that he was actually standing around in the corridor in nothing but a damp towel at the request of a woman he’d only met twice under odd circumstances. That didn’t bother him as much as it probably should have.

He was still holding the box Marinette had shoved at him.

It did cross his mind that maybe he’d been the victim of some weird practical joke. Before he had a chance to get really worried, however, he heard the sound of returning footsteps on the stairs, and Marinette rounded the corner. She was focused on the black case in her hands and whatever she was pulling out of it, an adorable frown on her face, and as she got closer he saw the light catch on something metal. It looked like a peculiar ring of keys.

Marinette walked past him and bent down to the door handle. Luka lifted his eyes to the ceiling. The curve of her ass in those jeans was not something he wanted to be thinking about in the middle of the very public hallway, particularly while he was in a state of undress. He shuffled uncomfortably in his towel, listening to her muttering under her breath.

“I always wanted to try this,” she said, and he realised she was talking to him. “It turns out there are locksmithing courses you can do, and if I’d had my kit with me the other day I might not have had to climb up the balcony, but then we wouldn’t have met, which would have been a shame.”

Yes! he agreed with silent fervour.

“Still, at least it means I can try it out now, and …” Finally, there was a click, and Marinette straightened. “Tadah!”

She beamed at him, and reached out to turn the handle, swinging the door wide open.

“I knew that would come in handy one day,” she told him triumphantly as she slid the tool back into its case.

Luka came to a realisation that he was making a strange whining noise when she tilted her head quizzically.

“Marry me,” Luka said, and the words only caught up with him when he saw her eyes go wide. He scrubbed one hand over his face. “Oh, God.”

“Luka?”

“I’ve been trying to work out a way to ask you out that didn’t make me sound like a complete creep,” he admitted ruefully. “This was not what I had in mind. I don’t suppose there’s any chance of talking you into going out to dinner with me after this, is there?”

Her eyes flicked down and back up, so fast that he wasn’t sure he’d seen it.

And then she bit her lip. The look she gave him from under the sweep of her dark lashes with those devastating eyes of hers left him wondering if he was having an out of body experience.

“Oh, I don’t know.” The purr he could hear in her voice fried whatever functional brain cells he had left. “You might be able to persuade me. It might be a good idea to put some pants on first.”

“Pants. Yes. Right.” He looked around vaguely as if they might magically appear, and Marinette giggled, one hand going to her mouth. “Pants before dinner. Tonight?” he asked hopefully.

Words.

Would be useful.

Marinette smiled at him like the breaking dawn. “Tonight would be good. Juleka has my phone number.” She was walking backwards slowly towards the staircase, her eyes still on him and her smile bright.

“Call me,” she said shyly, and pivoted on her heel, running lightly up the stairs before Luka could collect his wits enough to respond.

Luka had no idea how he managed to walk inside, or get clothes on, but he was sitting on the couch in jeans and a tshirt and staring into space when Juleka came out of the bathroom and did a double take.

“How on earth did you get in? I locked that,” she said, and eyed the wide open front door. She kicked Luka’s bare foot a few times until he blinked and focused.

“Marinette,” he said blissfully, and Juleka’s eyes narrowed. “Did you know she can pick locks?”

There was a long moment while his sister stared down at him. He opened Marinette’s box which had somehow ended up intact. It was full of macarons, and he absently ate one. It was amazing.

“She’s incredible,” he sighed, and Juleka rolled her eyes, reaching for the macarons. Luka glared at her, and snatched the box away.

“You locked me out. You don’t get Marinette’s macarons.” He took another one and stared at it thoughtfully. “ Macaron. That’s pretty. Maybe we could name our first child Macaron.”

“What the hell did she do to your brain?” Juleka said incredulously. “You might want to wait at least a few months before you start planning the wedding and a family, though.”

“Oh, I already proposed,” Luka said vaguely. “She thought we should get dinner first.”

There was an even longer silence this time, then… “You what?”

He had a feeling that there was something he was supposed to remember.

Dinner. Marinette.

Tonight!

She’d said yes. She’d said yes!

He looked down, and he was definitely wearing pants. Marinette had said that that was important.

“Can I have Marinette’s phone number?” he asked Juleka.

She blinked. “So… you proposed to her… but you don’t have her phone number,” she said slowly. “That makes sense. Seriously, I’m a little terrified right now of what might happen if you two do get married and have kids together.”

Luka felt a goofy smile spread across his face at the thought. Juleka shook her head, and, in spite of his protest, swiped a macaron from the box he was guarding.

“Damn, that’s good,” she mumbled around a mouthful, and pulled out her phone with her other hand. “I’d ask if she knows what she’s getting herself into, but honestly, she’s even more bonkers than you are. You’re a perfect pair.”

“I certainly hope so,” Luka agreed happily, and wandered away with the box full of macarons to call Marinette.

[imaginesga1ore]

Loves Harsh Reality

Summary: Life is a bitch.

Pairing(s): Bucky Barnes x Reader, Avengers x Reader (all platonic)

Warnings: swearing, mention of past/current abuse

Prompt: “You want what everyone wants. You want a love that consumes you. You want passion, and adventure, and maybe even a little danger.”

Word Count: 1780

Do not copy, translate, or post any of my stories anywhere you write stories, whether that’s here, Wattpad, or Ao3.

-----------------------------

Life never treated you well. Not even when you were just an innocent child, trying to navigate your way in this terrible world. You were forced into a cold and unloving organization that was run by people who don’t really give a shit that you were only 2 when they stole you. They never treated you like a human, more like a laboratory experiment, which kind of went haywire. When you were brought in, the sleaze running this entire operation stripped you of everything you had so far, which was only a name you had just barely begun to learn, and they assigned you a number, much like a court case; experiment 973. And that’s what you went by for the next 23 years of your life.

The day you were rescued from that deranged and psychotic place was...hectic to say the least. It began like any other day while you were their little pet; get woken up at the ass crack of you don’t know when, test out your powers until you physically passed out and then get ungracefully woken again only to be forced to use your powers. This continues for hours on end before these assholes make you go fight actual people in hopes that you aren’t lacking in physical strength. You fight until bodies start piling up and when your sadistic handlers are satisfied with your progress, as if you haven’t they haven’t been training you to take down monsters bigger than Goliath himself. But something wasn’t right and you could feel it in the enclosed space of your cell.

While you normally had a rough awakening by someone poking, prodding, and eventually yanking you out of bed, nobody was there. In fact, there wasn’t even a peep from the cells neighboring yours. That was until you heard multiple gunshots and multiple bodies slumping against the floor. See, the thing about HYDRA is that they’ve trained you for this exact moment but every single ounce of training they’ve ingrained in your body and mind left the building completely as you hunkered down against the wall furthest from the thick, metal door barricading you from the outside world.

Suddenly, the door you were just measly standing behind came crashing down, dust from the unwashed floor rising. After the dust settled, you looked up to see the poster boy of HYDRA himself, the Winter Soldier. “Steve, I’ve got a live one here. Female, looks to be in her mid-20s,” he whispered into his ear piece. He slowly moved closer, putting his weapon away as he noticed your frail body shaking from fear. “У тебя все нормально? Я ведь не бил тебя дверью?*” Shaking your head, the soldier stopped in front of you, kneeling next to you. “Меня зовут Баки. Что у тебя?” Shrugging your shoulders, you made an attempt to look over at him. “That’s ok. How long have you been here?”

“двадцать три года*,” you said, a bit of hesitation in your voice, finding it hard to speak after decades of being punished if you spoke out of turn. As you finished speaking, you heard another voice, one which you assumed belonged to this Steve person.

“Хорошо. Стив дал мне добро, чтобы мы могли убираться отсюда,” Bucky said, standing back up on his feet. But you weren’t too sure about this. Along with your training, your handlers had pushed on you the notion that the Avengers, and anyone associated with them, were out to harm you, always, and that’s why you needed to be able to defend yourself.

“Ты ведь не сделаешь мне больно, верно? О-или убить меня,” you asked, clear hesitation towards the soldier who was about to grant you freedom from this hellhole.

Bucky looked at you with sympathy drawn over his features. Shaking his head, he gently grabbed your hands, a shiver traveling up your spine at the coolness from the vibranium arm. “Конечно, нет. Я вытащу тебя отсюда.”

-TIME SKIP-

It had been a few months since the Avengers had rescued you from HYDRA and you were beyond grateful that Bucky had stumbled upon you that day. But the fear that HYDRA had instilled in you about being near the Avengers was still running rampant in your system. Whenever someone knocked on your door, or came up behind you, your fight or flight instincts kicked in like that of an animal in the wild. You thought it’d be better by now, considering you have been going to therapy since coming to the compound. But today, all your frustrations came to a head.

You probably should’ve been in bed considering it was 4 in the morning but you needed to burn off some steam. What you failed to realize was that a certain super soldier was sitting in one of the boxes above the training center, watching your every move. But, him being a super soldier meant that he could pick up on more than you realized. Bucky had noticed that blood dripping onto the floor, which came from your terribly wrapped hands.

He knew you were on edge, but not like you were when he first got you out. By the time that you realized Bucky was in your presence, it was a bit too late. You felt a hand on your shoulder; two seconds later you had the body attached to the arm on the floor, your other arm extending towards their throat, keeping them pinned to the floor.

Once the haze cleared, you could tell who it was that you had down on the ground. “Buck? Oh my god.” Quickly pushing yourself off of him, you started pacing the gym floor. “Fucking shit. I am so sorry Bucky. I-I didn’t mean to do it. Are you ok? I didn’t hurt you, did I?” You kept rambling and pacing until Bucky stopped you, stepping in front of you to stop you from wearing a hole in the floor.

“I am fine, кукла. Are you ok? Your hands are bleeding.” Looking down, you saw the streaks of red coming out from under the tape on your hands. “Let’s go get you fixed up, ok?” Nodding, you followed Bucky out of the gym and towards the medical center. “So, what’s got you going at 4 in the morning anyway?”

“I couldn’t sleep. No matter what I tried. I even tried that tea Wanda suggested. By the way, don’t drink it. It tastes like dirt.” Bucky chuckled as you sat on a gurney, grabbing supplies from the cabinets. “What are you doing? Shouldn’t we wait for, you know, a doctor, or an actual medical professional to come in and do this,” you immediately questioned him.

“Do you seriously doubt my suturing skills? I did serve in World War II, so I’m pretty confident that I know my way around a needle and thread,” he said, carefully unraveling the useless tape from around your knuckles, taking a look at the damage. “Yeah, this’ll probably take a little bit, but don’t you worry, Dr. Barnes is always here to help.” Bucky smiled at you, calming your nerves the tiniest bit.

After prepping and numbing you properly, Bucky began stitching your open wounds shut. “So, do you wanna talk about why you couldn’t fall asleep? Talking might help, at least it usually does for me,” Bucky asked, not taking his eyes off his work in progress.

“I, uh, I keep having nightmares. They went away for a bit, when I could actually sleep for the night, but for some reason, they’ve come back,” you admitted quietly, almost like it was a dirty little secret.

“Well, you’ve only been here a few months so I wouldn’t expect your nightmares to just instantly go away. It took me a few years to actually get a good night's sleep with them waking me or anybody else up. So I know exactly how you feel,” he said, finishing up before wrapping your hands in sterile dressings. “And you are all set. Now, no excessive force, which includes going to the gym at 4 in the morning and working out like you are about to fight the Hulk.” You laughed lightly, shoulders loosening up.

“Why are you being so nice to me? I mean, you just stitched up my hands cause I got too into my own brain after I almost choked you when you could’ve just dropped me here and gone back to bed.” Tears filled your eyes once more, a thickening feeling surrounding your concerns.

Bucky sighed, gingerly sitting next to you on the gurney. “When I found you at the base, I knew it wasn’t going to be an easy ride for you. Or for anyone here really. Adding another member to the team can sometimes jostle things around. And I knew for a fact that you would feel like an outcast amongst some of the biggest heroes the world has ever seen...so far,” he said as you laid your head against his arm, wiping away the tears that had made their way down your face. “And I thought maybe, just maybe, if we became friends or even just acquaintances, that you wouldn’t feel so alone here. Cause I know exactly how that feels. And ever since coming here, I can see what I looked like when I was found; lost, felt like I didn’t deserve anything good or even deserving of love. But even though you hide it with a sort of tough exterior and you’re used to being trapped away, I can tell you something about yourself that you probably don’t even know,” Bucky said in a matter-of-fact voice.

“Oh yeah? What would that be,” you asked, quite curious as to what he may have found out.

“You want what everyone wants. You want a love that consumes you. You want passion, and adventure, and maybe even a little danger. Cause that’s exactly how I feel right now.” At some point, of which you weren’t sure, Bucky had hooked his fingers under your chin, turning your face up to meet his. Your eyes finally met his, capturing the look of a pure and innocent love in his icy stare. He slowly leaned down, but stopping right before your lips collided. “Is this ok?” Quickly nodding, Bucky pressed his lips to your own, cupping your face as your injured hands made their way to his sides.

Pulling back, Bucky rested his forehead against yours. “Never thought that this is how we would have our first kiss, doll,” he said, making you laugh which in turn caused him to chuckle. “But, I’m not at all opposed to it.”

“I’m glad. Now let’s get out of here. I’m tired.”

-----------------------------

1. У тебя все нормально? Я ведь не бил тебя дверью - Are you ok? I didn’t hit you with the door, did I?

2. Меня зовут Баки. Что у тебя? - My name is Bucky. What’s yours?

3. Это хорошо. Как давно ты здесь? - That’s ok. How long have you been here?

4. двадцать три года - 23 years.

5. Хорошо. Стив дал мне добро, чтобы мы могли убираться отсюда. - Ok. Steve gave me the go ahead so we can get out of here.

6. Ты ведь не сделаешь мне больно, верно? О-или убить меня? - You aren’t going to hurt me right? O-or kill me?

7. Конечно, нет. Я вытащу тебя отсюда. - Of course not. I’m going to get you out of here.

8. Кукла - Doll

If you see this on another blog, @multifandomwhre , that is my first blog where I submitted it to @sweeterthanthis “Quote Me” challenge. 

[your-eternal-muse]

Wish I Were....

Heather Series Chapter 12 (FINAL PART)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

Bonus!:Readers Card Confession Bonus!:To Hold On, To Let Go, Spencers take Bonus!:Series Playlist

Summery: Reader no longer wishes she were someone else

Words: 4k

Warnings: Swearing, Description of Birth, just pure, tooth aching fluff

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Y/N: This is it y’all. This is the final chapter of the Heather's Series. I started this journey a little over a month ago, and my god, has it been amazing. I never thought it would pick up the traction it did, and I am so glad I decided to start posting in the first place. I’m gonna take a short break from posting any writing just to recuperate and stuff, but it won’t last longer than a week, and I will still be interacting on the platform itself. I want to thank every single reader who has liked and/or reblogged my work. It means so much to me, and I would not have gotten this far without your support. I love you all with all of my heart. There will be one more bonus “chapter” that I will be posting within the next couple days, but it’ll be mostly headcanons, and answering any questions you may have about the series. I hope the ending is worth it. 

With love, your eternal muse,

Frankie <3

~~~~~

I used to be a night owl.

I used to live in the night, sit under the stars and soak it all up.

I used to not go to bed until hours after the sunset, perfectly content to not waking up until hours after it had risen.

Now, I’m lucky to sleep for a few hours between dusk and dawn.

But I’m okay with that.

The ringing of trembling tears echoes through my ears, and I stir awake.

I rub my face, looking at the clock as I push back the comforter.

4 am.

Oh goody.

“I’ve got her baby, go back to sleep.”

Spencer whispers in my ear, planting a kiss on my shoulder, and I’m not one to argue.

I fall back into the pillows, pulling the blanket back up to my chin, my eyes closing without much resistance.

I wake an hour late, expecting to feel his body warmth against my back.

I turn, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, realizing that the blanket is still pulled back from when he got up the hour before.

Oh dear lord please tell me she didn’t get sick.

I climb out of bed, padding down the hallway towards the soft glow of light emitting from her room.

I pause at the doorway, watching as he holds her close to his chest, a smile draped across his face.

I can’t help but stand and watch as he sways back and forth, watching her sleep in his arms.

I notice her tiny hand is clasped around his ring finger, the gold of his wedding band glowing in the dim light.

I love that ring on him.

I never thought I’d be the one to put it on him.

My heart is pounding in my chest.

Why am I so nervous?

He’s not going to leave me stranded.

Right?

Jesus, get a grip, y/n.

“Are you ready y/n?” Hotch walks around the corner, fixing his cuff links as he walks up to me.

I take a deep breath in, trying to convince myself that I wasn’t going to throw up.

“Yep. I’m ready, I just….” I fan myself. “Is it normal to feel like you’re going to pass out on your wedding day?”

He smiles, coming forward and taking hold of my hand. “It is. And I guarantee you, he’s worse than you are.”

I laugh, just imagining the state he’s in.

He hasn’t seen me in three days, since I’m a stickler for tradition.

It was my bachelorette party, than his bachelor party, and now here we are.

“When Haley and I got married, I was a nervous wreck. I don’t think I took a normal breath until hours after just because I was so worried about everything going to plan.”

He brushes some of the curls framing my face out of my eye sight.

“But, when I met her eyes, it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. It was just us, and I knew, at that moment, that everything would be okay.”

I nod, exhaling. “Okay. I’m ready.”

He loops my arm through his, turning to the closed doors where my future waits for me.

“Thank you, Aaron. For giving me away. You’re the closest thing to a father I’ve got.”

He pats my hand. “It’s my honor, y/n.”

I hear the start of the music, and my heart jump starts. 

I grip his arm, trying to control my breathing. 

“Don’t let me fall.”

“Never.”

The doors open, and for a moment, I panic.

But then my eyes meet his.

And everything else disappears.

His hands are clasped in front of him, and I see him look me over, taking in everything.

Tears are streaming down both of our faces, and god, I never realized how much I missed him when he’s gone.

We reach the altar, where a proud Rossi stands, and Hotch hands me off with a kiss to my cheek.

I hand JJ my flowers, turning clasping Spencer's hands in mine.

When my hand touches his, my breathing returns to normal.

However, before I even notice, JJ is handing me a folded piece of paper that holds my vows.

Weddings always seem longer when you’re not in them.

I unfold the paper, clearing my throat.

“I don’t have an eidetic memory, so I need this so I don’t make a fool of myself.”

A couple laughs from the crowd.

Okay, here goes nothing.

“The first time I saw you, you were sitting at your desk, while Derek and JJ sat around you, watching you explain the scientific inaccuracies of Star Wars.”

He laughs, and Derek pats his shoulder from behind him.

“I was awestruck to say the least. The way your eyes lit up with excitement, how your hands couldn’t stay still.”

I take a breath, trying to keep the tears at bay.

“I fell in love with you at that moment. But I knew I was done for when you looked at me for the first time.”

Rossi produces a tissue from his pocket, and I laugh, accepting and blotting at my tears.

“You are my best friend. You are there for me in my darkest times, and are often the cause of all my light ones. You hold me when I cry, and you laugh when I’m angry at something stupid. You never make me feel stupid. You are the greatest thing to have ever happened to me.”

Christ, why was this so hard?

“I love you. And I promise to cherish you, and not get annoyed when you ramble on about god knows what, because I love to listen to you talk. I promise to never make you feel like you don’t matter, because you matter so much. I promise to love you through thick and thin, in sickness and in health, until the end of time itself. I choose you, forever and always.”

I fold the paper up again, dabbing away my tears.

“Well, look at that, I still made a fool of myself.”

More laughs, and I hear a few sniffles here and there. 

Spencer wipes his own eyes. “I don’t know if I can top that.”

I giggle.

He goes into his jacket, and pulls out a white envelope, and my face scrunches in confusion.

“It’s not what you think it is.” He whispers.

He opens it, pulling out a car, and begins to read from the inside.

“You told me once, in a card similar to this one, that the moment you admitted to yourself that you loved me, was on a road trip to visit my mom. I thought it fitting that I tell you that, that was the moment I admitted to myself that I loved you in the same way. So here we are.”

I bring a hand up to my mouth, covering the ugly sobs that threaten to spill out.

“We had only known each other for a month, but you were easily taking over every brain cell in my mind. I was terrified of you saying no, but I asked anyway. Those two weeks were some of the best of my life. I fell in love with your laugh, your smile, the way your hair looks in the sunlight. I fell in love with you from the driver's seat and I’ve loved you ever since. You deserve to be reminded of that every day for the rest of your life. I promise to hold and cherish the heart that you have given me. I promise to catch you, every time you run away. I promise to protect you with my life. You mean everything to me, and I can’t wait to spend the rest of forever with you. I love you, forever and always.”

He closes it, and it takes a moment for me to gather myself.

“I promise I didn’t look at your vows before writing mine.”

I laugh.

Rossi clears his throat. “The rings please, Henry.”

Henry walks forward, our rings sitting on the pillow as he smiles at us. 

“Thank you buddy.” I say, taking hold of Spencer’s between my fingers.

“Alright. Y/n, repeat after me. I, Y/n Y/l/n, take Spencer Reid, to be my husband.”

I repeat the words, a smile growing bigger and bigger on my face.

“To have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish until the end of time.”

Can I kiss him yet?

I say the words, like casting a spell, before slipping the golden band onto his finger.

Rossi repeats the phrase, and Spencer’s smile is as big as mine, if not bigger.

“Until the end of time.”

He delicately slips the ring on my finger, and my heart starts pounding.

“One more question for each of you. I promise, we're almost there.”

He smiles at each of us, before turning back to me.

“Do you, Y/n Y/l/n, take Spencer Reid as your lawfully wedded husband?”

“I do.”

Not even a question.

“And do you, Spencer Reid, take Y/n Y/l/n as your lawfully wedded wife?”

“I do.”

I start bouncing on my toes, too excited to care.

“Then it is my great pleasure and honor to pronounce you, husband and wife.”

He turns to Spencer. “You may now kiss the bride.”

He doesn’t hesitate, cradling my face in his hands as he places his lips on mine.

It’s just me and him, in an empty room.

I move my hands up his chest, wrapping my arms around his neck.

It’s only when we break, that I remember people are here, and the room is filled with applause.

With our hands clasped together we walk back down the aisle, and I swear I am never going to be this happy ever again. And that’s okay.

My eyes fall from his arms, to the dresser sitting next to her crib. 

The top is covered with photos, personalized trinkets, and books. 

One picture is framed with her name in gold lettering down the side.

My first sonogram.

Through the glass I can see wrinkles in the film.

Spencer carried it with him until the day she was born.

He had always mentioned how he wanted to have kids someday.

It didn’t make me any less nervous to tell him, though.

“Hello?”

“Hi! Is this Mrs. Y/n Reid?”

I stop writing, my pen mid stroke on my paper.

“This is she.”

“Hello! This is Nicole calling from United Health with the results of your pregnancy test.”

Jesus that was fast.

“Oh! That was quicker than I expected.”

I set my pen down, closing my file, pushing some hair behind my ear, looking around to see if anyone was in ear shot.

They weren’t.

“We get that a lot. But, I’d like to say congratulations! You are pregnant!”

I stop breathing for a moment.

“Oh my god. Oh my god! Thank you!”

Holy shit.

Holy fucking shit.

“You’re so welcome! Congratulations again! Have a great rest of your day!”

I hang up, still trying to grasp the words that have just been spoken to me.

I’m pregnant.

I’m fucking pregnant.

Holy fuck.

“Y/n? Baby, are you okay?”

I snap out of my daze to see Spencer standing beside my desk, a look of skeptical worry on his face.

“Uh...yeah. Yeah. I’m fine. Um…”

I have to tell him. I can’t keep this a secret from him, even if I wanted to try and surprise him.

I stand, running my hands over my pants.

“Okay, somethings wrong. You do that when you’re nervous.”

I can’t help but laugh, placing a hand on his shoulder. 

“Nothings wrong, Spence. Um, I just got a call from United Health.”

He’s confused, setting the file in his hand, down on my desk.

“Why would United Health be calling you?”

There are days when I can't believe he has an I.Q. of 187.

“I went in yesterday, to get a test done. I’ve been gaining weight, and I’ve been getting sick in the mornings. I also skipped my last period.”

I can sense the wheels beginning to turn in his head.

“Wait. Are you…”

I nod, tears falling down my cheeks. “I’m pregnant, Spencer.”

It takes a moment for the words to register in his brain, but then he’s yelling in excitement, throwing his arms around my waist, picking me up and spinning me around.

He sets me down, his eyes red rimmed, his smile one I will never forget.

“You’re pregnant. Oh my god we’re having a baby.”

His hands are placed on either side of my face, and I can’t help but laugh at his infectious excitement.

“Who’s having a baby, now?”

Derek walks up, and Spencer turns, and I know Derek knows just by the shit eating grin on Spencer’s face.

But I just love saying it.

“I’m pregnant.”

Derek’s eyes light up as he claps his hands together, before pulling Spencer into a hug. “My man!”

JJ and Emily gather around, all smiles and squeals as I’m captured in the middle of a group hug.

Penelope walks into the bullpen then, confusion written across her face.

“What’s going on out here? Why are you guys screaming? Who won the lottery?”

I bite my lip, trying to hold back the smile.

“I’m pregnant!” I all but scream.

Penelope’s expression changes in an instant as she practically runs forward.

“Oh my god! Holy crap! Baby genius! That’s so much better than the lottery!” 

She catches me in a bone crushing hug before suddenly pulling back.

“Crap. Sorry. Fragile baby.”

“Congratulations baby girl.” Derek swaps places with Penelope, who is now hugging Spencer with everything she has.

“Alright, why are you guys hugging each other?”

Rossi and Hotch walk through the glass doors, taking in the commotion.

I feel Spencer wrap his arms around me from behind, as he kisses my shoulder, my neck, my cheek.

“I’m pregnant!”

A smile immediately forms on Rossi’s face as he comes forward, grasping my face between his hands, kissing me on each of my cheeks.

“Congratulations, principessa.”

“Congratulations, to both of you.”

Hotch is smiling, waiting his turn to give hugs.

“It’s decided, celebratory dinner at my place tonight!” Rossi announces and we all cheer.

I turn my head, placing my hands over Spencer’s which are now resting over my stomach.

“I love you.” I smile.

“I love you, too. Both of you.”

Soft humming breaks the silence of the room, and quiet words float through the air as he sings to her sleeping form.

“Come Josephine, in my flying machine. Going up she goes, up she goes.”

I enter the room then, tip toeing over to stand by his side, leaning my head against his shoulder as I gently stroke her hair.

“Up, up, a little bit higher. Oh! My! The moon is on fire! Come, Josephine in my flying machine going up, all on, goodbye!”

She’s tiny.

I couldn’t fathom how tiny she was a month ago, and she has grown, but she’s still so small.

Has it already been a month?

“Jesus fuck, I  promised myself this wouldn’t happen at work.”

I shouldn’t have come in.

I know that.

I know that waking up with contractions is a tell tale sign that you should not go to work.

But she isn’t due for another two weeks. Two weeks is a long time. Hopefully enough time to get a grip on myself so I don’t panic that I’m gonna fail as a mother every time I think about it too hard.

I thought maybe I could just get through the day, but the warm stream trickling down my leg is a big fuck no to that.

I’m trying to steady my breathing, the cup of tea I was making abandoned on the counter as I grip the edge with a force I didn’t know I had.

“Y/n? Is everything okay?”

Hotch walks up, worry creasing his brow.

He places a hand on my back, a comfort as pain ripples up and down my spine.

I shake my head. “I need Spencer.”

I shift my weight from leg to leg. “And a towel.”

He nods his head, looking around for a chair, frowning when he comes up empty.

“Aaron,” I say, turning my head towards him. “Please go get my husband.”

“Right.” He nods, taking a second to make sure I wasn’t going to topple over before almost running towards Penelope's bat cave.

A hiss escapes my mouth as I feel a jab in my side.

“Yeah, I know baby, I wish he would hurry the fuck up too.”

A plethora of footsteps fall upon my ears, and Spencer immediately places a hand on my lower back, taking hold of mine with his other.

“How far apart are they?” is the first thing out of his mouth.

“I’m fine, honey, thanks for asking.” I say as we start to make our way towards the front glass doors.

He gives me a look and I sigh.

“I don’t know. I thought if I didn’t count they’d go away and I could pretend this isn’t happening at work.”

“I wish it worked like that.” JJ laughs, holding open the door and what I presume is my go bag.

“Me too.” I grit, squeezing Spencer’s hand.

“Remember our deal. Not one statistic, or fact is to be uttered from your mouth today. You are not a doctor once we enter the hospital.”

I can see the panic start to form on his face, but he laughs.

“Yes ma’am.”

~~~

I’m never doing this again.

I don’t think I’ve ever been in this much pain before.

I’ve been in this room for what feels like forever, because she’s taking her sweet time being early.

No amount of pillows or soothing rubs can help the aches that are washing over me.

My hair is falling from the bun I threw it up in, sweat coating every inch of skin I have.

I feel gross in every sense of the word.

I lean forward and groan as another contraction rips through me.

How do women do this?

Spencer brushes some hair out of my face and lays a cool washcloth on my neck as I grip the side rails of my bed.

“You’re doing so good baby.”

It feels like I can’t breath.

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this.”

He knows there’s not much he can do right now to help, but he holds my hand, trailing his hand up and down my back.

“Just a little bit longer. I promise. She’s almost here. You’re doing so good, y/n. I’m so proud of you.”

If only he knew about the panic flowing through my veins, the thoughts that I’m not ready to be a mom bouncing around my skull like an insistent headache.

A knock at the door, and my doctor walks in, smiles and bright eyes. “How are you feeling, y/n?”

“Like a,” I groan, trying to move away from the pain, shifting forward and backwards. “Like a million bucks.”

She laughs, and I don’t have the energy to be nice and laugh with her.

“Well, I still need to check, but I’m pretty sure you’re ready to push.”

I close my eyes, not wanting to look as she sticks her fingers in a place that will need some R&R after this. 

“I was right. You’re ready. Now, your body knows exactly what to do. It’s best to not fight it, and just listen to what it’s telling you okay?”

I start to move myself back away from her, my breathing picking up pace.

I can’t do this.

“No. No. I can’t. I’m not ready.”

She doesn’t seem phased at all, but Spencer easily notices the fear in my voice. 

“Hey, Hey, Hey. Look at me.” His hands stroke the sides of my face, and his fingers are wet from my tears and sweat.

I shake my head. “I’m not doing this. I’m not ready. What if I fail? I don’t want to fail her. I can’t. No. I’m gonna be a horrible mother.”

“Y/n, baby, breath with me.” He takes my hand, and places it on his chest.

I can feel his breaths beneath his breastbone, the frantic heartbeats that give away his true state of mind.

I hate that I’m stressing him out.

“You are going to be a great mother. One of the best. I don’t think you could fail even if you tried.”

He brushes my tears away. “But you can’t force your body to stop. You need to let go. I’m right here.”

“Alright, were ready, y/n.”

My eyes pass between Spencer’s and I know he’s right.

I just need to let go.

I nod, and I move back to where I was. 

My left hand grips the rail, while my right is situated inside Spencer’s. 

I feel the next contraction start. 

“Alright I need you to push for me.” 

I’m on the brink of a mental breakdown, but I take a breath and let my muscles do the work.

I hear that groaning and screaming can actually help, so that’s what I do. 

With every push, my voice grows louder, words lost in the back of my throat.

But I’m getting tired, and I can feel myself crashing. 

So when another contraction pulses through me, I push myself forward, and use every muscle in my body.

“Get out, get out, get out, GET OUT!” 

I don’t think I’ve ever screamed that loud, but it seemed to work.

It felt like a gush and then crys fill the room.

I fall back onto the bed, tears streaming down my face.

“She’s beautiful!” I hear my doctor say over her screams.

Spencer kisses my forehead, his own tears coating his face. “You were amazing, baby. I’m so proud of you.”

“Here she is!”

My doctor lays a bundle of white blankets onto my chest, and when I see her face, my heart stops. 

The world could be burning around me, but I wouldn’t care. Even covered in gunk and red faced, she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. 

I sob, holding her close to me, Spencer right there beside me, his hand gently stroking the top of her head. 

“Hi, Ettie.” I whisper. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

“She’s so beautiful.” He whispers, his voice thick with emotion. 

I can’t take my eyes off her. I never want to let go of her.

Nothing else matters anymore, nothing but her.

Juliet Diana Reid.

Born at 6:08 am, on the third of December.

He places her in my arms, and I clutch her close to my chest as I move back towards her crib to lay her down again.

I don’t understand how I could have ever doubted how amazing my life would be with her in it.

Soft snores emit from her small mouth, and Spencer wraps his arms around my waist, resting his chin on my shoulder, only moving when he hears me sniffle.

“Why are you crying, love?” he whispers

I wipe my face, turning around so I can face him.

His hands are on my hips, his thumbs rubbing circles on my skin.

“For so long, I was jealous of so many people.” My hands play with the fabric of his t-shirt, rubbing it between my fingers.

“I was jealous of Heather. Of what she had.”

My hands move up his chest, coming to rest at the base of his neck. 

“I dreamed about this. About having this with you. And I never thought I would get it. But here I am.”

I smile up at him. “I have everything I have ever wanted. I wouldn’t wish for another life even if it was offered. I have you, and Ettie, and the life I wanted so bad. I’m just…”

I swallow the noise threatening to spill from my throat, so I don’t wake up the sleeping girl behind me. 

“I’m just really happy is all.”

He smiles softly down at me, and he brings up a hand to cup my cheek. 

He leans down and kisses me slowly, gently, in a way that always leaves me paralyzed. 

“I love you.” He whispers. 

I nuzzle my nose against his, before laying my head against his chest, feeling his arms wrap around me, holding me tight against him. 

“I love you, too.”

I love you, Spencer.

I love you.

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[lucyintheskywithxanax]

What Fun! The Apocalypse (PART 6)

Pairing: Wilhemina Venable x Fem Reader

A/N: my already poor health has been particularly bad and I lost a few thousands brain cells so probably this part could have been better. But I kind of like it as it is. I could, too, have been less cruel to Wilhemina, but I hate stories that are like, “it took exactly 2 seconds and a half for this character to overcome their trauma welcome to rainbow land”. This part may be the last part, or I may write more, idk yet. Thank you for your kind feeback and thank your for reading, lovelies. x

PART 1 // PART 2 // PART 3 // PART 4  // PART 5

Word count: ~ 7 000

Warnings: physical violence, self-harm (kind of?), ongoing battle btw me and English prepositions

You awoke, opened your eyes, and remembered. Today was the Apocalypse.

Everyone from Kineros Robotics who had been chosen to survive gathered in the lunch room at 8am, and waited there to board their respective planes. Most of the outposts were a long flight from California, so you and Wilhemina were to leave the place last. You had packed a small suitcase with a few of your belongings, objects you could not get rid of. You ignored the disapproving glare from Wilhemina. She was flying with nothing but her cane and a stock of painkillers for her back.

Wilhemina scanned the faces in the room. Everyone here was a longtime employee at Kineros, deemed worthy and clever enough to build and rule a new world. Pathetic, all of them. Wilhemina tapped her cane threateningly on the floor as a tall woman walked past her too close for comfort; the woman turned her head at the sound, slowly ran her eyes down and up Wilhemina’s figure, and smiled condescendingly.

Eyes were Wilhemina’s least favourite part of the human face. They were dull, and only reflected the stupidity of the brain. Eyes had stared at her and sneered and derided. Eyes had crinkled with mocking laughter and narrowed with disgust or judgment. They pried and pitied and wondered as they wonder at rare, exotic zoo animals. Other people’s eyes were only acceptable (safe) when lowered in fear or respect.  

But your eyes were different. Your eyes were kind. They were loving and caring. She could get lost in them and know she was safe.

The plane to Outpost 4 departed at 10am. The one to Outpost 2 departed at 10:30. By noon, Wilhemina and you were the only one left in the room. The mysterious Ms Mead had driven to Outpost 3 the day before, to make sure everything was ready. Wilhemina had met her and decided she was trustworthy. A robot. Her mind programmed to obey her. Her heart had jumped with excitement at the thought.

The plane to Outpost 3 was to leave at exactly 2:40pm, five minutes before a ballistic missile would hit the nearest city. At 2:20 you jumped down from the table you were sitting on and ran to the nearest bathroom. An employee, who was to stay and die and did not even have the slightest idea of what was about to happen, walked past the lunch room and shot Wilhemina a curious glance. She gave him her coldest, most condescending smile in return. Another man walked past, quickly and with his shoulders bent. Wilhemina caught a glimpse of his face. Her heart did something weird in her chest.

Now, that was simply impossible, her brain told her. His plane had left hours ago. Her eyes had tricked her mind, excitement and anticipation made her see things that were not real.

You hurried back into the room, your hands fidgeting anxiously, completely unable to stand still. “Let’s go,” you said quickly, “let’s go board our plane.”

“Wait,” Wilhemina said without thinking.

You stopped in front of her.

“Wilhemina it’s 2:25 we have to –“

Here it was again, the impossible shape, hovering on one side of the door. Something in Wilhemina’s mind whispered a warning. Her eyes shifted to your face. Protect her, urged the whisper.  

“I forgot an important file on my desk,” Wilhemina lied in a very calm voice.

“Are you kidding me?!” you exclaimed.

The shape moved and disappeared.

“It has all the names and information on the people who will stay with us at the outpost,” Wilhemina went on. “Go and get it. You walk faster than I do.”

“For God’s sake you must be kidding me,” you growled.  

“Go,” she ordered you. “You’re wasting time.”

You scowled at her, but stormed out of the room. She listened as your footsteps faded away. Then she straightened up, pulling her shoulders back, and her right hand clenched around the knob of her cane.

“Hello, hunchback.

Rory leaned against the door, his arms folded across his chest, a stupid smirk plastered on his face. Anger rose in Wilhemina’s throat.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” she snapped.

Rory’s smirk widened and he started walking towards her.

“Thought I should come and say hi. Long time no see. Honestly, I’m surprised you remember me. You didn’t seem to care much about my person last time we talked.”  He stopped a few inches away from Wilhemina, looking down on her, his eyes full of a triumphant, predatory light. “Last time we talked,” he repeated slowly in his drawling voice, “and you so rudely fired me. Now, I think that surely you have regrets. I think that surely you regret treating me so badly.” He raised a hand to caress her cheek, but she slapped it away.

“Don’t you dare touch me,” Wilhemina hissed.

He was too close, so close she could feel the heat emanating from his body, but she would be damned before she took a step back.

“Now, that’s not how one expresses regret,” Rory said.

Without warning, he kicked her cane over and sent it rolling on the floor and under a table. Wilhemina stumbled, regained her balance with a wince.

Rory grabbed her arm and leaned in. “Tell me,” he whispered in her ear, “can you bend low enough to blow me or will I have to break your back?”

“Go to Hell,” Wilhemina hissed, and spat on his face.

Rory’s knee came up and slammed into her stomach. Wilhemina crumpled to the floor, winded, and let out a cry as Rory kicked her side.

“Good news, hunchback!” he cried excitedly. “It’s the fucking Apocalypse! D’you know what it means?” Another kick. “It means –“ another kick, “there’ll be no police –“ another kick, “which means I can do whatever the fuck –“  another kick, ”I want to you.”

Wilhemina let him hit her. She had no way of fighting back, and even if she had, she wasn’t sure she would have. Every kick awakened the sneering voice in her head that reminded her just how monstrous her body was. How it was only fair she should hurt. How she deserved the pain he was causing her, and so much more of it. The pain she was feeling was the pain she had wanted to inflict on herself for so long, a punishment for being such a hideous, such a deformed monstrosity and now she could feel joy, there was joy in her heart and she was laughing –

“What the hell?!” came a voice, loud and angry and threatening like the growl of a storm. Rory’s kicking stopped and Wilhemina almost raised her head to beg him to continue, not to stop until he’d broken every single rotten bone.

“What. The. Fucking hell Rory!” you roared, flinging yourself at him and slapping him violently in the face. “How dare you, you fucking fuck!”

Rory stumbled away from you, his hand covering his cheek where you had hit him, too stunned to speak. His back touched the wall.

“Get out!” you roared. “Get out or I swear to God I’ll kill you.”

You watched him scurry away, then you ran to where Wilhemina lay curled up on the floor.

Laughing. She was laughing. Loud, painful laughs that shook her chest and tore their way out of her throat like shards of glass.

“Wilhemina? Oh God.” Your hands were shaking. “Oh God. Wilhemina, can you hear me?”

You grabbed her hand, but she jerked it free and moved it to cover her face. Her laughter still came out through her palm.

You stared at her, at a loss for what to do. Your heart was hammering in your ears but couldn’t drown out the terrible sound of her laughter. And above it all, like a red blaring light, rose a terrifying sense of urgency.

“Wilhemina,” you called, as bitter tears pooled in your eyes. This was all your fault. You had ignored Muff’s warning and put Wilhemina in danger because of your goddamn pride. You had thought you knew better than everyone else. Thought people were books, thought you could predict exactly how everyone would behave - thought that nothing harmful could come in the way of two people in love.

“Wilhemina, baby,” you pleaded through your tears, ”please, can you hear me?”

Hurry, hurry, hurry, blared the light in your head.

Something in your voice must have gotten to Wilhemina, for her laughter slowly died out. She nodded. You reached out for the hand that was covering her face, tentatively slipping your fingers between hers.

“Wilhemina, tell me where he hurt you? Can you stand up? Baby, I’m so sorry, we have to move, we have to catch that plane, we have to –“

Your voice broke. You dropped your head, sobbing out an “Oh God” as Wilhemina’s fingers tightened around yours.

She was already trying to sit up, wincing in pain and coughing out blood, so brave, so strong in the face of it all. You wrapped your arms around her waist and lifted her to her feet, and she cried out in pain.

“I’m so sorry baby,” you cried, over and over again, “I’m so sorry, we have to go, we have to catch that plane.”

She pointed to her cane and you hastily grabbed it, pressed it into her hand, slipped your arm higher up her waist to support her as you hobbled out of the lunch room and oh God, Wilhemina coughed out blood again. Tears and sweat rolled down her face as she pushed on, hurrying as fast as she could along too many corridors, the place endless, it was spreading endlessly everywhere and expanding by the second and you would never make it.  

Wilhemina’s knees buckled. She collapsed on the ground with a cry.

“Go,” she croaked between her teeth. “Just go.”

“Don’t be stupid,” you growled. You heaved her to her feet. “Lean on me, sweetie, just lean on me. I know you can do it.” You pressed a quick kiss on her cheek. “I’m not leaving you, you fool.”

A tiny part of you screamed in rebellion. Death terrified you. Run, screamed a frantic voice in your head, just run for your life, who cares about her you will both die. You shook your head violently, tightened your grip around Wilhemina. Uttered words of encouragement to her. Shut the fuck up, you barked at the voice in your head. The voice roared. You roared louder.

There was a loud, distant explosion. The walls shook all around you, and the lights flickered. Wilhemina groaned, but did not stop.  

You turned a corner, slammed your shoulder into a door and stumbled outside. There was something wrong with the light, a sick quality to it, it was too orange and too misty, but you barely paid attention to it, your eyes falling on the beautiful, shining small plane waiting for you just a few feet away. The pilot was standing in the narrow door, waving his arms at you and calling out.

“Come on, baby, almost there,” you growled, your heart beating madly in your chest.  Wilhemina’s arm spasmed. You gripped onto her tighter.

And then your brain took over. On auto-pilot you hobbled the short distance to the plane, half carried Wilhemina up the airstair, past the man as he hurriedly closed the door and shut out the light that was too orange, too misty, the light that was so hideously sick. You collapsed on the floor with Wilhemina in your arms, crying and laughing, and peppered her face with wet kisses. When you finally pulled away for air her face was very pale, blood drying on her lower lip and chin, but she offered you a small smile.

“You made it, honeybunch,” you panted, and burst into a laugh.  

**

The plane took off. You made Wilhemina lie down on a row of seats, then ran to the bathroom and dampened a hand towel. Your hands were shaking, your breathing was quick and shallow. Now that the exhilaration of victory and the rush of adrenaline were subsiding, something dark was settling in your chest like lead. You shook your head, scowled at your reflection in the mirror. Get a grip, you ordered yourself. Your eyes in the mirror were wide with fear and guilt.

Wilhemina had sat up while you were gone, but you made her lie down again and gently wiped the blood off her face with the wet towel. She was way too pale, her body too rigid, her jaw clenched tight against the pain. Your fault. Your goddamn fault for being such a fucking brag who thought she had some sort of superpower and could guess everything about everyone. You shook your head again, gulped back tears, and focused on Wilhemina.

“I don’t need this, Y/N,” Wilhemina said as you gently swiped the towel across her forehead - her voice was low and gravelly and her diction was weird, every word perfectly enunciated but coming out thick and heavy. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” you retorted, your voice breaking. “Wilhemina, let me – you’ve just been beaten up let me take care of –“

Your hand gently caressed her cheek; Wilhemina flinched, her neck tensing and curving away from you.

“I’m sorry,” you said, immediately withdrawing your hand. “Did I hurt you?”

“No,” she answered, almost a snap. It wasn’t fear that was vibrating through her, she wasn’t afraid of your touch, - it was something entirely different you couldn’t quite understand yet. She was glaring at the ceiling, her body incredibly tense, her eyes glassy and angry.

“Can I touch you?” you asked softly.

Wilhemina’s eyes briefly shifted to you, then back to the ceiling. One of her arms wrapped around her stomach and squeezed, hard.

“I need to make sure you’re not bleeding anywhere,” you explained.

“I’m not bleeding.”

“Where does it hurt the most? Wilhemina if there’s any wound we need to make sure and clean it bef –“

“There’s no wound,” she snapped. “A few bruises at worst.”

You paused, swallowing down your fear.

“Alright,” you said, raising both hands in the air – they were visibly shaking, so you quickly lowered them -, “alright. Just let me get you some water.”

She was still glaring at the ceiling when you came back, but you weren’t sure she was seeing it. Her eyes were burning with a kind of anger that had something terribly sad about it, something that made your heart ache for her. You unscrewed the bottle of water and offered it to her.

She took exactly one sip and handed the bottle back to you.

“Stop being so stubborn,” you said. “Drink some more –“

“I am being stubborn? Stop acting so stupid.“

“I’m not stupid, I’m worried about you.“

Automatically your hand landed on her ankle and your thumb stroked her skin. Again, she flinched, and her leg gave a kick.

“Stop it!” she snapped, her voice too high, her eyes meeting yours, desperate and angry, as her arm squeezed harder still around her stomach, her elbow digging into her ribs. “Leave me alone! I don’t deserve –”

She cut herself off, her jaw twitching once, her face hard and cold, that terrible, terrible feeling in her eyes expanding and expanding until it submerged her whole body. Her head fell back on the seat and her nails dug into her arm.

“You don’t deserve what, Mina?” you asked. Your throat closed up.

She had been laughing, when you had found her. Rory was kicking her with a crazed look on his face and she had been laughing.

“Talk to me,” you pleaded, your voice too thin.

“Why would I want to talk to you?” she snapped contemptuously, her voice laced with poison, but you could see right through her act.

This was an attempt to make you leave, because she could not stand tenderness and care right now. Every fiber in her body was rebelling against love and crying out for pain. She needed to open the gates and let the self-loathing engulf her, for she couldn’t win against it - as one has to dive headfirst into a wave that is so high and so terrifying and cannot be avoided. Sometimes, the only way out is through.    

“Alright,” your voice wavered, “alright, I’ll just sit here next to you, ok? I’m here if you need me.”

It was torture. Staying still as she hurt, and hurt herself, as you waited for her to come back to you, as the whole plane filled up with her pain and anger and it was a miracle it could still fly. You made small talk with her, anything to try and distract her. Your voice wavered again, three, four times. You had lowered the blind on the window nearest you to block out the sick orange light. Wilhemina kept glaring unseeingly at the ceiling. You talked, and talked, and talked, trying to drown out the sound of her loathing that you could hear like the scraping of stormy waves on a shingle beach. And on top of it all was that gnawing feeling of guilt. For you had caused this. Stupid, stupid you, blinded by your own pride.

Slowly, Wilhemina’s body started to relax. Her nails withdrew from her arm. You tentatively offered her the bottle of water again. She scowled at you, but she took the bottle and drank half of it.

The pilot’s voice came out through the intercom, telling you to prepare for landing.

Wilhemina sat up with a wince and fastened her seatbelt. She smoothed her hair and her clothes. You glanced at her, blinking back tears, your mouth too dry.

“Are you ok?” you asked. It was a stupid question, but it flew out of your mouth desperate and urgent before you could stop it.

Her eyes met yours, dark and completely unreadable.

“Of course,” she said.

A tear rolled down your cheek. You wiped it with the back of your hand, nodded.

“I want to address everyone at the Outpost as soon as we arrive,” Wilhemina went on.

You sniffed, offered her a broken smile.

“Ok.”

“They need to be perfectly apprised of the house rules.”

“Alright, you’re right.”

Another tear rolled down your cheek, which you quickly swiped away.

“Please don’t cry,” came Wilhemina’s voice.

“I - sorry,” you said quickly, wiping yet another tear. “I don’t know why I’m crying.”

As if your heart wasn’t breaking for her, as if you could ever forget the look in her eyes as she lay still with her nails digging deep into her skin.

There was a short pause, and then Wilhemina took your hand.

“I love you,” she said, as one says ‘it’s okay, I’ll be okay’.

You tried to offer her a smile, but it looked like a grimace, your mouth twisting as if it were full of shards of glass. You squeezed her hand, then raised it to your lips and pressed a long kiss on one of her knuckles.

“I love you, too,” you said, your voice shaking. You breathed in to add “I’m so sorry”, but breathed out wordlessly.

You squeezed Wilhemina’s hand again, swallowing down your guilt. You couldn’t bother her with it now that she was about to take on responsibility for the survival of the human race; you had to be a strong rock she could lean on, not a burden.

You sat on the seat next to Wilhemina’s and fastened your seat belt. Wilhemina raised the blind to peer outside. You turned your head away.

The plane landed, and the pilot came out of the cockpit. He was a tall, stout man with a kind face. You reached out to help Wilhemina get up her seat but she refused your help, shooting you a glance of warning. She stood up straight and proud without so much as a wince of pain, and walked up to the pilot.

He gave Wilhemina a smile and extended his right hand as if to shake to hers. He wore a thin, gold ring on his middle finger that looked very expensive.

“You’ll have to take that off,” Wilhemina said sternly. “Greys are not allowed to wear jewelry.”

“What are Greys?” you and the pilot asked at the exact same time. Wilhemina had not told you anything about the rules at Oupost 3. You had asked, more than once, but she had never answered you, and pretended not to hear you after the third or fourth time.

Wilhemina winked at you. “Our worker hands. “ She glared at the pilot, nodding in your direction. “Your job will be to serve her and the rest of the elite.”

The kindness faded from the pilot’s face.

“I’m not sure I like that,” he muttered.

Wilhemina’s cane tapped on the floor.

“Are you stupid?” she said, in a very slow, threatening voice. “You’re alive. Look around you. The world is no longer. Tell me, what exactly have you done to deserve surviving it?”

“I flew you here, lady,” the pilot grumbled. “You’d be dead without me.”

Wilhemina’s cane tapped on the floor again, louder.

“I’m making the rules here. You can either know your place and follow them, or take your chances, alone, in the nuclear winter.”

The pilot glanced desperately at you. You almost defended him. Part of you wasn’t sure this whole Grey thing was fair. But you could hardly imagine the devastating consequences of your challenging Wilhemina now, when she was finally in a position of power, when she trusted you to back her up. You had hurt her enough for the day.

“You better listen to her,” you said, forcing your voice to sound commanding. The colour drained from the man’s face.

You followed Wilhemina out of the plane – a thick fog was slowly swallowing the world, replacing the sick orange light with a pale grey that looked sicker somehow – and into the outpost. The place was no longer lit by electrical light but by hundreds of candles and every fireplace was alive with huge, crackling fires. You kept your eyes on Wilhemina, alert for signs of pain. There wasn’t any. As you passed a fireplace, the warmth from the fire briefly engulfed you, an unhoped-for comfort, a temporary balm to your heart.

Wilhemina turned left, and suddenly stopped. A small, stout woman with cropped black hair stood in the corridor, her hands crossed in front of her, her eyes two piercing lights ringed with black make-up. She bowed her head respectfully as she saw Wilhemina. Unconsciously you straightened your shoulders. A feeling, not exactly of authority, but of ruthless order oozed out from this woman. If you had to invent her a past, you would say quite confidently that she had spent years in the army as a high-ranked commanding officer.

Wilhemina introduced her as Ms Mead. The woman’s eyes slid to your face and she bowed her head to you, too, a quick, mechanical bending of the neck. She informed Wilhemina everything had been made ready as requested.

“It is so refreshing to work with someone who knows how to take orders and how to be efficient,” Wilhemina told her with an appreciative smile. She gestured towards the nearest door, a bathroom. “I’ll be a minute.”

Tap, tap, tap, went her cane, a cold, sharp sound; in the candlelight her hair was a deep red.

The bathroom door closed behind her. You counted five seconds before you turned to Ms Mead.

“Where’s the doctor?” you whispered urgently. You knew a doctor had been sent to every outpost, to make sure the survivors stayed safe and healthy.

Ms Mead shot you a glance that expressed absolutely nothing.

“Not here,” she answered in a robotic, toneless voice.

“What do you mean, not here?” you insisted, tiny sparks of fear flying up into your chest. Your throat tightened.

“He was supposed to arrive at 3, but he never did.” Ms Mead shrugged. “I guess we’ll have to do without him.”

More sparks, too many sparks. You almost screamed at her.

“My best guess is,” Ms Mead went on, entirely unaware of the frantic storm rising in you, “he decided to stay behind with his family. To die a useless death among his loved ones instead of taking on the honorable duty of caring for the survivors.”

“Some people are incredibly selfish,” came Wilhemina’s voice.

You jumped, turning around sharply as Wilhemina’s proud figure loomed up on your left side. “Ms Mead, gather everyone in the music room,” she ordered. “We’ll join them shortly.”

Ms Mead nodded and walked off. You glanced up nervously at Wilhemina.

“For the hundredth time, Y/N, I’m fine,” Wilhemina scolded.

You glanced up at her, scanned her face for any trace of pain, but it was completely blank. You glanced down at her hands. They rested on top of each other on the knob of her cane.

You glanced up at her face again. You figured she had no broken ribs, since she could move, and she was breathing just fine so probably nothing had damaged or punctured her lungs, but what if she were hemorrhaging, or what if she had broken something and was being very good at hiding it? That seemed to you very likely.

“Y/N?”

“What?” Your voice shot out too nervous, too aggressive.

Wilhemina’s face hardened. Tap, threatened her cane.

“We have no doctor,” you started. Your throat was so tight with fear it was a miracle your voice could get through.

“So I heard.”

“Wilhemina, someone needs to make sure you’re okay. And what will we do without a doctor? Oh God, Mina, and what about your back and what if –“

“None of that,” Wilhemina cut you off sharply. “Y/N, you need to calm down. I am fine.” She paused. When she spoke again, her voice was softer. “We survived the Apocalypse, Y/N. Now I need you to calm down, get a grip on yourself, and go and join the others in the music room. “

You closed your eyes, forced yourself to take a few deep breaths. I’m sorry, said your heart to hers, praying, praying it would hear, I’m so sorry.  

You walked into the music room in a haze, barely registering the hum of worried voices and the few “Hello”s that were thrown your way. You collapsed on an armchair in a corner and buried your face in your hands. Tried to focus on your breathing. Images and sounds flashed in your mind; Wilhemina’s laugh as Rory kicked her, that terrible look in her eyes, her nails digging into her skin. Your eyes flew open as one wakes from a nightmare.

A young, fashionable man wearing sunglasses with purple-tinted lenses was staring at you. He didn’t look particularly worried, just interested.

“Are you alright, dear?” he asked in a mellow voice.

“Never better,” you growled.

“Aw,” the man said, “I know how it feels. I was supposed to fucking die in L.A.. It’s a stroke of luck I’m here, a stroke of luck. That, and my friend Coco’s crocodile wallet.” The man sat down on a chair next to you. His musky, minty perfume tickled your nose – it was so out-of-place, this smell, reminded you of lavishness and exuberance and self-confidence. If Outpost 3 had a smell, it would be that of the smoke of a candle that has just fizzled out.

The man, who introduced himself as a hairdresser, kept on talking, but you stopped listening. Your eyes scanned the people in the room, one face after the other, features blurring into each other, your brain unable to register details and to make observations. Your hands were sweaty. Your eyes fell on the familiar face of the pilot. Before you knew it you had abruptly stood up and walked to him, the hairdresser’s mouth falling open in consternation, his eyes glaring at your back through his purple-tinted sunglasses.

“Hey,” you said to the pilot. He had watched you approach with weary eyes, his lips a thin, tight, angry line. He acknowledged your presence with a stiff nod. “I wanted to thank you,” you went on, forcing your mouth into a smile. “For waiting for us. You didn’t have to.”

The pilot pursed his lips. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have,” he grumbled, but there was no hostility in his voice. His fingers started playing with a loose thread on his coat. “I guess I’m just too kind for my own good.”

“Um,” you pretended to consider his words. “I think the world would have fared better if there had been more kind people in it. You know, people who take the trouble to wait those extra five minutes to help others, instead of running for their lives.” You tried for another smile, and this time it came more easily.

The pilot glanced up at you suspiciously, but the kindness was returning to his face. “What’s going to happen, now?” he asked after a pause.

“I don’t really know.”

“The man who boarded the plane just before you did said such improper, rude things about the redhead, and even though she didn’t give me any reason to like her, I don’t think folks should –“

“Excuse me,” you cut the pilot off, your heart suddenly freezing in your chest, “what man?”

“Young fellow, the one sitting over there. He appeared out of nowhere saying he’d missed his transportation to Outpost 2 and he begged me to let him in, I couldn’t just leave him to his death.”

There was not a single drop of blood left in your veins. Your heart was steadily pumping ice, biting, burning ice that froze every thought and every emotion in your brain except anger – and the anger spread. It spread everywhere, sprang from your body and crashed against the ceiling and the walls where it crystallized into sharp, fang-like icicles.

Rory had not seen you yet. He was comforting a crying young woman when you reached him, grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and half jerked him up on his feet. His eyes met yours in surprise as you growled into his face, “Boarding this plane was the worst mistake you ever made.” Rory tried to draw away but you tightened your grip on him and leaned in closer still, your breath ghosting his lips. “I swear to God, Rory, I’m going to turn your pathetic life into a nightmare and there will be blood.”

A loud tap cut you off. Both Rory and you jumped. Wilhemina had just entered the room, standing proud and dominating, her complexion warm in the candlelight, her eyes very dark. She had changed into a black Victorian-esque dress that brushed regally over the floor, with a high collar of intricate white lacework hugging her graceful, long neck. Her hair no longer was in her signature high ponytail but wrapped up into a perfectly centered, sophisticated bun. She looked so strong, so imposing, so perfectly in control of everything down to the dust that danced in the candlelight, that your fingers loosened their grip on Rory’s collar. You stepped away from him. Not in fear, not in defeat, but rather as a young predator respectfully makes way for the alpha that silently crawls through the grass towards the defenseless prey grazing in the shade.

Wilhemina’s gaze fell on Rory. Her eyes were as bottomless and terrifying as the inside of a cave sunlight never reaches. For Rory it meant there would be no peace, no warmth,   no salvation. Another tap of her cane, and Rory flinched. Actually took a step towards you for protection.

Wilhemina walked up to him, her upper body gracefully swaying from side to side as it always did, her gait as nonchalant and powerful as a big cat’s. She stopped a few inches away from Rory and rested both hands on the knob of her cane.

“Welcome,” she breathed in his face, “to Outpost 3.”

You grinned. In the dark building with devastation outside the doors and despair within you grinned, warmth like that of a fire in a cold winter night spreading down your body and wrapping soothingly around your heart. Wilhemina’s eyes briefly shifted to yours. Oh, she would be alright. You lowered your head, staring down at the ugly floor to hide the pride and relief that painted themselves all across your face and twinkled in your eyes. Caught in the eye of a tornado this woman would be alright and with the flick of her fingers bend the howling winds to her command.

Rory’s body looked like it had lost several inches and pounds. Probably part of him had fled in fear. He gulped, tried to maintain eye contact with Wilhemina, failed, stared down at his feet as heat flooded his face.

“Unless I’m mistaken, you’re not on my list,” Wilhemina went on. Her voice was melodic, as if she were about to break into a song. “Take him to the cell,” she ordered a giant of a woman who stood in the doorway. The woman grabbed Rory and dragged him out of the room. His eyes shot a frightened look your way before he disappeared, the darkness swallowing his pale and quivering form.

A hush had fallen upon the room. Everyone stood rigid with their eyes lowered respectfully or inspecting a piece of furniture or the ceiling or their own fingers. You saw the hairdresser glance up at Wilhemina, curious and intimidated, his gaze lingering no more than a second on her face before focusing back on the cuff of his right sleeve.

Wilhemina tapped her cane on the floor and briefly introduced herself in a firm, authoritative voice. Her eyes coldly scanned the room as she talked, explaining what the Cooperative was, how hard they had worked to save the human race, how grateful the survivors should be, how humbled. Before explaining the house rules she reminded everyone that survival required order and strict obedience. She would be ruthless, she assured them sternly. Anyone who broke the rules would be kicked out of the building or immediately shot.

You frowned at that. Death seemed too extreme a punishment. Just as the thought crossed your mind, an old woman voiced it in consternation. Wilhemina’s gaze fell on her and a cold, condescending smile grazed her lips.

“It would be too extreme in the world we used to know,” she said very slowly. “But here, we are the last vestige of the human race. Error and insubordination simply cannot be tolerated, not when they could result in the complete eradication of our species.”

Hierarchy is the key, Wilhemina went on. In Outpost 3, everyone would know their place. Here she paused to unfold a piece of paper and slowly read out the names of “the Elite” and of “those who would serve them”, the Purples and the Greys respectively. You nervously shifted your weight from one foot to the other. Hushed whispers were exchanged before another sharp tap of Wilhemina’s cane commanded silence.

There would be no leaving the building. Greys and Purples alike would be on a strict timetable. Each Purple would be attributed a Grey to serve and obey them. Here a few voices rose in protest, but quickly died down. Good manners and proper dressing should be observed, for appearances did wonders on one’s morale. There should be no indulging in improper activities, and no unauthorized copulation.

Your jaw dropped open at that.

“Excuse me?” the hairdresser exclaimed, his voice louder and clearer than all the others which chimed in angry protest. “It’s already Hell down here, no need to make it worse!“

“Now that’s bullshit,” you heard yourself growl.

Wilhemina’s eyes met yours. “I said,” she enunciated, “no unauthorized copulation.”

Oh. Your shoulders relaxed. You bit down on a smirk. You swore, Wilhemina’s mouth twitched just so, as if she, too, were holding back a smug smile.

After that, Ms Mead was ordered to show everyone to their rooms. You lingered behind as the others crowded to the door, voices grumbling and shoulders bending in defeat, like a pack of children gathering for class after recess. Wilhemina watched them leave, and then she turned on her heel and disappeared in the corridor.

You followed her, assuming a nonchalant expression, sticking your hands into your pockets. Wilhemina walked into the bedroom she had chosen for herself and you on your first visit of the Outpost. You glanced right and left, then followed her inside.

As soon as you closed the door, Wilhemina sat heavily on the bed, her shoulders sagging, and closed her eyes. You kneeled in front of her, peering up worriedly at her.

“Are you okay? Are you hurting? Wilhemina, are you okay?” you inquired urgently, your hands coming up to cup her face.

A soft smile slowly spread over her lips, and her eyes fluttered open. “I’m fine, Y/N,” she answered, her voice barely louder than a whisper.

You scrambled up to your feet and sat on the bed next to her, pressing your shoulder to hers, reaching for her hand.

“You should lie down,” you urged, ”have some rest. You did so much, Mina you did so good.”

She closed her eyes again, and shook her head.

“I don’t have time to rest, Y/N. I need to make sure everyone is settling in properly.”

“Let me do it,” you offered, pushing your palm to hers and lacing your fingers together. “I can do it. You lie down and I’ll see to everything.”

She let out a sigh and rested her head on your shoulder.

“I’m grateful for the offer, Y/N, but you have no idea how this place is to be run. Besides, it’s not your job.”

Her head was pressing more and more heavily on your shoulder. She looked so exhausted, so vulnerable in contrast to her earlier show of strength and power that you felt fear clench at your throat once more.

You wrapped one arm around her shoulders to support her and she let her body sag against your side. She buried her face in the crook of your neck and let out one shaky breath that tickled your skin.

“Where did he hurt you?” you asked in a whisper, nuzzling into her hair.

Something wet rolled down your neck. There was silence, broken by a sniffle and then Wilhemina’s voice, barely audible, “My stomach and ribs feel like they’re broken into pieces.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, breathed out angrily through your nose and gently stroked your thumb over her shoulder, back and forth.

“Let me have a look?” you tried softly.

She shook her head. “It’s not pretty.”

“I don’t care,” you retorted, the words leaving your mouth confident and strong.

Wilhemina pulled herself away from you as if she meant to stand, but she stayed on the bed, making no effort to straighten her shoulders. She sighed, lifted one hand to pinch the bridge of her nose.

“I really do have to go,” she said. She opened one eye to look at you. “You can play the doctor tonight when my day is done.”

You watched her as she stood up and scrutinized her reflection in the mirror, smoothing her left hand over her dress, tilting her head on one side then the other, tugging at her right sleeve that rode up her arm.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there,” you whispered, so low you thought she could not hear you, but her eyes met yours in the mirror. The next words left your mouth coated with such sadness and so heavy with guilt it was a miracle they made it all the way to Wilhemina. “I’m so sorry I didn’t take Mutt’s warning seriously. I was wrong about Rory, and I put you in danger, and I can’t -” Your voice trailed off. You closed your eyes, unable to hold Wilhemina’s gaze, and gulped back tears.

For a few, agonizingly long seconds, there was only silence. Stupid, you scolded yourself, not for the first time today. Stupid, stupid, stupid. You had sworn to yourself you would not burden Wilhemina with your useless feelings of guilt, sworn you would keep them to yourself. You kept putting her in uncomfortable, dangerous situations and you –

There was the sound of Wilhemina’s cane, the rustle of her dress, and then you felt warmth on your cheeks as her hands cupped your face.

“It wasn’t your fault, Y/N,” you heard her voice, soft and loving. You opened your eyes. Wilhemina’s brow was slightly pushed up, her eyes were big and very brown and God, how you loved her eyes. You leaned in, as if to dive into them. “Please don’t hold yourself responsible for anything that happened today.”

You were about to protest, but you closed your mouth at the last second and kept the words captive. No burdening her, you reminded yourself sharply. She already had so much to carry. So you gave her a smile instead, hoping it looked convincing; it must have, for Wilhemina let go of your face and drew away.  

You watched her walk slowly to the door, pressed your lips tightly closed as another apology violently slammed against them, desperate for a way out. No burdening her. Wilhemina stopped in front of the door, straightened her back and shoulders, and took a deep breath. She stood as regal and powerful as you had ever seen her, the candlelight dancing in awe on her hair.

She put one hand on the door handle, offered you a smile like a bouquet of flowers, opened the door, and walked off.

[stylistiquements]

Day 1 : Soap Bubbles.

𐐪𐑂 Pairing : Sapnap x fem!reader {Playlist}

𐐪𐑂 Summary : You're being introduce to the internet in a peculiar way, it's up to you to decide what you're going to do with it.

𐐪𐑂 Word count : 1.4k | W: written part underneath

𐐪𐑂 Warning : very few swears

Masterlist | Previous | Next

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・　　 .・゜゜・　　・゜゜・

The coffee that sinks inside your stomach brings out a grimace and a click of your tongue where the taste stains; too bitter, too acidic but you’ll drink it anyway and to the last drop; there is something about the idea of spending time with three best friends that is so made of spring and honey that you wish to miss none of it.

“Someone is lurking,” George contemplates out loud, and the call goes silent for a second as if to look for the intruder. And it would so easy to flinch, to hit the back pedal, because you almost feel like one being exposed front stage like that. But today- today is not that day.

It's not that you don't want to join the discussion, it's that it takes a second to warm up, to absorb the energy and become one with it.

And sometimes, all it takes is Sapnap to exclaim, “Panini head, my beloved!” for your smile synchronizes with his chuckles. Somehow, once noticed by the right person, life flows back naturally.

George and Dream greets you in trailing unison, like two kids forced to greet their unwelcomed aunt on a sunday afternoon.

“H-hey troublemakers,” you finally say. Your voice is still quiet, not reluctant, but rather uncertain. It doesn't bother anyone.

“I’m beating Dream’s ass at chess and he’s bitter,” Sap explains, and you silently nod, as if they were able to see you.

A long silence follows along, rythmed by clicks of mouses and keyboards and it falls in your ears like high droplets. It's comfortable. It's intimate, shared with friends only.

"We haven't heard from you in a while," Dream says. "I mean ... before the clout fiasco."

You wouldn't exactly call it a fiasco, even though you don't really like the idea of being perceived a little too closely from the eyes of twitter.com, but you do agree anyway, "I've been caught up on college essays lately."

"That sucks," George probably adds.

“Good thing you’re here, then,” Dream notes, simple as a breath. “This is a worry-free zone.”

It hovers for a second, carried by George’s approval hum.

You squint suspiciously, detective mode, at the profile pictures that light on and off before your eyes, “Thanks, dream.”

He scoffs a “sure” and you’re not sure why you sense a bit of irony stuck on the back of his teeth. You're so tempted to call him out, but you don't. Instead, you write a mental note of this odd moment.

“It’s because I told him about your three brothers and now he’s scared they’re gonna find him and kick his ass,” Sap explains as if he just read your mind.

Sometimes, there’s this thing in the air, though you’re miles away. Something like a connection. There’s this thing when you don’t need to talk for Sap to understand. Sharing one brain cell, you dismiss ironically. Probably coincidences and predictability, but it always sounds a little special, a little like something you’d wish to be out of this world, like morning dew and fairy circles. And it makes you feel safe, at home, just like snuggling up in the sheets during a stormy night. Your smile washes up the sleeve of your hoodie, covered palm carefully hiding your chuckles.

“Three older brothers,” George muses, and there’s no telling if it’s something meant for you to hear. “That’s kinda scary.”

“You better be scared, one of them is probably your FBI agent,” you tease mindlessly, though there's nothing scary about those three grown men.

“I’m British, Bunny,” he points out. Whether the exasperation in his tone is fake or genuine, that, you can’t tell, but you play it cool, grin carved so deep it almost hurts. Dream’s wheezes rise and fall in the background.

“Say that to his face then,” you outbid smirkingly after a second of silence, heels growing into the carpet to make your chair spin slowly left and right, so breezily.

“I’d praise you for the rest of my life if you-Oooooooh your ass is wacked. Your ass is so wacked, dude. You fucked up so bad,” Sapnap chokes out between strings of giggles.

“Oh no, my streamer is losing his game?” You theatrically pout. “My streamer Dreamwastaken, have you met him? Guess you don’t need any of my brothers to kick your ass.”

“Okay yeah- no- it’s not my fault if your- they’re distracting me, okay?” Dream defends.

Slowly, the energy lowers again and the call remembers peace as Dream admits defeat.

“I’m not playing against you anymore,” he mumbles through greeted teeth, your hoodie shelters a muffled giggle. “Let’s talk about y/n’s twitter fame instead.”

“Let’s just not-” you mutter, both because seeing Dream lose at something is a miracle that has to be witnessed once and because you’re somewhat reluctant. “Let’s just not talk about that.”

“Yeah, sorry about that. I had no idea it would draw this much attention to you,” Sap admits.

“Well, you talk about her all the time it was only a matter of time before twitter finds out,” George taunts and you secretly smile, listening to the way your best friend tries to defend himself, mind flooded with the last memories you have of when you were able to see those chuckles for real.

“Yeah, Quackity already told me you guys talk behind my back,” you fakely muse. “That’s totally fine, I don’t wanna know what you guys are talking about at all.” It’s a lie, obviously, the idea creeps upon your mind with assumptions you can’t quite get a grip of nor let go.

“You and Quackity talk?’ Sapnap asks, hint of surprise, and you hum.

“Or rather, he talks to me. He keeps calling-.” Shit. The forsaken word traps itself into your mouth. It’s too silly anyway.

“Come on, just say it,” Dream pushes as if he knew too much, more than you even do, and your cheeks flush mindlessly. You don’t notice.

“Dream, quit it!” You demand.

“Quit what?”

“You talk as if you knew more than anyone did.”

“Maybe I just do,” he coos, so dream-like.

Oblivious or careless, Sapnap asks, “Is Quackity bothering you or something?”

“He-" you begin but stop to look for the right way to put it, "He triggers my flight or fight response.”

"I mean, duh," Sapnap probably rolls his eyes.

"But I like him. He's funny."

After a second of silence, George says, “Well that was unexpected.”

“Not so much, I think we’re both chaotic neutral people.”

“What is that neutral chaotic thing anyway?” Dream is confused.

Roll up your sleeve girl boss because now is your time to shine! You offer your best dream smp alignment chart to the classroom. They're speechless, but they listen carefully.

"Then you're more chaotic good than neutral. You're too sweet anyway," Sap says.

"I'd even say lawful good," George debates.

"That's because you haven't seen Bunny during her crazy cat hour."

"True," you note.

"She'll go absolutely batshit."

“What?" George burst between confusion and surprise. "We've never seen you like that."

"A lady never reveal her secrets," you retort. No one answer.

It leaves a second for your mind to enjoy peace. For your eyes to lay on c!tubbo on lawful good and think true, then on c!dream on chaotic evil and think also very true. You huff and it's like a wave; as sarcasm leaves your breath, an idea comes in.

"Sap, check your DMs," you request.

Surrounded by the evening lull, Sapnap’s laugh pops like soap bubbles, "God, you’re so stupid. Why can't you just marry me?"

“So, is it Sapnap approved?” You chuckle lightly to prevent Sapnap’s morning fresh laugh to fill your chest and leak everywhere.

“Just press ‘send tweet’ please,” he confirms with leftovers of a smile in his voice.

"George, get me out of here. They're doing it again," Dream whines.

"Doing what?" He asks, unbothered.

"Act like they're alone in the convo. Just get a room." And you don't get to stand up for yourself that you and your best friend are actually sent to another room.

"Well this one is chaotic evil confirmed," you mumble as you roll your eyes but the vibes are much peaceful, much more comfortable in here. "So ... hi."

"Hi," he chuckles in return.

Maybe that's for the best; a moment that needs to stay a little timeless, secretive and special. It hasn't happened in so long, you don't even remember the last time it did.

"I'm glad you're here. I miss you, you know?" He says, and it's hard to not feel so bittersweet about it. It's hard when longing involves a craved touch, a real smile and an eye contact. Your shoulder sinks in the chair a little harder.

"I miss you too. I'll be here soon," you promise. And soon couldn't come any sooner.

But the conversation, soft and free, will wash up any worries, as always, and you'll end up talking about everything and nothing, about streams and planned videos and college and god knows what. As long as it makes the two of you happy and smiling. Just like the old days, you'll both think and it's fair to say until the evening turns into night and night turns into fatigue.

"Are you sure you're okay about that clout?" He asks once again. "I know you don't like being exposed like that."

"Yeah, yeah don't worry too much about it. I'll try to make good use of it."

"I'm sure you will," he murmurs, but oh boy did he not know what was about to come until you two meet.

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・　　 .・゜゜・　　・゜゜・

Taglist : @open-minded-chip-101 ; @itsoakaa ; @gaysludge

A/N : so first of all it has come to my attention that 129 days from now on is actually my birthday so that's a weird coincidence lol. Hi how are you guys?? welcome to the first part I hope you liked it. I'm fairly new to the mcyt community and that's the first time I write for them, so bear with me. Feedbacks are always appreciated. Until next time (ɔˆ ³(ˆ⌣ˆc)

[itmighthavebeenintentional]

We've Got Tonight - Ch 2

Summary: “It’s not your job to do this, Andy. You make people happy. I was in the diner all of ten minutes, and you knew exactly how to get me to smile. You do normal, real things like garden and sing karaoke. Saving the world is my job, Sam’s job. Sometimes it’s even Cas’s job, but it’s not yours.”

Inspired by Bob Seger’s “We’ve Got Tonight”

Warnings: Major Character Death, More Major Character Deaths (sort of?), higher than show level violence, blood, light smutting, language, demons, apocalypse, inferred suicide, cult activity.

18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT PROCEED

Author’s Note: This story is set hazily around season 8. Just squint a little, and it’ll settle in somewhere. I wrote this story after certain big revelations in the show, but before other big ones; you’ll most likely be able to tell which. I play with time a bit in the story itself, so if things seem out of order, they are. Hopefully, by the end, all the pieces will fit together.

What the hell, let’s give it a shot.

Image and major edits by the incomparable @there-must-be-a-lock . Heavy editing and cheering by @thoughtslikeaminefield . Thank you both so much.

This is the longest chapter, but it's worth it, I promise.

Word Count: Ch 2 - 2952

In case you missed it: Chapter 1 ItMightHaveBeenintentional’s Masterlist

...

We've Got Tonight

Chapter 2

Clutching the strap of her backpack in a death grip, Andy silently crosses the landing. She places her foot on the top stair just as Dean rounds the corner from the hallway below her, both hands fisted in his hair. Even from this distance she can read the lines of tension in his shoulders. Her stomach twists, nausea and joy warring at the sight of him, and she can’t decide if she should turn and sprint for the door or throw herself at him and admit absolutely every foolish thing she’s done.

No. No, not foolish. She’s saving the world. That’s only a little stupid. She’s saving Cas and Sam. That’s good. She’s saving Dean.

That’s non-negotiable.

Then her weight settles on her foot, and the goddamned step creaks. Dean’s eyes snap to hers. For one hopeful moment, relief and genuine happiness flood his expression, and he smiles. The unclouded light shining from his face scraps any thoughts she has of bolting, and Andy makes it halfway down the steps before she’s engulfed in his arms.

He embraces her fiercely, and Andy allows herself a couple of seconds of peace and comfort, of the sense that she’s somehow home even though she’s only known him for a few weeks. Then the overwhelming realization of everything she’s signed away comes crashing down, closing her throat, choking off her air, and suddenly even the heat and safety radiating from Dean into her very bones isn't enough to ward off the chill of dread.

But she’s doing this to save him, to save Sam, to save...everyone. So, really, she’s not losing anything. If you save something, it’s not lost, so, really, she’s not losing anything.

Right?

Then her face is trapped between his hands, his face inches away, his eyes boring into hers with that burning intensity. The lies evaporate on her tongue, and she wracks her brain. What was she supposed to tell him? She has to say it before he starts questioning her, or she’ll blurt out every single thing she swore she wouldn’t.

“Are you okay? Where the hell were you? Was it those anti-Jesus freaks? How did you get away?”

What? Oh, yeah. The cultists. The whole reason she has a lovely new scar on her left arm and she met the Winchesters in the first place. The source of all their current troubles. Well, the main source, aside from her blood. Yeah, that would have been a good cover story, too.

Shit.

“Andy?”

“I’m fine, Dean,” she manages, thankful at how little her voice shakes. She puts forth the effort of the ages and extricates herself from his grip, an act she recognizes as necessary while regretting it all the same. “I’m sorry I scared you. I had a lead, and I had to leave right away. They were really twitchy when I first contacted them, and I thought they might take off if I waited too long or tried to take anyone else, and by the time I realized I’d lost my phone it was too late to come back.”

Anger and disbelief seep into his expression, tainting the relief that animated him only moments before. “Okay, first of all, we’re going to have a long, detailed talk about taking off on your own for any reason without backup, much less chasing your own leads, because no. Just no. Second, what the hell? Did all phones between here and wherever the hell you went just vanish?”

“You programmed your numbers into my cell, but I never memorized them. I didn’t have any way to contact you once I got there, and-”

“And you couldn’t leave a damn note?!”

Deep breath. Keep steady.

“Look, I’m really wrecked, Dean, it was a long drive, and it ended up a bust. The guy never showed. I’m dying for a shower and some food. You can interrogate me all you want, but can we not do it right here, right now?”

She pushes past him, brushing him off in a way she’s never done before, but if he keeps gazing into her soul with those jade laser beams of his, she’s going to lose every ounce of self-control. Her fingers tremble with strain, and she clutches her bag tighter, determined to hold herself together for his sake.

She only gets a couple of seconds of reprieve, though, just barely making it off the staircase. He catches up with her as she passes the map table, aiming for escape through the library, and he snatches her elbow. His grip is harsh as he pulls her around to face him, and her fingers fumble at the fierce heat behind his eyes. Her backpack drops, spilling its contents on the floor.

Her stomach bottoms out. She immediately tries to crouch down, to stuff her papers and books back in before Dean can see them, but his grip tightens on her arm, and he forces her back up to meet his eyes.

“You don’t get to disappear for two and a half days and then just-”

“Andy!”

Oh, thank god for Sam.

Andy takes advantage of Dean’s surprise to pull out of his grasp, but before she can bend down, she’s engulfed in a second, longer set of arms that feels almost as much like home as his brother’s.

God, what has she done? She really is going to lose everything. But this has to be worth it. Saving them is worth it, she knows it is. It’s going to be okay.

“Andy, are you okay? Where were you?” Sam is still in his concerned phase, and she’d like to make her exit to gather her thoughts before he hits Dean’s level of suspiciously pissed. She knows of no force in Heaven or Hell that can withstand the combined onslaught of Dean’s anger and Sam’s lectures.

“She says she found a lead,” Dean cuts in before she can try to explain herself. He’s definitely on the outer edges of pissed, and that’s fine. She can handle pissed, she just has to figure out what to do before he reaches volcanic levels of anger.

She drops down before anyone else can stop her and starts shoveling handfuls of papers in her bag. She needs to get them out of sight. She should have burned them, why didn’t she burn them, god if Sam sees some of it, he’ll know what she did without her having said a word to him, and -

“Andy, what the hell is this?”

Dean’s voice has dropped to a low, measured growl, and her eyes slide shut in dismay.

Don’t admit to anything, you don’t know what he found, just -

“You said you lost your phone, and now it falls out of your damned bag? You’re lying to me? Why-”

“Maybe because of this,” Sam cuts in, and she hears a rustle of papers from her other side, and she swears that it’s the loudest sound she’s heard in her entire life. It doesn’t matter which of her papers or which book Sam is showing his brother. They are all equally damning, and she really should have known better than to think she could get away with this plan.

“I had to do something. We were running out of time, so I made a decision while I still could.”

She’s impressed and surprised at the steadiness in her voice, the actual conviction. She is equally surprised to find herself standing when she opens her eyes, looking down at two of the most important people in the world, one of whom is regarding her with dismayed shock, and the other…

Her stomach wars with her brain; rational thought says the logical response to someone glaring at her with as much venom as Dean is packing is to run. Her stomach, on the other hand, is fully in favor of ejecting all contents in sheer terror. Somehow, she manages to shove down both impulses and stand her ground.

There’s a long moment where it seems like the whole bunker, the whole world, holds its breath, waiting for something to snap the tension. To Andy’s astonishment, Sam breaks in before Dean’s temper can explode.

“Tell me you didn’t. After everything we’ve told you, everything you know about us and our history, you called a crossroads demon? Where did you even find the summoning spell?”

She turns incredulous eyes on the younger Winchester. “Sam. I...really, Sam? When I asked to help, you put me on research. I didn't know where to look, and you gave me a stack of books, most of which had some variation of that or a similar spell in it. You gave me access to one of the world’s biggest fix-its, and you didn’t think I would do something with that?”

Sam opens his mouth, his face set with stubborn indignity, but he falls silent as Dean stands abruptly. He stalks past Andy, his silence far more worrisome than any shouting or lecturing could ever be. He stops at the bottom of the library steps, gripping the back of his neck like he’d rather have his fingers wrapped around something’s throat, and he stands like that for what feels like forever.

“I made a deal. To save you, Sam, Cas. Everyone. I had to do it.” Andy can’t stop the words that tumble from her trembling lips, and she can only be thankful that she doesn’t have to see Dean’s face as she says them. She should never have tried to lie to him, to them both, but especially not to him. Not after all the lies he’s had to live through.

“I won’t apologize. I found a way out of the end of the world when we had no other options, and I took it.”

Dean stands stiffly, unmoving as she confesses to his back. Sam wisely keeps his mouth shut, kneeling on the floor to look through Andy’s papers, avoiding looking at either of them. The gravid silence that hangs over the room is broken only by the thudding of her heart and the crinkle of pages as Sam rifles through her backpack’s spilled contents.

“Explain. Now.” Dean’s words are quiet and caustic, their bitterness cutting Andy straight to the heart.

This isn’t what she wanted, but their time is too short to try to work everything out. There will be nothing like a fairy tale ending for them, so she forces herself to say what she can. There are still some details she doesn’t want to tell him; if he knew everything, he could keep her here, keep her from going back to finish the deal, and she absolutely cannot let that happen.

“I did what you and Sam do every day. I did my research, I made a plan, and I faced the monsters. I made a choice, Dean.” She only just keeps the notes of desperation from creeping into her voice, though it’s a near thing.

He moves as she speaks, turning back to the table, his face inscrutable as he leans down to grip the back of one of the chairs. He holds onto it as if it’s the only thing keeping him together, and she feels a ridiculous stab of sympathy for the piece of furniture that’s bound to come to a bad end.

“And you think sneaking around, lying to all of us, and making a deal with a crossroads demon is going to magically fix everything?”

He’s too calm, too quiet. The chair creaks ominously under his fingers, and Andy takes a hasty step back. Sam rises, his forehead wrinkled with concern as he takes a step towards the table.

“Andy, just tell us the details,” Sam interjects, his tone low and placating, like he’s trying to calm a cornered animal. “We can figure out a way to get you out of the deal. What did the demon you met with look like? Did they tell you their name? How much time do you have?”

“God DAMN IT!”

Dean slings the chair to the side, and it skates over the floor, shredding through her papers before slamming into a support pillar with a deafening metallic clang and careening across the room. Sam steps up protectively next to her, his hands half-raised like he can’t decide if he should try to talk his brother down or block more pieces of flying furniture.

“Why, Andy? Why didn’t you just wait for Sam or Cas to find something? We were looking!”

“There was no time left, Dean!” She knows there aren’t enough words in any language to explain her decision in a way that will satisfy him. It doesn’t matter to him that she’s one of the sources of all their troubles right now, or that she is an adult who was perfectly capable of making decisions about her life long before the Wonderful Winchesters and their guardian angel rode into town.

“We had days left, at best! I don’t want this anymore than you did, but it was my blood that started this whole disaster, my blood the cult needs to finish everything, literally everything! It’s my blood that’s the solution to this whole shitshow, and that means it’s my mess to clean up. I learned that much from you and Sam, at least! You clean up the messes you make, whether you meant to make them or not. You, of all people, could at least try to understand!”

“Understand what?! That you think selling your soul will actually fix anything?”

Dean closes the distance between them, his fingers digging hard into her shoulders, knocking Sam to the side as he disregards all concepts of personal space.

“Selling your soul never solves a damned thing! And don’t you think for one second I’m gonna let you go through with this deal.”

“I’ve already gone through with it, I signed the contract. You can’t stop it, and you can’t change it. He said you’d try, and-”

“Wait a minute, ‘he’?” Sam cuts in, and Dean’s face flushes a deeper shade of crimson.

“You didn’t. Tell me you didn’t make a deal with that son of a bitch Crowley.”

Fuck.

“I made a call,” Andy finally answers. “I was either going to hell and taking the rest of the world with me, or I was going by myself and keeping the rest of you safe.”

“You had no right-”

“To make decisions about my life? The hell I don’t, it’s my life, Dean! Who gave you the right-”

“We were supposed to be in it together, you and me! It’s not just your life, and you damned well know it!”

The three of them stand frozen, the words echoing faintly through the enormous room. Sam gaping at the two of them, Dean grips Andy like he thinks she’s about to bolt, and Andy tries desperately to remember why she’s not simply throwing herself into Dean’s arms.

Castiel, with his impeccable timing, chooses this moment to enter the bunker. The creaking door catches their attention, and all eyes turn to Cas, who stands on the landing, surveying the tableau of chaos beneath him. His eyebrows lower, his consternation clear.

“Andrea?” Cas’s voice is confused but gentle as he cautiously descends the stairs. She knows from the stories Sam and Dean have told her that her friend has a fearsome warrior side that makes even the worst demons think twice before approaching, but she’s never seen a hint of that part of him.

She’s seen this man soberly examining a bowl of Cheetos, questioning their attractiveness to large, feline predators; she has a difficult time picturing him facing down the worst monsters the universe has to offer, and yet, according to Sam and Dean, he does so without hesitation on a regular basis.

Which is why his cautious approach should really worry her.

“Dean, is it really necessary to hold on to Andrea quite that hard? You’re bound to leave bruises, and she doesn’t seem to be attempting to leave.”

Dean releases Andy abruptly. His face is dark and lined with the effort of repressing his rage, and he storms past the bewildered angel. He stops at the bottom of the stairs, hand on the banister, legs flexing and trembling as if he has to force himself to stop even that long. Sam takes a step towards him, but Cas holds out a restraining hand, and for once, Sam complies, though he looks seconds away from protesting.

“You should’ve waited, Andy. You should’ve talked to me, given me a chance to find something, anything but this. I can’t...I’m done. I’m fucking done.”

He climbs the stairs three furious steps at a time and is out the door before anyone can think of how to stop him, leaving Andy lost in the remnants of his anger and her shoulders aching more from the loss of his grip than the roughness of it. Her throat is burning, her jaw aching with strain, but her eyes are dry.

There was no other way, there just wasn’t. I did the right thing, and damn Dean to Hell if he thinks I’m going to cry for that.

“Andrea?”

Cas reaches out and steadies Andy, his grasp gentle and comforting in stark contrast to Dean’s furious hold. He considers her for a long moment before finally speaking.

“Our lack of information regarding your whereabouts was quite troubling, and we assumed the worst.”

“Maybe not the absolute worst,” Sam sighs, leaning wearily against the table. He scrubs his hands over several days’ worth of stubble before rubbing his eyes. When he speaks again, he can’t even meet her eyes, and an acidic splinter of shame twists in her stomach.

“You really should have waited, Andy.” ...

Chapter 3

[mrsalwayswrite]

To Call Forth Love (Modern!Ivar x OC) Chapter 1

So I recently joined the Vikings fandom (better late than never, right?) and could not get this one-shot out of my head. This is my first time writing for Vikings and writing Ivar. Let me know what you think. 

Also a huge shout-out to @saritanotserena​ for helping me with the moodboard. You are the best, babe! 

Words: 4300

Warnings: mild swearing, mild sexual content, mild angst?

Series Masterlist

 "I'm going to get something to drink!" Kari yelled into the ear of her friend, Alana, hoping she could hear it over the deafening music blasting from the nearby speakers. 

 Alana nodded, ignoring the brunette in lieu of the man who had his hands on her hips and cock grinding against her ass. 

 Without waiting further, Kari squeezed her way through the crowd on the club's dance floor and towards where their table was. For the umpteenth time, she tried to tug down the short, skin-tight black dress over her thighs, unsuccessful in covering the vast amount of skin showing. Even if Alana told her it looked fine and to stop worrying, it still made her personally self-conscious. Right now, she would much rather be at her shared townhouse eating popcorn and binge watching a show or reading one of her new books, comfortable in yoga pants and a soft sweatshirt with preferably no bra. Definitely no bra if she had a choice. But no, she had used up all the valid excuses she could conjure and now had to pay the devil his dues. Or in this case, go out clubbing with her friends. 

 Quickly, she made her way to the table and plopped down in a chair, reaching for the bottled water she was smart enough to bring this time. She ignored the couple sticking their tongues down each other's throat on the other side of the table as she took a sip of the water. Yes, she had told Alana she needed a drink but mostly she just wanted a break. She never wore heels unless for special occasions and with all the dancing she had been forced to endure amongst the mass of sweaty bodies, her feet and ankles were killing her. 

 She peeked at her phone, seeing the late hour and wondering if she could use it as an excuse to leave. She knew her friends planned to stay longer, or leave soon with company for the night. Perhaps no one would notice if she snuck away, feigning exhaustion or some illness. 

 As if sensing her thoughts, a voice called out to her from the other side of the table. "Don't even think about it."

 Kari looked up, meeting the narrowed, brown eyes of her friend across the table from her. "Rach…."

 "No, don't you, 'Rach' me." She pointed a perfectly manicured finger at Kari. "I see you, and you are trying to figure out how to leave. It's not happening. You know the deal."

 "Please? It's getting late and there is no one here…"

 "Bullshit. Quite trying to make excuses. You agreed to the deal and you can't leave until you fulfill your side of the bargain and you bet your ass I'm watching." She leaned back against her boyfriend, brushing a few strands of blonde hair behind her ear. 

 Kari grumbled under her breath. "Doubt it. You've been trying to eat each other's faces the whole time."

 "What was that?"

 "Nothing."

 "What is the deal she agreed to?" Seth asked smugly, arms wrapped around Rachel's waist and laying soft kisses over her exposed shoulders and neck. 

 "Before Kari leaves tonight, she has to make-out with someone...and not just a quick peck either. Full. On. Snogging." Rachel answered with a mischievous glint in her eyes and a crooked smile. 

 Kari dropped her face in her hands, groaning. She knew there was a snowball's chance in hell that Rachel would have forgotten about what Kari reluctantly agreed to but still…. she had hoped. 

 Rachel continued speaking to Seth but Kari could feel those brown eyes on her. "She hasn't kissed anyone since her ex; so Alana, Jasmine and I decided that we needed to take matters into our own hands."

 "Her ex... shit, wasn't that like two years ago?"

 "Yep." Rachel popped the 'p' loudly. "Now, Kari, you get back on that dance floor and find someone or I will pick them out for you."

 Almost giving herself whiplash with how quickly she raised her head back up, Kari stared horrified at her friend. 

 "You know I would."

 "Shit…." Kari mumbled, fiddling with one of the diamond studs in her ear. If there was one ultimate truth in the world, it was that Kari did NOT want any of her friends picking out someone for her to make-out with. The thought alone made her shudder. To say they had different tastes was an understatement. Her friends seemed to prefer the big, Viking-looking, blonds that seemed to enjoy going outside and chopping down trees…. for fun. Her preference was for, well not that. She downed the rest of her water and stood up, tugging down her short dress once again. "I'm going to the bathroom."

 The blonde rolled her eyes. "Yeah, you better get back on the floor once you're done. We can be here all night if we need too."

 Kari scurried away without a response. She did not actually have to use the bathroom but used the excuse to check her makeup and hair...and hide…. possibly for the rest of the night. Hoping to kill even more time, she took the long way to the bathroom, pointedly looking at the floor to avoid encouraging anyone to approach her. 

 She stumbled past the short set of stairs leading up to the VIP section, silently cursing her heels. All she wanted to do was kick them off. It was becoming a miracle she had not face-planted yet. Making a mental note to never let Alana choose her attire again, she pressed on, moving down one of the half walls along the raised VIP section. 

 As if fate sensed her thinking about her loathed heels, it decided to do something about it. 

 Someone suddenly shoved into her, pushing past her on their way towards somewhere. All the brunette managed to catch a glimpse of was a long, blonde braid and a backless dress. The force was enough to lose her balance on the stupid heels and slam into the wall next to her, her momentum and gravity then yanked her towards the ground. Just as she thought she would at least fall to her knees or kiss the dirty floor, a strong hand grabbed her bare, upper arm, keeping her upright. 

 She staggered drunkenly for a moment, her hands automatically reaching out to grip the shirt of the person who magically appeared in front of her, and really saving her from utter humiliation. No exaggerations. At all. Utter. Humiliation. 

 Once her mind refocused on no longer falling to her demise, the first thing she noticed was that whoever was holding her was definitely a man. Not just because the person was taller than her, but the sheer size of the pecks underneath her fisted hands in his shirt and the broad shoulders were a dead giveaway. Even one handed, this person was holding her upright with ease. The second thing she noticed was his scent. Yes, she knew that thought was beyond creepy but her body decided to take notice. Not her fault. Obviously. She just got to enjoy the repercussions. Whatever cologne he was wearing, it should be illegal to wear out in public. It conjured images of a fire in a hearth, bourbon, hot sex under furs and debauchery. 

 In the next moment, she lifted her gaze, wanting - no, needing to know who this man was. To thank him for saving her. Of course. That was it. Yep. Not to sear his image into her brain to fantasize about later. Not at all.  

 As her eyes met his, any words of thanks died on her tongue. For whatever working brain cells she had left silenced under his gaze. Staring down at her was the most vivid, gorgeous and terrifying blue pair of eyes that both soothed and scorched under their allure. 

 He never spoke a word, just stared at her. His hand held onto her upper arm as if worried she was suddenly going to drop. 

 Later, she would blame it on the combination of his touch, that intense look in his gaze and his cologne that made her act irrationally. So, before her mind could convince her how stupid she was, how reckless this was, how outside of her normal behavior she was acting…

 ...she rose up slightly on her toes and kissed him. 

 His lips were surprisingly soft against hers but unmoving. Slowly she retracted, hurt by his inaction but honestly not surprised. It was probably for the best. This idea was a failure from the start. She did not even know the guy, he just saved her from falling. She should have said 'thank you' and walked away…. not…. not kissed him! Opening her eyes to meet his now painfully hardened gaze, it only confirmed her stupidity. Before she could apologize and retreat to hide away from the world for at least the next century, he spoke. 

 "Are you drunk?"

 His abrupt, harsh question startled her. Her answer tumbled out of her mouth before her mind could filter the proper response. 

 "What?...no, I've had like two drinks but that's it...wait. Oh gods! Was my kiss that bad? Shit. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'll just...sorry." She tried to pull away from him, face flushed from embarrassment. What had she been thinking? This was why she never just made-out with random guys. Whatever self-esteem she had evaporated beneath his piercing gaze. Her ex had called her frigid but this….

 His hand tightened ever so slightly on her arm, not enough to hurt but to certainly impede her desire to run away. His eyes bored into hers as if trying to read all the secrets of her soul. It was now, caught in this trap of his gaze, that she noticed the predatory glint in his eyes. She wondered if this was what a rabbit felt like while staring down a wolf, too frightened to move away. Well in her case, she was probably more of a hamster than rabbit. At least rabbits were fast and could try to hide. A hamster had no ability to outrun or outsmart a wolf. And everything about him screamed predator. 

 "Come." He commanded, releasing her arm and took a step to the side. 

 "Wha...what?" 

 He cocked his head to the side slightly, eyes narrowing. "Come. I am not through with you."

 A sharp shiver ran down her spine at the severe scrutiny sent her way but for some reason found herself agreeing. "Ohhh….um, ok." Her friends had wanted her to make-out with someone right? 

 She followed him, carefully ogling him from behind. The nice button-down he wore only accentuated the broadness of his chest and shoulders, plus with the sleeves rolled up and those toned forearms on show, he could have easily been just walking out of a photoshoot for some fashion magazine. Even the dark wash jeans and white Adidas sneakers could not deter from his overall striking appearance. His dark hair was long on top and shaved on the sides, something she had never seen before but it gave him a serious look instead of it being comical. 

 Surprise coursed through her when he started up the few steps leading to the VIP section. Somewhere she had never been nor expected to go. Only people with money or connections were allowed to be in there. She wondered which one of the two he was. It was also now as she followed him that she happened to notice the slight limp in his gait which drew her attention to the braces around his legs. Her mind wandered with questions as to why he needed braces. Had he been in an accident recently? Or surgery? Should he even be up walking? 

 Once they ascended the few steps, passing the bouncer at the top of the stairs who only gave her a passing glance before returning his eyes to the rest of the club, she continued to trail him to a short 'L' shaped couch with a low table in front of it. There were short half walls around all of the arrangements giving the illusion of privacy for those seated on a couch. Glancing around quickly, she could hear laughter and see some heads over the partitions but no one seemed to have paid any attention to her and the stranger she followed. 

 The man dropped down unceremoniously onto the black leather couch, stretching his legs out in front of him. Immediately, his intimidating gaze turned on her and she could not help but thickly swallow at the pure wicked look that sent shivers down her spine. Without a word, he held his hand out, beckoning her closer. 

 For the rest of her life, she would always question why she moved closer, why she took his hand, why she let him slowly guide her to straddling his lap. 

 All she knew was in the moment….it felt right. 

 "Good girl." He breathed out; rough, calloused hands held her hips steady over him. His fingers skimmed the hemline of her dress, now indecently high, almost no longer even covering her ass. 

 Her rational side screamed at her, reminding her she never did this, that she did not know this man. That if her family ever found out, gods forbid, they would probably disown her and not care if it left her starving in the streets due to her wanton behavior. Though their opinions no longer truly mattered in her life. 

 But her emotional side softly whispered that for once, to just give in, to let someone else be in control, to revel in the pleasure his touch brought forth. To throw caution and fidelity to the wind and enjoy life for once before she locked away her heart again. 

 Tipping her head forward, she pressed her lips to his once again. Where he had been unresponsive to her prior kiss, this time his lips slammed against hers, dominating and controlling. It sucked the very air from her lungs. Right now though, he could happily own all the oxygen she ever needed if he continued to kiss her like this. His hands slid to grab her ass, coaxing her even closer and drawing a needy moan from her. As her mouth opened, his tongue slipped in to explore as if he owned it. He kissed as if he was making love to her mouth and giving her a hint of what he would be like in bed. 

 Eventually she yanked her mouth from his, chest heaving and desperate for air. His head dropped to her chest and she gasped when she felt his tongue traced the line of cleavage her dress exposed. 

 "Fuck, you taste amazing." He whispered, practically branding the words into her skin as his lips tasted her. Before she could move or question him, his tongue was back on her exposed skin. This time it slid up from the hint of the valley between her breasts up her chest and neck to end with him sucking just below her earlobe. A whine, or was it a purr, was all her brain could handle, so overwhelmed with sensations she had never experienced before. Sure she had been kissed before but it had never felt like this. It all felt so…. tame compared to what this man elicited out of her. As if her prior understanding of fire was only looking at a lit match; while now she could only stare, completely absorbed by the raging bonfire that threatened to touch the sky with its unending flames. 

 Her hands shifted from grasping his shoulders to keep her upright under his onslaught to gripping his face and forcing his lips back to hers. A heat continued to build in her belly, an inferno that she wanted to dive into without fear or care of being burned. Her hips ground against him, feeling his hardened length between her legs only spurred her on. 

 "Fuck, kitten, keep going. Ride my cock." He growled into her mouth. 

 Before she realized it, the waves of pleasure and heat she had been riding exploded. She ripped her mouth away from his, head thrown back in a silent scream. She could feel his mouth move back to her exposed skin, kissing and sucking as he continued to grind under her. Her mind felt shattered into a million pieces but instead of frightening her, she felt pure bliss. Eventually she came back down from her high, her mind whirling with what just happened. 

 "What…." She licked her lips, wondering why her mouth was suddenly so dry. "What, um, was that?"

 "What are you talking about?" He asked smugly as he placed open mouth kisses along her chest and neck, never stopping his ministrations. 

 "Um, that feeling… I just...wow…."

 He stopped to tilt his head slightly and meet her gaze. "Have you never had an orgasm before?"

 Her eyes widened as realization swarmed her. Hastily, she tried to scramble off his lap but one of his hands grabbed the back of her neck, while the other still gripped her hip, forcing her to remain on his lap. His eyes scoured her, pupils blown wide but it was the dark, heated look in them that caused a whimper to slip from her lips. 

 "You never have…" he murmured, in something between surprise and a dangerous, boyish glee. Mumbling something in a foreign language, his wicked gaze never released her from looking away. One of his fingers returned to tracing her cleavage, teasing her occasionally as it dipped between her breasts only to continue its path. She could feel the heat slowly building in her core again, but if it was due to his touch or the devious smirk he wore, she was unsure. Never more had she felt like prey being toyed with by a hungry predator. 

 "Are you a virgin, my pretty kitten? Mmm?" He asked in such a filthy voice, it should never be allowed outside of a bedroom. 

 She whined, "please…" 

 Agonizingly slow, he leaned closer to her once again, his mouth just hovering over hers with a mischievous smirk that proved he knew what he was doing to her. 

 "Kari!"

 She jerked at the unexpected calling of her name. Turning to look over her shoulder, she could see Rachel and Alana both standing next to the bouncer at the top of the steps into the VIP section. Rachel was staring her down while Alana's blue eyes bounced back and forth between Kari and the man under her. 

 "It's time to go." Rachel yelled at her over the loud music, still easily heard this far away. 

 Kari turned back to...to him. "I need to leave."

 He nuzzled the crook of her neck, brushing her hair out of the way, before whispering into her ear. His hands never relinquished their hold on her. "Answer my question first."

 "I... I need to go. I'm sorry. Please. I just…"

 His hand trailed around her neck so he could grip under her jaw, forcing her face back up to meet his. His vivid blue eyes covetous in their intensity. "Answer. Me." His breath ghosted over her lips. 

 "Yes." The single word came out in a just barely heard whisper. 

 A hesitation, a pause, as if both were frozen in the moment due to her confession. Then his mouth slanted over hers in a greedy kiss, as if claiming her through sheer willpower and his ardent touch. Unable to help herself, she moaned into the kiss. Her hands gripped his shirt as if clinging for her life.  

 "Stay." He whispered against her lips. 

 "I can't…"

 "I'll bring you home. We aren't finished yet." As if to emphasize his point, he rolled his hips under her, his hardened length pressing against her wet core. 

 "Please, I'm sorry. I want to stay, I promise. I've never…. I…. I just need to go. I'm sorry."

 Deliberately slow, his grip on her loosened. First the hand on her neck, his thumb caressed her pulse point before dropping next to him on the couch. The hand on her hip glided up her body leaving a trail of fire in its wake, up to her arm and down it to her hand still clutching his shirt. Gently, almost reverently, he entwined their fingers. His blue eyes stared into hers as he helped guide her off his lap to stand before him. The lust was still evident in his gaze but now she noticed something underneath, something hidden by the ferocity. Yet she could not name it. Though it made her want to pull his head to her chest and just hold him, let whatever the unnamed emotion there bleed from him and comfort him. 

 "KARI!"

 She jolted at the frantic call of her name, pulled away from gazing into his eyes. 

 "Can I see you again?" He quietly asked, running his thumb along the back of her hand.

 "I hope so." She smiled gently then stepped away, before she did something stupid like give the man her number. That would be too forward for her. Turning her back to the man, she walked towards her friends. 

 Once she reached them, Alana slipped her arm through hers and they started to follow Rachel down to the main floor. At the last second the brunette looked over her shoulder to glimpse him one more time. His elbows were on his knees, body leaned forward and eyes glued to her as if trying to commit everything about her to memory. 

 For the briefest of seconds when their eyes connected, his gorgeous blue meeting her blue-green, she considered returning to him. To see what happened next so she never would have to wonder. To try and label what lay behind the dangerous glint in his eyes that she glimpsed. 

 Then her steps brought her to the main floor and away from his piercing gaze. She was too much of a coward to give in and taste the forbidden fruit he so freely offered. Even if a part of her wanted too. Her family rules seared into her brain since birth would never allow her too. 

 Quickly, the three women headed towards the exit. Just before they reached it, Rachel directed them to a semi-secluded alcove. 

 "What the hell was that?" The angry blonde demanded, turning on Kari with a vengeance.

 "What?" 

 "No, don't you fucking 'what' me! We told you to make-out with someone, not plan on getting fucking murdered!"

 Kari almost stumbled back at the venom in Rachel's voice. Her eyes bounced back and forth between her friends, trying to understand what she obviously was missing. "What are you talking about? Murdered? He was nice…. I thought."

 "Nice? Oh, he was nice?" Rachel stared at her for a long moment in shock. With a huff, she pinched the bridge of her nose as she harshly asked her next question. "Do you have any idea who that was?"

 "Um, no... we...he didn't say his name." 

 "Gods, you are so stupid sometimes." 

 Alana cut in, before Rachel could continue to berate. Her doll-like face ranging in expressions from concern to pity and fear. "Kari," she spoke as if explaining a simple matter to a child, her blue eyes pleading and intent on her face, "that was Ivar."

 "Huh?" Kari stated, dumbly, mind not fully processing what that meant. 

 "You know…. Ivar Lothbrok…." Alana gave a pained smile, tugging on one of her large hoop earrings under her blonde, pixie cut,"....one of the sons of Ragnar Lothbrok."

 The sudden knowledge felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over her head, freezing any semblance of warmth she may still have carried from their interaction. "What? I didn't…. are you sure?" 

 "Well the braces on his crippled legs should have been a damn giveaway." Rachel practically snarled. 

 Alana spoke back up, laying her hand on Kari's shoulder. "I know you haven't been here long but the Lothbroks have a…. reputation…. especially Ivar, for being, well, um, brutal. We just want you to be safe." She sighed and peeked over at Rachel. "Let's get out of here. Everyone else is waiting outside."

 "Ok." Was all Kari could say as her mind whirled with this new information. She followed behind them like a lost puppy, too absorbed in her thoughts to pay attention to where they were going. She could faintly hear Rachel harshly muttering something under her breath as they continued. 

 She knew who the Lothbroks were but kept that information to herself. Honestly, she probably knew more about that family than her friends did. She had listened to her uncle curse them enough times she had grown to associate their surname with a one-way ticket to the gates of Hell. If mortal enemies were a thing, her family and the Lothbroks would be that. 

 Her thoughts though stayed focused on a pair of brilliant, piercing blue eyes, soft, dark hair and a voice that called something out in her. There certainly was an aura of danger that hung over him like a shadow of doom plus with the predatory, wicked glint in his eyes, Kari could understand what they meant by dangerous. It was the other look her mind continued to replay over and over. Now away from him, she could pinpoint what it was. Vulnerability. When he asked her to stay- in anyone else she might have mistaken it for begging- that confidence he wore as a mask slid away just for a moment and allowed her to peek underneath. No wonder she wanted to crawl into his lap and hold him close. A part of her yearned to turn around and rush back to him to do that very thing. But her feet kept moving, following her friends. 

 She was not stupid, naïve maybe but not stupid. They wanted her to stay away from him. She could read between the lines well enough. Though if she encountered him again, she was unsure if she would be able to stay away…. or would want too. 

[jinterlude]

Knock

→ Pairing: Kim Myungjun x Reader (female OC) [feat. Kim Seokjin and Park Jinwoo] → Genre(s): Romance, Fluff, Friendship, Humor, and & Slight-Angst → AUs/Tropes: Non-Idolverse, Fashionista!Reader, Fashion Editor!Reader, Accountant!Myungjun, Strangers to Lovers trope → Word Count: 5.6K → Warning(s) & Rating: alcohol, alcohol consumption, heartbreak, swearing, & shameless flirting from MJ | PG-15 → Summary: In what seemed like a normal meetup with a friend ended up changing your life forever... → A/N: The majority of this story is set in the past; hence, the past tense, but near the end, it does switch to present tense as the two leading characters finish reminiscing about their first meeting! I apologize in advance if it’s a bit confusing and/or hard to read! I will use some sort of line break to separate the past from the present to make it, hopefully, a tad easier!  ☄ This one-shot is dedicated to an incredibly good friend of mine, Beanie @jinned​, who is the sole reason why I even got into Astro and officially place MJ on my list of ULTS. He may or may not even be ult of ults. We will see! 

“In the end, you’ll thank me as our marriage would’ve been a mistake...You know it. And I know it…” 

That phrase knocked the wind out of you as you remained speechless ‒ practically mute ‒ while the loud and bustling noise of the fine dining restaurant continued in the background. You opened your mouth, desperate to form a coherent sentence. Shit. Even an audible word would suffice, but you honestly couldn’t.

The person you firmly believed, with all your heart, that he was the one for you, sat right across the table and declared that the wedding was off—terminated. 

The wedding was scheduled to happen in just two months. Two...fucking...months…

“___,” Your fiancé began, breaking you away from your thoughts, “I honestly can’t express how deeply sorry I am for doing this to you, but it was the only way I can preserve our twenty-something friendship.”

“Friendship?” You scoffed, finally finding your voice. “You broke our year-long engagement so that you can PRESERVE OUR FRIENDSHIP?! Are you kidding me, Kim Seokjin?!” You practically boomed, alarming the patrons around you, but you didn’t care. 

Seokjin tried to calm you but ultimately fails. Your emotions ran rampant throughout your body that nothing and no one could relax you. Well, Seokjin used to be able to, but since he’s the source of your fury, it’s pointless. 

Forcing an airy chuckle, you reached over to your wine glass, drinking it all in seconds. The cool liquid hits the back of your throat but soon leaves behind this warm sensation. You felt that warmth settles within your cheeks, creating this pinkish hue, as you flag down a passing waiter and swiftly order another glass of your favorite wine. Within minutes, your second glass of wine appeared right in front of you. At first, you’re tempted to down it as you’ve done with the first glass, but then you opted against it. The last thing you needed to be was a drunken, heartbroken woman in a luxurious restaurant. At the same time, your ex-fiancé remained calm and collected. Then, the surrounding people - both the workers and customers ‒ would sympathize with him and utter phrases like, “Damn. He dodged a bullet. Look at the way she’s behaving, especially after he explained that he only wants to preserve their friendship.” 

“God damn it…” You whispered, taking a long, deep breath, as you realize that Seokjin is right. Your marriage would be a mistake, especially if you’ve fallen out of love with him. 

“___?” Seokjin questioned, noting this trance-like expression written all over your precious face. 

“Why do you have to be right? Even up until the end of our relationship, you just have to be right…” You trailed on as a small, almost nostalgic-like smile slowly dances across your face. 

Seokjin chuckled softly, “Well, someone has to be.” 

“Yeah…” You nodded, maintaining that tiny grin as your eyes trail down to your ring finger. Slowly, you slid off the engagement ring, freeing yourself of this heavy burden that you’ve never known you had until tonight. Then, with your right hand, you placed it gently in front of Seokjin, saying one last farewell to him. You thanked him for being your first of every romantic milestone you’ve experienced.

As you stood up, placing a few twenty-dollar bills on the table, you said softly, 

“I hope you find someone that will make you unconditionally happy.”

“I hope the same for you, ___. I truly do hope you find your soulmate.” 

You uttered a quick thanks before walking from the table and towards a new chapter in your life. 

An intriguing yet uncertain chapter where you explored the idea of being single again after so many years. 

It should be a fun adventure, right? 

Well, it was in the beginning. Yet like with everything else in life, it was only natural you’d experience some ‒ let’s just say ‒ writer’s block. 

The first few pages contained incredible details of the first year since your breakup from Seokjin. You found yourself going back to school and majoring in fashion while finding the time to minor in journalism. During that good old university life, you met a person who you now considered a dear, close friend of yours. 

Eun Byeol. Now that was a true definition of a “ride or die” friend. To this day, you still remember how you essentially handcuffed your roommate-turned-best friend to the closet door handle, preventing her from driving over to your ex-fiancé’s place and destroying his most prized possession. Yep. You guessed it—his 1960s candy red Jaguar E-Type car. Stereotypical of a fella valuing his vintage ride above anything else, but shit. Even you found yourself admiring that beautiful car once in a while. 

But that was ancient history. Old news—just like your editorial on the most fashion show in Milan would be if you didn’t stop reminiscing about your first love and haul your ass. 

Lightly shaking your head, forcing yourself back into reality, you cleared your throat a few times, sniffing the Tropical fruit scents that lingered around your office. 

“I could really go for a mango shaved ice…” You muttered, blankly staring at your document as little to no inspiration enters your mind. You drummed your fingers against the keys, desperately hoping that something - anything - would jump right out of your brilliant mind and land directly on the page; thus, resulting in a finished article to hand over to the boss lady. 

Yet here you sat for another couple of hours staring at the same paragraph. You were pretty sure that you edited that paragraph to the point that it wasn’t even a paragraph. You somehow managed to dwindle it down to a three-sentence summary of Emma Aruda, a rising top model, and how stunning she looked walking the runway. Great. Now your column was too short, thanks to your sudden need to edit before it was even completed. 

“Come on, inspiration…” You groaned, slouching in your office chair as you swiveled back and forth, looking at the blanket of white that you called a ceiling. 

“You know...the longer you keep your head positioned like that, the higher the chance of your brain cells leaving will be…” quipped a familiar voice, causing you to swivel towards your door. 

Soon, a small grin formed on your face as you lightly scoffed at that person’s words. 

“Well, hello to you too, Eun Byeol.” You greeted, sitting up straight but still resting your elbows on the arms of your chair.

Eun Byeol flashed a warm smile ‒ so warm and inviting that it could even get the coldest, most standoffish person to greet her back ‒ as she strode towards your desk and leaned against the edge. 

“Dumb question, but what’s with frustration radiating off of you?” 

“Oh, my brain stupidly remembered my relationship with Seokjin while I was in the middle of writing this article, and now I’m stuck…”

You heard Eun Byeol winced, grimacing as you went into details of the memories that resurfaced in your mind. As each word escaped your sweet lips, the more this unbearable stab pressed against the chest. To be more precise, this cruciating pain that invaded your heart. 

“Damn, ___. It’s been like, what? Five years since he called off the engagement? I thought you were officially over that arrogant ass.”  asked Eun Byeol, clearly fed up with your ex, as evidence in her tone of voice. You couldn’t help but shrink in your chair as each of your drear friend’s words grazed your soft skin. 

Taking a long, deep breath before exhaling slowly, you tilted your head towards your friend, revealing a small and remorseful smile. You felt guilty mentioning him towards, fully aware of how she had rather colorful opinions of him. 

“I am over him, but can you blame me for remembering the good old days I experienced with him?” 

Now, it was your friend’s turn to feel a tad guilty for allowing and directing her fury towards you. Eun Byeol knew you were over him, but you fell victim to the old saying, “One never truly forgets their first love,” and that was Seokjin. He was your first love, and he might be even your last—unless her boyfriend’s longtime friend was still single. 

Then, a lightbulb lit up in her devious mind as this scheming smirk danced across her face, instantly alerting you. That smirk usually led to some rather “exciting” shenanigans, and most often than not, you went home questioning your life choices and wondering how on Earth did your friendship with Eun Byeol last this long. 

As you opened your mouth, ready to warn your friend, she beat you the punch. 

“What are you doing tonight?” 

“Uh, besides pulling an all-nighter to finish this article? Nothing. Why?” You asked with a wary expression. Your eyes slightly narrowed while your brows became knitted together. 

“Wrong! You’re coming out with me for drinks at this bar Jinwoo and I usually frequent whenever our schedules allow it.” Eun Byeol announced, overly excited, further adding to your suspicions. 

You swiftly glanced at your editorial piece before flickering your gaze back to your friend. You sucked in some air through your clenched teeth. Your mind desperately tried to find any, if at all, hidden motives behind Eun Byeol’s random invitation. Unfortunately, you came up with nothing. No secret plans that laid underneath the seemingly harmless invite that your brain could zero in on. 

“It’s just the two of us, right?” You asked, feeling apprehensive towards Eun Byeol’s invite. 

Eun Byeol simply nodded, smiling brightly as she promised you that it would be just the two of you, and that was all. 

After mulling it over for a good minute or two, you whined loudly before agreeing to go out with her. 

“But I’m stopping after two Whiskey Sours! I still have a deadline to meet, unlike someone who’s currently in my office and clearly being a bad influence.” 

Eun Byeol snorted in response, “Please. If I was such a bad influence, would I suggest that we steal Seokjin’s car and take it on a joy ride?”

“Actually, you did. Like, several times.” 

“Shut up and write your damn column.” Teased Eun Byeol before exiting your office. As she created enough distance between her and your office, she fished out her phone from the pocket of her black slacks and sent a quick text message to her boyfriend. A message that read,

“Hey, can you convince MJ to come to our favorite bar? I’d think he’d be perfect for ___!” 

Not even a minute after pressing send, Eun Byeol received a response that said, 

“I’ll do my best, but he’s been moping lately since his last date ghosted him without any warning. Plus, you can’t forget how soul-sucking our line of work is, babe.”

Eun Byeol giggled softly as she typed out, 

“Even more reason to add a certain fashionista to his dull life. She’ll liven it up with her colorful and bright personality,” 

She then scrolled through her list of emojis, picking the perfect one before sending it. After waiting for what seemed like ten minutes, her boyfriend didn’t reply, meaning that he was on board and hopefully planting the seed at that moment. 

“Oh, please let them hit it off…” thought Eun Byeol as she journeyed back to her office, dying to know if her boyfriend executed his mission perfectly. 

Yet like with any task, there were bound to be tiny hiccups as Jinwoo exhausted all his go-to methods to convince his close friend, Kim Myungjun. While Eun Byeol and ___ worked at one of the top fashion empires, he and Myungjun worked a regular office job, crunching numbers for their CEO. 

Again, a soul-crushing type of profession, and it didn’t help that their office space was oddly white. Everywhere Jinwoo turned, it was just pure white. Apparently, someone thought it’d be a brilliant idea to add fluorescent lighting into the mi; the entire building gave off this abnormally cleanliness vibe. 

Every day that Jinwoo walked into the office, he seriously felt that he entered that agency from the hit movie Men in Black, especially in his black and white two-piece suit that his company required the workers to wear.  What was next? He’d get a cool gadget that wiped civilians’ memories? 

“Oh, man. That’d be amazing…” He mumbled, unaware of someone standing behind him. 

“What’d be amazing, JinJin?” asked an all too familiar voice belonging to a person that Jinwoo actually had to see. 

The eager man turned his chair around, now face-to-face with his close friend and coworker—Myungjun. 

Quickly clearing his throat, Jinwoo plastered on the warmest smile his face could handle and happily greeted his friend. 

Myungjun, at first, felt weirded out by his friend’s sudden surge in energy but soon brushed it off. He then matched Jinwoo’s energy, capturing the attention of a few bystanders. 

“So back to my question, what would be amazing?” questioned Myungjun, ignoring the strange glances he and Jinwoo earned from their coworkers. 

“Um…” Jinwoo began, nervously chuckling, “It would be amazing if you and I go out for drinks tonight, especially after how shitty this week has been.” 

“I don’t know, man, like you said, it’s been a shitty week, and I don’t think I’m up for going out and having a fun time with you and the rest of our buddies.” 

“Come on, MJ, you’re still not moping about what’s her face? She’s not worth your time, especially when you weren’t worth hers.” Jinwoo retorted, hoping that his tough-love approach would entice him to come out and meet his girlfriend’s friend. Sadly, it didn’t. If anything, his words made Myungjun even more upset as this solemn expression washed over his once joyous face. Now, his friend looked as if someone took his heart right out of his chest and crushed it with their bare hands. 

“Alright...new approach…” Jinwoo switched tactics, going for the more “brotherly advice” approach, “Look, I was out of line, and for that, I’m sorry MJ. But I honestly hate seeing you upset over her, so please come out with me tonight. Tomorrow, you can sit at home alone and mope on the couch. Deal?” 

Myungjun made a face, weighing his options but ultimately leaning towards going out. After all, Jinwoo was right. His loneliness and favorite couch would be there tomorrow, so where was the harm in downing a few shots of Vodka to numb the hurt?

“Fine, deal. What’s this place called?” 

“Ahora.” 

A quizzical expression slowly washed over Myungjun’s face as he couldn’t help but question the intriguing choice of that bar name. 

While the uncertainty still filled his entire body, something deep within told him that something ‒ or maybe someone ‒ would change his life after tonight. 

Mustering his signature thousand-watt smile; his eyes practically disappeared as he did, Myungjun gave his friend a thumb’s up and said, 

“Alright. See you tonight! Maybe you and I can finally see who can drink the most without acting goofy after the third drink!”

Jinwoo playfully shook his head, letting out a few light chuckles. 

“I don’t know, my dude. I think I got you beat the last time we had our little drinking competition.” He teased, masking his hidden motive behind inviting his buddy out. Secretly, he hoped that Myungjun would ask like his goofy self since, according to Eun Byeol, you had a thing for comedic guys. 

Now, the real question was, how would Myungjun successfully capture your heart? 

“So, what should I wear?” Jinwoo heard Myungjun ask, forcibly removing him from his frenzy thoughts. 

“Um…” Jinwoo paused, silently panicking since his girlfriend never told him what you were going to wear tonight or even your preferred style on men. “Do you still have that purple and black striped sweater? You know with that creamy-tan color as well? I think it might be cold.” He suggested though he was unsure of his own recommendation. Honestly, he began questioning his life choices when he said, “purple and black striped sweater.” 

A faint hum emitted from Myungjun’s lips while he mulled over his buddy’s fashion suggestion. Then, he simply shrugged, going along with Jinwoo’s choice. 

“Yeah, I think I have that sweater still. Wait.” The biggest grin danced across his handsome face, “I knew you loved that sweater on me!” He cheered, flinging his arms around Jinwoo’s neck and giving him the warmest hug known to man. 

“Let go! People are staring at us weirdly!!”

“Let them stare! I want the entire world to know how amazing of a friend you are to me!”

“Damn, you just had to make it even creepier. Didn’t you?” 

“You know me so well.”

Later that evening, while Myungjun knew what he’d wear on his night out with the fellas, you were the polar opposite. You rummaged through your walk-in closet, flinging every single clothing hanger you could get your hands on. You tossed aside the latest peacoats, dresses, wool sweaters, everything onto the floor because nothing matched the vision you had in your fashionista brain. While, yes, it was just going out for a few drinks with Eun Byeol, you still wanted to look reasonably decent just in case Mr. Right made an appearance. 

Silently scolding yourself while you tap the pads of your fingers against one another as you desperately try to capture the perfect attire you envisioned yourself. Minutes had gone by, and you still drew a blank. You even pressed your cold lips against your fingers, slightly enjoying the warmth that radiated from your hands. Then, it finally dawned on you as millions of light bulbs lit up in your pretty mind like a beautiful and well-organized lamp display at a furniture store. 

“I’m a dumbass.” You teased, softly chuckling as you pulled out this dark gray pin-striped black peacoat and gently draping it over your desk chair. Then, you flipped through your rack, your fingers grazing the fabric of your blouses, button-ups, and plain old t-shirts. Your eyes scanned each article of clothing until you found the perfect blouse that would compliment the jacket perfectly. You pulled out this satin white long-sleeved blouse with ruffles on the ends of both sleeves and the collar. 

With a pleased smile, you gently laid the blouse over the jacket before grabbing a nice pair of navy blue slacks. The very same pair of slacks that Eun Byeol has dubbed “the highlighter” because apparently it perfectly accentuated the best parts of your body—whatever that meant. 

Grabbing both the coat and blouse with your pants draped over your forearm, you made your way towards the restroom. Just as you’re about to disappear into the well-lit room, you commanded your Alexa to play your go-to “getting ready” song, “Rebirth of Slick (Cool Like Dat).” The second the opening beat dropped, you bobbed your head to the tune, even swaying your hips as you jammed out.

One by one, your lounge clothes dropped to the floor and soon replaced with your jaw-dropping outfit. You smoothed out any wrinkles that your eye instantly locked on before switching focus to your makeup. 

Now, this might not be an easy task compared to picking out your current outfit. Any look would pair well with your fashion statement. You could go for a “girl next door” look, but did you really want to portray an innocent person tonight, especially with drinks involved? Probably not. 

Suddenly, a short gasp exited your lips as you grabbed all the necessary components for your femme fatale look. Your outfit almost reminded you of the main heroine in a 1940s movie. 

“Okay, let’s see how red I can get my lips this time.” 

Meanwhile, on the other side of town, Myungjun wasn’t exactly having the time of his life.  He remained still as a statue, staring blankly at his closet. Did he genuinely want to go out tonight? Part of him firmly believed that he only agreed to drink his sorrows away and forget about this girl that ghosted him a few weeks back. That was always his problem—he had the tendency to develop an infatuation before the girl does. It was honestly quite pathetic. 

Just as he was a step away from backing out from the hangout, a high-tone pitch echoed throughout Myungjun’s condo. 

With a curious expression, Myungjun shuffled his feet towards his phone, taking it off the charger. His brows perked up as he saw that he received a text message from Jinwoo. 

“Huh. Maybe Jinwoo wants to back out.” He wishfully thought, unlocking his phone to read the message. It said, 

“Hey man, I’m going to be a few minutes late, so you can get a head start on our little drinking competition!” 

Nodding his head, Myungjun hit the message box. Just as he was about to type out his reply, a photo appeared. The image contained a person, who looked to be female, and to his dismay, her head was cropped out. 

“Okay?” He thought, typing out his reply and asking his friend why he received a picture of a woman with excellent taste in clothing. Then, for laughs, Myungjun added, “Is that what you’re wearing, JinJin? I didn’t peg you as the type to wear a frilly blouse.” 

Not even a minute later, the playful fellow received a response, 

“Fuck you, MJ! And to answer your serious question, if you see this girl, can you politely let her know that Eun Byeol is also running late. Apparently, that lady is a college friend of Byeolie, and they coincidentally also wanted to meet at the bar we’re going to. Cool? Thanks!” 

Slightly shaking his head, Myungjun replied with a thumb’s up emoji before locking his phone. 

“Well, I guess you can’t back out now,” He muttered, opening his closet doors and revealing a wide array of clothing, coming in every color known to man. “What did that old man suggest earlier? Oh! Purple, cream-tan, and black pull-over!” Then, a sudden pause filled the air, “That was oddly specific of him to suggest…” He realized, thinking back to their conversation at work. Yet he merely shrugged it off, thinking nothing of it except his friend perhaps wanted him to look good just in case he’d were to meet his Miss Right. 

“Alright, MJ. Pick up the pace. We don’t want the pretty lady waiting too long, do we?” 

Sadly, that happened, and to put it frankly, you were pissed off at Eun Byeol for making you awkwardly wait for what seemed like forever. Granted, it was only an hour that you waited for her, but that was beside the point. 

Nope. The long wait time was not the sole reason behind your agitation. Nuh-uh. It was the fact that your oh-so-dear-friend failed to mention that every couple known to man appeared at the bar tonight. Thus, resulted in you nervously sitting alone at the bar, running the tip of your finger against the rim of your whiskey sour. You then gulped down the last remaining sips before almost slamming it on the counter. With a sour expression, you held up one finger and politely asked for another glass. Just as you mumbled a quick thanks, you felt someone tap your shoulder. 

Instead of giving the “drunken” stranger, more than likely looking for a one-night stand, you wave the person away, citing that you were already waiting for someone. 

“I mean, from the looks of it, I don’t think your friend is coming.” pointed out the stranger, with an unusual high-pitch voice. Though, to give the person the benefit of the doubt, you were used to deep, manly voices. This unknown bystander’s voice was honestly a breath of fresh air. 

Reaching for your second glass of the evening, you swiveled in your seat, coming face-to-face with the stranger. But the moment your eyes landed on him, you felt your jaw drop slightly, forming a tiny “o.” Holy crap, this guy is incredibly gorgeous. 

Quickly snapping out of your gaze, you cleared your throat. 

“I’m sorry? I. Um. What do you mean my friend is not coming?” 

“Just that. I mean, originally, I was supposed to be here 45 minutes ago and give you a heads up that Eun Byeol was running late. Still, I lost track of time getting ready to meet my friend here. However…” he trailed on, looking around. He, too, noticed all the couples chatting it up everywhere and anywhere in the bar that evening. “I’m starting to think that we were set up on a blind date.” 

You softly giggled, “Yeah, I’m getting that hunch as well...I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.” You replied, unknowingly disregarding the fact that Myungjun mentioned your best friend’s name. 

“Oh! I’m Kim Myungjun, but my friends call me MJ,” Then he playfully winked at you, flashing a bright smile, “I can’t forget pretty girls, like yourself, as well.” 

You snorted, shaking your head in disbelief, “Well, I’ll think about it, but thank you for that disclaimer. Also, you can call me ____.” 

“What? No playful yet flirtatious tactic like me?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. The night is still young, MJ.” 

Hearing his nickname slip past your innocent lips, Myungjun couldn’t help but raise a brow with an interested gleam in his eyes. One corner of his mouth curved upwards as he observed your body language. He silently hoped for your non-verbal cues would give him the “okay” to continue his flirting. When he didn’t see any signs of uncomfortableness radiating off you, he took that as the first and ‒ hopefully ‒ of many positive reactions he’d gained from you throughout the evening. 

Clearing his throat, the suddenly nervous young man glanced around the busy establishment, looking for a vacant booth for the two of you to occupy. Lucky must be on his side as his focused gaze immediately locked on an empty stall in the far right corner. With pursed lips, he swiftly analyzed the location and the atmosphere that surrounded it. Myungjun noted how dimly lit that corner was. With the added candles, that location had this romantic aura swarming it and those who sat in that spot. 

It was perfect for this sudden blind date. 

“So, would you like to sit over there?” asked Myungjun, pointing towards the only empty booth. 

You followed his finger and landed on the isolated corner that screamed passion. Instantly, your eyes widened as your heart rapidly drummed against your chest. Oh, you weren’t prepared for this, but at the same time, you couldn’t help but feel this unexplainable excitement and giddiness. A few emotions that you hadn’t felt in a long time—not since your relationship with Seokjin. Yet to be quite honest, you didn’t feel scared. In fact, you were ready to take that plunge into the deep romantic ocean. You weren’t worried about drowning or hitting a bunch of jagged rocks. You just wanted to take that leap of faith and, perhaps, maybe Myungjun would catch you. 

With a long, drawn-out breath, you steadied your racing heart before answering him, 

“Yeah, let’s do it.” 

In return, Myungjun greeted with his signature thousand-watt smile, resulting in this warm sensation creeping on your pale cheeks. 

“Positive reaction number 2.” He silently cheered as he abruptly held out his hand, hoping you’d take it. “After you, m’lady,” said Myungjun with a hint of playfulness. 

You couldn’t help but chuckle, slightly shaking your head in the process.

“Why, thank you, my kind sir.” You played along, gently grasping his hand and curling your fingers around his. The second you did that, this unspeakable spark shot through both of your arms, surging through your entire body. What made that reaction spectacular was that he interlaced your fingers together as he softly smiled with a genuine warm expression written all over his handsome face. With that smile alone, all recent thoughts about Seokjin and any doubts caused by your former relationship evaporated into thin air. Now, it was just you and Myungjun. 

You took a mental note to thank Eun Byeol for setting up this blind date as you guided your bodies towards the booth. Naturally, you picked up the pace as you didn’t want anyone else to steal that perfect spot meant for the both of you. 

Little by little, you pushed through the sea of people, swiftly closing the gap between your bodies and the table. 

“Which side do you want?” You politely asked as you couldn’t help but notice a defeated couple look for somewhere else to sit. Huh. Perfect timing on your part. 

Myungjun softly tapped his chin with his free hand as this faint hum emitted from his lips. Then, a bold idea appeared in his mind. Depending on how you’d answer, he could either make incredible progress or back to square one with you. Well, it was time to find out. 

“I have a better idea. Why don’t I sit right next to you? You know so that you can hear me better, especially with how noisy it is right now.” 

A tiny squeal escaped your lips as your eyes went round. Your face flushed from Myungjun’s boldness. 

“Okay, ____. You need to form a string of coherent words.” You chastised yourself, feeling a tad foolish that you’re this nervous to the point that you can’t even form a simple sentence. “You can do it. All you need to say is, “Sure. You can sit next to me.” Is that so damn hard?” You mumbled to yourself—or so you thought. 

“Um. I don’t know, sweetheart. Is it tough to say that you want to sit next to me?”

“Uh...no?”

“Really? You don’t sound so sure of yourself.” 

“I mean, yes, we should sit right next to each other.” 

You nervously chuckled as you entered the booth, placing your drink on the edge of the table just before shuffling towards the middle of the table with Myungjun following after. You then kindly ask him if he could slide your almost finished Whiskey Sour to you, which he did but not without some playful quips towards you. He teased you for acting like a nervous wreck, blaming the fact that you probably had one too many drinks already. You argued back, stating that you only had two drinks and that it was all his fault for making you this worked up. 

Myungjun chuckled in response but soon, that boyish grin vanished from his face and was replaced with a scheming yet charming smirk. What was he planning? And as soon as you parted your sweet lips, Myungjun’s face was inches away from yours. One wrong you move and the two of you would lock lips right then and there. That’s how close you were to each other. 

“Oh? So, it’s my fault, then how are you feeling now?” He whispered. His warm breath fanned your cheeks as his gaze darted between your doe-like stare and your apple-red lips. “Am I making you extremely worked up—”

“Hold up! That’s not how our first date went, MJ.” You say, interrupting your boyfriend’s somewhat exaggerated story. You’re almost sure that he’s currently telling a rendition of what he wishes occurred on your first date. 

Myungjun scoffs, putting on the theatrics, clearly finding your words offensive. 

“It is so! I distinctly remember you had two drinks that evening; hence, you becoming a blushing mess around me. Ooh! You can’t forget the fact that you wanted to kiss me as well.” He argues, acting like a child debating who’s the better superhero, Superman or Batman, with a school friend. You don’t know how you’ve managed to last an entire year with this dramatic fool. 

“JinJin! Tell her how wrong she is!” Myungjun whines to his close friend and boyfriend of Eun Byeol. 

You shoot Jinwoo a look, questioning why he’s even there on your anniversary date. 

Jinwoo pauses, silently sipping his Coca-Cola as he still needs to drive home after he’s done hiding from his girlfriend, who he accidentally angered. A look of hesitation washes over his face as the poor fella absolutely does not want to get in the middle of your guys’ argument. After all, Myungjun is the reason why he’s able to safely hide from his furious significant other. But also, that stupid pretty boy is the cause of his and Eun Byeol’s argument in the first place. 

So…

“Well, first of all, you’re both misremembering your first date because it actually wasn’t a blind date. You two had met previously at mine and Eun Byeol’s housewarming party. Then, you two decided to start out as friends because,” Jinwoo points to you, “You're in a relationship with Seokjin. Myungjun was seeing some random chick that I’ve forgotten the name for her.” He stated, debunking the first part of your love story. Before continuing with his explanation, Jinwoo chugs the rest of his soda and holds up a finger, flagging down a waiter to order another glass of Coke. 

“Alright, now where was I?” He releases a tiny burp as he continues his journey of stating the facts of your relationship, making Myungjun protest and whine. 

Then, your dork of a boyfriend leans towards you, his lips hovering over your ear. 

“Why did I let him tag along with us again?” 

“Because you two are tighter than a clam’s ass. That’s how close you two are to one another. It’s quite freaky at times.” 

Myungjun, being his dramatic self, gawked, stumbling over his words, 

“W-what? Name one-time that JinJin was with us.” 

“Last night.”

Suddenly, Myungjun’s face becomes blank. Checkmate. 

“And another thing! I wasn’t even the one who convinced you to go out that evening! It was Eunwoo!” 

Knock is copyright 2021 by jinterlude, all rights reserved.

[can-childe-step-on-me]

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Okay, this demented carrot child always comes first in his year in practically every subject in Liyue Academy without breaking a sweat.

Then you came along from Mondstadt School for Gifted Students and came in first place, with Childe 1 mark behind you

This is obviously a huge blow to him, because no one has ever upstaged him and over 1 stupid mark too! 

School is shit too, so everyone makes a big deal out of it too

Childe swears to god that if he heard one more, “But you were always first place!” he is going to drown the school

As long as you didn’t beat him in P.E, you were safe from his wrath-

*Insert a visual representation of you wiping the floor with the poor boy’s ass in dodgeball*

You didn’t really make a big splash (haha) on your arrival to school as it was test week, but students flocked around you and Childe wishes that your innocent face were a little less cuter so that he could smash it in

He went up to you a few times too, looking for a fight that you tactfully avoided because feral children like Childe are to be ignored

You get bombarded with height jokes every ten seconds, and sometimes, a little whale doodle in found in the corner of your neat notes (in pencil, he doesnt hate you that much)

He becomes really studious at this point, taking notes in classes instead of daydreaming or playing Angry Bards on his phone 

“Joint first place...” You two mutter in disbelief, “JOINT FIRST PLACE?!” 

This is your breaking point too, this stupid orange beanpole cannot equal you in anyway

YOU DID NOT SUFFER A MONTH OF: “Can you reach that?” and variations of “Is the air more polluted down there?” Just for him to TIE with you

You look at him, his blue eyes shining with both fury and the thrill of a competition, both of you share an “It’s on”

This is it, boys. This is w a r

You and Childe squabble more often, perhaps not physically but there was this one time you tried to kick the back of his knees when he used you as an armrest

“You look a little tense down there, do you want a massage?” “I’ll massage your fucking neck-” “If you can reach it, that is.”

P.E is filled with sexual tension.

School is shit, so some of your classmates start shipping it

And though you deny it, and say that you would never date a note-sabotaging hooligan, you realise Childe incredibly gorgeous 

He knows you're beautiful too, which makes competition harder because sometimes he just daydreams about to next wrestling match you have with him. It's not because he likes you or anything he just looks forward to flirting fighting with you!

Then comes D-Day, the day when Childe got the message that he has a raging crush on you

So his brother Teucer, who's in primary school, is found crying in the school playground because he accidentally dropped the notebook his brother gave him into a puddle by none other than you 

You comfort him with chocolate and pick up the notepad, looking at the smudged ink that onced used to be a tutorial on multiplying fractions

Huh, this handwriting is familiar, and that whale doodle-  

Holy shit Childe writes notes for his brother? That’s?? So?? Cute??

Speak of the devil, hear comes the red head, his observant eyes catching the red rings under the small boy’s eyes

He grabs your collar, “What did you do to my brother?” 

Childe has never laid a hand on you before and doesn’t really overstep your boundaries, but if anyone touches his precious brother they will pay

Teucer looks at you two and nearly chokes on his chocolate, “They didn’t do anything! I just dropped-“

Small bub starts crying again and Childe hugs him, “Don’t worry Teucer, I'll write you more! I kinda forgot how to multiply fractions anyway!” He lies.

You’re on your way to the city centre, and since that’s close to where rich boy and rich boy jr lives, they tag along with you

“Thanks, y/n. Sorry for grabbing your collar, are you hurt?” He sheepishly scratches the back of his head, a little ashamed of losing his cool.

“I’m good. I never knew you had a brother!” You reply and Teucer jumps.

“Oh, is this the classmate you were talking about!? The one that beat you-” “SH-SHU-SHUSH TEUCER-”

And basically the rest of the day Teucer blabs about Childe’s crush on you

Childe just finds it adorable how you giggle at Teucer’s antics and how you speak so cutely and sofogohoho everything-

After that event, you kind of realise how nice Childe is

Like buying lollies for his senior, Zhongli during the summer

And sometimes he makes sure you eat well because he “can’t be happy when he beats you when you're not at your full capacity.”

He makes more height jokes, but they're in a gentler context now? Like, “You’re so angry and tiny, I should start calling you pocket rocket.” 

You’re slowly getting whipped for him too though. Sure, he draws those damn whale chibis in your notebook, but they have a little winky face and a heart now.

You don’t rub them out anymore, they’re too cute-

Childe burns himself out a lot, so you let him rest on your shoulder during free period and make sure he’s hydrated 

He’s whipped x2 now, good job

So now you guys go on study dates, and he’ll occasionally quiz you.

If you get something wrong, he gently flicks you on the forehead 🥺 But not too hard because “Competing against a person with dead brain cells is bad sportsmanship.”

Childe becomes more touchy (think chemistry, as time increases, the affection this boy has for you increases) like keeping you on one side of the road and ruffling your hair.

Everyone except you two know that you two are gonna be endgame at one point.

So 120000 coffee dates later, you ask him if he’s single or not (He’s popular with the ladies, gents and the non binary folk) and he shakes his head 

You twiddle your fingers and ask him out

Apparently, according to rumours, Childe is really harsh or incredibly sympathetic in terms of rejection.

Hoping to take the fall gently, you shut your eyes, but instead you feel your hands getting squeezing and you’re met with a red, flustered face 

Childe lets out a “Yes!” which comes out more shy than his usual coy tone of voice.

Ya’ll he’s so nice to you? He’ll still wrestle you and bully you about your height, but it’s so endearing?

So two new highschool sweethearts walk into school hand in hand all bubbly and lovey dovey. 

You both stare at the scoreboard of grades in your year...

You watch the colour drain from Childe’s face and when you look you feel like screaming...

“Joint... First... Place... AGAIN?!”